the problem of excess

I tend to get a little uncomfortable around this time of year. You've probably felt it too - the rising anxiety of a community itching to get their hot little hands on this and that (and also this) before the big man in red gets in his sleigh.

Che really gets the Christmas thing this year and he's subsequently bursting with excitement. We've been reading Christmas books, discussing the 'magic' and reminding him that it's a good time of year to be grateful and happy. The gift giving and receiving is worthy of many a daydream too.

We went to sushi train after his swimming lesson today and I sat with him in the little corner of calm while watching the chaos of the shopping centre merely metres away. Trolleys were overflowing with plastic fluro and every second person wore a frantic look of desperation. They definitely weren't having a jolly ole time.

It's so easy to get swept up in the fast-pace of a busy shopping centre, so easy to go along for the consuming ride. We never go overboard at Christmas time and this year is no exception. We'll buy a tree like last year, decorate it, make baked goodies for the neighbours, play Christmas carols and generally stay close to home. The gifts we buy are small yet sincere (although Che is getting a bike - and might I add that it was incredibly difficult to find one that didn't have flames all over it?!) - wrapped with Che's paintings and tied with re-used string.

I've made a point of asking friends to hold-off on the gifts for Che and Poet - they have so much already. While Lego is clearly the best toy Che has ever owned (he spends hours upon hours building, creating, imagining and problem-solving) it's the mudpies that get the biggest smiles.

ebb/flow

Pirate Che on his unmade bed/turbulent sea attended his second party of the week which confirms that he's got a better social life than his parents.

Poet has just become a bit of a chatterbox. If she's not sucking on her hands, she's gesticulating wildly and squawking like the morning birds (at sunrise!). There's a rooster across the road too so clearly she's just joining in on the morning chorus.

3.5 months is when everything shifts. It still amazes me, on this second round of motherhood, that the bond between mother and baby is so very strong. I'm still so connected to her. The cord was cut but we still flow with the same rhythm. And just this past week, as she has opened those big eyes a little wider, found her sing-song voice and discovered her own strength, I felt the last of those pregnancy hormones vanish - hence I was tired, headachy and generally a little blah. The ebb and the flow of it. I have managed to pick myself up - I'm eating with more awareness, drinking plenty of water, getting into bed early and slowing down just a bit.

I was feeling really good this morning. And then I dropped Che at Montessori. One of the dad's was walking towards me, he knows our family, met Poet only last week, and he pointed at (and touched!) my post-baby belly and exclaimed: "Oh, you've got another one on the way!"

Did anyone say BIGGEST FAUX PAS EVER!

I just keep telling myself what I tell every single one of my pre-natal students: "It takes you a year to conceive, grow and birth your baby. It will take a year for your body to return to (a semblance of) its former self."

My mantra for the day - perhaps for the week.

p is for party

Friday morning 6.30am: "Mum is it my birthday today?"

6.31am (after I nudged Daniel to wake up): "Happy Birthday to You! Happy Birthday to YOU!"

6.33am: Che stands up, looks at himself and declares that he is most definitely bigger. We then ask him to look under the bed and in all his hurried excitement he pulls the presents out and bumps his head. "I'm ok!" He opens some books, a ruler, some clothes and, finally, the lego jet plane. His response: "I have wanted this for all of my life, for years and years. It is wonderful! It is amazing! Let's build it now!"

So while I baked cookies and made sandwiches and prayed for the sun to stay and the wind to stop, Daniel and Che started building lego. A few hours later we headed to the park that was, unfortunately, wildly windy. Gale force. Like nature was celebrating the birth of Che - my air child - it has been windy on his 1st, 2nd, 3rd and now 4th birthday. We played at the park for half-an-hour then headed to Mama and Popa's house for tea, cake and party food (in the calm that was shelter).

The lego cake was a hit (oh the vivid sweetness that is food colouring!), the party hats made for lots of fun and the wild duck sitting on her soon-to-be-hatched eggs in Popa's vegie patch provided a little bit of 'farmyard' entertainment. I was reminded, like I am every year, that with little kids it's the simple things that are the best. Who knew that star-shaped vegemite sandwiches, party poppers and stripy straws could keep a bunch of four-year-olds happy?

My favourite moment of the party was when Che's little (girl) friend Vali came running back into the house to give him a handmade pressie: "Che, this is a pink clay love heart that I made for you," she said. And then we all melted.

The night before his birthday I cuddled with him in bed and, like every year around this time, I shared with him the story of his birth.

"Four years ago I had some niglings in my belly and I knew that you were coming. You were about to arrive in the world. So we went to the hospital and after a few hours there you were born. Daddy cut the umblicial cord that was attached to your belly button and I cuddled you for hours and hours. You made me a Muma that day."

"How did I make you a Muma?"

"Well, before you were born I didn't have any children."

And then he starts crying and exclaiming: "You didn't have any children!"

"It's ok sweetie, I've got you now. You and Poet are my children."

"And you're our Muma."

And then he fell asleep.

B is for birth-day, f is for four and l is for love. A sweet friend of mine sent me a text message yesterday and informed me that a four-year-old asks an average of 437 questions per day. I think four will be fun, frivolously so.

far cuter than

Poet is nine weeks today. Yesterday I packed away the 0000s. Today she is cooing and ahhing and smiling and sighing. She's far cuter than the creature that decided to share our home this morning.

What would you do if you woke to your almost-four-year-old calling from the lounge room: "Mum, there's a snake on the windowsill."

You wouldn't believe him would you. Because it's just shy of 7am and you're all sleepy.

But then he says it again and you think to yourself that it's probably best you check it out.

So you wander up there expecting to find a worm or a skink (small lizard creature) and instead there is a 2 metre diamond python sunning himself on the outside windowsill while your child sits on the couch reading - completely unperturbed.

"See Mum, a snake," he says.

"Oh, a snake," you say.

And then for the next hour there's text messages to a friend who knows reptiles, a visit from neighbours in their pjs and the wondering of where it's been living and where it intends to go next.

Diamond Pythons are perfectly safe and even a little bit shy. They keep mice and rats at bay so if you're not completely freaked out, they're good to have around.

Our newest addition meandered back to the roof which is where he's probably been sleeping all winter. And perhaps it's where he'll stay. Oh!

outside

When I arrived home from the birth centre with Poet, I honestly thought that Che looked gigantic. I questioned whether he had had a growth spurt in the eight or so hours since I was gone. Sure my post-birth high may have affected my perception on that first day, but since then I have had to remind myself that, actually, he's still quite little. I suppose when I'm comparing him to someone that fits in the crook of my arm, he's going to look big.

Che is about to turn four. And it seems that in the midst of become a big brother and adjusting to having a little baby around, he's become rather argumentative. I'll admit that my patience hasn't extended very far but I'm a little tired of the word: 'No!' Daniel even had this conversation with him yesterday:

"Hey Che..."

"Yeah Dad?"

"Is 'no' the only word you can say?"

"Yes...No."

Hmmm. While Poet and I have been spending a lot of time inside, Daniel has been taking Che outside. Their little adventures have been essential to maintaining a sense of calm within our home. They go swimming, exploring, beach walking and bush adventuring.

Poet and I will join them sometime soon. But this week Che has been sick...a grumpy, mopy little guy who is finding it difficult to understand why he can't cuddle "the baby."

This week is all about learning to balance...as a mother of two.

And I have thought, many times in the past few days, how do Mumas of 3, 4, 5 children do it? Please share, I'd love to know.

you're home now

In the newborn haze where you're sleep deprived, blissfully happy and unable to comprehend the simplest of questions, days melt into one another and before you know it another week has come around. The sweet spring sun has started to beckon and we've left our abode a few times, only to return a short while later, happy to have been out in the world but so pleased to be home again.

Of course when we do go out, the little bundle curled up in the sling attracts a lot of attention. It's been slightly heartbreaking to watch Che as he meanders in the background and regardless of how much Daniel and I bring him into the conversation, for most people there's nothing quite like the allure of a newborn. He's been having nightmares too and so most nights he ends up in our bed. Four in the bed and the little one said...

I've been making sure I give him as many cuddles as I can, telling him how much I love him several times a day and encouraging him to interact with Poet. What has been so incredibly awe-inspiring as a parent is watching him take her in. He ponders the size of her hands, kisses her forehead and come really close when I'm feeding her.

But, there has been one thing that he has said, since she was born, that leaves me silent and a little teary.

Every day he comes really close to her and says:

"You're home now Baby."

Like she's been waiting to come.

"thinking of you"

To all of you who have left comments or sent emails wishing me a safe and beautiful birth - thank you. It means so much to receive such sweet gestures from across the lands and over the oceans.

The past few days have probably been the most challenging of this pregnancy. On Saturday I came down with a cold and spent the next few days in bed. In retrospect I was doing just a little too much nesting and my body didn't like it. So I've been staying in and resting up, keeping warm (it's been oh so icy) and cuddling with Che. The challenge hasn't been at all physical. In fact, I still feel energised and not overly big, although getting out of bed is a sight to behold.

It's the mental journey a woman embarks on as she gets oh so close to birthing that's confronting and challenging. Last night I lay in bed thinking about the fact that I'm about to become a Muma to two. And that Che won't be my only child. There's a sadness embedded deep within the reality, that these next few days will be the last before we start a new beginning. While he is rearing to embrace his new role as big brother, his cuddles, copious 'i love yous' and need to be close to me subtly tells me that he's holding on too - to being the only one.

I suppose we all need to let go of something.

I keep experiencing moments of fear about birthing, looking after a newborn, imminent change. And then they pass and I'm ok again.

This morning I got a pedicure so I have pretty toes to look at while I labour. And then I went and did what was probably my third 'last shop.' And I bought more toilet paper and more tissues and more maternity pads. Because you can't have enough of those.

A packet of 0000 white singlets made their way into the trolley too. They are already in the washing machine. Softening for baby.

I feel like I've got another good week in me. I am definitely not fed-up. Which I'm grateful for.

The house is clean, the washing is done. The grandmas are close to their phones at all times.

And we wait.

Photos by Tim, of course.

slumber

Apparently the excitement of an imminent birth is tiring for little people. Especially the soon-to-be big brother who is being oh so kind, caring and cuddly with his muma. Last night in the soft glow of his bedside lamp he fell asleep under the pages of his book while waiting for me to snuggle with him. Precious.

His Montessori mind is well and truly challenging my intellect at the moment - not hard for my brain is literally deep in hormonal, hazy, baby land. When I'm driving in the car or when we're in bed together he'll say things like:

"Mum, let's talk about pipes."

"Mum, let's talk about planets."

"Mum, let's talk about bones."

And always, without doubt, the question arises:

"Is baby coming soon?"

To which I reply:

"Yes Che Che, baby will be here very soon."

I have twenty teeth

I'll admit that I was suffering from motherguilt because I had never taken Che to the dentist. Motherguilt has incredible power; it makes me ponder my choices, it keeps me on my toes. Sometimes it makes me really organised, organised enough to make an appointment with the dentist and keep it. Daniel and I had been talking about the dentist with Che quite regularly - how important it is to get check-ups to ensure your teeth stay strong and healthy. His one question was: "After we go to the dentist, can we get ice-cream?" Our response: "Ice-cream goes against everything the dentist stands for."

I was a little apprehensive and envisioned a writhing, unhappy three-year-old clenching his teeth together. The book in the reception area helped - the story of a young boy who opens his mouth wide so the dentist can count all his teeth! As soon as Che hopped on that mechanical chair his mouth was open - he was eager and waiting. I was pleasantly in awe. He has twenty teeth, thinks the cleaning paste is 'yucky' and only had trouble keeping his mouth open when he was giggling so hard the dentist has to take the utensils out of his mouth.

I squeezed a check-up in straight after - still no fillings! But...I was asked, politely, if I tend to clench my teeth sometimes. "It's just that there's a bit of wear on the front teeth," she explained to me. I was lying there, thinking about all those times where as a mum I get so frustrated that I clench - and hard. "Yes," I admitted. "I do...and how bad is that - for my teeth and my parenting." Oh motherguilt, you're still there, even after the dentist.

to the lighthouse

On Sunday, in luminous autumn sunshine, we ventured north to the lighthouse and explored the rock pools. Che threw rocks into the water for a while, then hitched up his pants and paddled before venturing a little further out towards the sea and finally immersing himself in the water. He had been sick for most of the week - the sunshine and salt air worked wonders and he returned home with rosy cheeks and a keen interest in researching coral.

In the afternoon it poured with sweet smelling rain so we stayed in, drank tea and read books. And then we ate shepherds pie and climbed into bed for adventure-induced sleep. Now that autumn is well and truly here it is so good to dream with the doona pulled right up to my chin. And to feel the dancing moves of the little one, kicking, flipping and high-fiveing - all. night. long.

are you my mother?

Yes Che, I am your Mother.

He loves books, it must be in the genes. His bookshelf is literally overflowing, It may have something to do with my slight obsession with children's books and now my perfect excuse to buy them. I once read that a house without books is a home with no soul. Our house has an almighty soul.

I'm also the little one's Mother too. Mother of two - it's just dawning on me. The kicks are getting stronger and more frequent, my belly a little bigger, my thoughts a little more geared towards preparing. I'm halfway through now and it scares me that in the amount of time I've already been pregnant, I'll be cradling a newborn in my arms. It's just going by so fast. And with the days and weeks that pass in a mere flash I'm also conscious of celebrating this time and this pregnancy. The growing of new life. Because it really is such a wonderful thing.

We had our second and final ultrasound last week and while we didn't want to find out the sex (the surprise is just too precious, the wondering so entertaining) it would have been very obvious at one point when the pelvis and thighs were in full view. So did we see? No, buba's hands were crossed over its genitals. It didn't want us to know. I love that. I love you buba.

Ps. Congratulations to Dana who won the abi and joseph headband giveaway. And blessings for the imminent birth of your first baby.

first day

I cried when I was packing his morning tea and marking his name on his lunch box and hat but I managed to smile when he kissed Daniel and I good bye. He tried to give us a hug at the same time but his arms didn't reach. He told us he loved us and then he ran off into the room that is made for his size. His world.

Daniel and I drove away feeling so content that Che will be spending time at Montessori each week. It feels like an extension of our home. The way the teachers respect the children is inspiring - they are treated like capable, intelligent human beings and nurtured with the love and care that an elder should always express to a child.

When we walked passed the vegie gardens and scarecrows and through the gate to collect him he came running out with his first painting. He was happy. And that means everything to us.

the river, it flows by itself

Ever since Anna attended one of my birth workshops with her hubbie and full-belly in tow, we have enjoyed a constant conversation over email. Last week I sent her a quick reply and two of the four sentences went like this:

"I have had the most challenging morning with my determined toddler.

Will write a longer email soon."

Anna wrote me this morning and said she thought that because I never write about toddler craziness and antics she presumed they never happen in my house. And then she reminded me of this post I wrote. A post that I needed to read again.

While I reflect on the growth, joy and love in this space please don't ever think that it's all bliss and incense in my life. It's not and I don't ever expect it to be. The last few weeks have been particularly challenging because of the change recently mentioned. I've been a little nervous and stressed and I think it's infiltrated into our family life. At the same time Ché is gaining such wonderful independence and it was only today when I looked at the picture I took of him that it all made sense. Like I have been struggling with my role as muma, partner, yoga teacher, professional writer he is contemplating much bigger things. I'm sure, sub-consciously he is wondering whether he is a baby or a big boy. I can see it in this photo.

He is regularly explaining to me that he is a big boy and yet he's spending more time in our bed at night than he has in months. He wants to do everything himself and yet there are times when he wants nothing more than to be snuggled, cuddled and kissed.

It is human nature to always look forward; to plan, prepare, think about tomorrow. And yet the essence of yoga is to be in the present - right here, in the now. Yesterday in my pre-natal class there was one girl so close to birthing her baby and I could tell how challenged she was by time. "I'm counting down the days," she said. But she is only 38 weeks and perhaps, if her baby decides, she could be pregnant for another month. I reminded her of how precious it is to be one with her baby because once the cord is cut, the oness and wholeness is gone. I reminded her to find peace in her body, breath and baby. To find joy in the present. In today.

I have been getting quite stressed and upset by Ché's tantrums and determination and yet I think it's him just being overwhelmed by his world. I have noticed whenever we walk somewhere that I am thinking about the destination and he is consumed by the cracks in the pavement, the trail of ants in his wake, the pebbles under the tree. His world is the minutiae even though he calls himself a 'big boy'. I have to remember that.

I love this quote:

"Don't push the river, it flows by itself."

Thanks for all your well-wishes re. my new job. Result? It was exciting, inspiring and wonderful. I feel like I've fallen on my feet.

swell

a stop at the beach for a coffee where we watched the big, bubbly waves before heading to the park. Peek-a-boo. I see you.

the boy

since the haircut i can see a little boy. no more baby. and i have a much better idea of what he will look like when he gets older. aren't little boys just the most adorable little things. Someone asked him what he wanted for Christmas the other day and without hesitation he said: 'truck'. Of course, why would he want anything else? But we have so many trucks and i love them all but it's time for something a little different. So I bought this (his grandparent's helped) and am enjoying collecting the accompaniments - chef's apron, food, etc.

Apparently all that matters at the moment is blue wellies and a ukulele. Because, why wouldn't you want to wear gumboots in 35degree weather? I have stopped questioning and am just excepting it as the fashion of choice for the two-year-old that melts my heart.

Christmas is all about the magic - magic for the children. And us mamas and dadas are the angels that make it happen. This reminder changed it all for me.

What are you doing to make it magical?

out of this world

my windswept dreamer.

in a name

How long did it take you to name your child? It took Daniel and I seven days to give Ché his name. We expected a dark little child and I birthed a blonde, blue-eyed, elfin little creature. You can read more about it here.

But sometimes, Daniel still questions whether we got it right. He's a virgo, and a perfectionist, and he considers meanings and namesakes very important matters. When I was pregnant we discussed the concept of 'growth' and 'possibility' in a name. From a little thing, a big thing grows. Seeds, trees, life. All those things. I remember mentioning to Daniel that it's not as if our child is going to introduce himself and then mention a 'sub-heading' that we gave him on his birth certificate. Names don't work like that.

But we agreed that we wanted a name that sounded beautiful, that felt right, that had a meaning that resonated with us. We wanted our child to have a name that we were proud of.

We still talked about tree names and acorns, oaks and seeds but, as you know, we chose Ché. Ché Ché as so many people call him.

On Saturday afternoon while our little one was sleeping, Daniel and I were lying on the bed reading. I was flicking through The Possibility of Everything. The writer, Hope Eldeman, takes her family on holiday to the Central American country of Belize. She talks a lot about the Mayan Indians of that area - mostly their spirituality that still resonates throughout the land. She discusses the plant life of the area, and the Mayan names for each species.

And then she writes Yex che ... the first tree.

In the ancient language of the Mayan Indians, Che means tree.

After two years, such wonderful validation. We gave him that most beautiful 'tree' name.

I still can't believe it.