briefly

Earlier in the week, before the rain hit, we had some beautiful Winter days. I love this time of year; it's by far my favourite. I don't mind being chilly because I love rugging up. I know it's somewhat hilarious to think of Brisbane as ever cold, but it has been this year. I've lived in Europe, so I know real cold as well and I still love it, although, our Brisbane version is somewhat more palatable, it's true.

The boys running through the afternoon sunlight, off on adventures. "Bye Bye Mama, we're off to have our adventure now. See you later!", they shouted back at me as they took off as quickly as their little legs could carry them.

This awful fuzzy photo is of Hamish's first 'H'. He took his piece of chalk (blue, of course) and drew with great concentration (tongue out), and announced gleefully afterwards, "Mama! It's a H for Hamish. It's a H for meeeeee". Teared up, of course. Waterworks.

I finished the bedhead, and I adore it. I'm a terrible photographer, so I took a close up of the fabric as the  pic on the right below is totally yellow and doesn't show the detail. The fabric is a really gorgeous linen. 

The boys are growing up so much. We've been walking around our neighbourhood a lot and they seem to all of a sudden really 'get it'. They understand to check driveways for cars, and stop at the corners, and not go near the road without holding my hand. It's enjoyable exploring with them, instead of terrifying, and a privilege to see the world through their eyes. I can't really remember the last time I used the pram. Bliss.

I painted the chair! I LOVE it. It's such a gorgeous colour (which you can't see because there's that whole terrible photographer thing...). I just need to select cushion fabrics now. I'm thinking a busy navy/white botanical print for the seat cushion and something a bit wacky like a geometric pattern in yellow or coral for a scatter cushion.

Spent some time with my sisters. Pretty, aren't we. Genetically blessed, I tell you.

 And, oh, the mundane, my floors. Look at that. Disgusting. I can't believe my grouting was that filthy. Nothing a bit of bleach, some bicarb and a bit of elbow grease couldn't fix. So gross. I really had no idea it had become so bad until I saw one of those pins on pinterest about cleaning grout. I'm a  bit pinterest obsessed actually. I saw one of those ecards yesterday with words along the lines of, "Don't worry darling, it was on pinterest, so it must be true". That's me.

And in more of the mundane, it's been raining a lot here lately, so my washing pile is taller than me. I don't like using the dryer, but I may have to give in.

Grieving

My uncle died this weekend. My mum's little brother. 

It wasn't unexpected - he has been ill for a long time - but yet it was. On the actual day that it happened, it took us all by surprise. Adrian was a stubborn bugger. He came so close to death so many times, but always managed to give it a big kick off. I'd almost lost track of the number of times the doctors said we should say our final goodbyes. Because it never was the last one.

I nearly didn't go to see him on Saturday in hospital. But there was something in my mum's voice that was different. She sounded sad. So very very sad.

Seeing him was a shock. I'd only seen him a week earlier, yet he'd aged a lifetime. He was so thin the blankets on his hospital bed had more volume than his body.

It's a particularly hard time for my mum. He's her little brother - a troubled soul - who she has always looked after. He has lived with her on and off since he was a teenager. His life has been a hard one. A very hard one. He made choices and decisions that alienated him from many people and left him with nothing and no-one. But my mum has always been there. She has been his primary carer, his nurse, for the past three years while he's been living at her house.

She's given up everything. Caring for him has meant so many sacrifices; her relationship, her job, her life. She is a saint.

They were great mates. 

I don't know how to support her. I'm cooking a lot. She has 'breatharian' tendencies at the best of times, so I'm not risking her not eating. I've made batches of quiche, and pasta, and curries. In food there is love and comfort. I hope it helps.

A headboard in the making

I'm - FINALLY - getting around to making a headboard for our bedroom. I've only been talking about it for, oh, about four years.

I found some amazing French linen fabric that has been screenprinted with a silvery grey trellis pattern. It's so beautiful.

So that's this weekend's major project. I'm p.r.e.t.t.y excited about the staple gun action.

Getting my paint on

I'm obsessed with painted wicker / painted cane / painted rattan / painted whateveryouwanttocallit and have been stalking pinterest and ebay like a crazy person.

See: obsessed.

  

  

(these images are all from my pinterest page - http://pinterest.com/immieollie/ - and you can click through to find the original sources)

I've missed out on five fabulous chairs but today I won! Bam! I got this unpolished beauty for the bargain price of $20, and the best bit is that it's currently residing only a few suburbs away.

She's currently not the most glamourous of chairs, but I love her diamond panels and curved arms. She's definitely going to be turquoise. Or yellow. Or shiny shiny shiny black.........

The week... briefly

An attack of appendicitis followed by swift removal of said appendix is how this week began. For me, at least. I'm so glam when I'm sick. H.O.T.

Once that was over (ouch), I settled in and enjoyed my little family and made the most of enforced rest.

Obsessed with painted cane and wicker furniture. Hello turquoise!

images from here:  http://www.decorpad.com/photo.htm?photoId=67983&index=3&searchQuery=gallery%20framed&searchType=photos and here: http://www.tarasloggett.com/lifestyle/

Practicing fine motor skills (while secretly trying to work out if Hamish is a lefty or a righty). He's excellent with tongs. Definitely a BBQer of the future.

Editing the next issue of Multiplied. Yes, my babies. I know. But they're such compliant models. Didn't even kick up a fuss when I tied scarves around their necks.

Rocky rollin' - this kid is a rock-star. 

Making shoe rainbows and singing,  "I can sing a shoe rainbow, sing a shoe rainbow, sing a shoe rainbow tooooooo".

Unnecessary gratuitous cuteness

Swimming lessons - thank goodness for heated pools. It's really chilly this winter, and I adore it. Now if only I could convince T we needed to install a fireplace.

Out of the Box Children's Festival - newsreaders and newsshredders of the future?

Cooking from my trusty collection of Donna Hay cookbooks and mags. She's fab. 

ummm, talk much?

Ummmmm, yes. Poor T can't get a word in. This is me doing 'our' tenth wedding anniversary speech. I have no idea what I was saying that was so obviously hilarious. Clearly, I thought I was the funniest woman alive though.

People always tell me I'm a very 'animated' talker. Indeed. Indeed. Oh dear.

Me. A mum.

I'm a mum. I'm their mum. They depend on me. I'm a teacher, a guide, a mentor, a feeder, a protector, a keeper, a soul-carrier, a heart-wearer, a carer, a disciplinarian, a story-teller, a playmate, a book-reader, an example, a role-model, a citizen-grower, an influencer. They need me, and I need them.

Being a mum is the most brilliant thing in my life. It's also the hardest. Every.single.moment.and.decision. is laced with doubt, guilt, conscience, question, and of course love. There's always love. Big giant suffocating love that brings tears to my eyes just thinking of it.

But I want to be a better mum. A more patient one, and a less distracted one. Definitely a less shouty one. I wish for the time, the freedom and the... privilege?... to take it slowly, to move at their pace, take their lead, look at the world through their eyes, rather than constantly needing to hurry up, tidy up, shoosh for a minute, stop fighting, get-a-move-on, and whatever-else-on.

I feel like I'm torn between the real-life urgency to earn money, keep my foot on the career ladder, and contribute my share and the real-life yearning to just be their mum - now - while they're so little and they need me so much. They are utterly dependent. The physical dependency is tiring, but not as exhausting as the sheer emotional pressure of having someone's life in your hands. And I don't want to break it. It's so precious.

I know we have to work. We have to earn money. We have to pay for this house, this life, this stuff. I'm not ready yet to think about whether we need it all (I'm quite sure we don't), because that might mean something I have only ever romantically entertained on mini-break weekends in front of roaring fires, balloon of red wine in hand (pre-kids, of course, when living in the country sounded divine if you could pop up to the city whenever you needed to). But I also firmly believe that if one of us can be at home with our boys, then we should. We ought. It's our job. It is better for one parent to be here often, than neither. I'm constantly amazed at how we do things in our own home to ourselves and to our children (our children!), that we would never dare to do to our employers. Isn't that back-to-front?

I'm not one of those mums who knows I'm a better mum if I'm working. I'm not. I'm a better mum when I'm immersed with them. That's not to say I don't enjoy working, because I do - if the work is interesting and challenging. I like to be busy, and I like to achieve results. I like remembering that I can chat about things other than child development and eating habits. But I don't think I do both well enough when they're competing for my time. I don't think I'm a good mama when I'm trying to juggle work, which never falls on the days it's supposed to, meaning I'm constantly trying to distract them so I can work. I don't think do a good enough job for my clients because I'm only ever partly on the job.

I frequently feel annoyed about this. Angry that I can't do it all. Frustrated because I'm so tired of the juggling and I can't explain it properly to anyone else - it just sounds so trivial when I try. Annoyed because our weekends are exhausting and tag-teaming and T and I don't have much quality time together. Cross because the house is always chaotic and we're always running out of milk! Exhausted because I haven't had a decent night's sleep in three years and wondering if I ever will again. Peed off because I don't get out much, that I don't see my friends enough, that I've become dull and boring and WHAT ABOUT ME? WHERE DID I GO IN ALL THIS?

But when it comes down to it, right now, I am a mum. I am their mum. It's my job. It's my heart. And for now, that's what I need to be.

Universe, are you listening?

#31 Go to the dentist regularly

It's better to go regularly - preventatively - than to put it off and deal with the consequences (and I'm speaking from experience here) xx

#30 Be generous

With your time. Or with your money. And always with your spirit.

Lately

There has been a shift in our house. Our full time nanny has finished, and so has my roundabout of working full time across a number of jobs.  It was too much. Too unbalanced. I'm working less now and it feels good. I feel settled. Grounded. The boys are at 'junior kindy' two days per week and they're thriving. Our time together is so precious and we've been busy!

Baking

Colour sorting

 And sorting by numbers too (just some contact taped sticky-side-out onto a wall)

Making rainbows with pipecleaners and colanders

Pegging (oh, I can't wait for them to become adept at this. I am not exactly the world's biggest laundry lover)

Making playdough and working at it ever so diligently

 Hours of 'Thomas and his friends' - these boys must surely be the world's biggest fans

very enthusiastic trampolining (Hamey even takes his 'meh' jumping - bless him)

And in between all of that, there's been a bit of 'me' and 'us' time too.

Getting some exercise in - walking / jogging, twinadoes in tow in the mother of all prams

and date night sparkles!

I am blessed :)

They got so big!

My babies are so big! How? When? 

But it's such an interesting time.

In so many ways they seem so much older than 2.5 - especially Rocky - like when he tells me he wants: "chorizo cous cous - the big cous cous mama, not the little cous cous" for dinner. Or when he tells me he loves me very very much and he's very proud of me! Or when they tell me they're grown ups and don't need baby things anymore and only want to eat grown-up food off grown-up plates. They are so confident with people and happily announce their full names to anyone who asks. They march off (or race off - especially when I'm in David Jones - specialising in the 'run in opposite directions' manouvre) with confidence and eagerness into the world.

In other ways they are still little babies (and always will be, I expect) - like needing BIIIIG cuddles before bed, grabbing my hand when they're unsure of something, needing their boo-boos kissed better, edging closer and closer until they're on top of me when they get tired, and taking their trains to bed (which T then has to gently remove hours later from their gorgeous gentle grip).

They're amazing these little humans. I never knew to expect such amazing-ness (is that a word?). They blow my mind. I am privileged. And grateful. And tired. But that's ok :)

The following photos are of the boys with their "cousin Blakey" - possibly the only person they will hold hands with for more than 20 seconds. They adore him.  x

Of toddlers and tantrums

Oh my darling Rocky-bear

You are bonkers. I mean that most affectionately, of course.

Some days, your need to control everything around you makes me laugh. Some days it makes me almost cry. Some days it makes me want to tear my hair out. And other days I love that you are observing so much of your world and trying so hard to understand it.

Honestly, I have never ever seen anything like some of the tantrums you have lately. And I can see them coming. Usually I do whatever I can to avoid them - like not presuming to do anything on your behalf. You are so gorgeously, stubbornly, exhaustingly independent. You have to get the weetbix from the cupboard, and the milk from the fridge. You have to pull your own chair up to the bench, and take the milk bottle lid off yourself. You have to get your own spoon from the drawer and carry your own bowl to the table.

You have to choose your own clothes, put on your own undies, do your shoes yourself, get your own water, walk down the stairs yourself, climb into the car yourself, do your own seatbelt, clean your own teeth, bring your own pjs from the bedroom... and on it goes. You most definitely will not do something you don't want to do.

Sometimes I forget - because I'm so used to doing things for you. Other times I want to avoid the mess. Mostly, we're in a rush. But it's always a bad idea to 'help'. I have to wait for your invitation to "do it together". You never need help, of course: that would mean sacrificing some independence. But I know that when you say you want to "do it together", that actually, you need your mummy.

And when a tantrum hits, far out it hits. You can scream with the best of them, my noisy, angry little man. I know that it's just you trying so hard to control your environment so that you feel safe and secure. And I understand it. But the challenge for your daddy and me is to work out how and where to draw the line. We need you to understand what is acceptable behaviour, and what isn't. We need you to understand that while you're the centre of your own universe (and rightfully so!), you need to be aware of others, their needs and their feelings. And we need you to learn that you don't get what you want by screaming for it (although the social change activist in me fights hard against that and screams right back that sometimes it's the only way).

At least once a day Hamey says: "Rocky cwying again Mama" :)

You 'rewind' things. Literally. All the time. If I touch something you don't want me to have touched, you grab my hands and swipe them - 'untouching' them. If I accidentally sit on your bed at nighttime before you have asked me to sit down, we have to go back to where we were before we walked into the bedroom to give it another go to get it right. If the cupboard door is open, when you think it should be closed, you have to close it and then re-open it. At least you haven't tried to 'unpeel' a banana... yet. I know of other toddlers at your age who have done just that!

But most of the time you are a funny, delightful, and delighted boy. You are enamoured with life, people and the world around you. You sing your heart out at any given opportunity, and say hello to strangers passing by. You are caring, and affectionate, and need far more than the average person's daily quota of cuddles and kisses. You smooch smooch smooch all day long. You crash tackle Hamey in your quest for cuddles. You speak a mile a minute and every single day amaze me with what you can say, but more so, what you understand.

Some wise person once said that the very traits that make your toddler sometime challenging are the same traits that are admired in adults. And I hope you don't lose your spiritedness, vigour, energy, and protestation. You need these in this world.

I love you so so so much. You're frighteningly clever. Terrifyingly loud. And I am so so proud of you.

Mama xxx

Multiplied fashion pages sneak peek

Issue 2 of Multiplied is off the presses today, and on its way to readers, so I think it's probably ok to do this :)