inner pickle

three months

Three short months with us, out here. 

What did we ever do without her?

What did they do without her?

Three months ago

I didn't know every inch of her wee face

and how soft her fuzzy head feels 

and how strong and bonny she would be. 

Three short months ago I didn't know her name

I hadn't felt her tiny hands grabbing mine

And I really didn't know that she would be 

an absolute joy

rather than a secret burden.

Wonder what the next three months will bring. 

xxx

distracted

I blame that sweet baby. 

I cannot focus on anything today (except your funny comments on what you think of greying women.)

I also blame the absence of caffeine. 

Even when I was pregnant this last time I had the odd (*cough*, not so odd) espresso, formerly being really very dependent. But there are a few things which seem to upset wee Ivy - coffee, chocolate, garlic, chilli. Shame, hey? 

Nonetheless I love love love breastfeeding (again) so am happy to give up stuff I don't need anyway!

So today I'm trying to clear my mind with chamomile tea and concentrate on the good stuff. 

~ The joy of friends:

~ A quiet place to play:

~ Settled, sleepy babies:

So: the good stuff 'round you today?

xxx

baby girl dress

So I just needed any excuse to use that fabric! It's a cotton print from Spotlight, (I think they might have sold out), not designer, not expensive, just damn cute!

I made a pattern by copying this dress and making it a fraction bigger. 

The shoulders have press studs and a little flower motif I had kicking around. My Mum visited one afternoon last week and while I made tea she quietly sewed a stitch through each petal so when I wash it they'll lie flat. 

Marvellous woman. 

I love: the first pink buds of spring in Sydney. Lighter mornings, longer afternoons, the sweet smell of Spring. 

I love: bonny, happy, healthy babies. 

I am so grateful for this small sweet smelling person. 

xxx

 

cake stall

Hello! Big election weekend in Australia - if you missed it, we just exercised our democratic right to elect the federal government. 'Cept (hang it, you all know I'm a feminist leftie) people actually voted for a Coalition government (I would never have believed it) headed by a backward thinking right wing jack rabbit. I might have to move to New Zealand. We're looking at a hung parliament at present. Come ON postal voters, do your thing! Come ON Julia - negotiate!

It's all very depressing.

What's not depressing is CUPCAKES!

For the P&C stall at the polling booths at school on Saturday.

I took: all organic apple cakes;

 

and really very delicious lemon and passionfruit cakes!

While I was making the cakes, I put the lovely Ivy down just outside the kitchen on her rug:

And being a self-sufficient third child, she took advantage of the peace and quiet and made it nap time.

Also while I was baking, Tilly decided to make herself a dress.

Needs more sticky tape, Mum.

 

And after witnessing Henry's crestfallen face as I boxed up every last one of the lemon and passionfruit cupcakes, I made some more.

I'm delighted with this recipe, was even happier with the second batch, but am in between a late night bath for smallest Walmsley and doing some very late night bookkeeping for a friend's business so will come back and post the recipe for these tomorrow!

Hope you had a tasty/relaxing/creative weekend!

xxx

 

 

perspective

So where do you hang out if you're really quite afraid of heights? Oh I know, how about the tallest tower in the country?

Nice view though.

 

Anyway it's not all about me.

 

Nice to feel on top of things.

Which, incidentally, I felt today. Took the washing out of the machine and didn't throw it straight into the dryer, but hung it on the line. Phew, that was a long five weeks of dryer-action!

Took Tilly to a Kinderdance class, moved some furniture, wrote some thank you notes. Feeling pretty on top of it.

Arrived early to get Henry from school. Ivy was hungry so I popped into the back seat to give her a quick feed. Tilly stayed in her booster seat, I sat in Henry's and breastfed, waving to a few other mums walking past. I'd shut the door for a modicum of privacy, which wasn't a problem until I tried to open it to get out. Child lock. Oh crap.

Tilly's door too, of course. Three kid's seats across the back, no room to move or climb over to the front seats. Double crap. And suddenly no mums walking past to wave at and flag down.

Couldn't even reach my phone. SO on top of this gig.

I put Ivy back into her seat and tried to figure out how I was going to climb over her in jeans too tight to bend properly, but finally managed to reach the lever to lean the front passenger seat forward a bit and somehow shimmied over it and opened the front door.

I am, however, a quick learner. I won't do that again.

Hope you had a wonderful weekend and thanks to the commenters for making me laugh out loud at your food identities. You crack me up.

xxx

enjoying

Do you know I almost didn't hit 'publish' on that post last night. I couldn't quite say what I wanted to say. Then I log in today and there you all are, making incredible thoughtful and intelligent and heartfelt comments about the article (comments way more intelligent than my post), and I'm reminded that this strange old blog land is one lovely flowing community of like-minded people.

That's why you're here. At this particular url. And me too. And I'm so grateful for that.

Which brings me to today.

Oh dear.

 

They love her, really.

 

She loves them. I'm sure she does.

 

But really, who would be a third child?

 

Except that this game was so fun for everyone, and just made me so glad to be here for it.

(And that's a soft toy at velocity right above the baby's head, for any DOCS case workers or grandfathers who might be stopping by...)

xxx

 

this moment

Inspired by Soulemama's Friday ritual, here's my moment to cherish this week:

 Adam and our newest addition, Ivy, three weeks old. Asleep almost instantly in the Baby Bjorn on Daddy's chest. 

Photo from my iPhone (using Hipstamatic.)

Have a gorgeous weekend.

xxx

Looking good, Vern. (Or not).

So I MAY have forgotten that the community nurse was coming to our house this morning to check out Ivy.

Now I know she's not 'community services' and she's not actually technically judging me in terms of my competence, but I really didn't do myself any favours. 

Bit of a disturbed night, not too bad, but up a few times and a bit bleary this morning. One of my godsons, Sebastian, arrived early for a play while his mum went into work for a few hours. I was in the shower. Adam's still home, thankfully! Another week!

An hour later, Ad suggests he walks up to our local cafe to get some coffee for us, and thinks he'll take Ivy (cafe owner Judy is already smitten with our little lady.)

So at some point I hear the kids open the front door and an adult voice say: Is your mother home?

I look at my two, it's a cold day in Sydney and they seem to only be wearing their pyjama bottoms. Sebastian at least is dressed. But is carrying a gun. (A gift from my brother for Henry. A Nerf Gun. I keep finding Adam playing with it.) 

The house is a mess and I don't mean that generously. It's a mess. I'm dressed, albeit with excellent bed head and committed ugg boots on. I am so all over this parenting thing. 

Of course the nurse wants to see Ivy. Oops. Call Ad, thank goodness he took his mobile. He retrieves Ivy from Judy and flies back down the hill.

I guess this nurse goes into lots of muddled houses. She did comment that our children seemed very happy (they were marching through the house with drums and maracas at this point.) She surprised me by commenting as she left what a confident mother I was. 

Confident my two half-naked smallies weren't going to catch pneumonia? Confident an additional kid (Sebastian, I mean) actually makes things easier, not harder, 'cause he plays so well with the other two? Confident that coffee happily cures all bleariness?

Oh yes. So confident. 

P.S. Don't know about the kids, but I am happy. Grateful for my family and friends and most of all my gorgeous wee girl, well, healthy, settled.  Very grateful. 

xxx

notes from cockatoo island

1. It wouldn't be a Walmsley family outing if we didn't eat lunch on the way there. (At morning tea time.) Vegemite sandwich anyone? On the ferry from Circular Quay to Cockatoo Island.

2. It's the Biennale of Sydney. Installation art all over the island. A jumping castle that is art? that you can't jump on? Whose bright idea was that? *stomp stomp stomp*

3. Some of the installations are really quite fabulous (a.k.a alarming).

4. A roomful of tin roofs. Pussy cat in her element.

5. Bit of alfresco breastfeeding. La la la. 

6. Does anything bother this little person? Ah, no. 

7. All kinds of fabulous industrial spaces. Adam-heaven. (He dreams of our family moving to an enormous re-fitted old warehouse one day. In fact, I have the ripped out real estate pages in front of me to prove it.)

 8. Home again, home again, jiggedy jig. Ivy in her little chair in the corner of the kitchen. Making trouble, as usual.

9. Favourite unphotographed moment of the day: Henry licking Adam's face, seeing if olive skin tasted like olives. 

xxx
      

 

stuff I learnt this week

: Turns out some newborns do just eat and sleep. I thought that was something people just claimed. We're not naive enough to know this may not all change tomorrow, but we're super grateful for Ivy being so chilled out right now. (And not feeding two-hourly through the night like her sister used to!)

: Having a newborn makes your older kids look ridiculously big and grown up.

(Henry and I having some downtime in a cafe this week over hot chocolate and gingerbread men. Gamer-boy preoccupied while I was breastfeeding.)

: Friends are awesome. This week ours took our older kids away and sent Ad and I out for lunch, they brought cake, they brought/sent/made amazingly thoughtful gifts and came around with champagne and lots of laughing. 

: Sydney Aquarium rocks.  

: It's a bit of a shame to go to the aquarium with a flat camera battery. (The iPhone doesn't really cut it.)

: Sydney Aquarium has a pretty proficient lost child procedure.

: Note to self: dress Matilda Daisy in bright colours, preferably fluorescent, when taking her to fascinating places with hundreds of other people amongst whom you can easily lose sight of a waist-high person in search of the turtles; thereby saving us ten minutes of rising panic wherein we each shed ten years off our lives. 

: My brother, visiting from the US this week, is superbly talented (no bias here. Absolutely objective.) New demo CD. He rocks. 

: My friend Vanessa, mum of one of Henry's besties at school, is super clever. Check out these cupcakes she made and brought over yesterday!

  

 
Amazing, right?

: Adam can cook. I don't mean to sound surprised, but I don't mean whip-up-scrambled-eggs-and-bacon cook. He's been cooking all week, and we had friends round for dinner last night and he made fabulous gourmet burgers (yep, a bit of meat is back on the menu here - more on that in another post) with haloumi and chutney, served with crispy and fluffy twice-cooked potato chips and a divine, light passionfruit flummery for dessert. Damn I hope this doesn't mess up our I cook/he cleans arrangement. I am seriously crap at cleaning. 

: It's illegal to bury someone without a coffin. My friend Ben (who appears in post comments here as Benoss) and Adam were cheerfully discussing funeral options, as you do, and Adam was saying he wants to be buried in a completely compostable (preferably cardboard) coffin, preferably with worms included. (Could you be any more green, baby?) Anyway, Ben suggested doing away with the coffin and so we sent another friend (the other Vanessa) who loves this stuff, off to call up a few funeral homes and find out the deal. Deal is: gotta use a coffin. No shroud only option. But she's making more calls so will update you as news comes in. 

: The weirder the better. And if you can come up with REALLY weird, send it over to Kate at Picklebums, OK?! (Everyone's going way too easy on her so far.)

xxx