trouble

Dear Olive,
Goodness me this boy of ours is trouble. I don't know if it's a boy/girl thing, or just an individual kid thing, but he is so very different to you at the same age. He's physical and energetic (and so were you, but this is next level, and served with a side of aggressive destruction). He yells and hits and screams the house down at a simple nappy change, and then in the same breath smothers us with kisses and cuddles. Sometimes we can't physically get him in the car seat, so we just have to just wait it out, until he's decided he's ready. Same goes for the pram, and the sling. And sometimes shoes. He's obsessed with balls and he'll throw anything that's not tied down, anywhere in the house. Down the toilet, out the window, into the bin, at kids in the park. We're all hit in the head daily with balls/books/shampoo bottles. A few nights ago he started a fire in our kitchen when he threw something up onto the stove top. I was in the bedroom reading you a book and he came in and asked me to help him with his specialised language made up of grunting and nods. (Possibly not alerting me to the fire, but because he wanted his toy back.)  He is e.x.h.a.u.s.t.i.n.g. and by the end of each day I'm weary and battered. 
But, you know what, it's ok. It won't be like this forever. And because this grand, grand love he's brought into our lives makes all our hearts sing.

motherless mothering

Dear Olive,
My three people, their excellent gift to me (thanks Shane!), the crisp sunny weather, plenty of great food, and a visit to an iconic Sydney house. (How divine is that Australian bush setting?) It all came together for a wonderfully memorable (and surprisingly harmonious) mothers day - my guys made me feel genuinely special, and very loved. 
It would have been perfect; if only my Mum were here to share it, too. Motherhood really is my greatest privilege, and I've missed my Mum every step of the way.
(Have a read of Missing Mum on Mothers Day - a bit heart wrenching, if you've lost your Mum too.)

on breastfeeding

Dear Olive,
We had a great afternoon at the pub a few weeks ago - one of those impromptu times where we met a friend for a swim, got a phone call from another, and the next thing we knew, we were at the pub cheersing beer with a bunch of mates. Of course, all too quickly it got to a certain time of the evening, and I headed home to put to bed two tired kids on my own. Later, after the house was quiet, I sat on the lounge and couldn't help but feel the deep unfairness of it all. Shane was out, kicking up his heels and having interesting and fun adult conversations, while I was home alone, sober, at the ready to breastfeed Clancy at a moments whimper. 
But then I realised that if Clancy breastfeeds for as long as you did, then we're almost halfway there already - and wow, has that almost first half gone by in the blink of an eye. All of a sudden, instead of resentment, I felt an overwhelming sadness about it all ending. Almost inexplicably, I began to will my little boy to wake up so I could feed him. Such is the irony of this life, I suppose. I can feel tired of something I wouldn't change for the world.
I need to remember; this time is my sacrifice, and this time is my privilege. It's beautiful, it's extraordinary, it's exhausting. And it has an end. It's all going to be over in a damn flash.
PS The best article I've read on motherhood in a long time.
PPS The extended info on the photos below tells me CC was just a week old when they were taken. (And he's wearing my all time favourite woollen pants from Paul and Paula, Typically Red pixie hat, a cardi hand knitted by my friends Mum, and Marimekko socks.)

a month of clancy

Dear Olive, 
Clancy turned one month old on the weekend. But honestly it feels as though he's belonged to us forever. I must admit, never in my wildest dreams did I envisage I'd be the mother of a son, but now that he's here, I couldn't possibly imagine how he'd be anyone else. And while some days do feel a bit like some kind of horror newborn groundhog day (a never ending cycle of crying/feeding/vomiting/changing/crying/rocking/catnapping, all while attempting to find reserves to stay calm and play vets/get thrashed at memory/build some wild fantasy lego construction for you), I can't quite believe how quickly we've settled into our new life as four (and in particular my new life as a stay at home Mum of two). I worked out early on that getting us out of the flat - ideally with friends - is the best thing for us all. Clancy happily sleeps for an hour or two in the sling or the pram, you get to release some energy (away from my side! What a relief!), and I get to bore a poor friend with a blow by blow account of Clancys sleepings and wakings and feedings of the previous day and night. 
Actually, even the harder times are really not as bad as they sound. Because it's all so filled with love. We are just exploding with love for our boy! You can't stop kissing him**, from the moment you wake up each day - and neither can Shane or I. And the amazing beauty of the second child, is the wonderful inner calmness within me; the absolute certain knowledge that it will all pass so soon*.

*Sometimes it just feels like an eternity at the time: the days are long, but the years short and all that.
**You've started carrying him around. He's always in a different spot if I leave the room (even though I've asked you not to lift him unless I'm there to help you.) Shit!

hop hop hop

Dear Olive,
I read an analogy on motherhood the other day that really resonated with me: on the one hand, becoming a mother is like losing a leg, but on the other hand, it's like winning the lottery. It's much the same way I feel. Would I rather have two legs but live in a caravan? Probably not. Because in addition to losing a part of myself, I have been gifted a whole lot more.
Here I am on mothers day, hopping around on my one leg - feeding Clancy in the sling, and trying to explain to an extremely uncooperative you why it would be nice for us to have a photo on my first mothers day as a mum of two. Feeling every part of that missing leg, but with the knowledge that I've been given a whole world of incredible love and wonder in the two of you.
I hope all the Mums had a wonderful mothers day (on one leg or two).

32 weeks

Dear Olive,
Pregnancy is a funny thing; I'd forgotten just how taxing it is. What with the shortness of breath, wild emotions, not being able to bend over, those middle of the night leg cramps bringing me frantically out of sleep, varicose veins, achy swelling legs, uncomfortable growing pains, feeling like I'm going to explode after every meal, and just the sheer general exhaustion of it all - it can be downright bloody hard! And aside from all the physical discomfort, there's the having to come to terms with my body changing so much, in a way that's seemingly out of my control. But somehow, in spite of it all, this pregnancy has really grown on me. And I've been feeling really lovely in it - healthy and strong, nutritionally sound, and, apart from my much whinged about achy swelly varicose-y leg problem (and the fact that I seem to be growing a snowy beard on the side of my face!), it all feels really rather great. And it's wonderful to be able to find the magic in it all; it is a truly special and amazing time. (And I suppose this time around, I'm even more aware of the enormity of love just around the corner!)
Finishing up full time work has been a terrific thing for my energy levels - it's absolute bliss having the time (and energy) to take a walk and a swim in the morning, and my slower days typically include an afternoon involving plenty of lying down! (Although I suppose a lot of this will change a bit once Shane starts his new full time job in a week.) I'm still working casual days, but it's just a couple per week and after the relentlessness of full time work last year it kind of feels like I've hit that perfect (and elusive) work balance jackpot. And you and I have been getting to spend lots of time just the two of us, which I'm remembering to soak up, seeing as soon it'll be the three of us.
Even being pregnant in summer hasn't been as bad as what I was fearing - I'm appreciating living near the beach, it's definitely the coolest spot in Sydney and it's amazing being able to get in the water so often. And actually, that searing middle of the day summer heat provides me with the perfect excuse to retreat to the cool of the indoors, and be generally rather lazy.
All in all, at 32 weeks pregnant, I'm feeling very blessed.

(Pregnancy reading: Dr Mercola's guide to a naturally healthy pregnancy - much of this is common sense, but there are lots of great links at the end of the article.)

A Day Off

Dear Olive,
I had something like a meltdown at work on Monday. Shane's away for a couple of weeks, you and I both have colds, and a few people I had lined up to help me out with your preschool drop offs and pick ups pulled out. I was struck with the awful realisation that I couldn't do it. I literally couldn't work the silly long hours required by my job, and look after you. So I did what any grown, mature woman in her 30's does; I cried. I asked if I could work reduced hours for the next couple of weeks (for reduced pay), and said I wanted a day off this week. Olive just needs to spend some time with me I told my boss*. But having had the day with you today, it dawned on me what I'd left unsaid: I just need to spend some time with Olive. Because after hanging out for the day and doing normal things like going to a cafe, swimming at the beach, watching you create a god awful mess at home (cleverly disguised as a game); I feel completely restored. Exhausted, yes (why does slowing down make you more tired?), but there is a lovely calmness on the inside that wasn't there on Monday.
Photos from our day: Christmas decorations are up in our local health food store, a morning chai and a date, babycino for you - we always, always joke that it has poo on the top, there was a huge pod of dolphins out there this morning!, you walked home the entire way - barefoot - without whinging once (a record), your favourite lunch a "snack plate" eaten on your bed watching play school snuggled in with Pepper, my favourite lunch (an omelette-frittatery thing with lots of onion, garlic, goats cheese, parsley, tomatoes and avocado), almond meal pikelets for afternoon tea (1 egg, 1 cup almond meal, 1/2 cup coconut cream, 1/2 cup milk, 1 teaspoon of baking powder and a few drops each of vanilla and stevia).

*My boss is a legend, and said no problem. My other boss gave me a hug.

3 + 1

Dear Olive,
We have some pretty amazing news to share. Come April next year, we will no longer be a family of 3, but a family of 4! We couldn't be more excited. (Actually, we're quite a bit terrified too, but definitely mostly excited.) I'm 15 weeks pregnant, and feeling extremely grateful and lucky to have the chance to be a mother to another little person. (I tried to keep this gratefulness in mid as I vomited behind my car in an indoor car park earlier this week.) I feel pretty happy and secure going through pregnancy for a second time. My first pregnancy was lovely because it resulted in you, but it was also filled with many struggles and anxieties, anxieties that I'm just not feeling much of this time around. We are going through the same birth centre, we have the same amazing midwife, and I feel so much confidence in the whole process, and in my body. But telling you and sharing in your joy has been, by far, THE most amazing thing for Shane and I. You are literally beside yourself with excitement to be a big sister (finally!). Something tells me you're going to make a pretty great one.

Negative Cycle

Dear Olive,
I'm trapped in a pretty appalling negative parenting cycle at the moment, where it feels like I'm berating you more than I'm having fun with you. Which is a truly depressing state of affairs. Not that it's any excuse, but what with work and the last couple of weekends being really busy, I'm feeling really exhausted, and it's left me with not much in the reserve tank to deal with your trying behaviour ... which has been rather trying. But as with most parenting situations, the problem here lies not so much with you, but with me. Your behaviour really only becomes a problem if I react to it. And the thing that gets me the most, is that while I'm whining and reacting to your irritating behaviour, you are no doubt learning how to behave from my own terrible behaviour! And so the vicious cycle goes round. I need to remember to step back, take a breath, and find my way back to positive parenting.
Any tips?

Nag, Nag, Nag

Dear Olive,
One of the worst things about the way I've been working the past couple of months, is how disgustingly early we need to bust out of the house, dressed and fed. And just how much naggying and hurry-UP-ing that takes place in order for us to do so. It sure makes me appreciate the days where we don't have to belt out that door like bats out of hell, egg yolk yet to dry on chins, passing off last nights pyjamas at today wear. We wake up ... slowly. We eat breakfast ... slowly. We get dressed ... slowly. It's such a relief not to play the awful, nagging parent for a day. And instead, play the fun one. And seeing as tomorrow's my last day on this job, I'm looking forward to plenty more of those.

Cutest and softest and most delightful jumper EVER from Tootsa Macginty. It's even got the tell tale stains to prove it's both our favourites - it hasn't been taken off in days.

Shadows

Dear Olive,
We lost our nanny yesterday. Well, not lost as in I don't know where she is, because I do; she's in her flat in Vaucluse. But lost as in she's not going to be looking after you anymore. It's been coming for a while, she's been less and less available, and this week finally told us she's following another path to different job, which I totally understand and she goes with my best wishes for every success in her new life. What has come as a surprise, though, is that it's left me feeling extremely emotional. Maybe I'm just tired. Or maybe I'm upset because someone you love, and who loves you, has pretty much left your life. Or maybe it's bigger than that. Everything just seems to be changing so fast around me, I can barely keep up. You're starting preschool next week - next week! - and I feel positively ill with nervousness. Just an offhand mention of it to my neighbour earlier had me in tears. I don't really know why, but I think it's something to do with feeling like I'm sending you out into the world on your own. You, my child, out there fending for your self. Of course, you - incredible, resilient you, are (so far) completely taken with the idea of starting preschool. Just don't forget to hold your old Mums hand on the way in, will you. I may very well need the support.

PS I'm not really feeling as dark as these photos may suggest. I just loved the shadow on the wall of you playing with Pepper in the morning light. That is all.

=====

Dear Olive,
When I first started back at work all those months ago, I found it took a few days of each job for me to adjust to being back at work and being away from you. And then at the end of the job, I'd have a few days of feeling quite lost at being back at home with you. But I must have adapted, because there is no transition period anymore. I slip right on in to whichever role it is I'm playing. Capable freelance costume lady working long hours? Yes. Stay at home Mum managing laundry, meals and park dates, in addition to being Head of Toddler Entertainment Department and Toddler Destruction Protection Unit? Sure am. Even though sometimes I crave a bit more predictability for you and I, I kind of like the unpredictability of it all too. It keeps it fresh or something. And today? Today I am the latter. After three loads of laundry, we had the most beautiful picnic with a few friends at Marks Park (seriously the BEST views going around), and I'm now about to spend almost your entire naptime rereading an old classic, drinking tea and eating tahini and honey on toast.

=====

Dear Olive,
I've been thinking about this letter for a while now. Todays topic is breastfeeding. We're still going with it, you and I - I'm a big believer in the benefits of ongoing breastfeeding. You love it, I love it, we're all happy. Except lately I'm finding it more and more draining. And a whisper of the w word is beginning to creep into my mind .... weaning. Maybe not even weaning completely, but just cutting back? Cutting back a lot? *Obviously* I'd love to say goodbye to the night feeds first and foremost (desperately). I've always demand fed you in the day and fed you back to sleep at night so I don't really know how to go about all of this. And I don't know if I've got the will power within me to truly carry it out. Especially as it feels like a bit of a selfish request on my part. Because it's really all about me being so bloody tired. And because I'd like someone else to be able to put you to sleep. And because I'd like to get drunk again.


You went to town during our photo shoot. (Speaking of which, Shirin's now got the whole shoot up on her blog if you want to take a look.)

=====

Dear Olive,
This will be my last happy monthly birthday letter because in just one month you'll be two. TWO! And after that, I think we'll finally stop counting in months and you'll simply be two. Until you become two and a half. And then three. And so forth. As two draws closer, I keep thinking about how much you've changed, and how so much of looking after you has gotten easier. The most challenging parts about you now really are my inner battles of controlling my own frustration. Frustration at not getting any personal space, how annoying it is having you try to wipe my bum while I'm on the toilet, eating meals with you jumping all over me. Struggling not to feel infuriated by you whinging under my feet while I'm trying to get ready. How the fact that you never, ever shut up sometimes drives me insane. None of this is a problem for you. Just, at times, for me. I've realised that our most brilliant and enjoyable days together are the ones where I manage to control myself and keep calm. You've certainly shown me a lot about my shortcomings in the areas of patience and not reacting. Anyway, happy 23 months!
PS Remember the photo shoot with this lady that I told you about? Well, the photos are in! And I love them! I'll share more in the next few days. So fun.