Chicken Soup

Gosling, my girlchild, is 17 months old. It seems like only yesterday that I was told her heartrate was far too low (I originally thought the monitor was picking up me, because her heartrate was about 70bpm), and I needed a c-section NOW. They never used the word 'emergency', but not counting my husband, my son, and myself, there were about 15 people in that room hovering over the heart rate monitor, and muttering quietly amongst themselves as I changed into the hospital gown.

Critter, at 4-and-a-half didn't know what was going on, but he picked up on our stress and fear, and wouldn't stop crying. I wouldn't allow myself to cry, not in front of so many doctors, not in front of my already terrified son, but I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. My husband looked, if possible, even more scared than he did after Critter was born, and I lost so much blood that you literally couldn't see the colour difference between my face and my lips.

A few hours after her over-dramatic entrance into the world.

Apparently, the sprog likes to play tricks. She started yelling as soon as she was out, and I heard a very surprised "good set of lungs" from one of the multitudes of doctors, midwives, and anaesthetists standing at the ready should anything go awry. She was pink, and alert, and round as a pumpkin, and her APGAR was 9. They did all sorts of tests, on cord blood, and placenta, and uterine walls, and never could figure out what happened. Apart from an ear that looks like its had an earring ripped through it (it hasn't, she was born like that), my girl was perfect (if a little smaller than I remembered babies being).

The not-normal ear. As well as a bifurcated earlobe, the top is pointy. Her other ear is perfectly normal. She is certainly asymmetrical.

She has remained, in all ways, a perfectly normal child. She started crawling later than critter did, and walking, but still well within the normal range. She said her first word - her brother's name - at about 9 months, and is slowly picking up more recognisable words to go with the constant babbling.

Very pleased with the new-found mobility crawling gives, at 10months.

She has remained beautifully round (her upper arms are about the same size as her brother's - and he'll be 6 in two months), despite her charts saying she is at the low end of her age's weight range, and she looks like she's going to be tall like the rest of us. She also has the funniest spiral belly-button I've ever seen.

Come on. Tell me thats not adorable.

She 'helps' be with everything, handing me pegs when I hang out the washing, and random utensils when I'm cooking dinner, and if I clean up a mess from the floor without giving her a rag to help, she sits down and cries.

She steals my favourite scarf and tries to wrap it around her shoulders, walking around the house looking like an apple-green ghost with it draped over her head.

OOOOH!!!!! Its a green ghosty!

She will spend surprising amounts of time putting her dollies and teddies and bunnies and chickens in the doll cradle, patting them, rocking them, and then taking them out to put a fresh dolly/teddy/bunny/chicken in.

It's hard to believe how much my urgent c-section squalling pink girl has grown in the past 17months. A few weeks ago (or a few months? I never was good at keeping up with the passage of time) I started letting her use a spoon to feed herself. Now, she gets upset if I give her food without a spoon. Even if its toast. She's got really good with her spoon, and the only things that she still gets fed are yoghurt, and chicken soup.

Until today.

Today, I gave her a bowl *cough*ramekin*cough* of soup and a spoon, and she ate it all. Granted, I gave her mostly the lumps, with very little of the broth, and yes, her shirt was quite wet when she was done, but she did it. She ate a bowl of soup by herself, without help.

Watching your children grow into independent people is one the best feelings ever. But I think I'd like to keep her dependent for a little longer please.

The Terrible, Horrible, No-Good, Adorable Shoes

Yesterday, we bought Gosling her first pair of shoes*. Gosling has only been walking for a few weeks** and athough she can make it from one end of the house to the other, she still often does so with frequent falling. If she's going down even the slightest slope, she buils up speed faster than she can figure out how to stop, and ends up smashing her face most spectacularly. She can walk, but she's still relatively unsteady on her feet.

The shoes aren't helping.

I wasn't insane enough to buy her 'proper' shoes, with hard soles and buckles and who knows what else - these are soft leather shoes with suede soles, harder than socks, certainly, but soft and flexible enough to move with her feet.

She hates them.

They are absolutely adorable, a soft pink, with embroidered flowers and just a touch of sparkle. The kind of shoes I would have loved when I was a little girl, but always had to put back in favour of sensible black that I could wear to school.***

She cries when I make her wear them.

Looking concerned about the shoe situation.

It breaks my heart. I put her shoes on, and she sits, and looks at them. She starts to stand up, then sits again, and her face falls. Tears well in her eyes, her lower lip juts out, and then her whole face starts to quiver. If I pull her up and hold her hand, she walks with no problems. This is how I know the shoes arent hurting her. If they hurt, she wouldnt be able to walk even with me holding her hand.

Obviously, something about the shoes is hindering her ability to walk on her own. Her fat little feet can't quite feel the ground, and the straps touch her ankles where she's never had pressure before.

This was never a problem we had with the Critterbug. When he started walking it was the beginning of the warm season. We couldn't find sandals the right size for him, but running barefoot in summer isn't an issue, so we let him. Even if we had found him shoes, however, he was such an enthusiatic walker he would have just dealt with it, Within days of figuring out walking, he was running, and he hasn't stopped running since. Gosling is a little more timid about the whole walking thing, but doesn't have the luxury of spending her first few walking months barefoot. It is fast and suddenly coming up for winter, and even if we never went outside, our house doesn't have heating.**** She simply has to have shoes.

And I simply have to steel my heart against her giant blue eyes and quivering lips, and ignore her lying on the floor crying, all because of a pair of adorable pink shoes.




*My sister will insist SHE bought Gosling's forst pair of shoes when the bub was a few months old, but since they are unwearable and ridiculous, they don't count.
**Its been about 5 weeks since she could take more than 2 steps without falling down, and about 3 since she could consistently walk any distance worth bothering with.
***Schools here have a uniform, usually involving black shoes. I hada pair of black school shoes, a pair of sneakers, and sandals for summer. I don't think I ever had sparkly pink shoes until I bought myself a pair at age 22.
****We now have a functional oven, but even if I were to bake all day, every day, the temperature in the house would only increase by so much.


EXTRA extra notes:
1. Naturally, after I write this post, upon hearing awake noises from her room, I got Gosling up out of bed. I put her shoes on, determined that she would get used to them, and plopped her on the couch to take photos, because SO CUTE. There was some confusion and annoyance, because of the shoes, but then, she started smiling. And laughing. And climbing down and running around as if she was barefoot. This post is now meaningless and pointless and FALSE, but it was true when I started writing it, so its staying here. Also, the whole situation is just as likely to change back tomorrow, or even after her next nap.

Making me look like a liar.

2. Yes, I have a very pale couch and two kids, one of whom still smears food all over her entire body when she eats, and the other of whom is a 5yr old boy who does not understand the meaning of "walk, don't run!!!!", "stop jumping", or "stay out of the dirt". I obviously like to be frustrated.

Babies are weird/clever

Gosling turned 10months earlier in December, and has just recently discovered how to roll. Or should I say re-discovered. She originally figured it out at about 4 or 5 months (I think thats right... I'm not sure of exact dates), but she kept on banging her head on the floor when she did it, so she gave up. Seriously. She didn't roll for over 5 months, even though she knew how.

Recently, she somehow discovered that she would not bang her head if she rolled on a bed. Oh how she loved that discovery. The second I lay her down, she rolls over and tries to escape. And she laughs as she's doing it. Her other recent discovery that she can drag herself forward (no crawling yet, just slugging) makes things even more interesting, as she can be halfway across the bed in the time it takes me to grab a new shirt for her.

But.

She knows that she can't roll over on the floor. She lies there and cries because she knows she can't go anywhere. If I roll her over she's off like a flash, slugging her way across the room, but she will not do it herself.

This is where the clever/weird part comes into play. Its clever that she recognises the difference between bed and floor, that she can roll on the bed with no consequences, but its weird that she won't roll from her back to her front on the floor... even though that wouldn't hurt her, and she does occasionally try to roll onto her back on the floor, banging her head and ending up screaming.

I wish I could get into her head and figure out her thought process.

noise in the small hours

slowly, awareness comes. it is cold, and dark, and i do not want to be awake. my furnace-hot husband is curled up in a ball behind me, our backs pressed together, the only part of me that is warm. vaguely i am aware that i should pull the blanket up, but today is technically the first day of summer, and i stubbornly refuse to give in, especially as up til now it has been so hot we've been forgoing even a sheet at night.

i roll over, determining to go back to sleep, ignoring the slightly distressed tiny noises the man makes whenever i move away from him. after six years, they hardly register, unless he is facing me and i have to disengage his suddenly vicelike arms and reassure him i am not going anywhere. with my face pressed against his back he relaxes, and i allow consciousness to leave me again. as i slowly drift, a noise jars me back to the cold - obviously the reason i was awake to begin with. insistent and annoyed, my daughter is awake, and only milk will satisfy her. i pull the blanket onto the bed as i leave the room, and my husband barely stirs.

in the dark and the cold, the creak of the floorboards is deafening, and i am sure i will wake everyone. miraculously, only the mini-one notices, and her insistent annoyance becomes fear and sadness when i do not materialise next to her bed the moment she hears my footsteps. her sobs of anguish are only quieted when tiny outstretched arms and feathery soft head find their resting place on my shoulder. in the heat of yesterday, the sleepsack was her only nightwear, but now, in the dark, her pudgy arms are cold to touch, and i reach for a tiny soft shirt to keep her warm, before we return to my bed to nurse.

my footsteps still creaking, suddenly i freeze. a voice, loud in the darkness, and baby's head startles off my shoulder - i have to make sure and get more chicken so we don't run out. silent laughter racking my body, i try not move, as her tiny head swings from side to side and she questions into the dark, not understanding. i just didn't know anymore so i went and did it. my son has inherited my sleeptalking, and i wonder, not for the first time, how sleeptalker and nightnurser do not constantly disturb each other.

eyes adjusted to the dark, i see the skinny body sprawled across the bed. one foot hangs off the side, his head is pressed against the wall, toy-puppy gripped firmly by the arm twisted behind his arched back. satisfied he is still sleeping, i pull pirate-covered blankets over my cold skinned boy - when do we get to go back to the zoo for burgers again? - and make my way back to my own bed with the now-warmer-girl. tired and hungry, she cries again when i lay her down, never remembering in her half-awake state that i will be joining her shortly and the milk will flow. as we adjust ourselves to more comfortable positions, a sleepy arm is thrown over me, and she startles off, squealing with delight as she feels daddy's hand. he is oblivious, lost in the sleep i crave, and she soon resumes nursing, the possibility of daddy superseded by the reality of milk.

comfortable between two warm bodies, i search out the clock in the dark before i let sleep claim me again. 3-4-9 i see in blurry green. almost 5am, as we don't change this clock for daylight savings. slowly the dark becomes complete as tired eyes close, and sleep cautiously returns. i drift, warm and dark, till again i am jarred awake, by the 5am alarm calling the man to get up and ready for work. he stirs, moving away to end the jarring alarm, my back suddenly cold without his bodyheat to warm me, and then, silence.

slowly sound and warmth return, wakeup call ignored in search of rest. small body in my arms warm and still, save for twitching fingers and breath-raised chest, husband behind me asleep almost instantly, his constantly-hot-body keeping my back warm in the cold, hand holding his daughter's, his sleep-steady breath beside my ear lulling me to my own sleep once more, and blocking out all other noises in the small hours.

I Never Wanted To Keep Her In Pink

When Critterbug was a baby, we often had questions as to his gender. I didn't really understand that, as to me he looked like a boy (right from the start, to me he looked like a Boy rather than just a Baby), and he was always wearing 'boy' clothes - little jeans and blue shirts with monsters and trucks and stuff on them - but I understood that people didn't want to say 'what a cute little boy!' only to be told he was a girl, and we were just a little untraditional in our clothing choices, especially since it is generally deemed more ok to dress a girl in boy's clothes than it is to put a boy in girl's clothes.

Its getting a little ridiculous with Gosling though.

Granted, she doesn't have a particularly feminine face yet (not that she looks masculine, she just looks like a 'baby' instead of a 'girl'), but when she's wearing a pink t-shirt, a pink velvet skirt with butterflies and flowers on it, a pink velour jacket, and pink tights with more flowers on them, she's holding a pink teddy, has a pink dummy (pacifier/binky) in her mouth, and has two pink blankets in her pram, people STILL ask if she's a boy.

That's right, its a boy. We're just trying our hardest to scar him for life.

Maybe once her hair grows out we'll stop getting stupid questions? In the meantime, despite not wanting a frothy frilly pink girl, I have resigned myself to the fact that if I want less confusion, I'm just going to have to have one, and I'll never be able to take her out dressed like this:

I Confess: On The Dress, There Has Not Been Much Progress

This is approximately what it should look like when finished. The skirt will stand out more because of the underskirt, and I'm hoping to make a sash also, but you get the idea.

So, I didn't manage to get Gosling's dress finished before the wedding, which was a pity, but totally expected. The bride lent me a gorgeous little purple dress that had been her daughters, so my bub was cute and matching anyway. So glad I'm not the only one who has a stash of no-longer-needed baby clothes lying around.

I am continuing to work on the dress, and I'm quite happy with how its coming along. It doesn't look professional, but I never expected it to. I'm sewing it by hand, I'm making it up as I go along, its by far the hardest thing I've ever attempted (yes, I consider a dress to be harder than a stuffed toy), and I only have very short spurts in which to sew - we're talking 5 minutes here, 10minutes there - so yes, I'm quite happy with how things are turning out.

Things I've learnt thus far:

• backtracking on a row of running stitch is nicer than doing a whole row of backstitch (thats nicer as in 'I prefer doing it', not necessarily 'looks better')
• skirts are easy, except for the opening at the back for a zip/buttons
• sewing is easier if you don't have a baby sitting on your lap
• sometimes, my stitches are visible where they shouldn't be, and I DON'T CARE
• arm holes are EVIL
• it helps if you have your pattern figured out before you start the actual sewing
• the needle threader is close to useless
• clipping curved seams/hems makes them sit SOOOOOOOOOOO much prettier
• pins are good, use as many as will fit
  
• ARM HOLES ARE EVIL
• I want to rub my face on the paler fabric because it is so nice and soft
• I still can't use a thimble
• I need to find my own scissors and stop using mum's
• I really don't know if I'm up to hand sewing button holes, and may have to break out the machine when it gets to those.
• ARM. HOLES. ARE. EVIL.*
  Unfinished arm-hole. Needs to have a facing put on.
  

My current aim is to get it done by Christmas. That would be good. Don't know that it will happen. The fact that Gosling is now sleeping unwrapped most of the time should help, but this wretched heat makes me want to just lie down and sleep too, instead of sewing or cooking or cleaning or feeding the kids (did I just say that?)..

Having two separate needles helps too. I have a scrap of fabric in my pin box with the needles in it when they aren't in use, and I am in fact using two needles. One for the dark thread, one for the light. I have no idea why its making things easier for me, but I've found it a lot easier to switch needles, and keep threading each one with its own coloured thread, rather than using one needle and alternating thread colours. I know, my brain works oddly.



*The mostly-arm-hole-shaped facing I've used instead of trying to 'hem' them properly has made things a LOT easier. But what would have made it EVEN EASIER, is if I'd made the shell and lining separately and then put them together, instead of treating it as one piece. Then I wouldn't have had to bother with all the clipping and folding and facing and cutting and screaming and swearing and finger stabbing and trying to only sew through three-out-of-four layers.... Next time. Next time I'll know.

Brought To You By The Letters "E" and "W", and By The Number "2"

Things Gosling doesn't (or does, but only partially) digest:

• peas
• corn
• carrot
• broccoli
  
• olives
• sultanas (golden raisins)
  
• pumpkin

I can understand all except the pumpkin, considering it's well and truly mushed up when she eats it.

Ok. I'm done. You can go eat now.

:D

Ugh

I have about 4 posts half written, I'm just lacking the motivation to finish them off and actually post them. some of them might not happen at all because they won't be relevant anymore - time specific.

Last night's stint didn't help any. Gosling had me up 10 times. And then woke up for good at 6am because her brother's sleep-talking woke her.

And now she's sitting on the floor sobbing. Today is not going to be fun.

Someone send me soe chocolate??


In interesting news, despite getting a letter from Better Homes & Gardens saying my subscription was up, and me not renewing it (just can't afford it), I got one in the mail yesterday. I think the magazine people are stupid. Mum's subscription to a different magazine yields 3 copies. 2 sent here, and one sent to her address. They started sending the extra copy here after she renewed her subscription, and when she changed her address they started sending one there as well, instead of stopping the one(s) coming here. IDIOTS.

Oh well. They'll figure it out at some point, right? Or should I tell them?

Family: do we have to keep them?

Today, my lovely sister accused me of loving Gosling more than Critterbug. Her reasoning? I buy her lots of clothes, and I make her food from scratch instead of buying it all in jars. Uh.... right.

Clothes: Critterbug is 5 (in 2 weeks!! EEK!!!) and has too many clothes already. He has so many shirts I've run out of hangers for his wardrobe. He also has some sitting in the storage room waiting for present-times, to replace ones in his wardrobe that are a mite too small. The thing is, at 5 years old he grows slower than a baby, and therefor doesn't need new clothes as often as a baby does. Gosling however grows like a weed. I have bought her a lot of clothes, but she's already grown out of 3 or 4 sizes since she was born, and a lot of what I've bought is in larger sizes - I bought it cheap so I don't have to pay full price when I need it, and its sitting in her dresser waiting till she grows again. Theres also the fact that some babies tend to need a lot of clothes because they have explosive nappies, or they throw up a lot. She does both.

Food: It is significantly cheaper to make food for Gosling than it is to buy it. What would cost me $11 on sale in jars can be made for about $2, a couple hours in the oven, and 5 minutes with a blender and icecube trays. I wish I had realised this when Critter was tiny, and had had the confidence in myself to actually do it. Because while my mother loved to tell us how she never bought jarred food for us kids, and always ground up our food at every meal, she never once offered to help me or show me how to do it, and as depressed as I was, I didn't think I could do it anyway. I mashed sweet potato for him a couple of times, but that was about it.

My sister says a lot of things that bother me, and usually I can ignore them, but this one has really got to me. Probably because I'm so scared that people might think its true. I don't love Gosling any more than I love my Critter, and I don't give her any more attention that I give him (i neglect them both equally. (JOKE! that was a joke people!!)), excepting that she's a tiny baby and unable to do things for herself like toileting and feeding, but I do treat her differently than I treated him when he was her age, because of the depression.

After Critterbug was born, I was so depressed I could hardly function. I contemplated suicide more than a few times, firmly believing that no-one would miss me, and that my husband and newborn son would be better off without me anyway. There were days when I would just sit, staring at the baby as he screamed and screamed, not caring. He was fed, he was clean, I had taken care of the basics, and he didn't want me to hold him, so I just stared, and thought "yeah.. so?" There are times now when I don't know what to do with Gosling. When she's been fed and changed, needs a sleep, doesn't want to be held, but screams when I put her down, and I end up just walking away, but I care. I keep an ear out to make sure she doesn't get too distressed, and I rack my brains trying to think if I've not thought of something. I don't hover over her when I know I cant do anything about it, but it makes my soul hurt listening to her cry. I don't just sit and stare at her, vaguely wondering why she's crying, but not caring enough to try and fix it.

I am constantly amazed at how relatively easy things have been this time round, and am incredibly thankful. She nurses easily, she eats with no problems and doesn't appear to be afflicted with allergies, she usually sleeps for 7+ hours in a row at night, and is generally cheerful. I have not been sent down the dark road this time, and having done it all before, I have more confidence in my abilities as a mother, too. I have enjoyed my Critter as a child, so much it makes my heart want to burst, but I merely experienced him as a baby. Now, I am enjoying having a baby for the first time, and I'm loving it.

Then my sister goes and ruins everything, and leaves me feeling like I'm being selfish for finding joy in things like pureeing food, or finding cheap clothes for my children.

Sometimes, I really wish we could choose our family.

Rambling in a non-creative manner about creativity, creatively. Creative, creative, creative. CREATIVE.

This photo is TOTALLY UNRETOUCHED. I have NO idea how it did that, as my boys where out without me when they took the photo. Maybe it was through funky glass?? But anyway, thats how my brain feels today, and thats my excuse for the disjointedness of this.

Our camera died. First one of the reclining chairs ate it and it got all squashed and scratched up in the metal workings, then I left it on a bed and it somehow ended up 3 metres away on the floor under a chest of drawers.

It stopped working.

It would cost more to fix than to replace.

We bought a better one off ebay.

For less than the old one cost to begin with.

But its not here yet.

Why am I starting each new sentence in a new paragraph?

My english teachers would disown me.

So would my mother, who is also an english teacher.

ANYWAY. With no camera, I've been unable to take the million photos per day that I usually take, and have had to find a different creative (nearly choked on that word.. I so am not) outlet. Hello Sewing. Also Knitting.

I found some gorgeous wool (Mostly wool. Partly bamboo, partly soy. Also, how do they make yarn from MILK?????) super-cheap at Spotlight last time my mum was in town, and bought a bunch of it to make a blanket for Gosling (Spaceghost is now Gosling, btw). I am a Brand New knitter, and as such it is taking A VERY LONG TIME, but so far, I haven't managed to make any mistakes. So YAY.

I've also got a lovely purple shirt I'm ripping apart to make a dress for Gosling. I'm bridesmaid in a wedding at the beginning of November, and while this means I don't have to think about clothes for myself, I do have to figure out how to dress the rest of my family, since the bride insists everyone Get Dressed Up. This is easy enough for the boys - Hubby has a suit, and Critter does now too, thanks to $20 well spent at an op-shop - but what do I dress a 9 month old in, at the beginning of summer, thats dressy enough for a Formal wedding, but not so Special that I cry when she covers it in avocado and banana (have you noticed how badly banana stains??? ugh) and then has an explosive nappy? Hence a second hand shirt and a sewing machine, instead of a frothy satin concoction from a shop.

Still on the sewing front, I've been getting increasingly annoyed at my wallet and its lack of separate pockets. I like to pull our grocery money out each week and pay cash instead of sticking it on our debit card, so I always know how much we've spent. But the lack of different pockets in my wallet means that all the money gets mixed up together. Mum gave me money for my birthday, and I'm losing track of how much I've got left because I keep spending it on other things, because I CANNOT KEEP IT SEPARATE. Sooooooooooooooo, I'm trying to make myself a wallet type folder with lots of separate zippered off pockets to keep my separate money in. I've already hacked an older file folder down to size, and I'm on the search for decent fabric to cover it and make pockets.

The only thing really holding me back on the sewing front is my fear of the sewing machine. The overlocker (serger) doesn't scare me, and when we ran out of wipes last week and it was raining too much for me to go to the shops, I used it to make myself some cloth wipes from some old face washers and a flannel wrap of Gosling's that we never used because it was kite-shaped. They worked quite well actually. Terry towelling works very well for the gripping, and a spray bottle of chamomile tea helped wash off excess. Now that I've made them, I really should keep using them.

But the sewing machine... well, maybe I'll be less scared of it the more I sew. Just need to find the right coloured thread, and then I can get started!

Its all a bit surreal..

Spaceghost will be 5 months old tomorrow. She is growing like crazy, has started solid food despite all my intentions to hold off til 6 months, because I simply couldn't keep on feeding her 11 times a day (and she has taken to it like a duck to water, I think the poor little thing was hungry) and is generally happy.

So far, depression hasn't dragged me under, which is fantastic. I look back on the first few months of Critter's life, and theres a lot I don't remember. I mention to my husband things that Spaceghost is doing, and he says yes, Critter did the same thing. And I don't remember it at all. It makes me sad to have missed those things, and I'm so grateful that I get to experience them this time.

Despite things going so well though, I still feel a little.. off. Nothing quite feels real - its almost as if I'm in a dream. I love my baby girl to pieces, and I would do anything for her, but there are moments when I dont feel like she's mine. Its like I'm looking after her for someone else and I won't get to keep her. I don't love her any less, I just don't feel like she belongs with me.

I dont know if its because she was born via c-section (I had panic attacks for weeks after she was born because of the situation surrounding her birth), or because I didnt get to hold her for a few hours afterwards - they had to take her away to do tests because she had been in distress and they wanted to make sure there was ntohing wrong with her. Maybe it was because I was on such powerful painkillers after being cut open that I spent the first few days in a bit of a fog.

Or maybe this is depression hitting me in a way I haven't experienced before. I feel happy, so I doubt it, but my brain chemistry is a little crazy, so it could be, I suppose.

I'm not sure if I've healed completely from the surgery, either. I have a couple of friends who've had c-sections, and I need to ask them about it, but after a long day of walking or excercise, my scar aches. I've never had anything like this before, never even broken a bone, so I don't know if this is normal. I suspect it is, because it is such a large cut, and especially since I don't heal well to begin with.

I'm just not sure where things are going at the moment, and I'm not sure how to feel.

It grows up

My baby Spaceghost has been acting odd recently. She's gone from feeding 7-8 times a day and sleeping for at least 6 hours in a row at night with at least one 2hour sleep during the day, to feeding 10-11 times a day with her longest night sleep being 3 hours and only sleeping in 40minute bursts during the day. Its driving me crazy, and I'm beginning to get frazzled.

I had ever intention of keeping her exclusively breastfed until she was at least 6 months old. We have a history of allergies in this house, and I wanted to wait as long as possible before having to deal with the crazy. I also think its better for them to hold off solids as long as possible - their little tummies aren't necessarily ready for 'real' food for a while.

Spaceghost will be 5 months old next Tuesday. Today I broke down and asked hubby to pick up some rice cereal on his way home from work. I mixed 2 teaspoons with about 4-5 teaspoons of breastmilk, and she ate almost all of it, throwing her head towards the spoon in anticipation and grabbing it to hold it in her mouth so she could get all the cereal off.

I think she was ready. If she sleeps for more than 3 hours tonight, I'll know she was.

Not so sure about the chublet..

The good part about having a roly-poly baby is that you know you don't have a problem with your milk supply.


The bad part comes when the the evidence of all that milk is expelled and you have to unfold roll upon roll on the legs to make sure its all clean...


Roll upon roll upon roll upon roll... her legs look like stacking rings.

The baby, it keeps on growing.

At 5 days:
At 4months, 3 days:
Teddy is comparatively much smaller now.

Modest clothing for children

Mini-sprog (Spaceghost) is growing so fast (if my ever-so-accurate measurements with the Wii-fit and a tape-measure are anything to go by, she's at about the 97th% mark for height, and she's nearly grown out of her 3-6 month sleepers, which is quite a feat considering she's not yet 4 months old and has only been wearing them for 6 weeks), I'm on a constant search for clothes. Critter too, but until I learn to sew properly I've given up on finding pants that fit him correctly. He just has to make do with everything needing a belt, or being a little too short, or both. There's no lack of good, cheap stuff out there, and with 3 second-hand shops a mere 15min bus ride from my house, I'm able to keep her dresser well stocked. On Thursday for example, among other things I found 2 brand new (seriously, they still had the tags on and everything) t-shirts in the next size up, for $1 each. They will be perfect when the weather changes and things start getting warm again, as I'm sure she'll be well and truly into that size by then.

Being able to get so much good quality stuff so cheap, the cost of her wardrobe isn't really an issue. What is an issue, is modesty. At the moment, its not a problem. Its winter, its cold, most of the time when we're out she's either wrapped up or covered in her pram anyway. However, when spring rolls around, it will be a different story.

I stopped wearing pants about 18 months ago. In fact, a few weeks ago I commented on my facebook than I do not remember the last time I wore pants, other than PJs. I remember wearing pants in September 2007, when we were painting the Critter's room, but I don't remember if I've worn any since. For me, a skirt is the more modest choice. The shape is less revealing, and I don't have to worry about showing my underwear to the world every time I sit down. I have never found a pair of jeans that really fit right. They're always too tight in front, with a huge gape on my back - the waist is the right size, just not in the right spots. For Spaceghost, I'm not sure this is going to be the case, at least until she starts walking.

In her admittedly-short-so-far-life, Spaceghost has only had two skirts, and one dress. I would love to have her in skirts, and once she's walking, since I'm the one who does the shopping, I'm guessing skirts will make up most of her wardrobe (I'm not going to just ban pants outright, my husband would flip out, and I want it to be her choice, which will immediately be "pants" if I militantly never allow her to wear them), but at the moment, pants are more modest. The skirts and dress she has are adorable - pink and purple, with flowers or butterflies embroidered on them - but they hardly even cover her nappy (this is admittedly contributed to by the fact that she wears cloth nappies and they are by default thicker than disposables). Skirts for babies are all made super- short, for some unfathomable reason*.

As I said before, since its cold at the moment, this isn't really an issue. I just put a pair of thick tights or soft pants underneath, and she is both warm, and adorable. Its cold enough that she would be wearing tights under her skirts even if they were longer, but it gets quite warm here in spring and summer, and I'm not going to have her in those teeny little skirts with nothing underneath. I'm not even sure that learning to sew better would solve my problems. At this size, when they spend most of their time lying down, everything rides up (I can't even begin to count the number of times I had to pull her dress down in church on Sunday. She did look utterly adorable though) so a longer skirt wouldn't do its job for long anyway. Once she starts crawling, a longer skirt may be a hindrance, causing her to trip. Especially if she does the hands-and-feet thing Critter did, rather than the hands-and-knees babies generally seem to stick to.

I think, for the moment, if I'm to have any chance of keeping my girl dressed nicely, I'm going to have to stick to pants. The current fashion for toddlers-preschoolers does seem to be calf-length skirts, and I'm hoping it stays that way so I have a chance to get decent stuff for her when she gets bigger. Since I have absolutely no idea what size she'll be by then, I'm not going to buy bigger stuff now. I'll stick to pants in her current size,or one-up for growth, until skirts become a reasonable option, and then I'll go wild. In the meantime, I'm going to practice my sewing skillz, so my Spaceghost can wear clothes no-one else has, and look right good doing so.




*If the length of most of the baby-skirts I've seen were translated to skirts for biggerpersons, they would be only just past the length at which I cough **belt** when I see someone walking past in one - when you hope you don't see them sit down, because you have no desire to find out what colour underwear they have on, if any.

Love

Babygirl is three months old. She's been wearing 3-6 months clothes for over a month. Her cheeks are still enormous, as are her eyes, and she still has an Amazing Magical Disappearing Tooth. Her stares are intense, and her eyes are still blue, though considering Critter's are so dark brown they're almost black, and Hubby's and mine are greeny-hazel, anything could still happen.

She seems to be quite happy, smiling as soon as she catches sight of anybody, or even if she doesn't. Many the time I've gone to check on her, to find that she's smiling at the light coming in through the window. She talks when she smiles, often as not, and loves to hear us imitate her noises. Gurgling at her is a sure way to see her amazing smile.

Steve is getting good use, and she often falls asleep in her rocker gripping it. She is also fascinated by the toys hanging from the rocker, and just might have realised her hand actually has a use - she hit one of the toys the other day and then spent the next half hour examining her hand and watching it hit the toys. Not sure if she's doing it deliberately, but she does seem to be aware that its happening.

She thinks the baby in the mirror is hilarious, when I can get her to actually look the right way. She coos and gurgles and smiles like crazy, loving the fact that this other baby talks and smiles right back at her. The other mummy in the mirror confuses her, but doesn't upset her. Which is good. I much prefer her smiles to The Sad Face.

For some reason she still outright refuses to poo during the night. Which is nice, because it means I don't have to change her a million times when I'm barely awake, but it does mean... explosions during the day. And baths in the sink. Which she really rather enjoyed until the water got too cold. For some reason my kids like their baths HOT.

Speaking of night time, I can not figure out her rhythm at all. Some nights she wakes as early as 12:30 for a feed, others she sleeps till 7am, or later. Doesn't seem to matter when she gets fed or bathed, she has her own crazy rhythm, and she's not letting us know what it is.

I love this baby girl so much it hurts. My boy is precious, and I would die, or kill for him in a heartbeat (isn't it terrifying the first time you realise that you are absolutely capable of kiling, if your baby is in danger? Gave me nightmares for weeks). I do not love Spaceghost any more than I love Critterbug, but it is different. He is my precious, gorgeous boy, my firstborn. She is my daughter, my baby, the one I never thought I would have. And my love for these two does not in anyway diminish the love I feel for the one resting in God's arms, who never got to rest in mine. The more there is to love, the more love there is to give.

I survived April without spiralling into the waiting blue, but the sadness lingers. Hugging my children helps. I think I'll go do that now.

Can't I Keep Her A Baby Forever?

I've just finished cleaning up an ENTIRE glass of milk from the floor.

Mr Snotface decided he didn't want to drink his milk this morning. I told him that was fine, but if he didn't drink it, he's obviously sick, and wont be going to preschool. So instead, I get "I have to go to the toilet." Classic excuse, one he uses a LOT to get out of things, but I can't take the chance that this time he's actually telling the truth - I really don't want to be the one that makes him poo in his pants because of some milk.

Since then, three things have happened, because he is being Mr Snotface today, instead of the sweet Critterbug I'd rather see:

• In his attitude laden stomping, he spilled the ENTIRE glass of milk, and then, despite being desperate to go to the toilet, he just stood there, staring at it. Not making any effort to clean it, or even ignoring it and continuing on his stomp to the bathroom. Just standing like a lump.

• He is now in his bedroom wailing hideously because I told him he has to wear a different shirt - I don't want him getting one of his only 2 unstained shirts covered in paint and marker at preschool. So he put the other one on, and screamed when I said "not that one please either" in a calm voice.

• I am now siting here praying for peace and patience, and that God will miraculously stop me from strangling him on the walk to school.

Are we absolutely certain theres no way to stop the aging process so I can stop Spaceghost before she gets to this point?



***UPDATE*** Imediately after posting this, what do I hear? He has turned the tap in the bathroom ALL THE WAY TO FULL to brush his teeth. Despite being told at least once a week that it is not to be turned that high. Somebody better calm down at school today.

The Cost of Clothing Babies

Last week, at just over 2 months of age (literally, 2 days past), my daughter Spaceghost graduated to 3-6 months jumpsuits for sleepwear. We could have continued to clothe her in 0-3 sleepers, but only if we left the crotch snaps undone to leave room for her cloth nappies (diapers) and cut off the feet. Despite the rolls on her thighs and wrists, and the Mega-Cheeks (tm), she is quite slender for her height (90th percentile height, 50th weight at her check last week. Critter is the same, only even more extreme - he needs size 4 or 5 for the length, but only size 1 around the waist), so separates still fit her in 0-3. In fact, her jeans are constantly falling off because the waist is too big for her, even though they look like capris, ending halfway up her calves.

My first thought? This girl is going to cost me a FORTUNE in clothes!!* My second? OP-SHOPS ROCK!!!

I try not to buy my kids' clothes full price if I can help it. There are times when its unavoidable. Like when they've pooed all over their clothes, and then vomited all over the spares, and the blankets got dirty too, so you HAVE to buy something so the poor little thing doesn't freeze. Critter did that to me a couple of times when he was tiny. Spaceghost hasn't. Yet. And I do like to buy them new clothes. I become overwhelmed with the cuteness of some of the little clothes I see in Kmart or Target or BigW.. like the two little tops I bought Spaceghost at Kmart the other week. Totally adorable. But honestly, theres nothing wrong with second hand, either.

At my local shops, there are three second hand stores. An Anglicare, a Vinnies (St. Vincent de Paul society), and a Smith Family. When I went by the other week, the Anglicare was having a 3-2-1 sale, to get rid of summer stock so they had room for winter stock, and everything in the store was $2.00 - thats 2 pair jeans and 1 overalls for Spaceghost, and jeans for Critter, for $8.00 - and on Saturday, everything was going to be $1.00. A shirt in Vinnies for Spaceghost at $2.50, and my shopping trip was complete. Not only that, they were in different sizes, so I already have things for when she grows, and she won't be dressed in the same thing as all the other kids her age, because they are previous seasons stock.

Even better, there is an Anglicare depot a few suburbs away from me, where they just have bins of clothing to go through yourself. Nothing is sorted in any way shape or form, but they sell the clothes BY THE KILOGRAM. This resulted in me picking up 12 items for the girl and 4 for the boy for $9.00 - went shopping with a friend, ended up with 3kg between us, and just split the cost. Some of the items were ever so lightly stained, but for 50c each, when they'd cost about $9.00 each new, who cares?

At the rate she's growing, clothing this girl of mine could cost a fortune, but it isn't going to. And anyone spending $20 for a shirt that will be outgrown in a matter of weeks needs their head examined.





*This would be even more true if I shopped at Pumpkin Patch, where a t-shirt for a 2 month old costs more than $20.00 - and they arent even the most expensive kids clothes around! Totally adorable, totally worth it at op-shop prices, never being bought full price in this house.

She Needs Me

Spaceghost is 6 weeks old today. She started smiling (a bit) a few days ago, although she won't do it consistently, or when anyone other than me is around, so I'm beginning to wonder if I imagined it, and I'm sure other people are wondering too. She still sleeps fairly well, nice long stretches at night (though I prefer it when she wakes up at least once so my breasts aren't exploding), and is such an efficient feeder that she's only on for about 10min at a time. I've tried putting her back on for more, thinking she can't possibly be done, but she either pulls back crying when the milk hits her tummy - obviously full - or she just clamps her mouth shut and downright won't take any more thankyou-very-much.

I love her more than I could have ever imagined was possible before I had kids. The rush of amazement and joy and protectiveness that hit me when Critterbug was born, it hit all over again with Spaceghost when they pulled her from my belly and waved her at me over the sheet. Mum told me that when she was pregnant with my sister she was scared - how could she possibly love another child as much as she already loved her first (me)? I never had that fear. As soon as I knew I was pregnant, I loved her. As soon as I suspected I was pregnant with my lost dear one, I loved it.

She's so small that I doubt she loves us yet. She's affectionate, very snuggly, and despite the inconsistent smiles, she has a definite happy face that she makes at us. The most striking thing however is how much she needs me. Not just the obvious stuff - milk, clean nappies, bathing, helping her to sleep - she needs to be close to me, to know that I'm there.

After she feeds - whether we're lying in bed, or sitting on a chair - she pulls her head back, shuts her eyes tight, purses her lips, and raises her eyebrows. She arches her back, straightens her legs, and waves her arms, stretching. Then she throws her head forward and wiggles it around, until she's made my breast into a comfy pillow, and falls asleep on me. If I dare to move her, she whimpers.

I made the mistake of having a shower the other day. When I got out, she was screaming so hard I thought she must surely lose her voice. As soon as I put her on my shoulder, she started to calm down, and eventually she fell asleep. But she continued to whimper, her voice muffled because her face was buried in my neck, and her little hand was pawing and scratching at my arm, making sure I was still there. Every time I moved, she tightened her grip. In her sleep.

She might now love me yet, but she needs me, and thats a wonderful feeling.

We are all individuals!!!

Spaceghost is 4 weeks old today. Due to being born in February, this means she is also one month old today. I know there is still a vast opportunity for change, but so far, she has been incredibly easier than Critterbug was.

For one, she actually feeds. Bra down, baby on, 25 minutes later she pulls off. Critterbug did not. Bra down, baby on, baby off, screaming, baby on, baby off, more screaming and flailing of arms and legs, baby on, choking, baby off, screaming, baby to daddy, formula out, baby drinks formula, mummy pumps milk while crying. Lather rinse repeat in 2-3 hours, replacing formula with expressed milk.

For another, she sleeps. Anywhere. Bed, car, pillow, floor, pram, someone's arms, bath... Critterbug would sleep in someones arms, but would awaken screaming the second he touched his bed. For months he slept in his pram, because it was the only thing that worked. Put him in the pram, walk him up and down the street for an hour or so, and leave him in the pram once he fell asleep. Spaceghost, on the other hand, will even put herself to sleep if she is put in her cradle after being changed and fed. I AM AMAZED.

Isn't it funny how we expect them to be the same? We recognise as adults that we are all individuals (I'm not!). Even as children, we recognise ourselves as our own separate people. I for one HATED being dressed in the same clothes as my little sister. We weren't even twins, and my mother dressed us the same. I hated it. Yet for some reason people often seem to expect subsequent babies to be the same as the first, just like I expected Spaceghost to be the same as Critter.

And I'm really not sure why, since even the pregnancies were vastly different. With the Critter, I had morning sickness till the day he was born (admittedly not as bad after the first 3 months, but decidedly still there - just nausea instead of run to the nearest container), and the nausea even lingered for some months after he was born. I didn't dare let myself feel hungry, because hunger would turn to nausea in a few minutes. With Spaceghost I think I was only actually sick three times. Critterbug demanded I eat nothing but cheerios and macca's chicken nuggets, Spaceghost couldn't abide sugar. Pre-eclampsia with my boy, perfectly normal with my girl. 4 hour labour ending in hemorrhage the first time, baby in distress leading to emergency c-section this time.

The fact that one is a boy and one a girl should stop me from treating Spaceghost as a little clone of the Critter, just in case the incredibly obvious personality differences weren't enough. I only hope if I am ever blessed with another (looking incredibly unlikely at the moment) I won't fall into the clone trap.