The full circle - mum, now I know what you were doing

As kids we'd go on a holiday every time there was a sniff of a long-weekend or school break. We'd leave early, trying to beat the traffic. I remember dad and us kids would be sitting in the car, loaded up and waiting for mum. And we'd wait and wait and wait. Sometimes the sun would even come up. Dad would growl and say things like "what is she doing in there?" and it would seem like forever before mum would emerge from the front door, arms overflowing with last minute stuff, and then we'd finally be off and away. I always thought it was mum dragging the chain, if the rest of us were ready, why couldn't she be ready too?

Well, mum, now I know what you were doing: you were turning off all the lights, picking up things off the floor, closing and locking all the windows and doors, filling a bag with all the last minute things we'd almost forgotten. And, as things do, we've come a full circle and now my family waits in the car while I run around trying to get everything we need - and that's not even for a holiday, just a normal day out. So mum, I finally understand. Thank you. x

Partitioning sound-space

In zoology it's known that many species time their calls to occur when another species isn't calling and so ensure that whomever they're calling to has the best chance of hearing them. It's termed 'temporal partitioning of sound-space". This 'partitioning' is why you often hear different bird calls after one-another and not over the top of one another. And so it is at our house. Adam and I have become adept at partitioning our sound-space so that we can hear each other between the cacophony bursts coming from our children. A typical conversation goes like this:

"Honey, I was thinking that we could-"

"Ahhhhhhh-aaaaa, mum-mum-mum aaaa!"

"-go to the door-"

"Mummy, I've got a poo!"

"- shop on the weekend to look at glass-"

"Ahh-aaaa-aaaa-aaaa, blllllllluuuuuuuur-oooh"

[pause] "-sliding-doors"

"OK, let's go on"

"Muuuuuummmmy - my poo needs changing."

"-Saturday after Gymba-"

"Ahh-errrrr-ah"

[pause] "-roo".

It takes a really long time to get to the end of a conversation, we often forget that we're even talking to each other and a million conversations don't get finished. I'm sure this phenomenon happens at most houses with children, I just thought it would be interesting to give it a name, and know that we're not alone in the wild.

Worf is NOT the yellow Wiggle!!!

How do you discpiline a child when, in the middle of a scolding he points to his father's favourite old threadbare Star Trek t-shirt and says "the Wiggles!!". Adam was not impressed, some things are sacred.









Monkey's obviously not the first one to notice the similarities, these comparisons were on the interweb ...

Not all vomit and snot ...

We've been off line with a house full of illness this past month, but we've had moments of silliness, so here are a few pics of our boys to show it hasn't been all vomit and snot ...

Monkey Boy ...

Bugalugs ...

Happy happy 101

I've been tagged by my oldest friend, Monique (a glass half full) to create a list of 10 things that make me happy. If I'd written this list 10 years ago I'm sure it would've been very different:

1. Drinking a cup of tea while it's still hot. A rare experience and so special when the moment unexpectedly arrives.
2. Sleeping for longer than 3 or 4 hours in a row. Ahh the bliss of waking up and realising I've had a 5 hour stretch.
3. The rare times when both my boys are asleep at the same time, particularly if I'm on the couch with a DVD, the remote control and a HOT cup of tea. Ahh, give me more of that good stuff.
4. Driving on my own, listening to adult music or radio.
5. A good long (uninterrupted) chat with a girlfriend.
6. Hanging out in the backyard when the lawns are mowed and everything looks nice and tidy. It's so inviting, particularly on a calm, sunny day.
7. That glass of wine in the evening after baby Bugalugs has fed and gone to bed. I've finally reached the stage when he's unlikely to demand a feed for a good few hours.
8. Sitting in the dark at the movies, when the film's just about to start, with a choc-top in hand. Ahh, the anticipation. That's my happy place.
9. Writing, getting lost in it, not noticing the time passing. Wish I could do it more.
10. Listening to my kids laughing their heads off when their dad is getting them ready for a bath, blowing on their tummies.

I think I'm supposed to tag others to write their lists but Monique's the only one I know who blogs. Maybe some of you might like to send a favourite thing or two as a comment ...?

The long-awaited 'TRUCK CAKE'!!!

4th August - singing, cake, Ruby and pulling funny faces! Four of Monkey's favourite things in one go (actually, five - Granma and Gramps gave him a bin truck), so who could ask for more on their birthday?

But then there was more: 7th August - most of Monkey's favourite people all in one place - the Munns and Roses all gathered together to share his 2nd birthday. All Monkey wanted for his birthday was 'a truck cake' which made for quite a bit of pressure for his mum and dad in the cake-making department. We overcame a big hurdle when our first attempt broke in half but Ad made a late night dash to the supermarket for more ingredients and we got there in the end.

When Monkey saw the cake he decided it wasn't just any old truck cake, it was a 'bin truck cake!' (and we quickly agreed that's what we'd intended to make all along). He was in birthday cake heaven!

After all the excitement, Monkey crashed out for a long sleep while everyone else continued to enjoy his party.

Monkey's second year

Tomorrow is our Monkey Boy's 2nd birthday. Looking back at how much he's learned since he turned one I realise that it's been quite a year. A year ago Monkey was crawling, only knew a few words, would sleep twice in the day and we were still spoon-feeding him.

This year my baby has grown into a little boy. Not only has he learned to walk (and run, dance and get dizzy), he's also learned to talk (incessantly), count, and sing (and making up songs, albeit not very tricky ones - 'truck song, la la la').

This was a year of firsts including his first sand castle, first ride in Poppy's boat, first hair cut, first stay in hospital. Monkey became a big brother and is reluctantly learning to share his parents' attention.

When asked who his best buddies are he lists 'Braden, Ruby and Acey-Boy'. His favourite grown ups are Granma, Aunty Net and Mardi. And a few of his current favourite things are: his blue sippy cup with dolphins on it, all types of trucks! (especially tow trucks, cement trucks, crane trucks, diggers and his absolute favourite: BIN trucks!), watching the bin truck collect the rubbish on Monday mornings, doing jig-saw puzzles, providing a running commentary of everything he does (all day), going to Symbio, Crazy Maze and the Nursery Cafe, watching Play School, singing, eating cheese, eating brocolli (yay), not sleeping during the day and building space men out of Duplo blocks. A couple of new favourites have emerged this week: making collages (we've cut up every magazine in the house) and pulling funny faces.

So happy 2nd birthday to my little fella, I love you more than I ever could have dreamed was possible.

Happy birthday Gramps (more face cake)

Allirah, Reese, Ruby & Rory make Gramps' birthday cake

In the shadow of supermums

A fellow mother of a new bub and a toddler said to me today that she almost has a panic attack whenever she has to leave the house with both her kids. I knew exactly what she was talking about and I honestly felt better for hearing her say it. Hearing others admit that they're challenged by parenting makes me feel that I'm not alone. To the parents who think that no-one wants to hear you whinge, that it's not going to achieve anything, let me tell you that your complaining gives me permission to vent too. It lightens the load and it builds a bridge between us.

Admitting that parenting is hard and that you don't have all the answers may make you feel vulnerable, but I think it's actually a strong thing to do. It shows you're not afraid of condemnation from those dreaded supermums. And you know what, I honestly don't think 'supermums' actually exist. The sooner we all admit that, the sooner we'll all get out of the shadow we imagine that they cast. And if we eliminate supermums, then all the rest of the mums with all their vulnerabilities, move up to supermum status.

I relish honest complaining and I'm a big believer in the value of venting. So if my blog makes anyone think I'm a little post-natal, please don't. And if my complaining helps any other mums out there feel that they're not alone, then all the better.

And to my kids: it is my hope that, when you're old enough to read back on your mother's blog, it will be the norm for mothers to share the woes of parenting, as well as the joys. As I look at my little Bugalugs lying on the floor pulling his own hair and screaming because he hasn't worked out how to let go yet; and Monkey Boy trying to kiss his own chin better after he wacked it on the cupboard, my heart is filled with warmth and love. And there's no way I'd swap that for an easier trip to the supermarket.

How long does a gingerbread man last?

Ad came home from the bakery with a gingerbread man as a special treat, but our Monkey Boy freaked out when his dad bit its head off! And not just a little freak out, a total screaming inconsolable panic. Luckily his father had bought a second one and it was whipped out to replace the decapitated biscuit man. But now Monkey won't eat it, instead he walks around the house with his gingerbread man, 'cuddling it' and 'kissing it' (his words). It's only been two days, but how long does a gingerbread man last? Won't it go mouldy if we let him keep it for too long? We may have to do a switcherooney like some parents have been known to do when the goldfish dies. I'll keep you posted.



This pic of Bugalugs is totally unrelated to the gingerbread man story, but gratuitous cuteness (and Nanny wants lots of pics of the little fella while they're away).

Happy Birthday Daddy!

Puzzled?!?!

We have a young addict in our house. Monkey Boy has developed a fanaticism for jigsaw puzzles. He doesn't want to eat, or bathe, or sleep. He only has four puzzles but he'll do them over and over and over again, all day and all night (if we'd let him). He cries when I say "come on, we're going out" because he just wants to sit and do his puzzles. What does that suggest for our boy's future? Will he be one of those computer game players that sits up all night, wearing a nappy so he doesn't have to stop to go to the toilet? No! No!

The age of the neglected male?

I read an article in this weekend's Sun Herald magazine, entitled 'the invisible men' and it's given me food for thought. I couldn't post a link so I'll have to summarise: the article claims many men feel overworked and underappreciated. They'd like some recognition for what they do around the house, particularly as they feel 'hurried and harried', rushing from the school drop-off to a breakfast meeting, a busy day, then dashing home for baby's bath time, another night of broken sleep, etc, etc, etc. The article says, self-preservation is stopping the men from complaining - they say why bother when women are so quick to jump down their throats with "You weren't pregnant. You haven't breastfed for five months. I haven't slept for four years". So the men say they're just suffering in silence. All they'd like, the article claims, is some 'rightful recognition for their efforts' (which they say their hard-working female partners are receiving).

My first reaction to this article was a little like the one men are receiving when they complain: I felt my back arching and I wanted to rant about "oh, the poor men, it's so hard being able to go to work and listen to an adult channel on the radio, buy coffee, have an adult conversation, think about something other than nappies and grocery lists". Then I stopped for a breath, because I suppose this reaction is exactly what the men are talking about.

Reading further, the article pointed out a statistic that surprised me: in a 2006 ABS survey, men and women spent almost exactly the same number of hours a day performing professional, childcare and domestic tasks. That average was 11.44 hrs for men and 11.35 hrs for women. Now I know that neither my husband nor my day allows 12 hours of downtime, so this statistic must be skewed by men and women with older (or no) children. But I hear the message: obviously we're all feeling the pressure of modern life and it's leaving little room for words of thanks in either direction.

Whilst most female partners are probably not feeling very recognised for all the hard work they do at home, particularly with no boss to commend them on great work, we probably don't think about our menfolk suffering too. Sure there are articles in the media about how hard it is for modern women to juggle everything and very few articles on the plight of the poor neglected male, but I don't think the media coverage actually reaches anyone personally, and it certainly doesn't make the load any lighter. So yes, perhaps it's time to acknowledge that many men are contributing massively to raising kids and running a household, especially compared to previous generations of fathers. I don't know that the recognition is going to lighten the load, but at least it might make them whistle while they work a little (because the other thing that makes them chirpy is short on supply these days too).

So thanks Honey, I do appreciate you bathing the kids, taking out the recycling, putting out the bins, cleaning the cat litter, making the bed (yes I do notice), emptying the dishwasher, cleaning the kitchen after dinner, changing nappies ...................... etc. xxx

Nothing so under-rated as a good poo

I never thought I would open a nappy with the same anticipation as Charlie opening a Wonka Bar - is it in there?

Our poor little baby Bugalugs goes days (almost a week) without 'movement'. You can tell how long it's been by his mood: getting crankier and crankier as he gets further away from the last one. And the quirkiest thing is that he's stopped pooing in his nappies, preferring to wait until he's bare bottomed. Maybe it's something about the cool air. It had been a record 5 days so he spent most of yesterday's waking hours lying with his bum out and his mum begging him to let it all go. He weed on my foot, he weed on his own head, but he finally got the job done and is now a happy baby again. Ahh the minutiae of my life.

Kin-selected altruism ...

I have a new-found respect for parenting. Especially for stay-at-home mums. I now know from experience that parenting is an almost completely altruistic behaviour. I'll put my zoologist hat on for a second and say that, evolutionarily, a mother devoting herself completely to raising her children gives them (and her genes) the best chance of surving and reproducing. It's termed kin-selected altruism. And when I say that it's altruism, I mean that the benefit for the offspring comes at a cost to the parent. I'm finding that the biggest cost is my intellectual stimulation.

I'm spending too much time at home - picking up toys, knowing what's on daytime telly at any given hour, eating biscuits. I need to get out of the house more and I especially need some input to process and turn into creative thought. But does anyone know of any family adventures that have stimulation for mums too?

I think it's a real shame that most kids' activities only challenge the parents in so much as they are logistically difficult. Any mother out there will know: it starts with getting kids into the car - for me it involves carrying one down the stairs and putting him in the car, then trudging back up to get the other, along with all the stuff kids need; then there are the difficulties of driving with a screaming baby in the back. And I won't even go into the dramas mums face when we're single-parenting out and about (espcially with a bored toddler) because most of you will know, and because whinging isn't very fun to do, nor to read.

So what can we do that is stimulating for mums and not come at a cost to the kids? Any parental brain activity gained from a museum or art gallery is outgunned by the weaponry of a bored child. It's just not worth it. So the answer must lie in an activity that has something for parents and their young children. People looking for new business enterprises out there - I think you'll make a fortune if you offer a solution to this conundrum. I have a feeling that it's the Holy Grail though, and the only feasible solution is for mums to call in support. And who has the same genetic benefit in ensuring the kids' go forth into a well-adjusted adulthood? Dads. Honey ...?

A different wintery world

I came across this old email I sent when Ad and I were living in Alaska in 2005 and I thought it was worth posting here, it tells of such different days and made me realise our winters here are really not so tough. Happy (re)reading ...

"Hello again from the roof of the world!

I'm sitting in our new cabin looking out over the tallest mountain range in the US. The wind is whipping some snow from the rooftop, little birds dart around the birdfeeder and occasionally there's a squirrel that doesn't know it should be hibernating. Thankfully the solstice is edging its way into the past and we're gaining about half an hour of daylight a week. The path the sun takes is so short that we can watch it rise (around 10:30 am) and set (around 3:30 pm) from the same window.

Just before we moved here there was more snow in 2 days than all winter so far. The owners of the cabin couldn't leave the mountain until the snow plough truck had come through. Hopefully it won't happen again for a while, although the thought of being stuck up here for a few days is somewhat appealing. It's 10 to 20 degrees warmer up here than down in town and today it's around 30 below in town, but I'm guessing it's only about 15 below up here (which is probably why there are still squirrels running around). A few nights ago we came home to some very strange tracks in the snow outside our front door. They were bigger than my hand and had long claw marks. We're not sure what critter is wandering around outside but the candidates appear to be a bear (unlikely because they should be hibernating), a lynx (apparently there are a few in the area) or a wolverine!!! We're anxiously awaiting a flesh and blood sighting (ok, maybe not blood), and as I climbed the snow track up to the road yesterday to get firewood, I couldn't help but imagine a black bear watching me.

Ad's been spending the last few days down at the research station collecting muskoxen poo. Ahh the joys of his work. He comes home at night proclaiming "my next job will NOT involve poo", but we shall see. The long hours of research watching muskoxen sleep are thankfully behind us. The weather was unseasonably warm for the first week of our observations (which was when we had the huge snowfalls), so Ad decided to extend it for another week to catch some cold-weather behaviour. You gotta be careful what you ask for because it then hit minus 50! The little heaters in the hide struggled to keep up and I plugged draughts with toilet paper during the graveyard shifts.

The funding didn't come through so we're living on the breadline, but that's ok. It's a real shame I can't work but I'm taking advantage of the opportunity to slow down. I'm baking and knitting every day, learning how to spin yarn and riding out the joys and pitfalls of being a stay-at-home spouse. We'll probably wrap things up here in a few months and hit the road for a couple of months.

Other snippets of life here in Alaska:

• the Aurora has been really active lately and we can sit in our cabin in the warmth of the log fire and through enormous windows watch the dazzling display of green ribbons stretch and contract across the entire sky, feeding itself in some parts and withering away in others. Better than any fireworks display I've ever seen. Last night I watched it from bed.


• We're sick to god-damned death of SNOW. The roads are slippery (Ad had a prang the other night (at 50 below!), he's ok, everyone's ok, and we've skidded up to more than a few red lights, occasionally slipping all the way through them.
  
• The TV is awful, "Everybody loves Raymond" is on every channel at every minute of the day. WE don't love Raymond.


• The coins don't have denominations written on them, just "dime" or "nickel" and Ad's been here 6 months and still doesn't know which is which.


• There's no town centre, and the concept of a shopping mall hasn't taken off here: it's just a big sprawling mass of streets with each store having its own carpark. You drive to one store, get out into the cold, buy your groceries, go back into the cold, get in your car, wait for 10 minutes for the engine to warm up and dive to the next store, get out into the cold, etc. I figure it's just too expensive to heat a shopping mall.


• Driving is a big thing and it's so cold that the car exhaust doesn't dissipate, but hangs around in big stinky clouds.


• Coffee? I've all but given up. Last week I ordered a macchiato and out came a huge weak cappuccino. Just wrong!


• The scenery is spectacular and everything has frosting: pine trees covered in snow, letterboxes covered in snow, rooftops with a foot and a half of snow on them like the icing on a Christmas cake . Dog mushers dashing through the snow, chimneys, smoke.


• Probably most surprisingly, the people are great! Everyone I've met! They're so keen to tell you to have a nice day and stay warm that you'd think it was just a robotic response, but I really think it's sincere. Everyone is so keen to lend me things, I've been lent books, clothes, a wool spinner. It's a truly hospitable place.

Well, better go refill the bird feeder, need to put on a hundred million layers to go outside.

Stay cool and stay in touch. Lots of love Tan & Ad xx (19 Jan 2005)

Pics of our Boys