The secret to feeding a toddler

Sometimes feet also find their way into a
bowl of yoghurt.

I've concluded my girl will eat anything, provided it fits two main criteria*:

1. It is exceptionally bad for you. 

2. It makes an exceptional mess. 

With a sometimes-employed third:

3. It is on my plate and I appear to be enjoying it. Generally this is pilfered, chewed, declared 'cuck!', and deposited back on my plate in a mushy pile. Repeat until all pieces of the food in question are either actually eaten (by me) or returned. 

Examples of food fitting the criteria:

• Chocolate 
• Chips
• Biscuits 
• Hard boiled eggs. Shell must be scattered as far as possible. 
• Yoghurt. Eaten with fingers. 
• Salad veggies from my plate.

Preparing to scatter shell far and wide.

* The exception is meat. She's quite the carnivore. 

Are there any food-related rules in your house you didn't instigate?

Just imagine...

Image from www.thenomonworkshop.com

Children are simultaneously a source of great inspiration, and an impediment to, creativity.

I'm currently doing a part-time graphic design course. The tutors - obviously - encourage us to pursue creative past times. Doing so is also recommended by the primal living guy.

Both say its good for the mind and soul. That it doesn't really matter about the quality of what you produce. The process is the point. Devote enough energy to the process and, more importantly, have enough fun with it, and the results will take care of themselves.

My current lifestyle allows ample opportunity for creativity, at some level. My 'job' involves lots of mindless tasks during which my head is free to turn over ideas. And there's Rosie herself, of course. Her laugh, the tiny curls at the back of her head, the light resting on her round cheeks, little hands and feet in action - it all has me longing to capture every fragment that is the beauty and joy of child and childhood.

Yet whenever I sit and attempt to commit these concepts to paper or pixel, it is invariably that moment in which she climbs on the couch and falls off/gets stuck under a chair/gets a little too affectionate with the cat/has a meltdown because some toy or random object won't do as she wishes ... You get the picture. 

And I remember it's not just about chasing my own creative genius (ha!) but being a mummy who comes to the rescue. Who soothes that precious little soul so it can dust itself off, jump back up and once again follow where imagination leads. 

Imagination at work in recent weeks.

Doing it for me

There’s been very little activity here lately. Obviously. I’m hoping to change that. Well, a little, at least. Because I’ve kind of been missing blogging. Not all of it – some elements of blogging I feel like I ‘should’ do can become a downright chore. And, hey, I don’t have the world’s most fascinating life, so topics can be hard to come by. But the actual writing bit, I love.

Image from www.escapenormal.com

So, my plan (as it stands today, anyway):
1. Take a leaf out of the slow blogging book. I only just heard about this, and basically it means uploading the odd post now and then. Not caring about how relevant your timing is to current events. It also means taking time to create thoughtful, well-considered posts. Ha! Think I’ll skip that bit. I’m not that bloody dedicated. If I’ve actually managed to write something, it’ll get a review or two and posted.
2. Write about what interests me. Which is myself, basically. What I do. Where I go. What I think about. Clearly this means my posts are likely to be rather mundane. Dull, even.
3. To elaborate on point 2, my topics will probably consist of:
* My daily life. Bet you're dying to read all about that.
* Rosie. Of course. Naturally, these ones won't be in the least bit dull, not even for readers completely uninterested in new teeth, nappies, breastfeeding and so on.
* Some work I do as part of my graphic design course. Figure I may as well include it.
* My move to a simpler, more – as described by its proponents - primal life. This was prompted by the enormous sense of calm I felt when I left full-time work and my days followed the rhythm of a baby. But then life got busy and draining again (not that I’ve returned to full-time work. Or much work at all) and I started looking into ways of reclaiming that sense of physical, mental and emotional wellbeing and vitality.
The first step was deciding to quit eating sugar. And led to adopting what is called The Primal Blueprint (and Primal Connection). The most tangible way of practising this is through food and exercise, but there is much, much more to it. So you, lucky readers, will get the chance to hear all about what I eat, my strolls through the countryside, and various attempts to live ‘in the moment’. Again, bet you can’t wait.

Has this breastfeeding 'debate' been overblown?

I've been living half under a rock lately and have only caught glimpses of the apparently raging debate about public breastfeeding on social media (Twitter, Facebook and a couple of blogs). 
I suspect it's been overblown. 
Women who are tired of a lack of support for breastfeeding, including doing so in public, have answered back at their perceived critics. 
Which is like waving a red flag at a media that seems forever itching to paint women as irrational and reactionary shrews, always with a bee in our bonnets over something. And bingo, a war of words is born. 
So I'm going to add some of my words to the war.
* I breastfeed in public and while have had a few awkward moments, have never been stigmatised. For which I'm grateful. I've even nursed at the local pool and no one batted an eye, as far as I could tell. 
* However should anyone feel offended by me doing so, tough luck. You don't like it, look away. 
* Breastfeeding is an inherently discreet exercise. After a brief and essentially unavoidable flash of skin the baby's head covers any 'scary' bits. I don't dispute claims some mothers flaunt themselves but really cannot believe this happens much at all, let alone at alarming levels. I've never seen it. 
* Having said all that, these days I often do go somewhere private to feed. Not because I'm uncomfortable, but because it doesn't take long for babies to become enormous stickybeaks. My daughter has the sense - unlike some in the community, it seems - to realise there are far more interesting things to look at than my boobs, and so we find a place where she can focus on the job at hand. 

If people are uncomfortable with mothers breastfeeding in public, fair enough. They probably can't help it. But they need to learn to live with it. And asking us to 'calm down, all we want is for you to be discreet' is unfair because it implies we are irrational (which we aren't) and that we are deliberately indiscreet (which, in my experience, we aren't). 

A lifetime ago

Rosie as a newborn in May last year. Mere months, yet a lifetime, ago.
Taken on an Olympus E30 and edited with Photoshop CS5.

It's not just slippers. I'm also addicted to baby carriers

I have a problem. And this week, being International Babywearing Week, is probably a good time to face up to it. I think I'm a sling addict. Just something else to add to my embarrassing slipper addiction.
Babywearing was one of the practices I most looked forward to while pregnant. Though I initially didn't know it had its own name. I thought it was just having your baby snuggled into you while you were also able to go about various jobs. 
By the time my baby was born I had three baby carriers. That number reached four when she was a few months old. 

 

Some of our early babywearing occasions.

I really wanted one of the fabric, wrap style ones, and my lovely grandfather bought us one as our 'you're having a baby' present. But I'd also heard Baby Bjorns were well liked, so when I saw a local mother was selling a second hand one in good condition I snapped it up. And finally, there was a pouch style one available with some other pre-loved baby gear I was buying so I figured I may as well have it too. I drew the line there. 

The wrap and pouch would be for home, and the less fiddly Baby Bjorn would stay in the car and be used on town trips. "No more" I told myself. 

Until using something as simple as the pouch proved to be beyond my powers of co-ordination, and the wrap too fiddly in some situations. That fecker takes a LONG time to get on when you've a baby yelling in your ear hole. When a simple clip-on carrier came up for sale for 10 bucks I thought 'there's my solution!' and added it to my collection.

 

Some more recent rides in the Hugabub, one of which 

involved a short nap (centre).

But for all my enthusiasm and preparation our babywearing experiences have been a bit hit and miss. 
When I was researching what carriers to buy, I read a lot of information advertising about how happy and comfortable babies were in slings, and how mothers likewise appreciated the comfort and convenience of babywearing. 
Yet many of the mothers I came across selling their carriers said their bubs hated being in them. "That's weird," I thought. "These 'experts' say babies love it. Oh well, I'm sure my baby will be more than happy strapped to chest for several hours a day."
So imagine my surprise when said baby did not in fact beam up at me with rapturous smiles and/or quickly drop off to contented sleep upon being placed into any of our slings. Many times she was lifted back out and the thing torn off just as quickly as I'd put her in it. Fancy mothers knowing more than marketers!
Thankfully, this was not always her response. It may be that I learned when she was going to like being worn and when she wasn't, but she does generally enjoy time in the Hugabub and often nods off. And unless she is hungry, or too warm, the Baby Bjorn is a hit while we're shopping. The other two slings have also come in handy several times. 
As for myself, I enjoy having her snuggled against me. Though I'd need my arms to grow roughly a foot each for me to find the experience as easy and comfortable as I had hoped to. 
I feel very traditional and Mother Earth-like, even, trotting down the street with my baby upon my chest rather than labouring behind a wheeled monstrosity that looks and handles more like a Hummer than a pram. (Though of course I do have a pram, and am not afraid to wield it when the occasion warrants it.)
One thing I've noticed is that everyone else loves seeing babies carted about in slings. We attract lots of smiles and friendly little chats. My favourite was with an elderly lady who said she used one with her son - a son who is now 60. Their carrier had a little seat in it and with him safely tucked in she'd get on her push bike and they'd have a merry time riding about town. 

Paul had more success with the pouch-style one.

What about you? Are you a fan of babywearing? Was/is your baby?

Thankful Thursday - Velcro, etc

I'm grateful for having had a baby in the age of velcro, zips and snaps. How on earth did people wrangle the flailing limbs of screeching little she-devils (or he-devils) into clothes featuring only fiddly buttons and ribbons?

Linking up with Kate of Kate Says Stuff for Thankful Thursday. What are you grateful for this week?

Note: No children were harmed in the making of this post; she just grizzled for an extra five seconds while I took the photo.

Previous post: Wordless Wednesday - Whoops

Slippery slope of slipper addiction

When you discover you're pregnant and start devouring all the baby-related information you can click a mouse on, you come across lots of items that start with 'no one ever told me...' To the point where you begin to assume "well I've read so much advice, from 'experts' and other mothers, I must be aware of, if not exactly prepared for, almost every possibility". WRONG. 
Despite all my research, there were some things no one told me. Like how having a baby in late autumn meant that seven weeks into being a mother I'd decide owning four pairs of slippers was a very good idea. 
I'd never before spared slippers much thought, other than having an aversion to those awful novelty type ones that look like dinosaurs or fluffy cartoon characters. 
Yet one morning I found myself thinking "gee I'm glad I've got each of my four sets of slippers". 

What my Snoozies looked like when new.
Photo credit: emersonstreethave.goldenbitgroup.com

I've got a pair of cheapy ugg boot-type ones from Kmart (cost eight bucks!) that are the warmest. Then there are my Snoozies, which are like thick, fluffy sockettes. Very quiet to walk in and soft and comfy, though their sticky, rubbery bits on the sole have you accusing people of spilling cordial everywhere. 
The third pair don't have anything around your ankle, so you can slip them on hands-free. Not the warmest, but great when you stagger out of bed for night feeds.
My last pair were (they've since died a crumbling, sole-shedding death) flip flops made of fluffy slipper stuff. They were just what I needed when it wasn't exactly cold, but too cool to go barefoot. 
Yes. Clearly I have too much time on my hands. 

Have you ever made a trivial, surprise discovery? Or am I the only one wasting brainpower on things like indoor footwear?

Previous post: She's here! Introducing Rose Amelia

Some days, most days

Nuts: Gotta love 'em.
Image source: here

Some days nuts are all that keep me going from breakfast at 5am to lunch around noon. On the days when you're flat out they're a handy option: grab a handful or several on the run and down them, leaving your hands free to do the thousand jobs that have be done in the morning.

You know that scene at the start of The Devil Wears Prada where the fashionista daintily counts out her almonds, taking care not to exceed her calorie allowance? Yeah? Well, that's not me. I grab a fistful and shove as many in my gob as I can chew without spilling any.

Most days ... I have time for more sustenance, and cups of tea.

Some days I can't wait to be a mother. I want to hold a chubby bubba RIGHT NOW! Some days I think my life is perfect as is and it would be madness to change it. Most days I merely look forward to motherhood as a 'down the track' thing. Albeit a 'hopefully not too far down the track' thing.

Some days I learn, either first hand or online, of yet another person experiencing some form of mental illness. And my heart bleeds for them. Most days (every day, in fact) it also heaves a massive sigh of relief that I, and my nearest and dearest, have been lucky to have so far escaped the scourge. Lucky beyond words.

Some days I can hear the birds singing as I leave for work. Most days there is simply the peaceful silence of a country town in the pre-dawn.

Linking up again with Lulu from Cherry Blossom Adventures. Thanks Lulu!

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The great (proposed) baby tour

How many friends and family members of yours have had babies in the past two years or so?
For some - for example you, Pop, if you're still reading - it may not be a whole lot.
But for those of you close to my age, I suspect the number will be quite high. Scarily high if you haven't gone down that path yet, and are starting to wonder if there's something wrong with you for delaying while all around you people are procreating madly.
Because let me tell you, there has been a massive boom in my world. Just this week I received the news a uni friend of mine is expecting her second baby (congratulations Rachel and Jason!).
This comes only days after one of Paul's brothers and his partner welcomed another daughter to their family. Congrats to you guys too! And mere weeks after another member of the Mayall clan, as well as two former workmates of mine, gave birth. Congratulations all round, basically.
Expand the timeframe to the past two years and the stork has been flapping about all over the place.
And the tragedy in all this, as far as I'm concerned? I've met only a handful of these little miracles. I live too far away from most of them. But that's what I get for moving firstly to one end of the country (Cairns) and then the other (Kalgoorlie) rather than staying put.
So I've had a genius idea: I should go on a baby tour! Traverse the country and meet all these new little citizens.

Forget the parents - its the offspring I want to see (joking!). I'd love to catch up with anyone I haven't seen since before they became a mother. And not just because I have a multitude of questions for them. Though that is part of it, given the time we decided we'd start trying for parenthood is drawing close ('EEEK!' doesn't begin to cover it).
Questions like:

• How long did it take you to get pregnant? Especially if you were, like me, on the wrong side of 30 as far as fertility is concerned. This is the one uppermost in my mind, it being the first step and all.
• How was the birth? Did you want to die, or do your insides only go a little bit cold and watery when you think back to those hours/days?
• Did you suffer any complications or (please god, no) a miscarriage or stillbirth? If so, how was/is this managed/being managed medically and emotionally? 
• How did breastfeeding work out for you?
• How did your boss and workplace respond to the news and, if you took maternity leave, what was your experience when it came to organising it? The same question applies to arranging post-leave work hours. 
• Did someone in your family nab your favourite name before you could? Or did you proudly inform a friend of your baby's name and they responded with 'Oh I had a cat called that once. Was a horrible creature'?
• Did you join a mothers group?
• Did you find out the sex of the baby during pregnancy?
• Don't you wish you had twins? Or sextuplets? Oh, you don't. 
• Do you get sick of being asked about pregnancy and children?

Several mums have already shared their knowledge on some of these topics with me, but you can never have too much information, I say.
So, Qantas or Jetstar, or Countrylink even, fancy sponsoring me on a nation-wide baby tour?

Would any of you like to join me on this (at this stage purely hypothetical) mission? And if you have any answers to the above questions I'd love to hear them.