My babies are two

My darling Hamish, you are two years old. A little boy. But still my baby.

There are some things about you that I think will never change; your gentle nature, infectious smile, enthusiastic giggle, bottomless eyes, and kindness.

And then every day you accomplish something new and I love you even more again.

You love cuggles and kisses, which you say with the most adorable lisp. You wrap your arm around my neck like you never want to let go. You love your 'Grocky' and you're always angling for a hug with him. When you're sitting side by side, you're always touching. Hands, feet, arms, legs. You're so entwined with each other. It's amazing.

You love to run. Whenever there's an open space, you stop - just for a second - and then a huge grin spreads across your face and you're off!

I hope you're always smiling, running, laughing and loving, my angel boy.

All the love in the universe,
Your mama

Oh Rocky. You are one special little man. You've started narrating your life. It starts the instant you wake up, "ooh, I woked up! I woked up mummy!" And it doesn't stop until you close those beautiful eyes at night.

You are exceptionally enthusiastic about most things. You say "oooooh, niiiiiice" a lot. You tell us "oh no, rocky did get a boo boo - kiss it bedda mummy". The way you speak literally takes my breath away.

You love your 'Ahmy' and you can't relax unless you know he's ok. If you get a drink of water, you need to know he has one too. If you get some berries, you won't start eating until he's happily munching on his. You make sure he has his hat and his sunscreen, and you like to say 'nigh nigh' to him before you go to sleep.

I can't believe you're 2 years old, my little miracle baby. What a blessed two years it has been. I'm one lucky mama.

As always, all the love in the universe,
Your mama

And some snaps from the 'Rainbows, teepees, and superheros' party !

Letter to my babies - 22-23 months

Hello boys, my goodness time goes quickly.

Your daddy and I were just remembering how you used to say "pickabook" Rocky for "book": mama used to ask you everyday to go and pick a book, and you thought that's what a book was called. It was so adorable. Now you not only know it's a "book", you call them by their full names.

And Hame, you used to call a biscuit a "bweh" and grapes "ahple" because you thought they were little apples. You would say "mama, ahple ahple ahple". Now you say "mummy grep ples".

You both talk like big kids - in full sentences, and with words I didn't realise you'd be able to get your little mouths around.

Mama has a beautiful necklace that is a circle with your names stamped on it. You both love it. You know your names are on it, and you call it "mummy's special circle". I didn't know you'd be able to say those sounds all in a row. You surprise me every single day. You can repeat absolutely anything, and you love learning new words.

You're still both champion sleepers, although we had a couple of weeks there when you discovered you could get up and out of your beds yourselves. Rocky, you would just appear from nowhere with a giggle and a "hiii, hello".

Hamey, we used to find you curled up on the floor amongst your toys and spare sheets you pulled out from the drawer under your bed - like you made yourself a little nest.

Rock, you LOVE red. Really really really love red. You insist on wearing "Rocky's red hat, rocky's red sirt (shirt), rocky's red soos (shoes)". Every.single.day. You are an intense little boy. You're energetic, full-on, noisy, clever, and ohsocute.

Hamey, you're a lot more easy-going when it comes to your wardrobe, but you do love blue. Whenever you see something blue you point and say "Ahmy bwoo", and when you see red you say "Grocky wred". You are still an angelic little boy, although, you have a touch of the stealth bomber in you. You're a little comic darling.

I love you, my baby boys - to the moon and back and forever.

All the love in the universe,

Your mama

What a few weeks

Far out the last few weeks have been a whirlwind. There has been so much going on in our usually quite calm and predictable lives.

Poor little Hame contracted an awful respiratory virus and ended up in hospital. There's nothing worse than seeing your baby attached to tubes and drips and oxygen. He is such a gorgeous gentle soul - aside from the obvious physical signs of him struggling to breathe, there was no indication he wasn't well. He wasn't whingey, or clingy, or upset. If anything, he was more delightful than ever. Is that even possible? He is an angel-child. He really really is. We are so blessed to have him in our lives. I think he must be here to teach me something. He's not even two, but he has this inner joy. It lights him up from the inside, and everyone who knows him - or even meets him - feels it too. It's remarkable.

I snapped some pics of him during his hospital stay, and looking back on them makes my chest feel tight. The poor little boy.

I also didn't see my Rocky for nearly three days. I thought my heart had been torn from my chest. I didn't realise until that week, up there in hospital with Hamish, that it was the longest period of time in their whole lives that we'd been apart.

My mum and my MIL who took care of Rocky while I was staying with Hamish said he kept asking for him: "Mish, where?", "Mummy, where?".

But the reunion was so beautiful. Rocky screamed 'Missssh, Misssssh' and was so excited that he ran around in a couple of circles and then crash tackled him to the floor in a huge cuddle. Over the next couple of days I would just find them sitting really closely next to one another. They make my heart smile those two. Darlings.

Then, in a complete about face, we had something incredibly positive and exciting happen. immie&ollie was interviewed for a tv show! (!!!!!!!!!) It was so exciting and nerve-wracking all at once. We're going to air on 21 August on The Great South East, a Channel 7 show.

Here are some behind-the-scenes shots :)

Ten years on and so so grateful for my beautiful life

Today is exactly 10 years to the date that I underwent a mammoth 17 hour operation to remove a mass on my brainstem that I could have died from.

In fact, exactly 10 years ago, I would have been still in the operating theatre with so many surgeons they must have been getting in each other's way :)

I have no idea how my family and T coped while I was under. What on earth must they have been thinking and doing for 17 hours, awhile waiting on razor's edge to hear if I'd made it, or if I'd be paralysed.

I'd been lying in the hospital bed for so long already, just waiting for the surgical team to figure out how to do what needed to be done. I had a complex cervical spine, and they had to have it modelled into perfectly scaled 3D to work out just how exactly to go about the surgery. I was scared, and the night before the operation, I tried to change the surgeon's mind. I did my best persuasive job, explaining that I was absolutely convinced I could go back to my normal life, just being hyper-careful to not move my head too much. "Do I really have to have this operation? What will happen if I don't?", I asked him. "You might die." I don't think I'll ever forget that.

I also tried to tell my darling T that this was just all too much for any young relationship to bear, and I couldn't be a burden on him. I told him that I loved him, but I couldn't stay with him if I ended up paralysed because I couldn't steal his life and his love and his potential like that. I knew that our life wouldn't ever fulfil any of the dreams we'd had and we wouldn't be able to have the adventures we'd planned. I wouldn't be able to have any children. I was in tears telling him that I needed to go into theatre knowing that it was all settled and agreed. He wouldn't have a bar of it. I'll always remember he told me that he had no expectations about his future other than having me in it, and we would make our own way and our own life with what life threw at us.

I survived that surgery, had a very long hospital stay, and a lot of 'attachments' for a long time. I developed infections that needed IV antibiotics through a PICC line for just under 6 months. This is me about a month after the surgery, still in hospital and doing a happy dance because I was able to stand up on my own:



This is me 6 months to the day later - my wedding day. I was determined to walk down the aisle that day. And I did.



10 years. A decade. A lifetime. I'm a lucky lucky girl, and I have so much to be grateful for. Here are just three of them:

The twin mum guilts

The twin mum guilts are something that every mum of multiples will understand.

I remember when I was pregnant with the boys, I was so worried that I wouldn't have enough love for two babies. That I wouldn't have enough capacity for snuggles with two babies. That I wouldn't be able to equally share my time between two babies.

The instant they were born, those anxieties faded away. Mothers have a remarkable ability to create maternal love from nowhere. It roars to life like nothing I've ever experienced. Since the second I first laid eyes on them, I have had more capacity to love than I ever knew was possible.

It's only been on the very rare occasion that one has been super needy or ill that that little doubt about not sharing my love equally has popped its head up. But I'm extremely pragmatic most of the time. Even if there is a day when one baby needs more attention than the other, I know it will even out in the end. They'll go through phases. Life is swings and roundabouts.

But recently, I have had some serious bouts of twin mum guilt. I was driving home from the shops the other day - a sparkly gorgeous perfect winter day - and saw lots of very chic mamas out and about pushing their (single) babies. Designer prams. Swishy shiny ponytails. Designer gym gear. Designer sunnies.

I drove past a playground, and there they all were again. Pushing their (single) babies on the swings, catching them at the bottom of the slide, chasing them through the fields.

And it hit me like a bulldozer. I can't do this with my boys. I used to be able to - back when they were lighter and didn't move as much. But it's just not possible anymore. Firstly, I live in an old inner city suburb that is very hilly. I literally cannot push twins and the twin pram up and down them. Not without doing myself significant harm, at least.

Secondly, I can't take them to the park on my own. It's two against one. It seems that at the exact same time one tries to play frogger with the traffic, the other thinks it's an awesome idea to superman off the top of the jungle gym.

And I know - I could drive somewhere flatter to walk. I could ask someone to come to the park with me. But all of that takes so much coordination. Well in advance. And I do. But on those days when we just want to get out on a whim - that's when it stings. And that's when I feel the most guilt.

But my pragmatic side says at least they always have a playmate - even if it is at home; that it won't be long until they understand not to run onto the road or jump off the slide; and we're lucky we have a lovely big back garden that we have just filled with lots of lovely toys and play equipment.

And then I look at photos like these ones and I am pretty sure everything is going to be ok.

On a semi-related note - they totally love each other. They've started giving each other a kiss and a cuddle goodnight. It is the most heart-warming beautiful thing I have ever had the privilege of witnessing. My babies are divine.

Wash, dry, fold, repeat

I hate doing laundry. Hate it. Pathologically. If I didn't prefer wearing clean clothes to dirty ones (or for the health hazards that might eventually accompany such a lifestyle choice), I think I'd find reasons to never do it ever again.

I have actually offically given up the iron. I refuse to do it. I'm useless at it, I hate doing it, and I don't see why I should have to do something I really really don't want to do when there are perfectly acceptable alternatives. T's work shirts go to the drycleaner. They all have french cuffs, so there's no way I can be trusted with those.

I also buy clothes that don't need ironing. Unfortunately this means I tend to wear a lot of Bonds yoga pants.... but whatever works, right?

I've become an excellent excellent pegger. Whenever I'm hanging out the washing and wishing it would be over, I just remind myself how much I hate ironing (waaay more than I hate pegging) and remember that good pegging can practically eliminate the need to ever get that iron out.

And if I really really really have to iron something, then I either try to arrange it for when my mum is visiting (ha!), or I take it to the dry cleaners. If it's an absolute emergency and there is truly nothing I can do about it, I bribe T :)

So why am I finding myself googling 'laundry design'??? I must be mad. Or not. Regardless of how much I hate doing it, it must be done. So why not make it as streamlined as possible. I'm sure that part of the reason I find it so tiresome currently is because nothing has a home. I have piles of clean and dirty washing on the floor. The baskets are never where I need them. I don't realise when I've run out of powder. I can never put my hand on a coathanger and have to run up and down the stairs until I finally have everything I need.

A little bit of organisation can't hurt, right?

Enter the Ikea Antonius Wall Upright. It's not going to win any beauty contests, but it's inoffensive. It has hanging space, and folding space, and storage space and basket space.



Off to Ikea I go!

The weight game

The boys need to put on weight. They are tiny little dots- not surprising given their birth sizes - but they've fallen off the bottom of the percentile chart.

Part of me wants to say chart shmart. The other part of me desperately wants to get them up there on it.

They've never been well and truly on it. You can't when you are born at only a couple of pounds. But they have managed to reach about the 5th percentile at various points in the past nearly two years.

But now that they're running around, you can see that they're little. They still haven't reached 10kg, which is apparently average for a one year old. They still wear size 0 clothes or 9-12 months.

Their GP has me adding butter and cream to food. We're attempting to add avocado with varying levels of success, and we're also supplementing their diet with sustagen, which isn't going down that well. I can't seem to hide it well enough, and they sniff it out before it gets anywhere near their mouths!

I know they have a whole lifetime ahead of them to grow. But nonetheless it's still stressful. I think so much of it is to do with them being premature and VLBW. They had intrauterine growth restriction and were born at the size of a baby at about 28-29 weeks gestation. So much of their first year - and particularly the first few months - was focused on how much weight they were gaining. It's hard to break the habit of constantly keeping a watchful eye on it.

I'm sure that if I had delivered full term twins with no size concerns I wouldn't have the slightest idea what they currently weigh.

But I'm working on it. They're happy and they're healthy. Surely that's as good an indicator as anything :)

Lessons learned from travelling long-haul with twin toddlers #1

DVDs are of no use if your children don't understand what headphones are for

Big boy bed

My baby Hamish has graduated from his cot and into his junior bed *sob*. What happened to my baby???? He looks so grown up lying there. Overnight he's 3/4 the length of his cot. How did I not see that before now?

I had no intention of transitioning them into beds any time soon. Nuh uh. No way. I need sleep, and they are fabbo sleepers (6pm - 7am without fail, every night!!). I have been way too worried that they wouldn't be able to resist the midnight play-together. And until this week, they hadn't really shown any definite signs of being ready.

But then Hamish scaled the side of his cot and fell out onto his head. So the decision was no longer mine. And in one fell swoop my baby became a little boy.

It's been remarkably easy so far with no issues yet: no falls; no getting up and down all night; and no being frightened of his new environment. I'm sure it helps that it's actually still his cot - just with the side off and the toddler rail on. I've also kept him in his sleeping bag because he has such a strong sleep association with it. In fact, when he isn't in his bag, he is up and down all over his bed, but the minute his bag is zipped up, he snuggles in with his blankie and his elmo and he's off!

Rocky is still in his cot, and I think we'll keep it that way for a while. He's definitely a 'get-up-er all-night-er' - I can sense it!

Oh, my baby!!! He'll always be my baby.

19 - 20 months

My darling Hamish,

You've had a big couple of months! Overseas adventures, your first long-haul plane ride, lots and lots of growing!

You travelled like a total superstar and didn't skip a beat.

You are such a special little boy. Always so happy. Smiling. Laughing. Snuggling. Singing. Playing. Hiding.

One of the most gorgeous things you do is to hide behind something - usually a long curtain - and then pop out to say 'Boo'! You giggle your little head off, and could do it all day long.

You're happiest when you're surrounded by other children (you call them all babies) to play with. You like to give them all a big cuddle.

You wave hello and goodbye at literally everyone you see. They all love you too. You just have a gorgeous way of bringing out the soft side of everyone. Your happiness is so innocent and so genuine that no-one can resist.

You didn't mind when hundreds of people wanted to take your photo when we were in Europe. Everywhere we went people stopped to take your photo and you thought it was so exciting making all these new friends!

You love slippery slides, Tiny Tots, snuggles, grapes, sultanas, smelling flowers (and picking them for Mama!), and jumping. Your hair is growing as well - finally!

I love you my darling one.

All the love in the universe,

Your Mama

Ah Rocky, you are a scalliwag.

You are noisy, and demanding and utterly adorable. You talk all the time - from the minute you wake up "Mummy, I woke up, Bag - off!, Wiggles, DVD, Milk, MIILLKKKK, toast!" to the minute you go to sleep "Bag - on, milk, bed, night night".

You're into everything, and if I didn't witness it with my own two eyes I wouldn't believe it was possible for such chaos and havoc to be generated by one tiny human!

You love cuddling and you love Hamish. You are always looking out for him. If I give you your water cup, you immediately say "Water, Mish?" and make sure he has his. If we're getting your pyjamas on you need to know that Mishy has his as well. I think you might say "Mish" than any other word. You know he's your special brother and you tell everyone "Mish - brudder".

You learn words so quickly and delight in them. When we were on our big overseas adventure you loved to tell everyone you were in "Nurmany" or "Como" or "Caris". You learned how to say 'Ciao' and 'Bonjour', and made so many people laugh with your gigantic personality wrapped up in that tiny little body!

I love you monkey - you are hilarious.

All the love in the universe,

Your mama

It's been very quiet around here

but I have a good excuse: we've been on a wonderful family holiday in Europe for the past month!

We had such a wonderful time, but I don't remember feeling this jetlagged on previous occasions. The boys must be a bit jetlagged too I think, because we're having some very rare middle-of-the-night wakeups. But considering they didn't skip a beat the entire holiday, and even slept the whole way home on the plane for us, I think we'll survive :)

I will give more details in coming posts - including my top tips for travelling long-haul with toddlers - but in the meantime, here is a pic of my Mother's Day - spent in Paris (squeal), in our own gorgeous very Parisian apartment on the Ile-Saint-Louis (super squeal), with the three most important boys in my world.

Paris, peonies, and champagne. Divine.

Just because I'm not busy enough...

with mum-ing, immie&ollie-ing, and consulting, I've started a new business helping WAHMs out with doing their own PR.

If you are a WAHM who knows you need to get more media coverage to grow your business, but you don't really know where to start, and definitely can't afford to engage a traditional PR agency, then I can help you.

Here's my blogsite: www.princess-street-pr.com

Image here

Especially when you're sleeping

It's when my babies are sleeping that I am able to love them unencumbered, uncomplicated, unconflicted.

It's not a better love, or a deeper one, but it's a profoundly different one.

When they're asleep at night I know I've done the best I can do that day. It's finished now.

They've been nurtured and nourished. We've loved and learned. We've walked and talked, and practiced and perfected. There has been fresh air and freedom. Boundaries established and tested.

When they're awake I love them more than I can express, but I am always second-guessing my parenting: judging myself against their milestones. Have they eaten enough; fine-tuned their motor skills enough; said enough words; had enough fresh air; socialised enough; learned enough; loved enough? Are they happy?

But when they're asleep, and they're lying there in their cots with their eyelashes closed against those perfect soft cheeks, I know we've all achieved another day. Any mistakes I've made are forgotten. That intensity of love that they are soley responsibly for igniting in me flares louder. And I just love them. That's all - and everything.

18 months

Oh, my baby boys. You are 18 months old. One and a half. Already!

And you're such little boys. Inquisitive, cheeky, noisy, cuddly, messy, and lovely.

My darling Rocky,

You blow my mind. You've started talking - really truly talking - in proper words and sentences. "Mummy, poo - nappy!" "Mummy, up, please?", "Mummy, bottle, yum".

The instant you're awake you start going through all your favourite words, and you don't stop until your head lays on your bed to sleep.

You seem calmer now too - as though your increased ability to communicate has solved some of your frustration. You've stopped shouting as much, except when you're shouting with laughter and joy.

I *think* you've even graduated out of your sleep wrap. Last night was the first full night that you've managed to stay lying down without it since you were 10 months old!

You're less suspicious of people now too, and more social. Especially when they are impressed with your talking skills. Then you don't leave them alone :)

You love Tiny Tots, ravioli, grass, and cuddles.

And I love you more than I could ever put into words. To the moon - and back - and more.

All the love in the universe,

Your Mama

Hamish, you darling darling boy, I adore you. Adore adore adore you. You are so gentle. And kind. And soft. You're always giving things away to other people - it makes you happier than anything else to give someone a gift. You don't keep anything for yourself.

I've never been so proud of you either.

You handled your surgery so well. You didn't cry - honestly. Not once. Even when the surgeon pulled the metal pin out of your hand without a local anaesthetic. You just stared at him with your big trusting eyes and grinned with excitement at having your hands back, working better than ever. Then you waved.

I cried, but not you. Never you.

You are hilarious. You get yourself into the strangest places and positions and wait there until someone walks by, when you jump out with a 'boo'. You cackle and cackle, and you make Daddy and I laugh until tears run down our faces.

You're a very special little boy, and we are blessed to have you in our lives.

As ever, my darling, all the love in the universe,

Your mama

I met Anita Roddick

When I lived in the UK and worked as a campaign manager at a giant human rights charity, I met Anita Roddick.

I was heading up the women's rights area and the issue of trafficking for sexual exploitation was one of our huge campaign issues. The EU was in the process of delivering their European Convention Against Trafficking. The UK was extremely reluctant to sign it. Most of the signatories were origin countries (where most of the women and girls who were trafficked cam from). Most of the reluctant signatories were destination countries. No real surprise there, I suppose.

Anyhow, I met Anita in the course of this work. She 'shadowed' me for a day in my work. She wanted to know what a day was like in running a campaign like this. She was full of energy and enthusiasm. Of big crazy ideas and a 'bugger-them-let's-just-do-it' attitude.

I think the daily reality of my job was less dramatic than she was hoping for. She wanted to break down the doors of the brothels. She wanted all the men charged and imprisoned. Instead we were lobbying MPs, writing legal briefs and research papers and studying reports. She was a giant force in a diminutive frame.

She had wild crazy hair, colourful scarves, and took up more emotional space than she did physical. Her energy was palpable.

I'm glad I met her. Fortunate. People always say she was an inspiring woman. And she was.

For T

I love you because Every time I see you my face breaks into a smile I still get butterflies in my tummy when I see you again after I’ve been away I can see every piece of your face perfectly when I close my eyes You’re the subject of my dreams I can see how much you love me just by looking into your eyes You make me feel as though I’m worth something You make my heart sing You can read my mind You support me unconditionally You are my strength You love hugs I can’t wait to see you every day When I wake up in the morning I still can’t believe that I’m lucky enough to have you lying there next to me You believe in me You make me laugh I miss you when I don’t see you We fit You’re always warm I know you always think of me first I’d go to the end of the earth for you I can’t express in words how much I adore you It still feels like magic You’re what I’ve waited for my entire life

Ready, Set, Talk - 17 months

Well darlings, you're 17 months old, and are chatterboxes. You don't stop talking. Either of you.

Daddy and I decided we should record a list of your words, so please excuse the list, but here they are:

Lach
Mama
Daddy
Bear
Turtle
Princess
Toast
Milk
num num
Balloon (boon)
Book (booka)
Shoe (Doo)
Num num (food)
Berry (bewwy)
Light (dight)
Fan (woo woo)
Bikkie (gubby)
Cuppatea
Torch
Car
Carkeys
Grass(gass)
Baby/bubba
Crazy
Ziggy
Pa
Nanna
Gamma
Go go go
Ball
Pool
Bath
Tree
Clock
Hat (dat)
Mates
Egg
Block
Straw
Table
Chalk
Bath


Hamish
Mummy
Dad
Toast (t)
Milk (meh-meh)
Balloon (boon)
Book (booka)
Shoe (Soo)
Num num (food)
Nose
Light (La)
Fan (woo woo)
Bear (Beer)
Turtle
Car
Grass(gass)
Baby/bubba
Pa
Nanna
Gamma
Ball
Pool
Bath
Tree
Clock
Mates
Egg
Block
Straw
Bath

That's a lot of words, apparently. You understand a whole lot more than that as well, so you're clever little monkeys. You're noisy too.

Oh, and you climb. Especially you, Hamish. Your arm casts are absolutely no deterrent whatsoever. You scale anything. Absolutely anything. A foothold, and you're up! With the climbing, comes the falling, and the head-knocking, but you're still in one piece.

You love to play 'heads, shoulders, knees and toes' and giggle your little heads off as you point to all the parts. You know head, ears, knees, toes, belly-button, mouth, eyes. And you dance! You both stand there stomping your little feet, swinging your little hips,waving your little arms, and nodding your little heads the instant any music with a good strong beat comes on.

I love you more than I can express, you noisy, funny, vertical little men.

All the love in the universe,
Your mama xxx

No time to cook

I love Donna Hay. I have every cookbook and a subscription to her magazine. Luuuurve her.

However, since the boys arrived, those beautiful glossy books of gastronomic high fashion have been taunting me. Teasing me. And frankly, making me feel both useless and guilty all at once.

As soon as the boys hit the stage of being awake more than they were asleep, dinner ceased being on the table. I just couldn't get it together in time.

I have spent many many months feeling rather pathetic. I mean, how hard it is to cook something simple. It's easy of course, if the ingredients are in the cupboard / fridge. If you remember to get the meat out of the freezer. If you can chop and peel with toddlers hanging off your legs. If you can ignore the flour being tipped all over the floor while you stir something at a crucial stage.

I bought a slow cooker, thinking it was going to solve all my problems. It didn't. Because in order for a slow cooker to cook, you have to have ingredients (that old chestnut) - defrosted (again, not my forte) - to pop in (in the morning - NOT the late afternoon).

I gave up weekends and precious family time cooking meals to freeze, thinking that would solve all my problems. It did - for a while - until I got so sick of bolognaise that I don't think I'll ever be able to eat it again.

When I served baby puree on pasta one night, I knew I had hit a new low. Especially when I decided *not to tell* and *pretend* it was actual pasta sauce.

But then I got my hands on Donna Hay's No Time To Cook. Seriously. The. Best. Cookbook. Ever.

Honestly.

Yes, you have to actually do some grocery shopping, but that's common to all cooking and eating - not just this book. So on the weekend, I sat down for 10 minutes with the book, picked out 7 recipes, wrote a shopping list and sent T off to Woollies.

In the past week, we have cooked:

Chicken and chorizo cous cous with spinach
Spinach bacon and ricotta frittata
Cunnchy parmesan chicken
Baked lemon chicken and feta
Quesadillas
Three-cheese risotto
Prosciutto and mozzarella open sandwiches on ciabatta

I know, right! Amazing. I've even stunned myself. I've come a long way baby.

The best thing is that none of them take more than 5 minutes to prepare. Honestly. Stick a needle in my eye. And T and I do it together when he gets home from work, we get to have a lovely chat and a glass of wine. It's very civilised. Plus I am sure we are saving money. We were in the trap of buying takeaway, or doing a late mercy dash to the supermarket and just buying whatever looked edible. We have also lessened our wastage.

Changed my life. Thanks Donna. You're my hero. xxxx

Lach, you're a beautiful brother

Darling Lach

I just wanted to capture this moment for you; such a beautiful precious moment that shows how much you love and look out for Hamish.

I tried to get a photo and some video, but I didn't manage it, so this is the best I can do.

Last week, while you and Hamish were playing, you noticed that Mishy was trying to read a book. You noticed that he couldn't turn the pages because both of his arms and hands were in casts. You went across to him, sat next to him, and turned the pages for him.

It was so beautiful it made me cry. You are so beautiful my little Rocky.

I adore you, with every breath I have.

All the love in the universe
Your Mama

Back garden playtime

Post-op

My darling Hame's surgery went beautifully, and my little one is one astounding human.

We had to wake up very early on Wednesday morning to get to the hospital by 6am for surgery at 8am. He was nil-by-mouth, so I was really worried he was going to be hungry and miserable for the two hours we were waiting around. [I would have been!]

But he wasn't- not even a bit. He was a little ray of sunshine. Smiling and laughing at all the nurses and hospital staff. Running up and down the corridors of his ward giggling and waving at everyone he passed. Bouncing up and down on his bed.

The anaesthetist came by about an hour before his scheduled surgery time to explain to us what he was going to do, and told us that most babies are really very upset when they come out of the anaesthetic and get quite distressed with the gas used to put them to sleep. So we were prepared for lots of tears.

I went into the theatre with him, anxiously wondering how it was going to go. I wasn't sure how well I would hold it together if he started thrashing around and really crying. But do you know what that little darling boy did? He just sing-songed and smiled at every one until his long eyelashed fluttered closed against his perfect little cheeks.

I didn't cry. There was no need. He was perfectly fine. I did get a very sore lump in my throat as I left the theatre though - as unlikely as it was, I couldn't get rid of that paralysing fear in the very dark depths of my mind that something could go horribly wrong while he was under the anaesthetic and that last kiss I placed on his soft little cheek might have been the last one ever.

But of course he was fine. And when he came out of his anaesthetic he was astonishing. Still smiling. And snuggling. T and I both got some fabulous, long baby snuggles because he was still so sleepy, and we cherished every last minute. We don't get enough of those long warm snuggles these days.

He is so remarkable. If it wasn't for the bandages, you'd never know he had an operation yesterday. While still in hospital, still pretty groggy, he was hiding behind the curtain and playing 'boo' - just to see us smile. As if to say "don't worry about me mama, I'm better than ever".

He still hasn't cried. Not in pain. Not when he overbalanced and fell onto his arms. Not when he and Lach collided and he fell. Not when he can't pick up his sipper cup, or his food, or his toys, or turn the pages of his book.

He is his usual smiley, laughing, singing, happy self. I've never been so proud of him.

We are so lucky to have such an angelic, happy baby boy.

Darling Hamish, tomorrow is a big day

Hello Hamish, my darling one.

I've just peeked in on you, tucked up in bed asleep, looking like the peaceful angel that you are. Did you know you even look like you're smiling while you're sleeping? Well, you do.

Tomorrow is the day you are having your surgery. You hit the 10kg mark, and so the time has come.

Daddy and I are sure you will face this challenge with your usual smiles and laughter. And before you know it, you will be back to normal, only better :)

We love you angel - you darling, divine, boy.

All the love in the universe
Your mamaxxxxxxx

Floods

Well, it's a new year and this is my first post.

Things have been catastrophic here in Brisbane. It's been truly horrifying. So many lives lost. Homes, possessions, memories, and safety; gone in almost the blink of an eye.

Tim has been out today for more than 12 hours already helping with the clean up and they've only made it to two homes. And neither of them are anywhere near cleaned up. It is going to literally take months. It will take years for things to be fully rectified, and even then, it won't be as it was. So many people are going to be homeless for a very long time.Thousands of homes will have to be completely demolished. It's incredibly sad.

What is it they say about tragedy bringing out the best in people? It has. But there are also the vultures - too many incidents of looting - what unfeeling, selfish,utter bastards. But gloriously there have been tens of thousands of everyday people getting out into suburban streets with their brooms, mops, hoses, pressure cleaners and mucking in wherever they can. It gives you faith that everything will somehow be ok.

I feel impotent in many ways. I wish I could do more. But with two babies it is hard. I have packed up lots of baby clothes and toys. A friend-of-a-friend is 37 weeks pregnant and lost absolutely everything when their house in Chelmer was consumed by the river. Every single thing in her home is gone. Everything they had bought in preparation for the arrival of their first baby. I've packed up lots of stuff for her.

I have been glued to the television for days. Tears streaming down my face. It's almost more than I can bear, but I can't tear my eyes away. The stories of babies and children being torn from their parents' arms by violent waters breaks my heart. I don't think I could go on. But they do. People can show extraordinary strength in the most hideous of circumstances, and I suppose, have done since time began.

Everyday heroes. My heroes.

Some photos of my beautiful devastated city.