Walk for Prems

On 28 October 2012 Bob, the kids and I will be walking to raise money for Life's Little Treasures Foundation.

Life's Little Treasures raises awareness of premature birth, and provides support to families affected by the birth of a premature or sick baby.

We are hoping to raise $500, but exceeding this would be fantastic. Additionally, while our team currently only consists of us, we would be delighted to welcome anybody who wants to particpate for this very good cause.

So please sponsor us, or join us or both!

10 Things we Love About Kindy!

Way back in January, after Bob had to nearly twist my arm off to do so, we enrolled Lily in kindy. After a few hiccups, that had me telling Bob he was an arse for thinking this was a good idea, it has been smooth sailing.

After a parent teacher interview with the fabulous Miss Mandy and reading Lily's monthly report cards, we decided to enrol her for a second day. We are now in the second week of this new two day week, and everyone is loving it.

The whole point of kindy for us was school readiness, as there is a bit of research out there that indicates first year of formal schooling outcomes are more positive for children who've participated in pre-school programmes, it also didn't hurt that I got to miss Lily for a short time during the week, something that has been really wonderful as she enters the "terrible twos".

But there's a lot more to love about kindy, and here is the top ten things.

10. I'm only one person. I can't know every activity, song and game that benefits a toddler's development, despite my best efforts on Pinterest, and it is so nice to be able to leave her with someone whose job it is to know this stuff.

9. Every single week, for the entire 6 months she has been attending, she has come home with a new skill. I 100% feel that her numeracy and literacy are much stronger than they would have been had I not sent her to kindy.

8. It takes some of the pressure off me to come up with a nutritious meal, fun activities and engaging play every day.

7. Ever heard that cleaning with a toddler in the house is like brushing your teeth while eating Oreos? I totally use kindy days to do some cleaning.

6. They teach life skills. Lily is much better with hand washing and packing up than I can be given credit for teaching her. I would even go as far to say that she likes to help pack up.

5. Archie gets some genuine one on one time. One of the things I struggled with as a mother of two is not being able to devote the one on one time to Archer that Lily had been so spoiled with. Kindy days allows me to do this. At first we just had delicious hours long baby cuddles, but now we play games and sing songs that he likes, and play with toys that he is developmentally ready for. Without any bossy interference from a toddler. I've also noticed that he naps better on kindy days. I highly doubt it's because he's bothered by her noise, she's not a hugely noisy kid, but rather that he doesn't feel like he's missing out on something fun.

4. She is better with other kids. Lily was painfully shy and seemed to always be a bit of a victim. Always the kid that got shoved, or missed her turn. Not anymore, she's not exactly assertive, but she's getting there. We did have a short and rough bumpy road where she did get a bit pushy and would screech "No!" if she was required to share, but that's over now and she has even started to initiate play at the playground with other kids. "C'mon Girl." "Hello Boy."

3. Her confidence in a wide variety of areas is blossoming, especially gross motor. Because I wrote on her enrolment form we struggle with this, they have worked on it with her. They've taught her to use a balance beam and how to climb a ladder, which despite going to the playground frequently, Bob and I have been unable to do.

2. The ladies at kindy seem to genuinely love Lily. They are excited to see her and know all about the things that make her her. One day I was 45 minutes late because I had a much longer to do list than usual, and I was feeling a little frantic when I arrived. I usually try and arrive by four, before they go back inside from afternoon outside play and before the "floaters" take over from the usual teachers, this day I arrived at 4:45. She was snuggled up with one of the girls, sound asleep, getting her hair stroked. When I do arrive on time, someone greets me and tells me all the wonderful things she has done that day. It's so nice for her to be developing such positive relationships with people other than her parents.

1.  Lily loves it. Nothing motivates her in the mornings like telling her it's a kindy day (except maybe swimming days). Every Thursday (and now Monday), we have the same conversation, "Hey Lily. Want to go to kindy today?" Which triggers her running around saying "Yeah! Kinny! Yeah! Mandy! Yeah! Jenna!" and demanding shoes, brushed hair, her hat and to get in the pram. One morning I was really disorganised, and unsatisfied, she climbed into he pram by herself, clipped herself in and proceeded to yell at me until we left. She does always cry when I leave, but when I arrive in the afternoons, she's always playing happily, and usually with toys we don't have at home.

And that is why the Maidens family loves kindy!

Tell me again about the night I was born - Lily's Birth Story

I've been meaning to do this for a long time. I hope I've got the details right, it has been a long time and much has happened since then. It is less for me (although I do enjoy reading over Archer's story from time to time) and more for Lily, for the record of her and for the parents of other prems and mothers with incompetent cervix I enjoy connecting with.

Today is Lily's due date anniversary and it seems as good a day as any. Probably the best.

We had been waiting on Lily for a very long time. 9 weeks, in fact, when I finally went into labour.

It would be a lie to say I had no idea this was going to happen. I had been researching a lot, and knew rescue cerclages have a poor rate of full term births as opposed to prophylactic, which have over 80% success rate. We had asked a doctor friend, who said he knew the answer but wasn't prepared to say anything and exactly one week prior, my doctor had expressed concern that Lily appeared to be fully engaged.

Mum had observed just two nights prior that Oscar, incredibly out of character, was favouring me over Bob. I joked I hoped not, as dogs supposedly sense labour. 

At about 2 in the morning at 32 weeks, I woke up with back pain. My mind didn't even think "labour" my mind thought "pee, panadol, heat pack".

When I went to pee, I noticed pink spotting. I didn't think anything of it, this is common with cerclages and it was really pale and faint. So, ever the keeper of a tidy home, I went off in search of my heat pack. The longer I looked, the more I noticed that the back pain wasn't persistent, but very clearly coming and going with gradual intensification and feeling of it wrapping further around my belly each time. The pain was about as intense as the pain I felt when my disk bulges were acute.

Starting to feel a bit anxious, I went to the toilet again, just to check. And this time the spotting was bright red.

I roused Bob, who groggily told me to ring the emergency number I had been given. By the time I was off the phone with them, with instructions to come in, Bob was dressed, had clothes out for me and our bag was at the door.

We were both excited.

You have to understand, from our perspective, from having seen a 26 weeker in the NICU, from thinking we were going to have a 24 weeker, this was a relief. She might as well have been full term. We were going to get to meet our little girl! Finally!

We arrived at the pregnancy assessment unit and were placed immediately in a room. I wasn't feeling any better or any worse, but when I went to the toilet my discharge had increased.

I was given drugs to try and delay labour (don't ask me, I didn't even ask, I was so disappointed they were even trying) as well as my third round of betamethasone. Betamethasone makes me feel crappy, so I was less than thrilled about this and was disappointed they had planned for me to finish the day with no baby, a migraine and hot flushes.

When Dr Cattanach arrived he confirmed that I had been in labour, but the stitch was still holding and the drugs to suppress labour had worked. I was going to spend the day on the ward and if nothing happened at the 24 hour mark, I'd get to go home. I felt better, because I had thought they were going to keep  me in the ward until I actually did go into labour.

And the day passed inconsequentially. I was excited to go home the next morning and went to sleep happy.

At about midnight (I don't remember the exact time, it may have been earlier), I got up to go to the toilet with back pain, and this time there was blood on the paper and in the toilet. I buzzed the midwife and in the time it took her to come, which was ages, I had started to have contractions, about 5 - 6 minutes apart.

She put on a fetal heart monitor and contraction monitor and we had some words about whether I was in fact contracting as the machine was not picking them up. I assured her I was and I assured her that for about an hour now they had been regular. She reluctantly agreed to ring Dr Cattanach. He wanted me in a birth suite ASAP. This was not possible as all the rooms with neonatal RESUS were either occupied or being cleaned as it had been a busy night for prems.

It was after 1:30am before an orderly arrived to deliver me to the birth suite.

Dr Cattanach had not arrived so another ob/gyn checked to see my dilation. This hurt a lot and left me shaking. I was starting to dilate, about 4 centimetres, so it was becoming urgent to get my stitch out.

Dr Cattanach arrived minutes later and set about organising to the cut the stitch. He was saying that I needed an epidural, but I was managing the contractions just fine and I couldn't imagine why. My labour was progressing but it was early in the morning and both anesthesiologists in attendance were attending c-sections. So Dr Cattanach decided to cut my stitch without pain relief.

It was hands down the worst pain I have ever felt. I was trying to suck gas and hold still but I was shaking all over involuntarily. My midwife had my legs and Bob had my arms, but it just wasn't happening. I was sobbing with pain and just wanted Dr Cattanach to STOP. So he did, uncertain as to whether or not my stitch was still in place.

Dr Cattanach decided to actually fetch an anesthesiologist himself and came back shortly, assuring me that I would have an epidural in no time.

Nausea had gripped me while he was gone and I was vomiting everywhere. Poor Bob was trying his best to catch it but as each round of vomiting chose to coincide exactly with a contraction, it was hard for me to aim. I was regretting the gas, and having had an epidural for the stitch placement, was looking forward to being relieved of the horrendous double whammy.

The anesthesiologist arrived just as I was at my worst. Vomiting, shaking, contracting and crying. And this is what he said, "I hope this is an emergency."

Apparently Dr Cattanach had insisted he attend me instead of seeing an almost complete c-section through to the end, and he was annoyed. I managed to hiss, "Yes, it is." While Dr Cattanach just rolled his eyes.

He explained the risks, how it worked and the length of time it would take to take effect, which was approximately half an hour. I signed, happy that at least one of my troubles would soon be relieved.

As he was placing the line, I felt like I wet myself and, desperately embarrassed, apologised. Everyone assured me it was fine. Then Bob started to wobble and suddenly he said he needed to sit because he was going to faint. I maintain it was the sight of the epidural going in and he maintains it was just he was tired and hungry.

Dr Cattanach took his place, and I promptly threw up all over him and his shoes. I'm sorry to his wife, who almost certainly had to wash that. I also felt like I had wet myself again. It was horrible, especially as I had used the bathroom shortly prior to to the anesthesiologist arriving. I was very embarrassed and was terribly upset as I felt like I was probably going to poop next. The only God send was I didn't really notice the epidural going in through my burning embarrassment.

After the epidural was in, I was rolled over and lifted to change my sheets and gown, which was when Dr Cattanach announced I had not, in fact, wet myself, but broken my waters.

 By the time the epidural had taken effect, it was 3:30am. Dr Cattanach said the plan was to check my stitch and dilation and then send me back to my room for a sleep, where he'd check on me again at 9.

As soon as he looked though, he backed up and said, "She's crowned!" and almost instantly the room was alive with people. Four more midwives and a pediatrician arrived as though summoned by this pronouncement. I'm sure my midwife had a hand in it, but it felt instant.

The midwives disappeared to the RESUS room and the pediatrician came to speak with Bob and me.

Until the day I die I will never ever forget what he said. I can't remember his name, but he was Scottish and older, so it sounded so earnest.

"32 weeks. That's good. 99% survive."

Bob and I beamed.

"I don't tell you this to give you hope. I tell you this because 1% die. She won't be crying when she's born and she'll need RESUS immediately. You won't get to hold her today, and probably not tomorrow either. She'll need CPAP and will be in ICN for at least a week, and won't get to come before 36 weeks and probably not until her due date."

I looked at Bob and his mouth was open, skin grey, eyes worried. I knew my face was identical and I wondered if it was too late to put her back in and stop labour. I didn't get to ask, because the paediatrician dissipated almost the moment that Dr Cattanach declared it was time to push.

3 pushes later, at 3:45am on Thursday 6 May 2010, Lily Grace Maidens arrived.

Screaming her tiny, perfect little lungs out. She weighed 1970 grams and measured 42.5 centimetres. And once she had been wrapped in a warming blanket and her APGAR scores completed, she was handed to me.

As tears rolled down my face,  I said, "Hi. I'm your Mummy."

And 26 days later, at 35+6 weeks gestation, we got to take her home.

And so Lily Grace was born. And our lives have since been blessed more than we ever deserved.

 

Best Friends Forever

It's happened. It's finally here. The day I've been dreaming of since the positive pregnancy test with Lily.

My kids are BFFs.

After the hiccup with tandem breastfeeding, I was doubtful that having kids so close together was a good thing. I worried a lot about jealousy being a problem and wondered how my baby would cope with being the "big" kid.

And at first, it really did seem like a bit of a disaster. Lily didn't seem jealous, just indifferent. And prone to whacking his soft spot. And then for a little while, she definitely was jealous, her favourite way of expressing this was to smash her brother on the head with a book while he was feeding. This was roughly about the time he was interested in toys, and there were a few incidents where she would snatch a toy off him and then try to out cry him, as if to explain to me with her limited communication methods that she was the most hard done by in this situation.

Shortly after this, it became evident that it was time Archer moved into his big boy bed in their shared room. I thought this was going to be an unqualified disaster. Lily loves her room, how was she going to go sharing it?

But she was so excited the first night, she could barely sleep. This was over 2 months ago now.

And ever since then, their relationship has come along in leaps and bounds. Especially now that Archer can sit up and is becoming quickly mobile. This week has been the best week so far.

We disposed of our germ factory highchair and got some nice, clean, plastic Fisher Price booster seats for a steal. Cheaper than just one of just about any other booster seat on the market. So now they sit next to each other at the table. Lily and Archer both think this is the greatest thing EVER.

I don't know what the secret joke is, but most meals, at least once, they look at each other and just start giggling. Sometimes, just to give us a glimpse into their secret world, Lily will say "Archie's funny!"

One day, Lily was already seated at dinner when Archer came to the table and Lily exclaimed, "Archie, dinnies is yummy!" and enthusiastically spooned some soup in her mouth to show him it was true. For the record, it was homemade cream of chicken soup and it was bit lack luster, actually. They both ate huge bowls full, though.

At lunch the next day, Archer was taking his time (finger food is tricky sometimes) and Lily went off to play. She just stood there for a bit and then came back to me and in her "I really need to you to listen to this because I mean it" whisper, she said, "Mummy." "Yes Lily?" "Archie's finished."

Gorgeous creature wanted her brother to come and play.

She does this all the time now. She loves him to join in and if we've "forgotten" to include him, she will remind us.

"Mummy, Archie's painting."
"Daddy, Archie shower."
"Mummy! Daddy! Archie swimming!" (a stinking adorable example from Saturday).

And he is just as into her. In the morning they have cuddles and at night they kiss each other goodnight. 90% of the time completely voluntarily.

It melts my heart. I hope that they stay this way forever, my beautiful, lovable babies.

Wow! Amazing!

In the last few weeks Lily has had a massive language explosion.

All of a sudden she is able to express to us how she is feeling, what she wants and why she wants it and to describe the world around her, sometimes with remarkable insight.

For me, the best thing about it has been that she is actually articulating her feelings to me. We were having terrible trouble with her just screaming when she needed something. We've talked a lot to her about frustration, anger, disappointment and feeling mad. This week we have really been making inroads, with her asking for what she wants calmly instead of automatically freaking out. "Help Mummy!" "Meme (excuse me) Mummy" "Sorry" "Open" and "More!" have been added to her repertoire alongside "Please" and "No." Some of these words she has had for a while, but she is now applying them in order to prevent frustration and anger by getting help achieving her goals.

"No" has always been something we have, under most circumstances, allowed Lily to say. She uses it to explain to us she doesn't like something, needs personal space, is not ready for or does not want something or to claim ownership, usually of food from the dog.

"More" has been a double edged sword though. Instead of throwing herself on the kitchen floor and sobbing, she now asks for "More!" Which is great when she is waving her cup around or is stuffing the last piece of sweet potato in her mouth, but not so great when she's sitting at the table eating her lunch, but actually wants me to put on another episode of Hi 5 or when she stands watching me feed Archer and actually wants me to read her another book. We're getting better and are slowly but surely finding she adds more of what to request, yesterday asking for "More water" a few times.

She has also been expressing her actual feelings, especially sad, tired and funny (which is a catch all for happy and enjoyment). Funny almost exclusively applies to Archer, but has also been applied to Oscar and me.

Another thing she has been trying to do is act as a mouth piece for Archer. If he is crying she tries to explain whether he's feeling tired, sad or mad. If she feels he is suffering some sort of injustice, she protects his interests, such as toys or food, by claiming ownership for him.

We have found this last week or two that she talks all the time. You know when people say that, and they just mean a lot. She literally talks all the time. Unending, sensible descriptions of the world around her, sometimes in sentences of up to five words, singing, counting, reading stories, chattering to me or Archer. If everything is described and counted, and all the stories are read, she will stroke her brother saying over and over in the sweetest, most loving voice ever, "Hello Archie".

Armed with her new words, she frequently uses them to talk about Archer. Delighted yelling "Coming Archie!" when he wakes and sighing sadly when she can't find him, "Archie sleeping?"

The very best new thing in her arsenal of words is that she has been expressing wonder at everything, "Wow! Amazing!"

And right now, quite literally as I type, she just threw her arms around me and said, for the first time ever, "I love Mummy."

I've been waiting for this since I got the positive pregnancy test! So much joy right now!

Parties

I have new hobby. It's planning out the next ten years of parties for my kids.

Lily's 2nd birthday was a surprising success. As I was expecting disaster, anything better would have been successful, I suppose, but really, I think it was wonderful! I had a good time, anyway.

Not only that, after I missed out on having a really whizz bang first birthday for her, like I had wanted, I was thrilled to go a little OTT.

And since then I have been enormously excited about Archer's party. It's going to be Very Hungry Caterpillar themed, and we have everything, from candles to balloons to outfits. I've got the menu worked out and the activities decided on and short of buying the food and his gifts, which we will do in the enormous and competitive up coming toy sales at Target and Big W, everything is done or organised. My main splash out has been sourcing lollipops that exactly match the one from the book as party favours. So really, any more thinking or planning on this party is superfluous.

So, instead, armed with Pinterest, I have been planning their next parties. And the one after that. And the one after that.

I've mentioned previously that next year we are going smaller for Lily. The reason for this is two fold, Lily got a bigger than planned 2nd birthday, and I think Archer deserves the same, and I also think there is much to be appreciated in a small, but highly detailed, afternoon party as opposed to a larger scale party, that is really for Mummy and Daddy as well.

It didn't take me long to come up with a theme that would suit four little girls. Pretty in Pink Princess High Tea. Pink and white food, drinks and decorations will be the order of the day, with an extra special splash of colour from some large tissue paper pom poms. I'm very, very excited.

Archer's second and third birthday will follow the same pattern as Lily's, with a delightfully over the top 2nd birthday and a small scale third birthday.

And you better believe themes, food, activities and decorations are all thought of and sourced.

Archie will be having an "Under the Sea" theme next year, complete with fish pinata, fish and chips for lunch and bucket and spade favours.

And his third birthday? A dinosaur dig, complete with bones buried in the sand pit, dino shaped pasta (thank you Coles!) and lava for lunch and magnificent t-rex shaped balloons. Perfect for four little boys (and one big sister), I think!

For both their fourth birthdays we will be skipping the party and purchasing new bedroom furniture and linen and giving them their big kid room. And for their fifth birthdays, their last at preschool, we are going to do a whole class affair at an indoor play center.

And for their sixth birthdays? This one will be the all out one, the last one we spend huge dollars on before the milestone birthdays start happening. Lily is going to have a fairy theme, with activities including wand and wing making. I also hope to rope some unsuspecting teenager into painting faces.

And Archer's will be pirates, including a large scale treasure hunt where the booty contains the loot bags.

Maybe there will even be jumping castles. Maybe.

After that? Well, presuming they don't want a say, I've mused on Lego themes, soccer themes and Star Wars themes. The soccer one is my pet. I imagine the first hour will be devoted to a soccer clinic and mini game, run by my husband and then a sausage sizzle, with ball shaped cake and water bottle favours stuffed with whistles and other soccer related items and sweets.

I'm also desperately hoping at 10+ Lily will be interested in a 1950s themed roller skating party. I envision 20 little girls in pastel poodle skirts having the time of their lives. The reality will probably be 20 little girls in skinny jeans taking turns at sobbing their little hearts out every time they go arse over.

Hey, I can dream.

Am I Mum Enough?

Have you seen the image floating around the web of the cover of the the Times magazine with the smoking mum breastfeeding her front row forward three year old?

Well, if not, here it is.

I haven't read the article, which is not about extended breastfeeding but rather attachment parenting, of which there are many aspects, not just magazine selling extended breastfeeding, but boy has it gotten mummy bloggers everywhere hot under the collar.

I'm a bit "meh" about the image. It's designed to ignite controversy and there is a much more beautiful image inside where the child looks his age and is nursing lovingly. I think the cover image, that most people will see, does nothing for positive breastfeeding press.

Mothers are very quick to get very defensive about their formula choice. Many, many blogs and online articles that are desperately trying to advocate for breastfeeding, especially extended breastfeeding, get swamped by irate mothers invoking hysterical nonsense like, "I shouldn't have to feel guilty." In my opinion, just talking about extended breastfeeding isn't trying to make you feel guilty, it's just trying to raise awareness and encourage people to view it as normal. Community views on breastfeeding are a huge obstacle right now, and let's face it, not enough women are following the WHO guidelines.

And that's where my commentary on that stops. Anything further would push me into nutty lactivist territory and I'm not about that. I support mothers who honestly can't breastfeed or mothers that have very good reasons for not breastfeeding, and I hope they support my choice to breastfeed my children until they are ready to wean.

What I really want to speak about is being "mum enough". The article, from what I've gathered, is about the extremeness of attachment parenting and I guess what a hardcore mum you have to be to do it.

I'm going to go right out there and say, I'm not Mum enough.

• You couldn't pay me to wear my kids.
• Co-sleeping sucks, and I only do it because getting up eight times during the night sucks worse. 
• I've tried cloth nappies, and while I was mopping up the 57th puddle of wee, scrubbing out the 95th poo stain and washing them for the 112th time trying to get them to be absorbent, I went "Fuck this shit, hand over the sposies."
• I make my own baby food because it's fun. If I got bored of it, I would totally supplement with jars.
• I do not like being a stay at home mum. It doesn't suit me. I feel suffocated and bored. Bring on uni and work!
• Sometimes I let my kids cry. Sometimes I let both my kids cry at the same time.
• For the most part, I can't stand other mothers.
• I refuse to take shit from my toddler. If she's naughty, I treat her as such. 

But you know what, and lots of true attachment parents will say this too, it's pretty hardcore mummying to be able to admit my faults, so maybe I AM mum enough.

Lily is Two!

Lily is two and I've been going through a lot emotionally due to this. The weirdest for me was dwelling a fair bit on our NICU experience, this did not happen when she turned one, so I guess there's something subconscious with her being two that got me a bit. I feel like perhaps it's that her babyhood is really behind her.

The night before her birthday party, Bob and I sat down to make a party playlist to be played with a slideshow of pcictures from when she was born and I absolutely lost it when he played The Beatles Blackbird and Defying Gravity from Wicked. They just really resonated with me.

Our sweet little girl has come so far. From hanging on in the womb, quite literally, for dear life, to being a NICU superstar, to growing so beautifully into a little girl who amazes me every single day.

I am so proud of her, she can:

1. Count to five without help and count to ten with help
2. Count to five is Spanish (bloody Dora)
3.  Consistently name blue, yellow, purple and black. Inconsistently name red and green
4.  Identify happy from sad, big from little, hot from cold, up from down, open from closed and boy from girl
5.  Drink from a cup and eat with a spoon and a fork
6. Use plurals appropriately
7. Almost walk up stairs without help
8. Name a huge variety of animals and their noises
9. Name most of her obvious body parts, including, if you want a giggle "fanny", "bum" and "boobies"
10. Feed the animals at night (Dog dinnies and Cat dinnies)
11. Follow instructions with multiple steps
12. Swim to a "safe" place all on her own

She is compassionate, funny, sweet, persistent, intelligent, thoughtful, active and simply beautiful!

Experiences with a (almost) Two Year Old

So this is a slightly retroactive post in that these occur before Lily turned two.

The last time I talked about taking Lily somewhere special, it was to Taronga Park Zoo when she was about 18 months old. And, it was fun, but it was very hard to tell if she got anything out of it and it was very hard work for not much reward, at the end of the day.

So, it was with some apprehension, Bob and I embarked on our first big outing since then.

I have been insisting for some time that we take the kids to the Easter Show.  On Saturday 14 April, we finally did it. I was freaking out a bit, because Bob insisted we drive to Hornsby station and catch the train from there. I'm not going to lie, this part was difficult. Physically and mentally, but the actual show was tons of fun.

Lily was beyond over excited about the farm animals, cheerily naming them all, surprising us when she correctly identified a donkey and astounding us when she spotted the turkeys in the poultry shed and excitedly ran over saying "Turkey! Gobble gobble." I still have no idea where she learned this. Her Fisher Price Little People Farm has a turkey, but it doesn't make the sound and I've never shown her. Once I saw turkeys on Playschool, but Lily rarely sits and watches TV and this was at least a month prior, probably more. Kid is a sponge.

She liked the idea of her showbag (a Dora one with hat, jewellery box, umbrella, lunch box and water bottle) and enjoyed tasting the show favourite, a dagwood dog. Archer wasn't quite as fond of the whole experience, overwhelmed by the people, sights, sounds and smells, but he had an alright day and was very pleased with the Cookie Monster rattle from his Sesame street Beginnings showbag, which matches the Elmo one from Lily's first Ekka in 2010.

Bob and I agreed it was lots of fun and we've decided we'll making it annual event.

On Monday, 30 April, we took Lily to the Hi 5 concert at Hornsby RSL. I was very nervous, I had no idea what it was going to be like and when telling Lily what we were doing, she seemed more bewildered than anything.

I'm pleased to say, it wasn't a failure. Lily was extremely overwhelmed, but was able to muster a few "Wow, Hi 5!"s, and towards the end, she did begin to dance and clap along with the songs. However, when they said bye bye (before an encore), she enthusiastically waved bye bye and announced, "Bye, Hi 5."

And she was done.

The encore was two much for her and while I danced along with Archie who loved every minute of it, Bob took Lily to buy this obnoxious torch that has spinning LED lights and plays the full Hi 5 theme. It only served to cement my belief that whole thing was little more than a toddler rave, as if the bright neon lights and toddlers going spastic over the bubble machine like first year uni students at 2 for 1 drinks didn't already tell me that.

But, ever since then she has spoken of her experience positively, has definitely become more enthusiastic for Hi 5 and just today was telling me the names of the actors. Last week I asked her if she'd like to go to a Dora concert like the Hi 5 one we just saw and she was very excited and has been excited to see the ad for this travesty ever since.

And I caved, undid my self imposed Nick Jnr. ban and bought some tickets. I accidentally bought tickets where you also get to meet Dora, trying to avoid the 145th row back from the stage, and I think this will be a disaster, but we'll see.

The following Saturday, having planned poorly because one was in May and the other April, never mind the dates and days, we took Lily on her planned birthday trip to Taronga Park Zoo. First of all there were a lot of adults there to help us, Mum, Grandma, Aunty Jayne, Uncle Jared and Vicki having made the trek with us. Second of all, 6 months makes a lot more difference than I ever anticipated.

Lily was flat out excited. She told us more names and animal sounds than we thought she knew, astounding us by very clearly pronouncing giraffe, which I would have thought was quite difficult for a child just getting her head around language. Her favourite animals this time, pipping the elephants from last time at the post, were the Chimpanzees or "Mun-kees". She even thought to tell us about them on the trip home with no prompting. As the males were putting on quite the display, I'm not surprised they made an impression.

What did surprise me was, when let loose in the gift shop, allowed to chose something from Mummy and Daddy AND Grandma and Bucky, she settled on a llama. An ugly, stiff legged thing which to me doesn't seem appealing or huggable. We must have shown her every other thing in the store, but she barely even spared them a second glance, gripping this silly thing fiercely. So that's what she got. And now it resides in her bed with her six other bed friends. (Oh, I know you're wondering. There's a bed time Dora, who's been loved until she is Satan's creepiest friend, with matted electric shock hair and scratched out eyes, a Fisher Price my first dolly called Baby who was her little friend in the NICU, Lucky the puppy who was bought by Bucky when I was very first put in hospital, a bear intended as a sensory toy for infants that she recently discovered in Archer's toy box (it WAS hers) called Bear, Jessie from Toy Story and a tiger who used to "live" under my bed as a child and was under hers, but she insists he sleeps at the foot of her bed.)

So, taking Lily out has become a delight. She is interested, learns things and behaves well. I hope this continues because I'd love to make such outings a regular thing. 

How Premmie Mums are Chosen

Tomorrow is Mothers' Day and it is my third. This Mothers' Day, like the one before it, I have been reflecting on my first Mothers' Day. Lily was born on the Thursday before Mothers' Day and the Saturday night before, some elves visited the NICU and left presents. Part of those present packs was a magnet bearing a poem. I sincerely can't tell you what else was contained in that little bag, but I've treasured that poem ever since.

My friend Jess has just delivered her second baby. A second little girl and a premmie. Baby Girl Maitland (name yet to be announced) was born at 35+6 and is doing as well as a full term bub. However, in the road of parenting a prem, even those who are as amazing and "late" term as Baby Girl Maitland, sometimes little bumps in the road are found. Whether it's as simple as some old biddy saying something ignorant about our child's weight, someone saying something just a little insensitive about our baby's early than expected delivery or our own frustrations at slow development.

Whenever I've had bumps in the road with Lily because she was premature, I've returned to this poem and it has been wonderful. So this is for Jess, on her third Mothers' Day and her first as a premmie mum. May your road be smooth, but if it is not, may you find the comfort in these words that I have.

How Preemie Moms Are Chosen by Erma Bombeck
Did you ever wonder how the mothers of premature babies are chosen?

Somehow, I visualize God hovering over Earth, selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As he observes, he instructs his angels to take notes in a giant ledger.
"Armstrong, Beth, son. Patron Saint, Matthew.
 Forrest, Marjorie, daughter. Patron Saint, Celia.
Rutledge, Carrie, twins. Patron Saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity."

Finally, he passes a name to an angel and smiles. "Give her a preemie."

The angel is curious. "Why this one, God? She's so happy."
"Exactly," smiles God. "Could I give a premature baby a mother who knows no laughter? That would be cruel."

"But does she have the patience?" asks the angel.
"I don't want her to have too much patience, or she'll drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wear off, she'll handle it. I watched her today. She has that sense of self and independence so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has a world of its own. She has to make it live in her world, and that's not going to be easy."

"But Lord, I don't think she even believes in you." God smiles.
"No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect She has just the right amount of selfishness."

The angel gasps, "Selfishness?! Is that a virtue?"
God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she will never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't know it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a spoken word. She will never consider a step ordinary. When her child says momma for the first time, she will be witness to a miracle and know it. I will permit her to see clearly the things I see-- ignorance, cruelty, prejudice-- and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life because she is doing my work as surely as she is here by my side."

"And what about her Patron Saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in the air.
God smiles. "A mirror will suffice."

Where's Ollie?

So, I've been a bit absent lately. A long bout of illness, helping Grandma and Mum move in (YAY), preparing for Lily's party and reactivating my World of Warcraft have all gotten in the way of blogging. I owe 1 weaning blog (it's a good one too! about homemade vs store bought cost effectiveness) and have another blog about Lily up my sleeve. And then there'll be Lily's second birthday post. So they are all planned, just sitting down to write them has been a bit of an effort lately. But I really wanted to write this blog today. Today was the first day that Nick Jr has removed Ollie, the Australian muppet, from their programming schedule. Both my kids love Ollie. I love Ollie. His little inbetween segments were fabulous. I remember when Lily was very small, I'd make a point of having Ollie on for the days of the week song, which marked breakfast time. Even today, as busy as she is, she will stop what she is doing and say "Ah-yi!" and watch him when he comes on. Archer will stop crying, breastfeeding, playing, whatever it is he is doing to watch Ollie as well. I'll miss that fluffy yellow monster. I can hear everyone reading this thinking "Get a grip woman, it's just a TV show!" One of my problems is that, while okay, the new show, Didi and B is not as good as Ollie. They are cute, but Ollie was awesome. BUT I'm sure I'll get used to them, and children's programming is, and always has been, cyclical. I'll get over it, my kids won't even remember next week. My real problem lies in how it was executed. Didi and B has been advertised for a while now. From the advertising, I was under the impression it was a full half hour show, not the 5 minute segment it is. And, for all the advertising, not once was it acknowledge that it would be replacing Ollie, who is a very popular little dude. Not only that, when I went to check on the Nick Jr facebook page if anyone was talking about it, the comments were no longer visible, which I'm assuming is in response to the absolute hysteria when Nick Jr America removed Moose and Zee earlier this year. So, rather than respond to complaints (as hysterical as some them were) Nick Jr simply removed people's ability to complain publicly to them. So then I went to the Nick Jr Australia website. And he's gone. And I felt creeped out, angry and annoyed. This kind of aggressive decision making on behalf of the consumer, with a 1984 esque way of executing it, no matter the age group of the consumer, is really quite unsettling. I think we'll be watching a lot more ABC Kids in our house, if only just to catch some Seasame Street muppet action. I also think we won't be buying much more Nick Jr merchandise, which is already horrendously overpriced for the quality (which, FTR, is actually quite good). Just disappointed and frustrated that I've actually had to see such a creepy level of consumer targeting on our favourite channel here in Maidens house. And, just so you know, Lily is far too busy to watch much TV (although I do keep it on, because otherwise I feel a bit lonely) and we balance it with plenty of other games, books and outside play.

Archie is 6 Months!

My sweet little man is 6 months old. And I can hardly believe it.

He can (finally) roll both ways, he can shuffle himself forwards and backwards across the floor in pursuit of toys and other items relevant to his interests, he is almost able to sit unsupported (I just experimented, about 30 seconds from when I let go to topple). He loves his solid food, and if you aren't quick he will literally snatch food off your plate or utensil because purees are apparently overrated. He loves his sister. He is quick to laugh and smile and is generous with his kisses.

He likes to read books, especially when his sister is doing the reading, he loves Ollie, the Australian muppet from Nick Jr. His jumperoo is the best toy ever, but rattles, the baby in the mirror and anything that Lily is interested in are pretty good too.

He is just beautiful.

Sanctiparent.

So, Archer is coming up to having his six month vaccines. Which means it is exactly two months since I found out an acquaintance does not vaccinate their children because "it's too much of a shock to the system".

Normally, I would try and forget these things, it's honestly none of my business, and as long as my children are vaccinated, which they are and always will be, it's not a huge deal. I could go on a bit about herd immunity here, but I won't, because that's a bit like beating a dead horse when it comes to the anti-vax crowd.

But I sort of feel like this person traps us into talking about our parenting simply to judge us.

When Bob couldn't come up with a solid argument about vaccine efficacy and benefits beyond "That's not how it works, dickhead." (I'm the researcher in this household), this Sanctidparent did the "I'm so smug because I've done the research. Poison your kids with the dreaded vaccines if you like, my kids will be HEALTHY."

Also, I was little shocked, because I have often read anti-vaxxers on places like BabyCenter swear up one side and down another they always tell parents of newborns that their children aren't vaccinated because that is what is responsible, because newborns are vulnerable to vaccinable diseases, especially whooping cough, which is becoming ever more prevalent in western communities.

But not a peep, not when Bob was coming into contact with this person day after day when our son was just 2 weeks old. They only decided to comment when Bob commented that we vaccinated. Complete scumbag act in my opinion.

My rage over that subsided. Archer was now vaccinated and no ill had come of it, so we'd continue to parent our way and their family their way, with my rant kept just between Bob and me.

And then we moved Archer to his cot and out came Sanctiparent again. "What are you doing? You can't do that! He's too young! Petri Dish the Youngest (PDY) still sleeps in our bed at 2.5, so PDY can breastfeed several times a night."

First of all, let's be honest here, some of indignation here was born of jealousy, as I had wanted to breastfeed Lily at least until two, but wasn't able to.

Second of all, we moved Archer to his cot because while we don't mind co-sleeping, it's really not for us. And he had well and truly outgrown the bassinet. We don't sleep well and neither have either of our children when we co-sleep. Lily co-slept exclusively for about a month at 15 months and then just stopped. Won't even entertain the idea now, no matter how sick she is or how tired we are.

And honestly, I always thought that as long as you were employing SIDS safe techniques, most people don't really give a crap how or where your kid sleeps. Unless you are an incredible arsehole. Or a Sanctiparent.

After venting to a mummy friend about it, I felt better. I still really felt like we had innocently commented on our parenting choices, in a non aggressive, shooting the breeze, kind of way and been attacked, but once again I had had my rant and was pretty over it.

And then Bob got me going again. Everytime he tells me something about this person, he begins it the same way, "I have something to tell you. You're going to be mad."

Apparently PDY had had a temperature last night over 40 degrees (wait, I thought you didn't vaccinate so your kids would be healthier?). And Sanctiparent, apparently as weird about hospitals as vaccines, did not take PDY to the doctor. Now, I can understand. Paeditricians spend 10 years training just to line kids up in emergency rooms and inject them with vaccines and unnecessary antibiotics without even looking at them. It's terrifying. They wield a needle filled with diseases, mercury and foetuses in one hand and penicillian in the other and just jab away. That's why we avoid the shit out of those places.

Or not.

The reason a child of that age needs to see a doctor when they have such a high temperature is that fevers of this degree, while often caused by viruses, can be the sign of much more sinister things. Blood and urine tests should be performed, as well as a check of all the usual places kids get gross things going on, such as ears and throat. A temperature of 40 degress is not normal, and a tiny body is probably trying to tell you something when it heats itself that high. They are also at risk of febrile seizures.

Additonally, fevers are sometimes the first sign of diseases that are vaccine preventable, like measles. Which my son, at almsot 6 months cannot be vaccinated for for another 6 months.

For fuck's sake, just vaccinate your kids, moron.

A Furious Rant for Easter

I have been following the story of little Gracee Broom who is the child of an Australian family who had the misfortune of being born in America at 24 weeks gestation. Although the family had travel insurance with Aami, Aami is refusing to contribute to Gracee's medical care because the pregnancy was a pre existing condition and Gracee herself was not mentioned in the original policy.

Gracee's care costs $5000 per day, and the delivery cost the family $40000. Gracee is now 32 weeks old and won't be released at least until her due date.

Like all micro prems, she is a warrior to be humbled by.

Tonight her family's story was featured on channel 7, 9 and 10 news and so out march the trolls.

Well, one troll. He demanded to know how this family can expect donations or help, especially government help.

My head nearly blew off.

I had my say (obviously. Sweet, demur woman I am), and he retorts with the information that he had a 32 weeker and because he had her in another state, they had expenses they had to cover, with no help. I got a wee bit personal, demanding to know if he accepted the Baby Bonus and if he accepts either or both Family Tax benefits, and I might have said perhaps his child's care should only have been covered up until his contribution to Medicare had run out. I also pointed out that the cost for a 32 weeker was roughly $40000 (which we found out when Medibank Private sent us the fully paid invoice for Lily's care and delivery. They didn't want anything but for us to acknowledge they had been very good to us) and queried as to whether he knew the true cost of the care of a premmie. Anyway, I got it all off my chest, pointing out the cost for Gracee's care would have been the same in Australia, the tax payer just would have footed the bill without even realising it and he seems to have either logged off for the night or acknowledged he was a wanker.

But I can't leave it there. I can't tell someone off for being an insenstive arsehole and not DO something active.

So I implore to you to donate to Gracee's Appeal, either with cash or by getting involved in the auction that wonderful friends and family are running.

No family deserves this, Gracee certainly doesn't deserve this, and if you have a spare $5, or are looking to do a bit of philanthropy, please consider donating to this family.

Nothing is sometimes wonderful.

This weekend was cheerily busy. Such weekends are sometimes easily forgotten and I think it's worth devoting a blog post to it. It wasn't marked by anything special, but I feel great after it.

Saturday started out with Archer's most successful swimming lesson ever! He actually seemed excited to be in the water. We also got the children's achievement charts. Lily, at 23 months is very close to filling her chart, which means she can graduate to a preschool class. She was delighted with all her stars! Archer even has two stars! What a clever boy!

Then poor Oscar had to go to the vet because we've had a case of fleas here we haven't been able to kick. $200.00 later he is a much happier dog.

After that was some grocery shopping. We picked up some Easter eggs and Easter cookie cutters for gifts for Lily's kindy class.

And then I decided to tackle our garden. Our poor garden was a bit sad when we arrived, it's previous owners obviously devoid of garden love, and it hasn't gotten better. Happily, it hasn't gotten worse. So I gave it some TLC while Bob supervised the babies in the paddling pool. It looks much nicer now, but I fear it needs the true love of a professional. I also fear I may have pulled out some plants, as there is one spot that looks a little blanker than it should.

After that, I walked to Spotlight (no kids!) and got the finishing details for the Kindy Easter gifts, some sweet cellophane bags and a cute make your own Easter gift tag kit.

When I got home, I set about my project. I made 9 Easter gift tags. One for each of Lily's classmates and 2 for each of her teachers.

Then I made some playdough. We had all the ingredients, and as Woolies had food colouring on sale, I was able to make 7 different colours by adding 2 new colours to my stock. Pink, blue, purple, green, yellow, orange and red. It was really easy, fun and quick, not to mention cheap. I followed this recipe(minus the scented oils) and it made close to a cup of playdough per child. Including the teacher's eggs and the cookies cutters, I got change from $20, plus the enjoyment of the project. And each of Lily's class mates got an Easter cookie cutter and some playdough. Much nicer than chocolate or lollies for toddlers, IMO.

Bob cooked hamburgers from scratch, which, if you've ever encountered my husband's culinary skills before, you'll agree was a wonderful feat.

After dinner and after the kids were in bed (did I mention we have them on the same bedtime less than a week out from putting them in the same room?), I made the next two purees for Archer's weaning, carrots and apples.

Then we watched an episode of Game of Thrones, cleaned up and went to bed.

Sunday morning we decided to flea bomb as Grandma's dogs and cat will be staying here a few nights as they settle in to their new apartment. We weren't sure there were any fleas besides on Oscar, but we did it to be safe. Bob also had a soccer game, so it worked out perfectly in terms of length of time we had to be out of the house. We took the cat to Grandma's place and took Oscar to soccer.

As soon as we arrived at soccer, it became clear Lily was grumpy. Her nose was running, she kept getting mad at the bubbles I was blowing for her when they popped and she refused to get interested in her toddler sized soccer ball. And then archer joined in the chorus. I took them to some nearby seats, got out more toys and sat down to feed Archer. Just as he started to eat, Lily started to cry. She was COVERED in ants. I quickly brushed her off and she was bite free, but I felt we were best off heading to the car while Archer ate.

I put the air con on for a few minutes to cool the car off, and then sat Lily in the driver's seat and myself in the passenger seat. AND LEFT THE RADIO GOING.

Lily cheerily played with the buttons on the radio and honked the horn. At one point she switched the windscreen wipers on. I didn't even THINK of the headlights. Then she asked to watch her DVD player, so I turned the car off and started the DVD. It said it had low battery, so I decided for the few more minutes we would be in the car, it would be okay to let the battery charge. But the car wouldn't start.

Uh oh.

Meanwhile, the kids are both in long sleeves and it has gotten hot.

I panic and call Bob away from the soccer game. He calls NRMA, who signs us up for a mere $275 (we needed to join and it's 2 years roadside assist, so actually, it was good) and told us we'd be on our way in under 90 minutes as we had been prioritised because of the children.

Blessedly, there was a Maccas across the road, so we had an early lunch (the staff turned a blind eye to Oscar) and Lily played in the playground. After we'd been waiting an hour, Bob headed back to the soccer field with Lily and I took Archer inside the adjoining shopping centre. I changed his nappy and his clothes and he immediately fell asleep. Then I found him a VERY exciting clothing item for $5 at Kmart, and that's all you can know right now.

And right on an hour and half from hanging up with NRMA, we were on our way. We got the cat and headed home.

We spent a relaxing afternoon napping and playing outside.

And then it happened.

After dinner, Bob took the cushions off the lounge to vacuum it after the flea bomb. It's a white lounge and I KNEW it was dirty, I have two kids under two, a dog, a cat and a husband, of course it was dirty. But it was REALLY bad. I felt so sad. Right now we can't afford to get it professionally cleaned and I do try really hard to look after our nice things, and Grandma had gifted us this lounge. Busy with two children, if accidents happened, I have only spot cleaned them and the lounge was covered in water rings and was just plain dirty. I decided to clean it. Preen carpet cleaner in hand I got aggressive, but it wasn't getting any better. I Googled it. Steam clean or professional clean. Great. I felt there had to be a better way. So I cobbled together a few of the common cleaning items we had and typed "Can I clean my white fabric lounge with vinegar, bi carb and lemon" and set Google to work.

I came up with 2 cups warm water, 1 scoop ordinary laundry detergent and a splash of white vinegar. I soaked a chux in the mixture and, barely squeezing it out, coated the arms and seats of the lounge. I left it for a bit, maybe 20 minutes, and then Bob scrubbed it with fresh, warm water. The result was AMAZING. It does need a professional clean, but Bob and I think if we do it once a week for a month and then monthly thereafter, we can keep it nice. Much nicer than it was.

Then I baked a banana cake and tidied up for the day. And after this blog is written, I'm going to have a shower and go to bed.

What a wonderfully, rewarding, relaxing weekend of absolutely nothing.

Adventures in Weaning - Take One

So I've decided as an extra little side project to my normal blog posting. I'm going to do a monthly post on weaning Archer. It'll include recipes, methods, successes and failures. I think it SOUNDS interesting, but I may be wrong.

Today I decided Archer was ready to start solids. Having failed miserably with Farex when weaning Lily I had gotten it into my head to try making my own rice cereal.

It's very simple, grind brown rice to powder, cook 1/4 cup powder to 1 cup water for 10 minutes. Voila! Rice cereal.

So of course, I experienced difficulties.

Firstly, we only own a hand blender.

Admittedly, it is very powerful and has tons of nifty attachments, but I nearly killed it trying to grind the rice. The motor got very hot, the blades, while still usable, are worse for wear and it was so noisy I hid in the bathroom to do the grinding. Also, because it's a hand blender, I can't just switch it on and do other things, I need to hold the button down, so it made the slow process barely tolerable.

Here is the half way point.

Here is the finished powder. I started with 1 cup of rice and ended up with half a cup of powder and half a cup of itty bitty rice I just couldn't be bothered with.

I put it through the sifter to make sure I was only getting the finest possible, and it ruined the sifter. Nevermind.

So then I boiled my two cups of water and added my powder.

It said in the recipe I was following to stir continuously, but, of course I stopped to take the photo, which caused it to clumped up in the most horrible way. It whisked out fine, but I didn't take any more pictures.

Here is the finished product

I decided it was way too thick for first tastes, so I used one tablespoon of the cereal to one tablespoon of breastmilk

As I had done this while the kids were napping, with waiting for him to wake up and pre solids milk feed, the mixture went a bit gritty, but I decided to proceed anyway.

Here he is pleased to be in the highchair like a big boy

He held the first spoonful in his mouth for a few seconds and decided swallowing was overated

In the end I offered him about half the mixture and he only swallowed the tiniest bit, so it really wasn't a great success, but we'll try again tomorrow.

He was so happy to be finished.

The Great Poo Debarcle

This post is about poo, or rather, the lack thereof. Consider yourself warned.

Ever since we started solids with Lily at around 5.5 months, she has had some ongoing issues with poo. Constipation often goes hand in hand with starting solids, so this was no surprise at first. We usually cleared it up with prune juice, warm baths and massages. It never really lasted more than 3 days at a time.

As she grew, she would occasionally suffer bouts of constipation, especially during a food strike or, more accurately, a fruit strike, which she goes through about a week out of every month. She just doesn't like sweet things and on occasion, fruit is considered to be as distasteful as lollies and chocolates are the rest of the time.

Now that she is almost two, Lily eats very well most of the time. She will taste everything put in front of her, even if it's being introduced for the first time. Her diet includes sushi, curry, soups, pasta, rice, meats, fish, cheese. ANYTHING the average family eats, Lily has enjoyed at some point. She does like McDonalds, especially the chips and "bikkies", which is just her general word for sweet and savoury biscuits of all kinds but her favourite foods are vegetables. Broccoli, corn, potato, pumpkin, sweet potato, carrot, peas. They invariably disappear first at meal time and she has been known to knock back a whole plate of dinner because the meal failed to feature broccoli. She also eats a lot of whole grains, her favourite breakfast being organic peanut butter (tastes to me like pre chewed peanuts, but she loves it)on multigrain toast and apple slices. She drinks water like it's going out of style and normally eats at least a little bit at each meal. So why and how she gets constipated is beyond me.

But she does and this week was the worst ever bout she has suffered.

I'm pretty sure she had a dirty nappy Monday, but from Tuesday, there was no movement at the station. She got increasingly grumpy, restless, unable to sleep and was refusing to eat. On Saturday lunch time, she cried and strained, but nothing happened. By Saturday dinner she was trying to go again. Screaming, refusing to eat her dinner, sweating and straining. We decided to Dr Google it and felt the best course of action, as our GP was closed, was a warm bath. But when Bob took her nappy off, she had a swear of jelly like stuff that definitely had a bit of blood in it. And if we touched her belly or bottom, she would scream and shove our hands away. So I called the free health nurse line and she said she'd transfer us to a doctor, but felt we'd need to see a doctor that night. The doctor we spoke to agreed.

I dispatched Bob to the Gosford Hospital emergency room at 8:30pm with a bag of toys, books and colouring in the size and weight of Lily and stayed home with Archer, anxiously cleaning and tidying, trying to keep myself busying and not worried.

They finally arrived home at 11:30 and Lily was relieved. She had been given a gel suppository and had passed a blockage roughly the dimensions of a golf ball and then a large normal poo. When I scooped her up as she came delightedly running in the door, she felt lighter. Bob said, shoes on, pre poo she had weighed 13kg. I would say she had easily shed 500g or more. It was like the feeling you get when you pick up a baby when you're used to carrying a toddler around.

And today, although tired, she has been back to being her usual sunny self, eating homemade raspberry pancakes, apple slices and sultanas at breakfast, potato and leek soup for lunch and butter chicken, rice and vegetables for dinner.

I felt really bad for her, but the doctor confirmed we aren't doing anything wrong in what she eats and drinks and said next time just to try a child laxative before it gets so bad.

To celebrate, Archer had his first nappy blow out in months. Hooray for poo.

Teeth?

Archer is teething. Well, more accurately, I THINK he's teething.

As with many children cutting their first teeth, this has been going on for some time. Drooling (which is, for the record, my most hated of things about babies. Give me cluster feeding and pooy nappies over a well chewed hand or a string of luke warm dribble any day), days of the incredible grumps, light fevers, weird nappies and exhausting sleep patterns.

But, for the last week or so, it has definately ramped up. If left to his own devices, he will soak his shirt and tummy mat in under five minutes. He chews his hand incessantly, and, for a child who normally sleeps very well, he's been sleeping awfully. He's also been chewing ME, which Lily never did and I am not a fan of. On Monday night he woke up every hour on the hour. I was sure the next day we'd have teeth. But no such luck.

They are sitting there, just below the surface, visible and tormenting me. "Haha! Here I am to rob you and Archie of your sleep and make your nipples sore."

Did I mention that I hate teething?

I hope they cut soon. I'm exhausted, Archie is not himself and I happen to think babies with teeth are much cuter.

Wish us luck and think toothy thoughts!

2+2=5?

So, now that Archer is ripe old age of four months, Bob and I are discussing our next child, or rather, the possibility of a next child.

About a month ago, Archer got cute. Not just cute, heart achingly adorable. Bob said then that he would like a third child. I think, although I'm not exactly sure of his thought processes, it had something to do with the yucky newborn period being over and him realising a third actually wouldn't be too much extra hard work after the first few months, which in hindsight, even only a month's hindsight, goes by in the blink of an eye.

That night we put in some serious discussion. We would wait to try to conceive so the baby would be born sometime early in 2016 so that both children were old enough to cope with 5 days a week day care. We would also try all the tricks to get a girl. This was due to the reduced risk of Autism, as Bob very clearly has a genetic predisposition. We felt that the gap was large enough that the child would be an "only" child and we felt a girl would cope better with this, we felt a girl would benefit the most from an older brother and sister, while a boy would benefit most from two brothers. Having a girl would reduced the impact of Archer's middle child status as he'd still be the special boy. And girls are totally more fun to dress and decorate for. The very day I found out I was pregnant, we would buy a chest freezer so that I could cook and freeze nutrious food for the inevitable bed rest stint and I would refuse hospital bed rest unless there was a very VERY good reason for 24 hour monitoring of myself and the baby. Bob even joked how great it would be if we got boy/ girl twins. We even decided NAMES. Piper Rose for a girl and Henry Zidane (best not to ask, for the love all things holy) for a boy.

And so, it was decided. We were both excited.

Then Bob said to me one night after a particularly lovely day with the kids that he thought maybe we should start trying to conceive when Archer turned one as the gap between the kids was perfect and maybe the length of time we had picked was too long.

Yeah, sure, sounds okay.

And then, only a few days later, I was really enjoying the kids. I was reflecting what gorgeous kids they were and how lucky we were to win the baby lotto twice. And then it hit me. Wouldn't it be just a little bit greedy, a few too many rolls of the dice to try for a third one? Why would we want to add to a family that, to me, already felt so perfect? Maybe it was BAD idea to have three.

And I said as much to Bob. After he picked his jaw up off the floor, because I have always been a cheerleader for a family of three plus, he agreed. Then he said that he didn't want to just strike the possibility from our lives altogether and perhaps it would be wise to think on it again when Archer turns one, and if we still didn't want a third then, wait five years and talk again. If the answer was still no, we would take permanent contraceptive measures.

So, whether or not our family will grow is still up in the air. We are very, very happy right now. But watch this space!

Sexist?

I've been doing a bit of reflecting on Bob's and my parenting style, values and opninions. And while our main parenting philosophies are vehmently pro breastfeeding and vaccine and most everything else is subject to change depending on financies, new research and our kids being individuals that don't necessarily fit easily into philosphical mold, I've also come to the conclusion that we're both a little bit SEXIST.

This is a bit tragic for me, as I had thought that I was was more enlightened than this. I was determined not to force any ideas about masculinity or feminity on our children. I didn't want them thinking that they couldn't be something or act a certain way because of their gender, and I was especially anxious that they be able to talk me if they were homosexual, because the statistics on mental health issues with homosexual teens are scary and I did not want my children thinking that they couldn't talk to me about this because I'd forced some shitty idea about their gender down their throats.

But, here I am 21 months into my parenting journey, and I've decided I am, we are, indeed, sexist.

I've had my suspicions about Bob since shortly before Archer was born.

Christmas 2010 Bob found this amazing toy tool bench, he really REALLY wanted to buy it for Lily, but I put my foot down. She was far too little for such a toy, and at only 7 months at the time of this convo, I was NOT buying her a toy which clearly said 2+ on the box. Next Christmas, I said.

So, when the toy sales came up in June, I asked Bob if he still wanted to get Lily a tool bench. No, he said, we'll save that for Archer. We'll get her a kitchen.

And then, when Archer was born, Bob went to watch a soccer game with him. Lily pitched a jealous fit as Archer was only about a week old at the time of this incident. I asked Bob why he wasn't watching the game with Lily, as he'd always done in the past. He explained he wanted to watch it with his son. Oh dear. We had fierce argument about why he was an ass hat. And Lily got to watch the game with her daddy.

And then I found myself doing it.

The walker we bought for Lily is a pram. It's pink and purple and sits a dolly in it. As we were doing toy inventory before we left Queensland, I said to Bob, "We'll have to get a new walker for Archer, he can't push a pram." But, why not? What does it matter? I told myself I didn't want him singled out by making him use things that were exclusively feminine. I didn't want to single out my NINE MONTH OLD (I assume he'll be about this age when he needs a walker) as too feminine?

I knew we had a problem as parents.

I've always liked to dress Lily like little girl, that is, we use very few gender nuetral items. Except for the occasional jammies or soccer outfit, she pretty much wears clothes that would raise an eyebrow if seen on a boy. I've told myself over and over that is because it's what I like. I'm the mother, I buy the clothes. I'm not going to go out of my way to buy things that are gender nuetral or less feminine simply to conform to some philosophy about parenting. If she expresses a preference when she is older, then we'll compromise.

But now she is getting ideas about her clothes, and it's a 100% a reflection of what I've taught her. She wants to wear girly, pink things (she can now actually ask to wear the pink whatever). I was most upset when she began to show that she placed an importance on being pretty. And this is all my fault. I thought by now, she would have enough hair to style, but she doesn't and so I'm trying to encourage her to wear clips. I put a huge bow in her hair and praised her for being, "pretty". And now, when we go out, she wants shoes and a "pretty". Huge parenting fail, in my opninion.

And then the most dangerous idea of all came out of my mouth and I wanted to kick myself.

As Lily approaches 2, she has gone from being pretty steadily in the 50% for height and the 25% for weight to about 50% for both. In short, she is not thinning out like I thought she probably would at this age. I was worried. Both her father and I were good sized toddlers and Bob shifted at about school age to slim and I went to chunky. I desperately DID NOT want Lily to have my weight issues. So I began to research what to do.

At least an hours out door play a day, going for a walk with the family daily and presenting her with mainly healthy foods.

So I went on an organic buying, home making rampage, held Lily hostage outside for an hour each day, weather permitting and bullied my husband out the door as often as I could. I also switched one of her bottles to reduced fat milk, but that was more to try and wean her off the calories so she'll sleep through the damn night. (it's working, slowly, but surely). But she REALLY likes her food and I can see little difference.

At about this time, Archer started to pack on weight. He now looks like someone that would like most at home in a rugby scrum. AND I PRAISED HIM. How beautiful I thought his legs were and how I loved him being so chubby. Bob said it was going to turn into muscle for playing football (we disagree about which code).

And I heard myself.

And I shut up about both my kids' bodies. These thoughts went from being fairly innocent, "Doesn't Lily look cute in pink?" to genuinely vile.

We're still eating better and trying to excercise, but that benefits everyone and now I'm determined to accept my daughter how she is.

And before you think we're beyond redemption, we were once agian talking about buying cloth nappies, and once again financies didn't permit, despite best efforts, BUT when were choosing them I asked Bob if we should get purple and Bob said, "And pink! Archer can totally wear a pink nappy."

All is not lost after all.