This shan't be a long post. I've been quite busy lately. Not that posting isn't important and I do have many posts waiting to be written, but I've got some things to get done that take precedence.
Today I made two chocolate cakes and shall not eat a bit of either.
Little fellow and I have come to an understanding about food, though it's still a bit of an experiment all the time.
Little fellow is weaned! Woot!
Laundry and dishes are dull. I just thought I'd say what everyone was thinking.
My second child lives under my ribs as did my first. It wasn't comfy then, it ain't now. 12 weeks to go!
I'm slightly scared of having two kids. But only sometimes (the scared, I mean, not the kids).
I think the Fugitive is a great movie.
Wintery days (Cool, dim, windy) are good days for walks, even with a stroller.
Swings are the coolest things ever.
Buying stuff online is good to battle instant gratification. I've been waiting for my new maternity clothes for forever. Or at least a week.
Facebook and television are a waste of life. Limit them.
Water is good for you and delicious.
I would like to cuddle with my husband now.
I would also like a pedicure. I can still reach my feet and should probably just do it myself.
Reading the same board book 20 times in an hour is boring.
The tone and style of writing in the Harry Potter series changes as Harry gets older and becomes less story and more real-ish. Is this because her writing style change or she attempted to write the way Harry would have thought in his development?
I bought a pair of black leather boots on sale for $10, marked down from $172. I felt guilty and almost offered to pay more.
Free range eggs are yellower.
Yellow is a happy colour.
Adrian is good at backrubs.
I only have one more can of tinned tomatoes and keep forgetting to buy more.
I'm all out of red licorice. I ate the last wee bag of nibs today that I'd saved from the Canada trip.
It's a good night for a cup of tea.
And to snuggle.
I think we'll watch a movie now.
Goodnight.
Monday, July 9, 2012
Monday, June 18, 2012
Foodin' our Food
Foodin'?*
So we have been having much fun with the little boy as of late. He's a hoot and a half and keeps us moving. One thing that hasn't been as much fun lately is that he isn't as fond of dinner time.
This is fine, really. We had been doing something that worked for us and that he enjoyed and now with a new layer of independence unveiled we have to figure out something new.
Until now, he has many been spoon-fed. Judge us, if you please. It worked for us. He was never keen on eating by himself and would help sometimes, but usually preferred to be a passive participant. He would eat some finger foods, but didn't really go for our food. At breakfast, he's fine. Lunch is all him, but dinner was the time he took it easy.
In the last week, he has indicated that now all he wants is our food. And he wants to do it himself. Hooray! And boo, as now we have to figure out what he will eat that we want to.
We've been thinking about different finger foods - in the sense that he likes to pick up off the same plate that we are eating from and eat that. This doesn't work with say, soup. Or risotto. Arancini, probably!
This all came about when he was balking at his food, which for that week was part of the normal. We'd put food on his tray to pick up and eat, but what he wanted was the freedom to choose his own food. We were eating pink snapper that night, battered in a simple Jamie Oliver recipe of breadcrumbs, olive oil, lemon juice/zest and s&p. The little fellow is not normally a fan of fish. He indicated that he wanted the plate. He got the plate. He ate 2 or 3 good sized chunks of fish. We stared at each other with woo-hoo glimmers crackling through the air at each other.
The next day he went for mini-quiches. Again, not something he'd normally go for and one that he chose was so hot that he pulled it out of his mouth and waited for it to cool. Too hot of food is normally a "oh yeah, I'm done" sort of deal.
The chicken enchiladas were completely ignored. To be fair, they weren't the best ones I've made (not spicy enough).
The salmon and potato patties were the bees knees! Even as leftovers he was okay with it, but the potato soup that went with it was anathema. (Without having touched honey, because he's not 2 and we're strict about things like that. He does love his peanut butter, which is recommended from 12 months down here but not 'til what, 2 or 3 in Canada?)
But now we have to know, what is pick-up-able? And can I make it before 5:30? Because that is a magical time called dinner. If dinner starts too late we don't want to eat anything at all, but rather be grumpy.
As we planned this week's dinners, we went for easy to reach and grab. Here's hoping it all goes well. We've had a good start tonight with homemade chicken nuggets, lots of raw veggies and (later in the meal when he was almost full), tater-tots. I grown-upped the dinner with a lemon-garlic-mayo dip for the nuggets. Yum! (If you're wondering, it's the juice of a lemon, a clove of garlic and some mayo with a dash o' s&p). Little fellow wasn't fond of the dip. Loved the avocado and lime dip tho...
How will homemade veggie packed sausage rolls, pasta and meat sauce, rissoles and fish go? I don't know. We'll keep trying. And stock up on napkins. This finger food thing can get messy.
*Corner Gas Season 6
So we have been having much fun with the little boy as of late. He's a hoot and a half and keeps us moving. One thing that hasn't been as much fun lately is that he isn't as fond of dinner time.
This is fine, really. We had been doing something that worked for us and that he enjoyed and now with a new layer of independence unveiled we have to figure out something new.
Until now, he has many been spoon-fed. Judge us, if you please. It worked for us. He was never keen on eating by himself and would help sometimes, but usually preferred to be a passive participant. He would eat some finger foods, but didn't really go for our food. At breakfast, he's fine. Lunch is all him, but dinner was the time he took it easy.
In the last week, he has indicated that now all he wants is our food. And he wants to do it himself. Hooray! And boo, as now we have to figure out what he will eat that we want to.
We've been thinking about different finger foods - in the sense that he likes to pick up off the same plate that we are eating from and eat that. This doesn't work with say, soup. Or risotto. Arancini, probably!
This all came about when he was balking at his food, which for that week was part of the normal. We'd put food on his tray to pick up and eat, but what he wanted was the freedom to choose his own food. We were eating pink snapper that night, battered in a simple Jamie Oliver recipe of breadcrumbs, olive oil, lemon juice/zest and s&p. The little fellow is not normally a fan of fish. He indicated that he wanted the plate. He got the plate. He ate 2 or 3 good sized chunks of fish. We stared at each other with woo-hoo glimmers crackling through the air at each other.
The next day he went for mini-quiches. Again, not something he'd normally go for and one that he chose was so hot that he pulled it out of his mouth and waited for it to cool. Too hot of food is normally a "oh yeah, I'm done" sort of deal.
The chicken enchiladas were completely ignored. To be fair, they weren't the best ones I've made (not spicy enough).
The salmon and potato patties were the bees knees! Even as leftovers he was okay with it, but the potato soup that went with it was anathema. (Without having touched honey, because he's not 2 and we're strict about things like that. He does love his peanut butter, which is recommended from 12 months down here but not 'til what, 2 or 3 in Canada?)
But now we have to know, what is pick-up-able? And can I make it before 5:30? Because that is a magical time called dinner. If dinner starts too late we don't want to eat anything at all, but rather be grumpy.
As we planned this week's dinners, we went for easy to reach and grab. Here's hoping it all goes well. We've had a good start tonight with homemade chicken nuggets, lots of raw veggies and (later in the meal when he was almost full), tater-tots. I grown-upped the dinner with a lemon-garlic-mayo dip for the nuggets. Yum! (If you're wondering, it's the juice of a lemon, a clove of garlic and some mayo with a dash o' s&p). Little fellow wasn't fond of the dip. Loved the avocado and lime dip tho...
How will homemade veggie packed sausage rolls, pasta and meat sauce, rissoles and fish go? I don't know. We'll keep trying. And stock up on napkins. This finger food thing can get messy.
*Corner Gas Season 6
Saturday, June 2, 2012
Too many questions
I have about 15 blog posts sitting in my head waiting to be written. Some are still about Tasmania (gasp!) and so I should really get them down and be done.
But I'm not gonna.
Rather, I will pose to you some questions in hopes that you might have knowledge or wisdom that I do not possess. Or in some cases, just answers. Points will be awarded for style (and hair-dos).
1. Why is Anne of Green Gables a mystic?
2. Since when is there caffeine in A&W Cream Soda? And more to the point, why? I thought cream soda was a kid-type pop.
3. Why will children chew on everything in the world except their dinner?
4. Especially non-edibles like hand lotion and chalk?
5. How many licks does it take to get to centre of a Tootsie pop?
6. Why are things scarier at night?
7. How does postage work? I mean prices and such.
8. Do Dr. Zhivago's wife and mistress represent the two Russian landscapes that he lived in (before and after revolution)? Discuss.
9. Why is it so much fun to cook, but so terrible to do dishes?
10. Do you have an e-reader? Is it worth it?
11. What does my son mean when he babbles? Am I actually hearing the words I think I am?
12. And why does he like octave intervals whilst singing?
13. How long until I can enjoy a cup of coffee? Oh, how I want a good-tasting cup of coffee.
14. Do you factor in postage when you buy things on the internet as part of the price?
15. Why do people like horror movies?
16. Would you like to finish the laundry?
17. What is your favourite recipe if you're in a hurry?
18. What is your favourite recipe if you aren't in a hurry?
19. Would you eat sashimi? Oh, how I want spicy tuna sashimi.
20. What book are you reading now?
21. What should we name our next child?
22. How will I fit everything into the storage room?
23. Why don't we say the "l" in "solder"?
But I'm not gonna.
Rather, I will pose to you some questions in hopes that you might have knowledge or wisdom that I do not possess. Or in some cases, just answers. Points will be awarded for style (and hair-dos).
1. Why is Anne of Green Gables a mystic?
2. Since when is there caffeine in A&W Cream Soda? And more to the point, why? I thought cream soda was a kid-type pop.
3. Why will children chew on everything in the world except their dinner?
4. Especially non-edibles like hand lotion and chalk?
5. How many licks does it take to get to centre of a Tootsie pop?
6. Why are things scarier at night?
7. How does postage work? I mean prices and such.
8. Do Dr. Zhivago's wife and mistress represent the two Russian landscapes that he lived in (before and after revolution)? Discuss.
9. Why is it so much fun to cook, but so terrible to do dishes?
10. Do you have an e-reader? Is it worth it?
11. What does my son mean when he babbles? Am I actually hearing the words I think I am?
12. And why does he like octave intervals whilst singing?
13. How long until I can enjoy a cup of coffee? Oh, how I want a good-tasting cup of coffee.
14. Do you factor in postage when you buy things on the internet as part of the price?
15. Why do people like horror movies?
16. Would you like to finish the laundry?
17. What is your favourite recipe if you're in a hurry?
18. What is your favourite recipe if you aren't in a hurry?
19. Would you eat sashimi? Oh, how I want spicy tuna sashimi.
20. What book are you reading now?
21. What should we name our next child?
22. How will I fit everything into the storage room?
23. Why don't we say the "l" in "solder"?
Tuesday, May 29, 2012
Mommy's Little Helper
Ever feel like there's too much to get done and no way to do it all without help? I feel that way sometimes. Having a child can make getting things done difficult. The priorities become everyone fed, watered, slept, wearing clean clothes? And I'm done.
But that's not actually when I'm done. In this pregnancy, my first trimester was super hard because of the fatigue. Little boy was not sleeping well at all as he was cross cutting teeth. That means he was grumpy and waking up every three hours. Or two hours. Or one hour. Every hour/ hour and a half. Every night for a few weeks. In the daytime I was completely useless. I'd manage a few menial chores and then retreat to my couch where I could keep an eye on little fellow and watch Jessica Fletcher solve crime.
She's actually quite a terrifying person. Everywhere she goes, someone is murdered. She has no problem with this. Ever.
That's besides the point. I really wanted a helper. And now I've got one.
He picks things off the floor and puts them on tables. Very helpful. We're still working on discretion in this area as shoes don't belong on tables, but we're getting there.
When I sweep the floor, he holds the broom and helps direct it. He's incredibly meticulous and will stand in one spot sweeping a square foot for 4 minutes before attempting to put the broom away.
Folding laundry is a bit different. He prefers the casual look to clean clothes and will delightedly unfold and strew them about. I'm not yet sold on the idea, but give me time.
While working in the kitchen he helps reorganise. This is a much needed thing as since my second trimester nesting has kicked in I want to (in essence, not with superhuman skill) pick up the house and shake everything out so that I can sort it and organise it and put it away in a better place than it currently is. He'll open a drawer or cupboard and put things away where they should go. It's making me think. The golden syrup goes in with the pots and pans. As does the vanilla. One lucky pot gained some cup measures. The mill goes on the floor for easy access. The pot lid goes in the drawer with the auxiliary kitchen tools. The lemon press goes in with the reusable plastics.
He's got skills.
We've been trying to figure out how we will fit everything for two children in the nursery as we want the children to share (after the first bit, anyway) and I realized that our hall cupboard which is really the only storage place in the house needed to house more blankets and whatnot to get them out of the room. Only problem is, the cupboard was already full. So non-linen closet items are moving to the (now) storage room. The little fellow and I spent a companionable few hours pulling out all the items on the bottom two shelves, sorting them and moving them.
It was then that I realised what an amazing helper I had. I love it when he helps. Really I do. Even when it makes things take longer. However, it does get frustrating sometimes. I find that as he gets more independent and needs less cuddles and mom near him all the time that I can get frustrated with him more easily. It's because I miss out on the cute ways that he does things. The thoughtful air behind it all. I'm not the best mother, crafting and time managementy and perfect, but I do love my child. When I have to chase him down to get him to leave his nappy bin alone and to get out of that drawer for the 800th time, I forget the inquisitive nature, the adventurous spirit, the sheer curiosity that my little boy has. Working with him as we destroyed today was fantastic. We laughed and giggled and played about and eventually got things done.
I wouldn't trade my little helper. Things will get done when they need to but I'm going to enjoy this slower, silly pace on the way.
But that's not actually when I'm done. In this pregnancy, my first trimester was super hard because of the fatigue. Little boy was not sleeping well at all as he was cross cutting teeth. That means he was grumpy and waking up every three hours. Or two hours. Or one hour. Every hour/ hour and a half. Every night for a few weeks. In the daytime I was completely useless. I'd manage a few menial chores and then retreat to my couch where I could keep an eye on little fellow and watch Jessica Fletcher solve crime.
She's actually quite a terrifying person. Everywhere she goes, someone is murdered. She has no problem with this. Ever.
That's besides the point. I really wanted a helper. And now I've got one.
He picks things off the floor and puts them on tables. Very helpful. We're still working on discretion in this area as shoes don't belong on tables, but we're getting there.
When I sweep the floor, he holds the broom and helps direct it. He's incredibly meticulous and will stand in one spot sweeping a square foot for 4 minutes before attempting to put the broom away.
Folding laundry is a bit different. He prefers the casual look to clean clothes and will delightedly unfold and strew them about. I'm not yet sold on the idea, but give me time.
While working in the kitchen he helps reorganise. This is a much needed thing as since my second trimester nesting has kicked in I want to (in essence, not with superhuman skill) pick up the house and shake everything out so that I can sort it and organise it and put it away in a better place than it currently is. He'll open a drawer or cupboard and put things away where they should go. It's making me think. The golden syrup goes in with the pots and pans. As does the vanilla. One lucky pot gained some cup measures. The mill goes on the floor for easy access. The pot lid goes in the drawer with the auxiliary kitchen tools. The lemon press goes in with the reusable plastics.
He's got skills.
We've been trying to figure out how we will fit everything for two children in the nursery as we want the children to share (after the first bit, anyway) and I realized that our hall cupboard which is really the only storage place in the house needed to house more blankets and whatnot to get them out of the room. Only problem is, the cupboard was already full. So non-linen closet items are moving to the (now) storage room. The little fellow and I spent a companionable few hours pulling out all the items on the bottom two shelves, sorting them and moving them.
It was then that I realised what an amazing helper I had. I love it when he helps. Really I do. Even when it makes things take longer. However, it does get frustrating sometimes. I find that as he gets more independent and needs less cuddles and mom near him all the time that I can get frustrated with him more easily. It's because I miss out on the cute ways that he does things. The thoughtful air behind it all. I'm not the best mother, crafting and time managementy and perfect, but I do love my child. When I have to chase him down to get him to leave his nappy bin alone and to get out of that drawer for the 800th time, I forget the inquisitive nature, the adventurous spirit, the sheer curiosity that my little boy has. Working with him as we destroyed today was fantastic. We laughed and giggled and played about and eventually got things done.
I wouldn't trade my little helper. Things will get done when they need to but I'm going to enjoy this slower, silly pace on the way.
Friday, May 25, 2012
Cloudy with a Chance of Footfalls
As I mentioned last post, little fellow is a walker. I have no problems with this. Many people said, "oh, when he's walking, he'll be into everything!" but when he was crawling he could still stand and got into everything. Walking, I decided, would be good, because then he would feel more autonomous and therefore sleep better.
It is true, you know.
The one thing that I was not prepared for as we enter "winter" down here was the quiet that accompanies walking. Mayhaps he is an odd child and the fact that he was a noisy crawler (slap, slap, thump, thump) as he shuffled along the floor made it too easy for me to know where he was.
Now you hear him move occasionally, but just one heavy step as he rights his balance perhaps or stops to peruse something. You'll look up and ! where has he Frankenstein shuffled to now?
As he's getting better at walking, he's lost the shuffle and is very confident with his right foot. The left comes along for the ride. He's even tried running a few times.
So no, he doesn't get into more, but he does it more sneakily. Perhaps we'll have to invest in tap shoes. Or a bell.
It is true, you know.
The one thing that I was not prepared for as we enter "winter" down here was the quiet that accompanies walking. Mayhaps he is an odd child and the fact that he was a noisy crawler (slap, slap, thump, thump) as he shuffled along the floor made it too easy for me to know where he was.
Now you hear him move occasionally, but just one heavy step as he rights his balance perhaps or stops to peruse something. You'll look up and ! where has he Frankenstein shuffled to now?
As he's getting better at walking, he's lost the shuffle and is very confident with his right foot. The left comes along for the ride. He's even tried running a few times.
So no, he doesn't get into more, but he does it more sneakily. Perhaps we'll have to invest in tap shoes. Or a bell.
Monday, May 21, 2012
The Art of Movement
Our little fellow is a walker. And it's amazing.
It's hard to believe that at one time this self-propelled inquisitive force was at one point immobile. Yet, he was. It's a most fascinating thing, watching someone learn to move. First they wriggle and roll, surprising themselves and completely unaware of what they are doing. A look of shock accompanies the movement until it is harnessed and the next challenge broached.
They get up on hands and knees. The balance required for this is just astounding. One little part not right and the whole thing comes tumbling down. And that's to balance on all fours! A small rocking appears as they imitate thorny devils and attempt to shake their way forward. Or a fellow on his belly wriggles and squiggles to no apparent gain until you remember that he started over there.
When finally they get all the balance in gear, they have to go forward or back. It's a laborious practice with slow, deliberate actions. Slow and deliberate for a few days anyway and then off they race, chasing dreams and toys and something that looks highly appealing and that you didn't realize was in reach.
But to reach you must stand! Our fellow started furniture walking a week after he started crawling. Furniture is a good thing to balance against and hold as you explore a bipedal existence. How do feet do that? Hold the floor while propelling, maintaining balance and rhythm.
All of these milestones are accompanied by crashes as gravity will not be denied. Some crashes are tearful and others unnoticed as the goal to move and to make one's mark still dangle tantalizingly like a carrot or a cup of coffee (wait, that's maybe just for me to get moving) held aloft always out of reach.
One day something is too exciting and must be had. So he lets go and takes that step, that first step alone in the world, unsupported and free. Freedom is all fine and good, but none too comfortable, so the first step is alone.
Confidence gains the upper hand, however, and soon these toddlers toddle precariously and oddly, yet gracefully. I've seen him do many things to balance himself to keep moving without thinking of it.
Walking could never be enough with things to climb and conquer. New levels must be explored, identified and tasted to verify their meaning. These movements and action stupefy parents as they query "how did he do that?" Possibly the only way is with his sticky gecko feet.
I don't know. I don't actually know how I walk. Think about it as you glide across the floor, carrying things, making minor adjustments for corners, for impediments.
And at the same time, I feel these movements inside as many little person learns to do all sorts of things and tests his/her limits as he/she goes.
It's an art, this moving thing. So let's get moving. What do you want to do? Dance? Sweep the floor? Idly stand? You can do it. And beautifully.
It's hard to believe that at one time this self-propelled inquisitive force was at one point immobile. Yet, he was. It's a most fascinating thing, watching someone learn to move. First they wriggle and roll, surprising themselves and completely unaware of what they are doing. A look of shock accompanies the movement until it is harnessed and the next challenge broached.
They get up on hands and knees. The balance required for this is just astounding. One little part not right and the whole thing comes tumbling down. And that's to balance on all fours! A small rocking appears as they imitate thorny devils and attempt to shake their way forward. Or a fellow on his belly wriggles and squiggles to no apparent gain until you remember that he started over there.
When finally they get all the balance in gear, they have to go forward or back. It's a laborious practice with slow, deliberate actions. Slow and deliberate for a few days anyway and then off they race, chasing dreams and toys and something that looks highly appealing and that you didn't realize was in reach.
But to reach you must stand! Our fellow started furniture walking a week after he started crawling. Furniture is a good thing to balance against and hold as you explore a bipedal existence. How do feet do that? Hold the floor while propelling, maintaining balance and rhythm.
All of these milestones are accompanied by crashes as gravity will not be denied. Some crashes are tearful and others unnoticed as the goal to move and to make one's mark still dangle tantalizingly like a carrot or a cup of coffee (wait, that's maybe just for me to get moving) held aloft always out of reach.
One day something is too exciting and must be had. So he lets go and takes that step, that first step alone in the world, unsupported and free. Freedom is all fine and good, but none too comfortable, so the first step is alone.
Confidence gains the upper hand, however, and soon these toddlers toddle precariously and oddly, yet gracefully. I've seen him do many things to balance himself to keep moving without thinking of it.
Walking could never be enough with things to climb and conquer. New levels must be explored, identified and tasted to verify their meaning. These movements and action stupefy parents as they query "how did he do that?" Possibly the only way is with his sticky gecko feet.
I don't know. I don't actually know how I walk. Think about it as you glide across the floor, carrying things, making minor adjustments for corners, for impediments.
And at the same time, I feel these movements inside as many little person learns to do all sorts of things and tests his/her limits as he/she goes.
It's an art, this moving thing. So let's get moving. What do you want to do? Dance? Sweep the floor? Idly stand? You can do it. And beautifully.
Wednesday, May 16, 2012
A Shot of Gratitude
When you have just been on holiday for a month, travelling around the world with your husband and 13 month old, having visited 4 provinces and one state completely across the country from where you live whilst 5 months pregnant you suddenly develop an urge to be home.
When you are standing in Perth attempting to check in your bags for your 11th (and final) flight in a month, hungover from exhaustion, hungry and with a headache and the lady checking you in says, "Oh, you're not booked in until tomorrow night's flight," you suddenly develop an urge to create language blue and buoyant.
What's that? You caught some information that needs clarification?
Oh yes, we've just been on holiday. We went to Canada to visit family and friends (Ontario), family and friends (Manitoba), friends, haunts and malls (Edmonton), family and friends (Vancouver) ending with a wedding of friends who are like family, whilst staying with family (Brisbane).
That's not what needed clarification? The baby thing? I've been wanting to broadcast it for months, but wanted to tell people in person as we went so that's kind of why the blog went silentish for a bit. That and the extreme exhaustion brought on by first trimester and teething son.
When you realize that you may have to stay in Perth for an extra night, so close and yet frustratingly far from your wonderful, comfortable, familiar bed when you are to a level of exhaustion not felt since 4th year uni and the costo of doom, you suddenly develop crazy thoughts of renting cars and driving 9 hours on nothing or of taxiing to IKEA and trying to sleep in the twin to your bed while telling yourself, it's okay, you have friends in Perth who would let you stay and wouldn't it be fun to be on holiday for another night? Although you're more likely to burst into tears (and you have twice much to the chagrin of the man attempting to watch a movie on his laptop beside you).
When a call comes through from your travel agent three and a half hours later telling you that you are on the flight that you were meant to be on and had signed documentation about, you suddenly develop a wave of gratitude. A six hour layover that earlier had seemed ridiculous now seems a blessing because you'd made your flight! Everything is fantastic, aided by the fact that your dear husband found you a blueberry bagel when you got through security.
When you crawl into your own bed that night, which you'd made up fresh just before you left with cozy flannel sheets, you savour the feeling before you suddenly develop a need for sleep.
When you are standing in Perth attempting to check in your bags for your 11th (and final) flight in a month, hungover from exhaustion, hungry and with a headache and the lady checking you in says, "Oh, you're not booked in until tomorrow night's flight," you suddenly develop an urge to create language blue and buoyant.
What's that? You caught some information that needs clarification?
Oh yes, we've just been on holiday. We went to Canada to visit family and friends (Ontario), family and friends (Manitoba), friends, haunts and malls (Edmonton), family and friends (Vancouver) ending with a wedding of friends who are like family, whilst staying with family (Brisbane).
That's not what needed clarification? The baby thing? I've been wanting to broadcast it for months, but wanted to tell people in person as we went so that's kind of why the blog went silentish for a bit. That and the extreme exhaustion brought on by first trimester and teething son.
When you realize that you may have to stay in Perth for an extra night, so close and yet frustratingly far from your wonderful, comfortable, familiar bed when you are to a level of exhaustion not felt since 4th year uni and the costo of doom, you suddenly develop crazy thoughts of renting cars and driving 9 hours on nothing or of taxiing to IKEA and trying to sleep in the twin to your bed while telling yourself, it's okay, you have friends in Perth who would let you stay and wouldn't it be fun to be on holiday for another night? Although you're more likely to burst into tears (and you have twice much to the chagrin of the man attempting to watch a movie on his laptop beside you).
When a call comes through from your travel agent three and a half hours later telling you that you are on the flight that you were meant to be on and had signed documentation about, you suddenly develop a wave of gratitude. A six hour layover that earlier had seemed ridiculous now seems a blessing because you'd made your flight! Everything is fantastic, aided by the fact that your dear husband found you a blueberry bagel when you got through security.
When you crawl into your own bed that night, which you'd made up fresh just before you left with cozy flannel sheets, you savour the feeling before you suddenly develop a need for sleep.
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