You know you’re old when…

Birthdays… I recently had one. And ever since I hit the age of about hmmm, 29, I suddenly decided that they weren’t as much fun anymore. Why? Duh, because I’m not overly keen on wrinkles (plus I swear I’m still 27 and the universe is playing some kind of sick joke on me!). And sadly, birthdays do seem to go hand in hand with this whole ageing process. Gone are the days when birthdays were anticipated with the promise of raucous parties, sickly cake and frivolous presents – a day to celebrate you and all your fabulousness.

Now, the promise has dimmed somewhat to be replaced by the ominous downhill countdown towards ‘old-fartdem’, a place inhabited by, well old people actually.  Ok, so in reality, I’m not that old, but for blogging’s sake, it’s much more amusing to be overly dramatic. Plus, I am a Scorpio and we do love drama, so do try to bear with me through my self-indulgent ramblings, if you can.

So while I’ve been contemplating my own aging and inspecting my new wrinkles (though I do think they have more to do with the utter craziness of parenthood than anything else), I did get a chance to do something fun and exciting – I went to the movies. With J no less. Like, a date. Like we used to have back in the old days, pre-baby.

So we went and saw the new Twilight movie - yes, I am brave enough to withstand your mocking and admit that I actually chose to see this of my own free will – I was convinced by 2 different friends/family members to read the books (don’t worry, I won’t name and shame you!) and they were surprisingly enjoyable. Of course, I had just had a baby and was possibly in some kind of post-birth shock, so my judgement on these may very well have been way off kilter. However I digress… we went to see the movie… And while I found it reasonably entertaining, there were moments that served to make me feel especially old as a 30-something mother of one, for these particular reasons -

a)    Whilst shedding a tear for Bella and Edward’s OTT forest wedding, instead of picturing myself walking up the aisle to my gorgeous groom waiting at the alter, I was thinking of the day when my own daughter will get married and how sad I will be that she’s all grown up. Yes that makes me OFFICIALLY OLD!

b)    I have completely bypassed Camp Edward and Camp Jacob as being way too young (though Jacob has at least sprouted some facial hair since the last movie making him look at least over the legal age, to err, drink?). And I have started a new Camp – Camp Charlie. Yeah that’s right, I’m saying Bella’s dad is actually pretty cute. When you skip the two main protagonists in favour of the heroine’s dad, you know you’re old. I lay the blame for my penchant for tall, dark, handsome, older men with soup-strainer facial hair at the feet of my sister and mother with whom I was innocently subjected to endless episodes of Magnum PI as a child. Yes, I now own the series. Tom Selleck is hot, admit it!

c)     I found myself shocked to the core when a very young teenager screamed ‘TAKE IT ALL OFF!’ at an onscreen Jacob when he was shedding his shirt (as he’s inclined to do in these particular movies). Jeez, just because we were all thinking it, doesn’t mean you expect it to come out of a 12 year olds mouth! I was suddenly faced with feeling like a dirty old perve. Ewww!

d)    Those 3 reasons alone made me feel at least 100.

So no more Twilight for me (well, at least not until the last one’s out) and instead, moving forward to discover the reasons why being in your 30’s is fabulous.

Any suggestions?

My Organised Christmas

I know, I have been notably absent from the blogosphere for the entire month of October. How did this happen? I’m not entirely sure… I had every intention of blogging, but somehow hours, days and weeks slipped by so quickly that before I knew it, November had arrived and there was not a blog in sight.

So crap, now it’s November and nearly Christmas time! And I swear, every year I soooooo want to be organised and efficient, but the week before Christmas somehow arrives unexpectedly (how does this happen every year???) and I find myself frantically shopping for last minute presents, stressed, cranky and frustrated that yet again, I am not organised!

So NOT THIS YEAR!  That’s right peeps, I am declaring it now – I AM ORGANISED!!! Yeah baby. No last minute shopping for me, no embarrassing tantrums in the middle of posh shops (more likely me than Lilyb), no towing a cranky baby (and often a cranky fiancé), grabbing up last minute presents that are ok, but probably could have been infinitely cooler had I been organised and had more time to think about the people I’m buying for!

So, how am I going to do this, I hear you ask? (anyone out there?) Well, I have already started. Yes sirreee, I have already started my Chrissy shopping and yes, it’s only NOVEMBER! WOOHOOO, this is a first!!!! So this is what I’ve done so far – I’ve bought my family secret santa present (I have a big family so we limit it to each person buying for just one other person – thank the sweet lordy) from a really cool quirky shop at Noosa, called Eclectic Style – I could completely deck out my dream house in there. It has a strong Indo/Asian/Moroccan vibe with a beachy twist… ahhh total kooksville and amazingly J and I both love it (I say amazing because I just love it when we actually agree on something! Ahhh, the small things).

And I just had to post this up – we’d actually been out to breaky at Sunshine Beach (YUM) that particular morning and it was well and truly time for Lil’s sleep – she has reached the height of crank and we were passing her between us like a football to try and placate her as we perused the shop as quickly as possible (I was on a mission!). Finally I found what I needed, passed her to J and went to pay. I noticed the shop go noticeably quieter (ie no more cranky child screeching!) and thought he’d taken her outside for a walk. But when I rounded the corner to leave the shop, I found her ensconced on a daybed, surrounded in cushions and cuddling a new friend, happy as can be. Hilarious!

Next on the list is… actually I can’t say who, because I have heard of them actually reading my blog, so names will be with-held for their own protection… but I went to my awesome friend Bernadette’s online shop called WallAllure (www.wallallure.com) and stocked up on the coolest wall decals for a few pressie-recipients. B and her business partner actually create these uber-cool decals from their own artwork and make them here themselves on the sunny coast of Q. Very impressive and no Chinese factories in sight! Of course, as usual when shopping for others, I find a zillion things I would actually love for myself, so I may have added a little present for moi to the shopping cart… Check it out - It's a teapot chalkboard decal, perfect for the kitchen... I'm seeing yummy recipes, love notes to my lover, inspirational quotes... and probably not as romantic, but infinitely practical, shopping lists!




Christmas cards I will be organising through my amazing artist friend Sandra... check out her blog www.sandravandoornphotography.blogspot.com. Her art never ceases to amaze and inspire me.

Then all I have left is J and Lilyb… hmmmm. I’m not panicking yet, after all it’s only November! Yay, I LOVE this new organised me!!!

Life with children & furry animals...

Your pets – they start out as your fur-babies. Cuddled constantly, fed the most expensive food, wearing the best accessories and given endless attention; let’s be honest, they are spoilt rotten. They sleep on your bed (cat), they have their own spot in the car, mostly on your lap (dog) and come with you on all the exciting little outings, tagging along like a well-behaved toddler (sometimes). They are your fur-babies, top of the food chain and top of the heap. Then the first child arrives to join the family, and oh dear, how the family hierarchy changes. Pronto.

I’d heard it all before; well-meaning friends telling me how the moment baby number one arrives, your beloved furry friends will quickly descend to the lowest rank of, dare I say it, pets. Never, I thought to myself, for these furrykins could never be so low on my priority list as to descend to just mere animals. They’re part of the family, I would argue, they’re our first ‘children’, so to speak. But oh how the mighty have fallen. Because when a certain little Miss arrived on the scene, not only did J and I drop on the priority list, the fur-babies fell to the bottom of the food chain quicker than you can say ‘home brand pet food’. Ok, we didn’t go that low, but close enough!

It wasn’t intentional, it’s just that when a baby comes into the house, everything else takes a backseat because pretty much all of your attention is focused on caring for them. Any time left is a bonus and used for sleep! Which more often than not, isn’t much time at all. Suddenly these pesky little pets, used to being the centre of attention, begin to misbehave, on an epic scale, typical of the first born. The dog starts to poop on the rug. The cat pees outside her litter box (seriously – head in the box, butt hanging over the edge. I swear it’s deliberate!). The dog barks at anything that dares to move within his domain – a rustling leaf, a Muppet on tv, small defenseless children daring to walk past the house, his own fricking tail. The cat follows us round the house, meowing incessantly – I mean, NON-STOP, FOR HOURS!

These misdemeanors seem small compared to the most deplorable and heinous crime of all – waking the baby. UNFORGIVABLE. And yet they do it constantly. Despite my threats of sending them to the farm to live with another family (dog), never speaking to them again (cat), never walking them again (dog) and worst of all, turning them into a furry hat (cat and dog, though cat would probably be more suited). I’m not proud of these moments, yet they fly from my mouth in sheer frustration when I hear the baby start to cry shortly after she’s been put down to bed. This is generally the exact moment I have a) made a cup of much needed tea, b) am about to sit down to write or c) am trying to go to sleep myself – all the things I love to do yet have little time for nowadays. The guilty brute generally makes themselves scarce upon seeing the look of fury on my face or hearing my raging outburst, leaving me to deal with the consequences of their beastly actions. GRRRRRR!

So how do you find a healthy and happy balance for the whole family (without resorting to one of the above options)? To be honest, I’m still trying to work that one out. But I do know this – as much as I hate admitting to my parents being right (and damn it, they regularly are – given they have collectively 90 years more life experience than I, it’s not that surprising), I do think there is much to be said to pet’s living outside. This was the rule in my home growing up and having always sided with the animals, I never understood why, until now. And though I’ve not been particularly pedantic about this rule before, now that I have a child, I do see the benefits. The most important being that the furry animals know where their place is, bubba knows where her place is, mum and dad know where theirs is (generally last) and the line between the species is clear (ie the animals know they are pets and not children!). Then, hopefully everyone is happy with their place in the world. That’s the idea anyway.

 The Fur Beasts

The pressure…. of a cake…

 When your partner’s a pastry chef and a brilliant one at that, how is one to ever bake a cake without feeling the pressure of comparison? It’s a question I ask myself every time I bake. Am I being silly? Maybe, but when I spoke to a close friend and mentioned I was baking a birthday cake (a few days before my only child’s 1^st birthday mind you), she asked in amusement “Whose birthday cake are you baking? Can’t be Lilybelle’s, J will be making that won’t he?”… I’ve come to expect and to accept these kind of comments – as I’ve mentioned before, I’m the first to admit baking and I aren’t the best of friends. Thankfully (and rather cleverly I think), we decided to break up the parties between family and friends, so I quickly put my hand up to bake the cake for the family ‘do’ so as not to disappoint friends who have come to eagerly await Justin’s cooking whenever they come to visit. My poor family would just have to lump it (or eat it in this case).

So scanning the internet in my quest to research the easiest possible children’s birthday cake I could find in the hope that I wouldn’t make a complete ass of it, I was inundated with ridiculously difficult and crazy shapes and characters in which some over-achieving mums had moulded out of batter and icing! A handbag? A high heel? Barbie? Oh my god. What is wrong with these mum’s? Are they crazy? What happened to a yummy cake with lollies on it, like we had as kids? Apparently they went out of fashion just as the phrase ‘super-mum’ came in. Crap.

So why did I care? What was so important about baking this damn birthday cake anyway? Well I pondered this for a while as I took a breather from the super OTT display of images (my head was seriously spinning – I needed some air!). What I realized, with some surprise, was that this was really important to me – this was my little girls 1^ST BIRTHDAY! My only child, my first daughter, my baby – I wanted to make her something special that was delicious and filled with love that somehow represented just how much I love and adore her. Wow, heavy stuff when cakes are meant to be light and fluffy.

Honestly, the things that come out when I ponder the world – I put some of this emotion down to breastfeeding and crazy hormones, but I can’t dismiss all of it on that. I’ve realized that this 1^st birthday is not only a celebration of Lilybelle herself, but it’s also an incredibly special time for all of us as a family – a year ago today I was in labour and all three of us underwent an incredible journey together, one that was humbling, moving and changed me (and us) forever. Because when my daughter was placed in my arms, I became a mum. And J a dad. And 1 year on, looking at our little girl, we both feel it’s been the most amazing year of our life – and that is something truly special to commemorate.

Having this realization of course upped the ante somewhat. But I took a deep breath, baked a simple butter cake, made a yummy rosewater icing (I am a Rose after all) and made pretty marshmallow flowers to decorate. Yes, I went old-school and it turned out hmmm, ok – next time I’ll do a trial run first. It certainly wouldn’t win any prizes, but I put as much love as I could into that cake and that was what was important to me. And hopefully to Lilybelle, who thankfully has not had cake before and therefore can’t compare it to Justin’s yet! My family’s reaction? They kindly sucked it up, made hmm-hmmming noises and refrained from making comment!

 I think she enjoyed her first taste of cake...

“A well kept house is a life misspent…” It’s a perfect excuse for a messy house!

I was planned – I was prepared – or so I thought. Just before we are about to go away for a much needed mini break, Lilybelle get’s sick, the dog get’s sick and the kitchen sink starts leaking. Shit. And I was so organised this time – really. I started packing days before we had to leave (not the night before or the morning of which is much more true to style) and I had everything planned out. And then disaster strikes. Ok, bit dramatic I know, but this is why I struggle to plan things. I find the more I plan, the more things don’t go to plan. So what’s the point?

Aside from disaster disrupting our organised getaway, we had the pleasure of visiting very dear friends along the way – they too made a lifestyle change and moved out of the city but instead opted for a tree change rather than a sea change. Finally we got to visit their gorgeous new country cottage and Oh. My. God. It was perfect. I mean literally. It was like a House & Garden spread. Everything had its place and everything was in its place! While I pictured our own messy house, I was overcome with feelings of inadequacy as a stay-at-home mum. Why aren’t I this organised and neat?? I kept asking my friend, “where do you put all your crap? You know, your piles - of stuff – magazines, newspapers, letters, keys, etc….????” The short answer was essentially this - everything has its place. I love it – in theory.

In practice, it just doesn’t work in our house, not matter how hard I try. We have piles – everywhere (ok let me clarify here that I’m talking piles of accumulated stuff, not piles of the hemorrhoid variety!). And I am forever trying to tidy these piles of stuff but only end up creating new piles. Neat to begin with, but messy again in no time at all. Damn it, will I ever have a perfect home? In our defense, storage is not great, hence the need for piles. But I think the crux of it is, we’re just not neat nor super organised people! Let’s be honest, our house is bohemian at best, messy at worst. Is that because I (ahem, we) struggle to plan and be super organised like my very organised friends (and let me just say here, I am in awe of both of their organisational skills)?  Is it a part of my (our) essential nature to be a bit cluttered and chaotic (minimalism will NEVER be our style!)? Or is being neat and organised qualities I should be cultivating, especially as a mum where being prepared and ordered (at least to a certain degree) is essential for even leaving the house?

These are questions I ponder as I sit here typing at the kitchen table surrounded by little piles – neat piles because I’ve just tidied – but piles none the less. And the quote in the title of this blog – that is what J has kindly written up in a prominent position in our house – a daily reminder that chaos is just our style. So I may as well accept it.

Fashion faux pas' and funny dreams...

I had a terrible nightmare the other night. I woke with a start, breathless and sweaty with a pounding heart, horrified by what I had just seen in my dream.  Wait for it… I was wearing black jeans with, errghhh, white socks and sneakers! I know, can you believe it? The horror! I would never! How could I dream such a horrendous thing? An outfit such as this would never, I repeat NEVER be worn by me. So why did I dream it?

Dreams are fascinating to me for so many reasons. The fact that our subconscious conjures up stories and images while we sleep peacefully (mostly) seems utterly amazing to me and that there should be hidden messages within these dreams? Even more incredible. I have had a number of dreams that have stood out in my mind over many years, ones that I can recall in a second and still see the visions come to life in my mind. These dreams have given me important messages that I have both listened to and also ignored, perhaps at my own peril. 

One such dream occurred just after I was offered a full time position in a new company, one that I was so excited to be involved with. However I had my own business to run (Ciao Meow) and while I didn’t mind working as an independent contractor, I had sworn to myself never to be an employee again. Yet I felt torn as the position seemed so exciting with an enticing pay to go with it. Unable to make a decision, I dreamt I was working full time again and I HATED it with a passion! And the suffocating feeling of being trapped and smothered woke me in terror. Alas, I ignored the dream and took the position anyway. It was a disaster! Stressful does not even come close to describing my time there and devastatingly, friendships were lost. I feel terribly sad about this and often wonder if, had I listened to the important message in my dream, would it have all turned out differently? Hmmm.

Another pivotal vision that I will always remember was a dream I had a few months before meeting lovely J. In this dream, a tall dark handsome man (looking rather like Eric Bana) whom I knew I loved inextricably (as if you wouldn’t if he looked like Mr Bana!), proposed to me with a ring of Tigers Eye (this is a type of gem stone, one which I’ve never personally worn). When I looked at this man in my dream, I felt truly loved and I could see a beautiful family, which is exactly what I wanted for my future. When I woke I remember thinking how strange, why on earth would someone propose with a ring of Tigers Eye? It didn’t make sense. A few months later, I met tall dark handsome J and we became instant friends. One night when we were out together, I noticed he had a necklace on (not normally my style!)… as I took a closer look I noticed it was a gemstone. I honestly felt my heart stop beating as I asked him if that was Tigers Eye. His answer of course, was yes. This time I listened to my dream!

So what about this recent dream with my hideous fashion faux pas? Well I think there are 2 messages – firstly a reflection of how stuck my wardrobe is right now (c’mon, you know important this is to me!). I love clothes, always have, yet at present I have to admit to feeling very stagnant and out of touch with my beloved world of fashion. I wear jeans and Tee’s with connies pretty much every day (though since the dream I have been parading round in a cute pair of leopard print ballet flats to rid my mind of the sneakers-with-white-socks vision!). It’s a fashion conundrum that I have been fighting with for nearly a year now (since becoming a mum) and one that I have not yet resolved.

Which brings me to the second, probably more important message – that it has been nearly a year now and the stirrings of creativity have become stronger and stronger over the last few months. They are screaming to be let out because they have essentially spent nearly 12 months on the shelf while I first adjusted then embraced my new role as mum, which is a role focused almost entirely on nurturing others and the essentials of every day living and caring for family. It doesn’t leave much time for personal creative time! Actually sleep deprivation pretty much robs you of all desire and ability to be creative anyway, so there was really no point in worrying about it until I felt half human again. Which I am pleased to say that I do! Feel human again, that is. So while I am thoroughly enjoying my creative time blogging, I am feeling the need to amp it up a notch. If I don’t listen to my dream, I may very well find myself shopping for socks and sneakers! So stay tuned, I’ll keep you posted, as I shall be listening to the message this time – I have learnt my lesson on that front!

A trip down memory lane...

I went to Brisbane on the weekend and visited my old suburb of Paddington. Oh my love, how I’ve missed you. The intoxicating smell of freshly ground coffee wafting from café’s, the lure of the tiny boutiques selling everything I must have, the voyeurism of people watching and the excitement of the new – new boutiques, new antique store (LOVE IT!), new cafés – there’s always something new and fabulous. And oh how I enjoyed my life there – weekends were simply mine, all mine to enjoy!!! Waking up late, meandering down to my favourite café’s for latte’s and croissants (my naughty addiction) with a delicious bout of shopping on the return trip home followed by lazily reading my favourite fashion mags in the afternoon. Night time often brought walks up to the Barracks for a movie and a bite to eat or dinner with friends round the corner.

 Lazing about at our old house in Paddo

So I was thoroughly excited to be heading back to re-visit my old stomping ground and catch up with old friends – it was all planned out (not by me of course, being the non-planner!) with friends booked in, shop-openings to attend and coffees to be lingered over and enjoyed. Yipppeee! But alas life with a baby never goes to plan (see this is why I’m a non-planner – what’s the point???) and after a sleepless night on Friday night I realize Lilybelle is coming down with something. After that, nothing goes right.

I won’t bore you with the details, let’s just say my longed for weekend away was a nightmare. Not all was lost – I did get to catch up with friends, though briefly, including my old friend Paddington and it made me miss a life now gone.  Don’t get me wrong, I adore being a mum and I LOVE my precious baby girl – however I would by lying if I didn’t admit to wishing for some more time of my own and just occasionally being responsible only for myself. Oh and double income – when I could spend whatever I liked on whatever I wanted! Suppressing my shopping instinct (yes, it’s an instinct and part of who I am, I swear it!!!!) is just unnatural.

So by the time we left Sunday afternoon, I was feeling rather low – missing my friends and my old life on top of no sleep, a sick bub and a sick dad (that’s another story entirely) – and even questioning whether our move to the coast was the right one. Finally, with gritty eyes blearily fighting to stay open, we turn off at our exit and drive the last leg home. That’s when I notice the trees, the green spaces that you just don’t get in the city, the lack of traffic, the salt in the air and then the ocean, glittering blue and endless. And I realise, we did make the right decision – this is where our life is now, together, with our daughter, by the beach. And I’m happy again.

A family picnic - how relaxing, right?

Ahhh, the sun is shining, the breeze is gently rustling the leaves and the water’s edge beckons… it’s the perfect day for a picnic. And what’s more relaxing then spending the day by the river with your partner, baby and dog?  Well, let me share…

It’s more in the getting to the picnic that I’d like to share here… just a little glimpse into my Sunday. It’s beautiful out and J has the day off, so we decide it’s time to get out in that sunshine and go for some fish and chips. Cool, let’s get organised – first, bubba. We have a small window of time between Lily waking from her nap and the time for her next nap, about 3 hours, so time is of the essence here people!

Man, how much crap can you really need for one child, I ask you? And don’t get me started on all the things one must do before stepping out the door! Let me give you the brief version – breastfeed bub (she’s just getting her first 2 teeth and I am a tad nervous), change nappy, choose outfit (she is very picky), get dressed, put shoes on (this job alone needs at least half an hour), give something to munch on to entertain whilst mum and dad run madly around the house getting ready.

Then there is the packing of the nappy bag – nappies, wipes, hat, sunscreen – damn, where the hell is the sunscreen??? Did you have it? Ooops, don’t worry, here it is! – toys, vom-rag.  Done. Shit, don’t forget food! Ok, riffling through fridge, what can we feed bub? An assortment of fruit, organic baby food, bubba biscuits and water bottle are jammed into the food bag. Done. Who forgot the frickin bib???

Packing the car – shit, why is only one set of keys working?? Go outside to check second set, Henry (the dog) gets over-excited at the sound of keys rattling and gets his leg caught up in the outdoor bench to horrific howling. I rush over to unhook his leg only to get peed on. Shit! No, I mean piss! Yes, you heard me, piss. And not just on me, on the keys too (you know you’re not meant to get them wet right? Eww.) Gross, more time wasted on me having to remove dog spraying.

Ok, back to packing the car – pram, nappy bag, picnic rugs, camera, my bag, J’s man-bag, food bag, baby, dog. Done.  I go to lock the house and can’t find the keys. Damn it!!!!! Who had them last? Crap, I did – last time I saw them was just before the dog peeing incident. I spend 10 minutes retracing my steps through the house, under the papers, on the table, in the kitchen, CRAAAAPPP! Ok, back outside again to the scene of the crime – aha! I must have flung them in the air in shock when the pee hit me. Found them in the grass.

Finally, lock the door, get in the car, cranky and looking at the time – yes it took us an hour to get ready. Damn it, we are one hour down on our 3 hour time window and both shitty (well I’m more pissy actually). As we look at each other in irritation, we finally crack up and laugh. Jeezus. Luckily the day remained perfect, the fish and chips were delicious, the gelati even more so and Henry & Lilybelle loved their frolic by the river. Another glorious day with the fam!

 Lily & the pee culprit by the river

Doing things your own way

So I recently became engaged… yes, I know, very exciting :o) Now that the initial excitement has worn off, I have come to realize that perhaps there is a good reason why there is a traditional order of sequence to these kind of things. You know, you meet, you date, he pops the question, you get married and then along come the babies.  Being non-traditionalists, we of course had to buck the system – meet, move in, have a baby, get engaged and at some stage in the future, get married. Doing things a little differently is all well and good, however becoming a parent, whilst a truly wonderful experience, does comes with its fair share of challenges, particularly on your relationship. Not because you love each other any less, but because you’re suddenly tired all the time, you’re both learning how to look after and raise a baby together and two sets of family values come into play. Gritting your teeth can quickly become a daily jaw exercise.

This does not always make for a peaceful household (I say that with love in my heart sweetie :o), which is why I believe following the order (as listed above) may well be somewhat easier, mostly because you’ve not yet seen each other at your worst - aka tired zombie crankerton who occasionally has hysterical outbursts “who left - the washing in the machine/the milk out/the dishes in the sink” – feel free to insert your own words here! AND before bubs come along you have all the time in the world for romance because it’s still all about the two of you. Life does not yet revolve around a third person, which can make it extremely difficult to find time for just the two of you, let alone get romantic.

I take it as a testament to our solid relationship and deep love for each other that in the middle of this new parent craziness, my partner decided he wanted to marry me, and I him.  Of course there are moments when I’m sure we both think jeezus, what am I getting myself into, however I love the fact that in doing things the non-traditional way, we have also discovered the strength of our love for each other. We also have the most delightful symbol of our love – a daughter, who makes us laugh and look at each other in absolute wonder – wonder in that as a couple, we had a part in creating such an amazing little person. Wow, here's to doing things your own way.

 Awww, my happy family

Uh-oh, I baked… you've been warned!

The discovery that I have been baking is generally met with about the same enthusiasm as the discovery that one needs a root-canal – mostly dread and trepidation. Oh and a pain in the mouth! That’s fine, I’m the first to admit that I’m not a natural baker. However embracing my role as full time mum, I feel it’s time to step up and don the apron, so to speak.

It seems my problem is in following recipes. I can’t. It’s not that I can’t read and follow simple instructions; it’s that I don’t want to - mostly because I’ve just read how many cups of sugar are actually in a batch of cupcakes/cookies/fudge! Ignorance is such a nice place to be at times, but alas, once I’ve discovered the truth, it’s hard to continue on with the recipe as is. There in lies my problem. Personally, I like to see it more as my creativity and pro-activeness towards living a healthier lifestyle, but it seems my pasty chef partner would disagree. You see, I then feel obliged to find a healthier alternative to the ingredient that I have taken exception to, be it sugar, white flour, 3 blocks of melted chocolate. You get the idea.

This is when things start to get a little, ahem, off the beater's track, shall we say. Apparently with baking, you need to be precise (and bloody perfect) and that is just not my style (the precise bit, not the perfect bit :o). See the thing is, not only do I swap ingredients from the naughty list for healthier options (or simply halve the amounts), but I often start to make something without first checking the pantry for what I'll need, only to discover half way through I’m missing 4 key ingredients. Silly of me, I know, however I do this because baking is rarely a premeditated task (why would I subject my family to such pain), but instead more of a spur of the moment decision that often leaves me cursing into the pantry (and others running for cover).

But I’m a positive person so I try and make do and let my creativity run riot. I liken my baking style to my approach to life – I tend to jump headfirst into things, I’m not much of a planner - I’m more of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants kinda girl (if you don’t get the movie reference, shame on you!), I don’t much like being told what to do and I think I’m pretty pro-active when it comes to leading a healthy, more sustainable lifestyle. While these qualities can be seen as positive in life (well geez, I like to think so), sadly, the end result of my baking is not always so.

Today I baked gluten free Coconut Cupcakes – the recipe wasn’t for gluten free, but true to style, I swapped half the ingredients for healthier options and for what I actually had in the pantry. The end result is, hmmm, how shall I describe it? Um, perhaps Coconut Rockcakes would be a more accurate description. And being a waste not, want not type of gal, I’ll have to force someone to eat them. Sadly for my yoga-mums group, it will be their unfortunate fate this week! But hey, they’re healthy and you can feel good eating them knowing that they won’t rot your teeth and you can avoid that root-canal. That’s gotta make you happy!

 Yum, my coconut rockcakes - they won't rot your teeth, but they may break them!

Goodbye Ciao Meow... hello mum-mum

Well it’s official – Ciao Meow has closed up shop and is online no more. Meow. Yes I’m feeling a little sad, however it’s time - I'm ready to close that chapter. Funny how things happen… Ciao Meow had been my sole focus for so long that while I was pregnant, all I could think about was how I would fit a baby in around it. Then a beautiful baby girl arrived and suddenly I was wondering how could I fit Ciao Meow in around my baby! My perspective and priorities changed in such a drastic and unexpected way that it literally left me floundering in limbo – unable to make a decision either way about what direction to take. 

So it feels great to finally make the decision to move on. Apart from not having the time to really dedicate to the business (particularly in a tough retail economy), one of the deciding factors was that I suddenly felt very disconnected from my own business. Ciao Meow was all about gorgeous designer fashion, silk cami’s and perfect little dresses for every occasion. Which was a pretty perfect reflection of my previous life as both a single and then later attached woman in her 20’s and the fabulous social life that went with it – Friday night cocktails, brunch with the girls on Saturday, shopping trips, dinner dates and trips to the movies any time I felt like it. Ahhh the freedom!

My life is now very different - silk anything is well and truly out the window, as is party dresses and well, actually dresses in general. They just don’t cut it when it comes to crawling round on the floor with babies or bending over prams in public (I'm really not into showing random strangers my knickers). Plus sticky pumpkin fingers and gooey, half chewed rusks mean anything that needs to be hand-washed or dry cleaned is well and truly on the out. This new wardrobe reality has given me incredible insight (and frustration at times) - I've realised that a key part of letting go of Ciao Meow was in letting go of the past and fully embracing the present, which is my new life as a mum. 

 Silk party dresses don't really go with my new social life :o)

So while there are moments when I think longingly of frocking up and going for cocktails, these moments now seem few and far between in comparison to the many special moments with my little girl – her big wide smiles, her funny little chuckles, that tiny little voice calling out “mum-mum” and her arms stretching out to cuddle me – these are the moments I cherish every day and fill me with a level of happiness that literally leaves me speechless. 

So thank you and goodbye Ciao Meow – you were a wonderful chapter of my life – at times challenging, but also fun, full of personal growth and great times – I let you go with love in my heart. 

And I embrace my new life with open arms - I can hear a little voice calling mum-mum – I’m off for some cuddles…

Where have I been? Trying to sleep, that's where!

The universe sure knows how to show you some perspective in life. Little Lily had just passed the 6 month mark when she started waking 2-3 times a night again (that’s up from either sleeping through or waking once a night, which I had become very comfortable with thank you very much!). “What is going on?” I asked her numerous times – she'd just look at me with those big eyes and impish grin. I figured it was just a growth spurt and that was fine, I knew it wouldn’t last. But once we passed 2 months of this, I was seriously cranky and tired. Or so I thought…

Then the poor little cherub got a cold – nothing too major, just your average cold with runny nose, congestion, coughing and generally feeling a tad miserable. This is when 'tired' was redefined for me! Holy cow, poor little miss started waking CONSTANTLY throughout the night and I mean CONSTANTLY. I’d put her down, 10 minutes later, she’d be up again coughing and spluttering and this was repeated over and over again. Poor darling, I felt so sorry for her but the sleep, or lack there of, was doing my head in. We ended up sleeping semi reclined together for about a week and then back to her cot for the second week, though the waking constantly continued. Finally we are back to waking 2-3 times a night, which is now fine by me!

Perspective is a funny thing - what felt challenging before, now feels like a holiday after my dose of sleep deprivation. What I discovered is that sleep deprivation really is a form of torture! Derr, how many times have I heard that and not really understood the full meaning? The Nicky I know simply disappeared and in her place appeared a hollow-eyed ghost with a serious temper. It’s not that I was cranky at Lilybelle, it’s just that there was no buffer anymore – that buffer that allows you to bounce back easily, smile with endless patience (mostly :), maintains your good humour and keeps you on the good side of optimism – it just disappeared about 3 nights in. Suddenly I was walking around like a zombie, feeling over emotional, accident prone, unable to finish sentences, losing my train of thought and feeling like a big stinky bear with a really sore head! Not fun for anyone, as my dear partner will confirm.

So what have I learnt from this experience? Well, apart from hiring a humidifier next time (hot tip from other mums who have been through this – thanks Kel and Jodes), I have learnt to just bloody appreciate what I have right here and right now!  Because nothing ever stays the same and life can change in an instant – for better OR worse. And those tough times sure make me appreciate what I have and how blessed I am.  And the universe will ALWAYS find a way to remind me of this.

 Well into my hollow-eyed zombiedom!

Something old made new again

Having a baby can be costly, especially your first. I wouldn’t have believed how much stuff we’d need to look after our little cherub! And I was adamant that I didn’t want to go out and buy a lot of ‘stuff’ that we probably wouldn’t end up using and would just take up a lot of space that we don’t have. Lucky for us we were fortunate to have a number of friends with bubba’s a little older who were more than happy to lend or donate many essentials that we could use and it’s been wonderful!

One of these items was a cot kindly donated to us from a friend whose bub has now grown out of. It was just a simple pine cot – does the job perfectly – however was not particularly our style. So weekend project here we come!

First Justin & I gave it a light sanding over – we just put it outside under a tree and both sat on either side and had a good old chat while we worked. Was nice to catch up – doesn’t happen as often as it used to!

Then we gave it an undercoat – again, simply a side each.

Then finally, after leaving to dry for a day, we (actually Justin) finished it off with a nice shiny top coat, all in a crisp clean white. You wouldn’t believe the difference it made! Suddenly we have a gorgeous ‘new’ cot that fits in with our style and is perfect for our darling girl. Justin, being the perfectionist he is, couldn’t help but add a nice personal touch and painted Lilybelle’s name on the end. Which looks beautiful, I must say – well done lovey!

All in all, a great little project we worked on together that cost us very little and gave a beautiful result.

Cost’s –

Sanding paper – approx $10 from bunnings

Paint – approx $30 from bunnings (we used an water-based enamel paint as this is fairly eco-friendly and safe for bubba’s that doesn’t have a strong paint smell)

Brushes – approx $10 from Big W

End result – gorgeous cot and happy bub :o)

 

Before and After

 

 Cheeky Monkey aka Lilybelle Kate!

The wisdom of Kung-fu Panda

Well actually, it’s the wisdom of Master Oogway from Kung-fu Panda that I am referring to. The quote, to be specific is “Yesterday is history, tomorrow a mystery, today is a gift, that’s why they call it the present”. In my mind, one of the greatest quotes I’ve ever heard.  Why? Let me tell you…

How many of us live in the present? You may think you do, just as I do, but in reality, we are more often than not somewhere else. Whether it’s thinking (again the thinking brain takes control – see past blogs for reference!) about what happened yesterday, what we need to do later today and what needs to be organised for tomorrow. Am I right? Go on, admit it! How often are we truly present, right here, right now, in this very moment? Sadly, for me, not often enough. That’s why I love this quote, beautifully articulated by Master Oogway (the wily old turtle for those of you unfamiliar with the genius of Kung-fu Panda).

What’s so fascinating about this concept of living not in the present, but in the past or the future via our mind, is that we aren’t really living in reality. Because what is not present right now is no longer or not yet real. We can create whole stories in our heads about something that has not yet even occurred and may never in fact occur, and have you noticed that we more often than not think about what might go wrong, rather than what we’d really like to happen?

This is where worrying comes in to play – we feel stressed about a certain situation – for example having enough money (or more accurately, not having enough money). I’ve found this to be quite a relevant topic for new mums because suddenly you are down to living on one income, which is a challenge at the best of times, but even harder when you’ve got a new bub and all the expenses that come with those precious bundles of joy. So we worry about how we’ll make ends meet and in doing that, imagine a whole array of scenarios that may or may not become reality. And our mind is so powerful in creating these scenes in our head that they feel real to us and we feel real emotions around them. Yet what we are worrying about is NOT REAL in this very moment! Ok confused much? I know, it’s crazy. So crazy that it hardly even makes sense when you try to make sense of it!

So to save myself from going crazy (or crazier), I repeat that quote to myself as often as I can, with particular emphasis on the last line – “today is a gift, that’s why they call it the present”. I love this line because not only does it remind me to live in the here and the now – which I believe is one of the greatest gifts I can give my daughter for free, to be available and focused on her as much as I can be – but this quote also reminds me to be grateful for each and every day. And that is a very powerful thing – to be truly grateful for every moment that we have, to feel blessed for the many wonderful things that are part of your life and to say thank you. Being grateful can change your whole life, it is that empowering, because suddenly you can feel happiness for the smallest things – a morning cup of tea, a quiet cuddle with your bub, a quick kiss shared with your partner – even amidst the most chaotic of days.

And sharing your happiness, in this very moment, with those that you love is surely a wonderful gift to give.

 A little kiss with my baby girl fills me with happiness... awwww

Mother's Intuition

I’ve always struggled to trust my intuition. I’d get a strong feeling about something, have a vivid dream or even a knee jerk reaction in response to something, yet I’d still doubt myself. Because inevitably, my mind (that is the thinking part of the brain, rather than the feeling part) would pipe up and refute these feelings with the sole intention of casting doubt. This is what the mind does – it creates havoc when you let it run your life!

A perfect example of this occurred about a month back when we had a number of wild storms here on the coast. This one particular afternoon, a storm was raging outside – wind howling, rain pouring and thunder and lightning creating a spectacular scene outside. During this storm it came to Lilybelle’s nap time. I went into her room to put her down and I got the strongest feeling that NO, it’s not safe here and to bring her out to the living room for her nap so I can see her. So I turned around and walked back into the living room and it was here that the inevitable doubt struck. “Don’t be silly” are the words I hear in my mind as I stood undecided in the living room, “you’re being an over-protective mum. She’s perfectly safe.” I stalled and then let the doubt win and turned back to put her down in her bed. Just as I was laying her down, two big branches came crashing down onto the window, right beside her bed!

So I nearly jump out of my skin! Luckily I was still holding on to her and I raced back out of the room. Thankfully no serious damage was done and both Lilybelle and I were safe. But boy was it a big lesson for me. At that moment I promised myself that I would ALWAYS trust my intuition in future, no matter how much doubt creeps in. What’s interesting is that this sense of intuition has become so much stronger since I’ve become a mum and again so since I made that promise to trust my instincts.

Of course ‘mother’s intuition’ is not a new concept, however I do find it interesting that so little emphasis is put on how important it is and what an amazing tool it is for mothering.  What I mean by this is that new mums are inundated with advice from everyone and anyone, from your next door neighbour to qualified health professionals, to books and magazines. Yet how often do we listen to what our instinct tells us about our baby? I see so many mums (myself included at times) being swayed from what they feel is right by over-bearing advice from albeit well-meaning by-standers. WHY DO WE DO THIS TO OURSELVES? We know our babies better than anyone else – why don’t we trust ourselves more?

I personally have learnt first hand how important it is to trust your instincts and to listen to your own intuition, so I wanted to write this blog to encourage other mum’s (and dad’s) to listen to your own feelings about what is right for your child, rather than constantly seeking the advice (and maybe approval) of others. I’ve found that by going with the flow, listening to my own intuition and allowing Lilybelle freedom to develop her own routine, our days feel much more harmonious and flow relatively easily. That’s not to say we don’t have our moments! However I find the more relaxed I am around those moments, the easier they are to deal with. And on those days when nothing goes right, just repeat this - “All Is Well In My World!”

 I trusted my instincts that bubba was ready for solids, despite what many books and health profesionals say about waiting till a specific age. And boy does she love her din-dins!

A deeper sense of empathy

It’s been a while since I blogged, I know… I have found myself pre-occupied - glued to the TV watching the horror of the floods unfold, particularly the flash flooding in Toowoomba. Such tragedy – it’s like those horrible images shown on TV simply weren’t real. Those kinds of things don’t happen in Australia, do they?

Watching the News isn’t something I do regularly – in all honesty, I find it too upsetting… too many terrible things to take in that I become overwhelmed – violence, environmental tragedies, world disasters and dirty politicians. I don’t seem to have strong enough boundaries to take it all without being left feeling seriously wretched and depressed. Which is why watching the near 24-7 coverage of the recent floods is so out of character for me, yet I found myself watching in horror, unable to walk away.

I always thought I had a deep sense of compassion and empathy for others. I’ve now discovered that having a baby of my own has deepened this compassion 100 fold. Perhaps this is why I found it so difficult to turn away from the tragedy unfolding before me on TV. In particular, those stories of parents losing their children or partners – these devastating stories had me in tears as I tried to imagine the horror of their experience. The thought of losing a partner is truly gut-wrenching, but losing a child? There are no words to describe the overwhelming pain the mere thought of this induces. How do you ever recover from such a tragedy? It goes against nature and against every single instinct you have as a parent.

These recent events have reminded me how important it is to find joy in each day, no matter what I am doing and what challenges I may be experiencing. Life is so fleeting and precious and can be taken away in the blink of an eye, as nature has recently shown us. I remind myself daily to be grateful for the simple fact that my family is here with me and we are healthy and safe – they are the most important things in life.

I can’t imagine the full extent of the grief these poor families must be experiencing right now, however my heart goes out to each and every one of them. I dedicate this blog to those families… You are in my thoughts and prayers - I wish you much love through this difficult time and hope you may find some peace in knowing that all of Australia grieves with you.

Love Nicky xo

Who stole my sleep?

When did my life start to revolve around sleep? This concept of a good night’s sleep has become a point of fascination for me… endless conversations throughout my week revolve around the subject – how much did you get, how long did bub get, how dare my stinky partner sleep through! Ggrrrr. Seriously, how is it that the simple concept of sleeping your required 8 hours each day become such a hot topic? And as lusted-after as the latest Must Haves from the Chanel Cruise Collection? Oh that’s right, because a bub came along and sneakily disrupted your once peaceful shut-eye. Duh.

And let’s be honest, it’s hard not be to envious of those mums who have one of those ‘freak’ babies (in the nicest sense) who sleep through the moment they arrive home from hospital. Errgggh, so irritating to hear when you are sleep deprived and doing your best not to nod off in the middle of mums group. I believe it’s generally considered rude to fall asleep mid-conversation, however I have decided the one exemption to this rule is mums. As far as I’m concerned, they are allowed to do whatever the hell they want, so there!

Many a conversation with new mums begin with “so how is ‘insert relevant bubs name’ sleeping?”. Gone are the days when it began with “how was your hot date / night out on the town / shopping trip..." you get the picture. This repetitive discussion does start to make me feel a tad old and boring, despite the fact that it’s so relevant to me at present. Surely my life is more exciting than that? (Don’t answer that!)

The words “I’m so tired” accompanied by a jaw-breaking yawn are repeated so many times throughout my day that I’ve taken a stand – no more! From now on, no matter how tired I am, I will do my best to stop those words escaping my mouth and instead say “I feel fabulous” even if still accompanied by a gigantic yawn. I’m hoping that if I repeat it that many times, somehow my mind and body will eventually catch on and I really will feel fabulous.

Wish me luck…

Love Nicky xo

Ahhh, the peace of sleep...