Caught out...

No-one wants to consider that their precious child is capable of anything but speaking the truth. But what about when the obvious hits you square in the face and you can't ignore it? Then what?

We all take Vitamin C tablets each day. I'm not asking you judge on the merits of whether we should be or not, it's just something we do and it does seem to help both us and the kids keep bugs at bay and fight them off better if we come down with anything.

The kids used to eat a Healtheries kids brand of tablet until they stopped making that particular version (don't you hate it when that happens). So we just started giving them one of ours (a lower dosage - 1 a day instead of the 2 we take) and thought nothing of it. A few months back I was doing something in the spare room when I discovered 2-3 partially sucked tablets under the bed. At the time I didn't think much of it and although we asked the kids if they knew what happened, no-one owned up so we left it at that.

Then a couple of weeks ago when Mark was mowing the lawns, he discovered another tablet just outside the spare room window. Which was odd. I recalled that I'd seen the spare room window open that morning and that someone must have thrown it out then. The culprit owned up (it was actually pretty easy to determine who as one will happily eat said tablets and the other always stalls for time). When we asked if there were any others he might want to tell us about, he said no. We said to him that he needed to tell us if he really had such a great aversion to them, and that we would think about buying some more palatable ones but not to go throwing these ones away in the meantime.

Fast forward four days. Mark was in said child's bedroom rearranging the bed before school when he felt something squishy underfoot - another half-eaten tablet that had obviously been spat out that morning. Further investigation proved that there were at least a dozen partially-sucked tablets strewn around in various places under the bed, most of which had caused stains on the carpet to boot. He was not (I repeat not!) impressed at having to pull the whole bed out and put carpet cleaner down everywhere.

After a few words were exchanged, where I believe both said things they didn't mean in the heat of the moment, Mark decided he'd better leave it and tackle it later as they had to leave for work and school. When we got home later that day, after some discussion with Mark about how best to approach things, I took said child aside and we had a calm chat.

I told him we were not mad at him, but that we WERE disappointed, both that he had chosen to continue to hide the tablets after we had asked him not to, but also that when given the chance to come clean he hadn't told us about any of the others. We talked about how important it is to always tell the truth, no matter what. That we would love him and support him no matter the situation. Even if we might find it hard not to get mad initially, we would be so happy that he had told us the truth and that we would work through whatever the problem was together.

We talked about the fact that in the future a scenario could come about where we needed to believe his word about a version of events versus another child or adult, and how we would really want to believe him, but we needed to be able to trust his word and know that he was a lover of truth. We talked about the story of the boy who cried wolf and how lying had such a profound impact on the ending to that story. We also talked about how much God dislikes lying because it not only hurts our own hearts and makes us feel bad inside but it can really hurt other people too. 

In giving him another opportunity to come clean I asked if there were any more we needed to get rid of, and together we retrieved another 5 tablets hiding behind his clothes drawers. We talked about how even though we would move forward from here, there still had to be a consequence for his actions, and that Dad and I had worked together to determine something appropriate. I told him that we had considered no TV for a week but how that would also impact on his brother which wasn't fair, or that he wouldn't be able to play with the kids next door as they both do most days, but then explained how that would affect the other kids too. In the end, we decided that saying 'no' to a special food treat he had been looking forward to was a good one-off consequence where he would miss out on something the rest of us were having. He was upset to begin with, but also understood that as parents it was our responsibility to enforce a consequence.

Daddy also brought home some new kid-friendly tablets for the boys that night, and we moved on.

I'm surprised though how much this affected me. I didn't like the feelings in brought up in me.....that if my child was lying so successfully about taking some vitamin tablets, what else could he possibly be lying to us about? It really unnerved me because I think, as a parent, we inherently want to believe in the goodness and not badness of our children.

But then it also reminded me that we are all sinners. Every.single.one.of.us. At not much older than his age, I used to skip showers (I know how gross that sounds!) so I could read. I always had my head in a book growing up. So much so that I would turn the shower on, and sneak my book in the bathroom so I could read for ten minute while the shower was running. What a waste of my mum and dad's precious hot water! I cringe thinking about it now. I also used to read books long after I was meant to be in bed asleep, reading by the red light of my LCD alarm clock. How I didn't ruin my eyes doing this night after night I'll never know. So I'm no saint. Heck, we are all just sinners.

Saved by His grace. And nothing can separate us from His love.

Thank goodness.

Lessons I learnt last year

It's not that I want to look back rather than forward. Far from it. But it wouldn't be fair to start the year without reflection on valuable lessons I learnt last year.

In April last year, I wrote about my decision to move on from my role at Learning Media. I look back on this post and think that there is a certain element of naivety in those words. That post was very upbeat and positive without a hint of any misgiving or second thoughts about making the move.

In all honesty, I was ready to leave Learning Media - the company was struggling financially, I had concerns about its long-term viability - and with good reason as later in the year the company had to be wound up and I felt fortunate that God had provided an alternative for me not to have to go through that situation. The opportunity to move on almost fell in my lap really, and at the time I felt I would be silly not to take it.

However....in all honesty after the first interview I didn't come away with a great vibe and my gut instinct told me not to go back for a second interview. It was only at my contact's (who works there) recommendation and encouragement that I reconsidered and eventually took the role.

I knew pretty early on that I'd potentially made a mistake when on day 2 I sat at my desk almost having a full on panic attack thinking 'what have I done?'.That and the fact that I found myself praying hard out for God to give me strength to get through each day on the daily drive out there.

I told myself it was just early jitters and to give it time - that once I had a few months under my belt I'd feel different. Only I didn't.

I tried to ward off potential feelings of inferiority in the new role by reminding myself that we are all just human beings and that a large paycheck is no guarantee that someone is any more switched on than the most junior person in the company.

But the unsettled feelings didn't go away. I questioned whether I even wanted to be an accountant any more. I researched changing careers, becoming a teacher, anything to get me out of the current situation I found myself in. I admitted that I was desperately seeking balance because things felt off-kilter.

And then there was the holiday. To be honest in those early months all I found myself focusing on was trying to hold out for the holiday - just a couple more months, then it was a couple more weeks, and then I'd made it there and we were off on our adventure.

I did a good job of switching off completely for the first three weeks of the holiday, but as our return drew nearer I found myself inadvertently thinking about what I was coming back to. The closer the day drew near, the bigger the dread grew. We arrived home on a Friday afternoon and by Sunday night, I had worked myself up into such a state that I had the biggest pit of dread imaginable in my stomach. This was not just post-holiday blues, it was much more more. I lay awake from 3am wishing the morning wouldn't arrive.

This was the tipping point that actually made me acknowledge what I'd been fighting all these months. That something had to change. I knew I couldn't go on. There were a lot of things not quite right about the role - some of that had to do with it not being right for me at the stage I'm at in my life wanting more family time, and the role had done nothing but reduce family time even further and increase stress - the opposite of what I wanted.

So here I find myself at the beginning of a new year, with a fresh start and a new opportunity beginning today. A role in a small IT company with less than 20 staff, a sole charge accountant role working 35 hours a week which means I will be able to spend every afternoon with the boys after school. This means the world to me, so much more than anything else could right now.

There were other very important lessons I learnt that I've had plenty of time to reflect on these past few months:

• More money does not mean more happiness - last year I was earning more money than I ever had before but had never been as miserable 
• Working for a "professional" company is no guarantee that those who come with a big title and paycheck will do their job properly - this took me somewhat by surprise and even more so that somehow I was meant to hold them to account despite the fact that their own more senior managers had no ability to hold them accountable for their actions and inaction
• I may never want to be a CFO (Chief Financial Officer) which seems to be the general expectation that all Accountants should want to aspire to - and you know what I'm OK with that. Many won't understand my position on this, but I don't plan to justify it - I'm OK with it, my family is OK with it and that's all that matters.
• Four more hours - four more hours that I get to be with my kids each week feels like an absolute luxury right now. Of course, I can't say I'll enjoy every minute because no doubt there will be moments (when I'm busy breaking up fights most likely) when I'll probably wish I was back at work instead
• I'll never wish I had spent more hours at work - but I know I'll wish I had spent more time with my boys, and I desperately wish to be at peace that the decisions I have made are for the good of our family. 

So now here I stand on the brink of another year. Feeling hopeful, and choosing to every day put my faith in the One who always has me in the palm of His hand and who has never failed me yet.

It's a good place to be. 

on being a mama again....

I write this post in my head almost every day, but then most weeks it changes.

It feels like a pendulum and it's swinging wildly, and quite honestly I don't know when I'm ever going to stop the constant tick tock, back and forth.

Some weeks I feel very satisfied with my lot in life and think it would be madness to mess with the current formula. Other weeks I find myself already in the throes of planning how and when.

What am I talking about?

One day I'm all YES, I want to open myself to the gift of becoming a mama again. I close my eyes and I can hear the sound of another little MNM running around the house creating merry havoc, playing with his/her energetic big brothers, adding sparkle and individuality and God-breathed uniqueness to our family. I have no doubt a little person would multiply the mama love I have in my heart.

I know how much I've enjoyed this gift of being a mama to my 2 gorgeous boys and I know that the journey would be rich and rewarding.  These things I know with all my heart.

But then my head takes over.

The already-struggling-to-stay-afloat me says 'what on earth are you thinking you silly moo! Adding another child into your already busy lives when you already both work full-time would add even more challenge into the mix and require trying to juggle even more balls than you're already trying to keep up in the air. How on earth do you expect to be able to cope?'

The realist in me says 'Meg you're not even a natural baby mama. You don't even like the baby stage very much, you never really enjoyed breastfeeding, and if you're really honest, don't you spend most of the time waiting for them to grow up and get to the talking, walking stage when you actually find them fun?!'

The selfish side of me says 'look how hard you worked to get your body back after each baby. It took months of hard slog, eating well and exercising a lot. Do you really want to put yourself through that all over again?'

The health-conscious side of me says 'last year was really rough for you health-wise. Now that things seem to be on a bit more of an even keel, why would you risk all that going wrong again just to grow another baby?'

The practical side of me says 'how would it ever work? You're already so busy with various social and sporting commitments weeknights and weekends are already fully taken up with kids sports and church, where on earth would you fit in the needs of another little person amongst that?

The planner in me says 'the boys are already nearly 7 and 4. Isn't it getting a bit late to contemplate another kid without the age gap getting too big?'

The mama who feels like she spends half her time breaking up fights and negotiating says to me 'and you want to add another voice into the already loud and messy equation?' 

Oh my head keeps telling my heart that babies are hard work. Those long nights of endless feeding, the desperation of trying to get them into some kind of sleep routine when they aren't having a bar of it.

When we discussed children before we embarked on this journey, we both agreed that we only wanted two kids. And now we have those two beautiful kids. But that doesn't stop my heart from this longing, irrational though it might be. This longing is probably the subconscious reason why I haven't got rid of any of baby clothes, strollers, change table, bottles etc.

Even if I keep dismissing the idea out of mind, I know it will at some point come back because it always does. I don't honestly know if that longing will ever go away, or whether I will simply learn to live with it? And one day, a few years from now, I wonder will I look back and know we made the right decision?

All I know is right now.....I still don't know.

Afternoon Delight

One weekend. Two playdates. One football match. Three goals. One overtired boy. Decidedly peaky when we picked him up from his playdate. Threw up late Sunday afternoon. Early to bed.

One tired mumma coming down off the high of the Welly Walk. Fighting off a nasty cold all week. Managed to keep it together on Walk Day. But collapsed in a heap on the couch afterwards. Barely moved for the rest of the weekend. Decidedly lethargic and completely spent.

I've never been a sleep in the day kinda girl. Not even with new babies could I really lay my head to rest. Not really. And the little guy hasn't slept in the day for the better part a year. But still a mid-afternoon nap on a warm afternoon beckoned us both today.

The stars weren't really aligned. I felt as if (for once) I could have dozed into oblivion as soon as my head hit the pillow. He, on the other hand, wriggled and giggled and squirmed and sighed for at least half an hour. And then when I had very nearly given up all hope, George monkey was re-located (he'd earlier been thrown out of the bed), the breathing deepened, and suddenly all was still. In fact, the galaxy itself went quiet.

There were three in the bed. Me, him and the cat.

Except, of course, I was now wide awake. But still in love and awe of this rare opportunity to watch this delightful creature who once was but a twinkle in my eye sleeping so peacefully.

I couldn't help a few sneaky shots.

Half an hour later, I felt a little pair of eyes staring dreamily at me. 'Why hi', says I. 'Wasn't that delicious?' To which he agreed. And we both agreed to do it again sometime.

And good to see the (as yet unpainted) rocking horse getting a wee workout this afternoon too.

Confessions of a working mum

I'm feeling the need to come clean (or not as the case may be). I have a few friends (in face-to-face life and blog life) who have said 'how do you do it? This working full-time and being a mum-of-two lark?'

But I equally think 'how do YOU do it? How do you cope looking after often multiple young kids at home and manage to entertain them, provide a fun, loving environment whilst running a household  and (if you're like some of my bloggy friends) still have time to spend in creative thought making some amazing creations?'

I think as a woman and a mother you just rise to whatever situation you find yourself in, no matter how many kids you have, and whether you're working/not working or some combination of the two.

And it would be fair to say that whatever our circumstance we each feel, at times, jealous of the other. Especially when we're having a bad day and are wishing we could either 'leave the desk even just for five minutes to go cuddle little Jonny' or the opposite 'Aghhhh - get me outta this house...I really don't think I wanna see little Jonny for the rest of the day!'

So I thought I'd just demystify a little on how a working mum tries to manage the juggling act, hopefully you aren't too horrified by certain standards of cleanliness when reading on (Sadie the cleaning lady I am definitely not!):

• Vacuuming (or hoovering as it is known in our house) = once a week (main areas) and every 2nd week (the whole house). With two sets of stairs across 3 levels, it takes45 minutes to do the lot!! When we just had a cat and no kids in our older, smaller house, sometimes we would stretch it out to 3 weeks...disgusting aye! Although sometimes I wonder why we even bother at all when 2 seconds after finishing there's more clumps of cat hair on the ground. Fluffy cat = instant mess. Sigh.
• Our lounge constantly looks like a Chinese laundry with 2 clothes horses full of clothes 7 days a week. Thank goodness for the dehumidifier wich helps dry things within about a day and a half. I know we could make life easier and just chuck it in the dryer every time but we're kinda staunch about not using it? Mad aye.
• Therefore, the boys don't wear pristinely clean clothes to daycare. If it passes the once-over, i.e. no visible food, and not covered in paint/sand, generally we go another day (or three).
• Toilets = once a week and full bathrooms = only every 2nd week
• Dusting only generally gets done once you can write your name in the dust
• I don't iron. Fullstop. And I try not to buy clothes that do need ironing. Hubby does his own shirts - usually two weeks worth at a time (10 in one go). I occasionally sneak the odd thing into that pile and he very graciously does them for me. And that is the extent of our ironing.
• The sheets get washed about every three weeks, but more if you're the littlest dude. As you can imagine sleeping on one's tummy and constant snotty noses = a dirty sheet in no time.
• The kitchen gets a proper spring clean about once every six weeks (remember my Beware the Leprechaun post?)
• Dinners are made on the fly by the King of fast, delicious and nutritious meals - a.k.a. Markie. He usually gets a meal on the table within 20-30 minutes of us all walking in the door at 5pm.
• Saturday morning = our grocery mission. Yes we have heard of online shopping, but we actually prefer to go ourselves. One of us takes both kiddlywinks usually about 8.30am to get there before the rush, while the other stays home racing around like a blue-ass fly getting through all that week's housework in the hour or so we have to ourselves. Today's post was kinda inspired by the fact it was my turn today. Cleaning both bathrooms, hoovering and changing/washing 2 lots of sheets all coincided on this one day. But with some great new music blaring on the iPod as I went (The Afters - Light up the Sky - love love love), I almost enjoyed myself?!
• Teamwork is essential. EEEEE-ssential. We would never be able to do what we do and both remain relatively sane if we didn't both take on as much responsibility as the other. Hats off to Markie, I got a goodie there. Actually, I know I have his Mum & Dad to thank there - very well brung up he was!

I know we could probably make life a heck of a lot easier by a) getting a cleaner, b) using the clothesdryer a lot and c) doing our shopping online, but we're just not those people?!

Anyway, our funny little routine works well for us. I'm not sure how many other full-time working parents with 2 kiddies would be able to say they could do the majority of the week's chores including shopping and be done by 10am on a Saturday morning. And I like to think of it as spending the minimum time getting the maximum done so that we then get to enjoy the rest of our precious weekends with our children.

I only hope you haven't been too shocked and horrified at our standards to boycott a visit in the future!

Jekyll and Hyde

Don't ya find that when kids bounce back, they really bounce back! You would have thought I had accidentally let Mylo take some P or other hard drug Monday afternoon, the rate at which he was tearing (read: crawling at speed) around the house. Add to it that shedding clothing seems to = F.R.E.E.D.O.M. for this kid. It's like there's Mylo, and then Mylo without clothes = warp speed.

But let me back up a little. And tell you why it was so amazing to see him doing crawlie wheel spins and burn outs on the lounge floor. We only have to rewind 48 hours.

On Saturday night, the same boy had a temperature near 40 degrees (according to our less than helpful thermometer which always reads much lower than it should - well you start to see my concern!). He was also shaking and shivering. Not himself AT ALL. Although we tend to apply the laid-back second child approach to parenting with Mylo, and the she'll be right attitude works most of the time, after I saw that temperature reading, it worried me enough to call Healthline. To check (since I couldn't remember, what a terrible mother I am) at what temperature I should really start to be concerned. And apparently 40 degrees was high enough that he should really be seen.

So I'm forced to call Mark home from his hosted evening in a corporate box at the Phoenix game (I am still feeling SO guilt about that hon!) to look after Noah while I took Mylo in to the after hours doctor.
Whilst we were waiting to be seen, I took a good hard look at my youngest child. Who two hours before had been shivering and shaking and crying pitifully. Now cruising his way up and down the vinyl chairs in the waiting room playing them as if they were drums. Trying desperately to get his hand trough the glass of the tropical fish tank. Um hello kiddo, arent you meant to be sick with a terrible fever?!

And then he decides to let rip with the mother of all nappy treats. Ahem, whose kid is that = not mine?!

Luckily we only had to wait half an hour and Mark even made it back to the footy for some of the second half. The diagnosis so familiar, you know the words that always make me want to scream and throw my hands in the air and run around the house like Kevin on Home Alone: It's just a virus.

It's not 'just' anything thanks very much when you're the one living through it!

Anywho, when we woke up Sunday morning there were 2 new teeth through. I must admit to thinking: Are you kidding me? It's not enough to have conjunctivitis and a fever, we need new teeth as well?!

And so Sunday was a real Jekyll and Hyde Day, with Mylo fine one minute, terrible the next with his temperature yo-yoing to match.

So I cheated a little. This is not actually from this weekend but it does show poor bubs on another Mr Hyde day.

Monday night, and back to our usual cheery, cheeky self.

Monday he seemed a little better, but still not his usual chipper self. That was until later in the afternoon when his Daddy and Noah walked in the door to see him cavorting around the room with no trousers on, never been merrier. Ah, welcome back pickle, it's nice to see you!

I stopped counting the Motherhood Lessons learnt in the past 4 years because I'm somewhere in the hundreds by now. But if I had been, I'd have tagged this one as so:

Lesson #539: Invest in a really good thermometer. Really good does not mean a $20 crappy Chinese jobbie from Trade Me that pretends to have all the bells and whistles and is all singing and all dancing. In reality,  it gets the air temperature about right and that's it. Then I'll know in future whether a 39.8 reading really is what it is.

P.S. Latest update: have purchased said top of the line thermometer from e-Bay. This time we did our research and got one all the parents recommend. Let's hope we don't need it again anytime soon though.

Beware the leprechaun

It came to me as I was cleaning the kitchen this morning. There must be an explanation of how an otherwise tidy and clean kitchen can all of sudden look disgracefully dirty. And in a moment of illumination, it came to me. There really IS a leprechaun at work in my kitchen.

I never see him. He lurks just out of sight. But when I'm fast asleep at night, he creeps into the kitchen with his magic dirty dust and goes to work. Not all at once of course. Just a little splodge of milk on the floor here. Another night, a crusty bit of rice dropped on the bench there. A few coffee granules here. A few spits of oil there.

He is cunning you see. If it happened all at once, I would definitely notice.

But I go about my daily life quite oblivious. Most times I look at my kitchen and think 'it's clean'. We wipe up after every meal, clean the hobs and wipe the benches down. I look at my kitchen a couple of weeks later and think 'it's still clean'.

A couple more weeks go by. And then all of a sudden one day, I see past the magic of his work leaving a little here, a little there thinking I won't notice. And realise, in horror, that in fact my kitchen is covered in crumbs, the microwave is covered in splattered food, the extractor fan is covered in oily dust, and the floor has some very sticky patches and splodges on it. How did this happen?!

The leprechaun I tell you.

The leprechaun leaves his mark. Which I attempt to erase.

And so I spend an hour erasing all his devious little doings. But I am convinced of his existence now. Seriously. How do I know this? This morning I cleaned the coffee machine, it was so sparkly it could have doubled as a mirror. I turned away for one second, looked back and aha, the evidence was there. A few new coffee granules had appeared. Out of nowhere. Where I had JUST cleaned!

The evidence!

So now I know the truth. And I am on my guard. Armed with the best weapons I can muster.

But I'm not sure I have much hope of ever catching him. I think he must be a very clever and elusive leprechaun.

I'm wondering, is there a leprechaun living in your kitchen too?

Guilt Be Gone

Becoming a parent is quite possibly the most amazing thing you'll ever do in your life. Every day you are reminded in big and small ways how wonderful it is. The first smile from your baby at 3 weeks old melts you. The first time they put their hands together and realise they are clapping and they break into a frenzied clapping fit of excitement. The milestones. So many to remember.

When your bigger boy asks you how do you make butter, and you wonder where the past four years have gone? Because you clearly remember bringing him home from the hospital in an infant capsule, placing it on the floor in the lounge and staring at your hubby knowing that you are both thinking the same thing 'Oh my golly, what on Earth do we do with him now?'

Yes parenthood is wonderful. But the guilt is not.

I'd like to pretend it doesn't exist. That word. Some days I can push it down, far enough under the surface, to nearly ignore it.

Other days, it weighs so heavy.

The choices I have made, that we have made as a family. The little time I get to spend with these 2 fascinating creatures whom I helped bring into this world. If I were counting, I know some days I probably could count it in minutes. But I don't dare. It already hurts without me rubbing more salt into the wound.

The thing is, I love my work too. And yet I feel guilty for even beginning to enjoy it.

The feelings are even stronger now that the little time I have has to be split in two. Does Mylo know how much he is loved? Does he feel part of our family? Because he is quite a self-sufficient and independent soul, does he miss out even more because he just goes with the flow and doesn't make too much fuss?

How does Noah feel now when Mylo's needs are put before his? When we ask him to go and read a book in his room so Mylo can have some peace and quiet for his bottle. When we choose not to go out on the weekends if it doesn't fit in with Mylo's sleeps. How does he feel when I have to say no to playing or doing something with him because I am busy feeding, bathing, changing his brother? How much quality time is there in an evening when Noah comes home and watches a DVD for an hour out of the two before he goes to bed?  I justify this to myself saying - it's the only TV he watches all day and some quiet time on the couch is a welcome change from the full-on 9 hour day he's just had at daycare.

Oh but how easy it is to churn and churn these thoughts around in my head until I'm in a lather of guilty, bubbly foam. It's a lather I bathe in often. Constantly.

And then the weekends come. And I eke, scrounge and scrape the barrel of hours and minutes available to be with my family. I've noticed we're doing at lot less lately. Closing out the world and just being together. But maybe that's partly just winter. These weekends have become sanctified, a bit like a holy grail. Something to protect at all costs.

Some days I feel so far from achieving Life Balance. What an elusive concept. Is it about being a stay at home mum at all costs? I've never felt that we have been in a position for me to choose to stay at home long-term even if I wanted to. But in reality, if I'm honest, the road we're on now is the one we have chosen. No-one has held us to ransom to get to where we are now. All the choices we have made over time have lead us to this path we are travelling on. Two parents working full-time, and two children in daycare full-time. I don't even like seeing the words written down.

The guilt will always be there. If it's not guilt over working, I easily find myself feeling guilty about so many other things. Clearly, this is not something I will ever conquer in my own strength.

When the guilt threatens to overtake me, the only hope I have is to choose to leave this burden with Him who said 'Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest'. Matthew 11 v 28. Firstly, I have to choose to lay it down though. To let go.

Not in my strength, but in His Divine strength.

Then maybe I could believe that I am doing the best I can. That every day I am learning more about how to be the best I can be. Being the best mum I can to these boys who deserve all the love and support in this world. No greater, higher calling. I hope they know how loved they are, every day, in every way. And how much richer, fuller, crazier and sweeter life is for me with them in my world.

Decisions....

Having made it to the 4-month mark breastfeeding Mylo, I made the decision last weekend to start weaning him onto formula feeding. I know it's not as long as a lot of mums choose to breastfeed their babies, but the time was right for me. And when I thought I might not make it past the 6-week mark to start with, I do feel a small sense of achievement at having lasted this long. It's about as long as I fed Noah, so they have both had a good start.

Mylo's sleep had gone a bit downhill of late, only sleeping 45 minutes at a time during the day for about the last month, and he had started to have the odd night where I was up feeding him 3 times at around 11pm, 2am and 4am. I'd be lying if I said his sleep wasn't a factor that contributed to my decision. Last week, as the number of bottles he had increased, he had several longer day sleeps (coincidence?!) for the first time since before Christmas, so I'm hoping that eventually it will have a positive impact on his nights as well. I'm not asking him to sleep through the night like his older brother who was already sleeping 10-12 hours straight through most nights by now, but even a getting a more regular 8-hour stint till say 3am would be very welcome! When I look back on how well Noah slept through the night from such an early age, I am kicking myself that I didn't appreciate it more at the time....aah the beauty of hindsight!

One of the other advantages of Mylo being fully bottle fed is the extra freedom for us as parents to share the responsibilities between the boys, where up until now Mark has had the lion's share of looking after Noah taking him out and about on weekends, whilst I have mostly remained at home with Mylo. It felt like a real thrill when I took a turn and went to the supermarket for our weekly shop with Noah on Saturday morning.....the first time since Mylo was born. I took Noah to the zoo early Monday morning (long weekend in Welly) for a sneak peek behind the scenes at the new animal hospital, meeting up with his daycare friends Phoebe and Sam. Later that day, we went to the movies together, just the two of us, to watch Alvin and the Chipmunks. I loved spending this one-on-one time with Noah, really loved it. That's not to say I expect to be able to do it all the time, but to have the choice felt SO liberating.

I will say that I am grateful that I could breastfeed for as long as I did, because I know many mums aren't able to at all. So I do feel privileged to have been in the position to choose to continue or not, and I'm really glad I persevered with it past the 6-week mark when 4 months seemed like a very unreachable milestone.  But now the decision is made, it is time to move on and focus on what is next around the corner.... which is likely to be when to start Mr. M on solids.

I have come to realise that parenting really is just one decision after another, some easier than others! Another decision we made a couple of weeks ago was to encourage Noah to try going through the night with no nappy. After buying a mattress protector and having a couple of accidents whilst wearing undies to bed the first 2 nights, we then tried a pull-up for a couple of nights rather than a nappy, and Mark also started taking him to the toilet at around 10pm before he himself went to bed. We are up to about a week of dry nights in undies now, with Noah's reward for his efforts being the 'Monsters vs. Aliens' DVD after he had two dry nights in a row. It came with a bonus movie to watch in 3-D with 4 sets of glasses...Noah showing off his 3-D look below!

Making decisions is never easy, especially as a parent, when your decision not only impacts on you, but also on your child, partner and sometimes even other members of the family. But once you have made a decision, you just have to have confidence in yourself that it is right. Some decisions may later prove to be wrong, in which case there's a chance to reflect and either reverse the decision, adjust it, or simply learn from the mistake, all of which is a valuable process for us mums and dads to go through. And in the event we get a decision right, whether through sheer luck, careful consideration or otherwise, we need to be humble enough to realise that this will not always be the case, and therefore not get too over confident that we have this parenting lark downpat! That's truly the beauty of parenthood....we learn as we go, and the learning never ends!

Nappy Brain on the Waterfront

For someone who always prides themselves on being super organised, in control and having a good memory, becoming a mummy of not one but two boys has made for some interesting 'nappy brain' moments.

I'm not sure whether its sleep deprivation or the amount of 'stuff' one has to remember when going out and about with 2 boys or both! Today was just one classic example of a nappy brain moment.

Noah was back to daycare yesterday and today, and as I had promised to pick him up today, I decided to go and get him a bit early so we could take advantage of a lovely, sunny and relatively wind-free afternoon to ride his new bike along the waterfront. Given how confident he is and how much enjoyment he is getting out of riding, we're keen to make the most of any opportunities to get out and about on the bike. We even tried to take the bike to the zoo earlier in the week but found out it's a no biking zone...shame, but I guess it makes sense given how hilly some of the paths are.

Anyway, we drove along Oriental Parade, with me thinking that there would be plenty of free parking once past the Pay and Display spaces. Sadly there were very few 120 min parks with most being coupon or resident parking. So after driving the entire length of the parade, I turned the car around and went all the way back to the Pay & Display spaces which at $1.50 an hour were reasonable anyway compared to the usual $4.00 an hour in the centre of town. Then began the fun of getting everything out of the car ready for our outing, which went a little like this:

• Meg out of the car with backpack full of essentials
• Open boot, get out Noah's bike and helmet and put by the kerb
• Get stroller out, put into upright position, clip sunshade on, put carrycot inside stroller
• Open Noah's door, change Noah's croc slip-ons for shoes and sox (easier for bike riding)
• Wipe excess sunscreen out of Noah's ears after his attempts to apply own sunscreen
• Noah gets out of the car, I put his helmet on and ask him to wait by the kerb
• Open Mylo's door
• Go back and redo Noah's helmet after I manage to squash one of his ears in the helmet and he gets upset
• Get Mylo (who by this time has fallen asleep after all the driving up and down the parade) and his wrap/dummy out of the car (which then wakes him up)
• Lock the car
• Put Mylo in stroller, finish attaching the sunshade, lift the brake, off we go
• Get 100 metres down the footpath and then realise my mistake....can anyone guess at this point?
• I have to tell Noah 'Sorry Mummy forgot to get a pay and display ticket, we'll have to go back to the car'
• Walk back the 100 metres to the car, actually we walk more than the 100 metres and start to wonder where the car is
• Stand somewhat bemused by the side of the footpath thinking 'I'm sure we weren't parked this far down the road'
• The penny drops.....I'm looking for our blue car and I'm in the red car today so have walked straight past it!
• Walk back the 20 or so metres till we find the RED car
• Open my wallet to look for $1.50 in change - nope no coins
• Attempt to do TXT-A-PARK instead (God BLESS text a park it has got me out of lots of tricky moments)
• Attempt to send the text and my mobile tells me I have too many messages in my inbox/outbox, aaagh!! When my phone can hold over 500 messages and I have been getting warnings for the past few days that it's getting near capacity, why is it this text that must fail to send! Then my phone asks do I want to delete some first so I can send the message? Sure I do, since there are 2 other people waiting behind me to use the machine by this time!
• Delete one message quickly so I can have enough space to finally send the text and get my ticket which I put in the RED car!
• Off we go again, 2nd time lucky as we decide to venture down the footpath in the other direction towards Waitangi Park while I mourn the loss of all the brain cells I have clearly lost in the past few months and years!

The rest of our afternoon, however, was delightful. Apart from forgetting the camera altogether, I think that pushing the stroller would probably have prevented too many photo opportunities anyway (that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it!), so we'll just have to make do with my prose instead!

We headed past the boat marina, across the bumpy bridge which Noah thought was great fun as he bopped up and down on his bike. We headed round the back of Te Papa to see if there were any ducks in the mini lagoon (which there weren't). We watched the Bluebridge ferry coming into the harbour alongside what seemed like a tiny personal pleasure craft, and Noah was fascinated by the statue of Solace in the Wind leaning out over the harbour.

Then we headed down a ramp (me with a careful watch on Speedy Gonzales on his bike, keeping the stroller between him and the water at all times!) to see the water up close and personal. We followed some ducks who were bobbing in and out from under the jetty whilst trying to steer clear of all the people out on croc bikes (2 or 4-seater side by side pedal bikes)

On the return journey we spotted some small, grassy hills in the distance near New World which Noah was keen to roll and tumble down (his latest thing!). He spent a good few minutes entertaining himself, trying to avoid the bees in the clover and getting grass stains galore whilst I continued to rock the stroller to keep Mr. Mylo asleep.

After a quick chat to Daddy on the phone with Noah checking that toad-in-the-hole was still on the menu for the evening, we headed back to the car, a much more straight forward exercise this time round. That was apart from the little pit-stop Noah had against the side of the car after informing me he needed to go wee wees, and me doubting he would last the 15 minutes home, especially knowing that Mylo was gagging for a feed as it was. Oh well, what's a little wee on the road between friends..as I raced to get everyone and everything back in the car, Noah informed me 'You're stepping in my wee Mum' every time I went backwards and forwards with children and belongings. So ends a lovely afternoon out with my boys...!

And I shall try not to let the fact that the organised and usually in control head on my shoulders seems to be bobbing around a little these days like one of those toy dog heads you see in the back of car windows!