children

The last days of summer

The beaches here in our new neck of the woods have been such a wonderful blessing for our family. Neither Rick nor I grew up near the beach, so being able to drive seven or so minutes to see the ocean is a real treat. However, one of our favourite beaches so far is Clareville Beach, which is about twenty-five minutes drive from our home.

It’s a small, cosy beach with shallow water and no waves. The beach itself backs onto a row of houses, which adds to the intimate and friendly feel of the beach. Angus and Pete can run, jump, splash and play to their hearts delight without us me worrying about their safety, and on a Friday which is when we usually go, it’s almost completely deserted. Which makes it feel like we have this beautiful beach all to ourselves. It’s as close to idyllic as a day out can get. In fact, I have been so won over that I recently bought my first swimsuit in six years!

One of the very best things about spending time together at Clareville Beach is that Rick and I actually get to relax. Yes, you heard me parents. Relax. We don’t have to worry about them getting lost, making noise, being run over by a car, being snatched away by a random stranger, falling off some play equipment from up high, or spilling drinks and food onto the ground. It is awesome. Last time we went, I even got to lie down on our beach towel at our spot in the shade for a full ten minutes while Rick had all the boys down by the water, each doing their own thing. You guys, I actually got to stare up at the sky and switch off. How often does that happen? (Never.)

As you can see, we’ve come a long way from our first family holiday with Angus (bottom left) on the South Coast when he steadfastly refused to let his feet touch the sand. It brings me so much joy to see how much he loves the beach now. Pete, our little tornado man (top right), rushes straight into the water as if he were made for splashing. He doesn’t even care when his face goes under. Methinks that swimming lessons are in order.

Our days off are just so precious, because it’s the one day when the boys get Rick’s complete, undivided attention. It’s the one day that Rick is not distracted with the never-ending list of things he needs to do for church. I just love seeing them hang out, have fun and be ‘boys’ together. I’m very blessed to have the family that I do.

All in all, we’re simply soaking up these last days of summer before the chilly season sets in.

Are you doing the same?

(p.s. I did some guest blogging over on Kristin’s lovely blog Bonbon Mini a couple of days ago. About the boys, no less. Read it here if you have a spare moment! And while you’re there, check out Kristin’s store Miniluu which is filled with beautiful, natural goodies for your little one.)

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Cubby house now houses three

Remember this? Today we set up a new cubby house at our new place under our new dining table. The boys loved it. Despite how exhausted I was, I couldn’t stop laughing as I watched them playing together yet each still doing their own thing. Gosh I love them.

Anyway, today is Chinese New Year and I’m missing my parents who are currently in Hong Kong. Part of me wishes I were in Hong Kong with them, celebrating the new lunar year with all our relatives and, of course, amazing food. I probably could’ve initiated some sort of a celebration for us here, but without mum and dad here, it just seemed rather meaningless.

Sometimes it saddens me that I’m not passing on much, if any, of my Chinese heritage onto the boys. It’s so strange, and in a way startling, how different their childhood is compared to mine. I grew up in a Chinese household and family. They’re growing up in an Australia family, with only small hints of their Chinese roots popping up occasionally. Perhaps that’s just the way it’s going to be, and I need to learn to be okay with that. Or perhaps I could make more of an effort to ‘learn’ certain things from my parents, so that I can in turn pass it on to the boys. I have yet to work it out.

In the meantime, I wish you all a wonderful start to the lunar new year!

Bring it, dragon.

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While the oldest one’s away…

Angus has daycare on Fridays, and while I do miss him, I also cherish the time with just Pete and Jamie. It’s been so interesting watching Pete come into his own as an older brother. He runs into Jamie’s room to chat to him in his cot. He sits down next to Jamie in the living room to watch Play School with him. He brings Jamie toys. He doesn’t take Jamie’s toys away. And he picks up the food that Jamie drops from the high chair and hands it back to him. He is simply the sweetest.

Here’s us having lunch on a Friday. Yup, we’re a Vegemite family. Except for me. My theory is, if you’re not exposed to it by the time you’re six, it’s too late. But I’m glad the boys are Happy Little Vegemites as bright as bright can be. (Had to resist adding rosy cheeks to these photos.)

Happy Friday, everyone! May we all get some sleep…

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Before happy feet, there was raw egg

You know it cannot end well when your three year old wakes you up with the words, “There’s wet egg in our bedroom.”

Sure enough, upon arriving at the scene of the crime, Rick and I shockingly discovered that Angus had not only transported a carton of eggs from the kitchen but he’d also managed to crack every single one onto some sort of surface. There was egg on the carpet, on the skirting boards, on the wall, on Pete’s sheets, on Pete’s sleeping bag and… on Pete’s face.

I dare not even try to imagine what they were trying to do. (Who needs to eat a nice cooked meal for dinner when you can gorge yourself on raw egg in the morning?)

Start of the day? Not so good.

End of the day?

Sitting on the floor of our bedroom, admiring the bright red nail polish on my toes.

Life is indeed colourful – in every single way.

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Daddy, daddy, daddy!

It’s an hour after normal bedtime, and Rick is desperately trying to get through the bedtime routine with books, songs and prayers.

Angus, however, has other things on his mind:

“Daddy, daddy, daddy… You are wearing a black suit and a red flower. And mummy is wearing a white dress. And you are married. It was your wedding. And you are talking to someone. Pa and Nan took the picture off the coffee table and we looked at it. And then we put it back. And Ben (Rick’s best mate and best man) is behind you in the picture. And he has a black suit too, and a red flower too. Daddy, daddy, daddy… I’m really tired.”

And to think we were once worried he would never speak.

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“I am a good pusher mummy!”

It is night-time. I notice that the boys’ bedroom light is on. Again.

I am not pleased.

I go into their room, give Angus the sternest look I can muster and flick the light switch off.

Me: “Don’t turn the light on again, okay Angus? Do you understand?”

Angus: “I think so mummy.”

* * *

In the car. I’m trying to explain to Angus why he is not to push Pete again.

Me: “It is not loving to push other people. And Pete is your brother. So please don’t push him again, okay? Angus?”

Pause.

Angus: “I’m a good pusher, mummy!”

* * *

Several moments later…

Angus: “My favorite toy is a Land Rover.”

* * *

Outside. Somewhere.

Me: “Oh my goodness!”

Angus: “Oh my goodness!”

Me: “Oh. My. Goodness.”

* * *

Lunchtime. I am trying to convince Pete to stop pouring milk all over himself.

Me: “Listen to me Pete!”

Angus: “Listen to me too, Pete!”

Me: “Pete, listen to mummy!”

Angus: “Pete, listen to Angus!”

* * *

Me: “How did you take off Pete’s sleeping bag?”

Angus: “I undo the button, undo the zip and take it off!”

* * *

Morning. I am still in bed. My blindfolds are still on.

Angus runs in. I feel little hands trying to take my blindfolds off.

Angus: “Mummy, it’s time to wake up because it’s not night time anymore.”

* * *

Me: “Have you done a big poo?”

Angus: “I need to go to daddy.”

Me: “Yes you do. Go now.”

(Linking up with Mon’s joy packets!)

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Dreaming of the poolside

This week has been wrought with stress, anxiety and exhaustion. But we’ve made it, and I’m still here.

It’s a good thing I announced the end of my outfit snaps last week because almost every day this week I’ve been wearing the same clothes as I was wearing last week. Ew, I know, but that’s the way life goes.

Some precious moments from this week:

Jamie had his first proper tummy time. Yes, it only took me three and a half months to remember to give my baby tummy time.

Pete has added “go” to his vocabulary list. Traffic controller, it is.

Angus started using (practice) chopsticks and was able to pick up sultanas all by himself! That’s my half-Asian boy. Oh, and one evening he told me to “go away and cook some dinner for daddy.”

And tonight, when I mentioned over dinner that my feet were freezing, Rick took off his socks and put them on my feet! Now that’s true love.

Anyway, it’s been freezing in Sydney so what better way to beat the chills than by dreaming of a warm summer afternoon by the poolside.

(I know the shed looks like it’s tipping over in that last photo, but in reality, I was simply incapable of holding my iPhone straight. They really should tell you stuff like that: “In your final months of pregnancy, you will be not able to take straight photos. Deal with it.”)

Happy weekend everyone!

(Joining Monica today with her joy pockets.)

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Blue eyed baby

I’m not imagining things right – Jamie really does seem to have somewhat blue eyes. Or at the very least, they’re not brown.

Which is strange, because I always thought that if an asian marries a caucasian, any offspring would only have brown eyes.

But maybe I was wrong. Or maybe I just heard wrong in Science class (it wouldn’t be the first time).

Either way, I’m not complaining because I’d always thought it would be kind of cool to have a blue-eyed baby. Plus, whatever colour they are, I think Jamie’s eyes are just absolutely beautiful.

Anyway, the little guy turned three months yesterday and to mark the occasion, he finally pulled a two-hour daytime nap for mummy. Boy was I impressed. If only I’d known in advance, I would’ve tried to lie down for a nap myself!

It’s strange to think that he’s only been ‘on the outside’ for some twelve weeks, because honestly, I almost can’t remember what life was like before him. I feel like I’ve always known his face, and that he’s always been around. I remember feeling the same way about Angus and Pete.

Motherhood is a funny and beautiful thing. It makes you want to cry, and it makes you want to laugh. It makes you want to explode sometimes, and other times it makes you want to sing and dance.

Mostly, it’s taught me how precious life is and how blessed we are to have been given our little boys. All four of them.

To my blue eyed baby: Happy three months little man! I love you more than you know.

(And thanks for not peeing on me anymore like you used to…)

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One fine day…and then some

Wednesday was a beautiful Autumn day, and luckily it was also our day off. We made the most of it by taking the boys to a park in Wahroongah, and it was equipped with the most perfect playground for little ones under three (not sure why it took us so long to discover it considering we’ve been in the area for a year and a half now). It was so nice to be able to let both Angus and Pete run free without having to worry about either of them hurting themselves (straight from the helicopter mum’s mouth here) – plus the gorgeous weather made it even more delightful. Angus entertained himself by going up and down the slide endless times, while Pete wandered around slightly aimlessly but full of the most beguiling curiosity at almost everything around him. I took so many photos following Pete around that my iPhone’s battery died within the hour.

Unfortunately for Pete, he had a slight incident in the car on the way home. A slight vomiting incident, shall we say. Angus was pretty freaked out to say the least. “No Pete, no Pete, no Pete!” were his exact words, as if his poor younger brother could somehow stop spewing if he insisted on it loudly enough. In retrospect, the situation was almost laughable: Pete was in tears having almost regurgitated half a litre of half-digested milk; Angus was in tears because some of the milk had spilled over onto his car seat and he wanted me to clean it up immediately (“Mummy wipe up my car seat!” – he is so my son); Rick was rather oblivious to the extent of the damage since he couldn’t turn around (hence he and sleeping James were the least bothered of us all) and I was doing my best not to wretch and vomit myself.

In the evening when the boys were finally in bed and asleep and the car was all cleaned up, Rick and I somehow managed to spend a lovely night together eating pizza and watching The King’s Speech whilst sipping Coke Zero. Very classy and sophisticated, if you ask me. Especially when you top it all off with two ice cold Magnums.

Incidentally, I thought The King’s Speech was a superb movie – the acting was brilliant and the composition of every single shot was just absolutely beautiful. I enjoyed it so much that I dreamt that I was royalty that very night – Kate and William were my mates and asking me for advice about their wedding (they must’ve heard in the grapevine that I’d always harboured a secret desire to be a wedding planner). But alas, my dream was cut short by another Pete incident, that poor little guy. But I won’t bore you with the gory details of that now as my coffee is running low and I’m fast running out of coherent sentences.

Adieu, my friends, adieu.

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The good, the bad and the babycino that saves the day

Today we embarked upon Phase 1 of our Christmas shopping. And we did it with the boys.

It was a little bit like a B grade Hollywood movie: you know how it is – it begins well, then everything goes ridiculously badly, but then somehow miraculously everyone survives and the world is a cliched, happy place once more.

Part 1: The Good

Happy, smiling kiddies:

Pete

Part 2: The Bad

I have no audio or visual for this part.

But you know that feeling when you’re standing innocently in line at Bed Bath & Table waiting to pay for your first ever Christmas tree ornaments, and you suddenly hear a loud, piercing scream emanating from the other end of the shopping centre and as much as you’re hoping (and pretending) that it isn’t your two year old producing that toe-curling howl, you know deep down that it probably is…. you know that feeling?

Yup, that’s the feeling I had surging through me today as I listened to certain high-pitched screaming at the shops. As the screams got louder and angrier, I became increasingly convinced that my Angus was responsible for the noise.

Sure enough, a quick glance out the shop window revealed the unmistakable outline of Rick approaching with Angus slung over his left shoulder. The next thing I knew, a booming voice called out, “We’re going to the car!”

And with that, my husband and my two boys disappeared from sight leaving me to smile politely at the other shoppers whilst sending telegraphic messages to the woman behind the counter to “PRETTY PLEASE HURRY UP.”

Part 3: The Babycino That Saves The Day

With my silver ornaments finally ‘in the bag,’ I trotted off to our Land Rover to find Angus with tears, snot and dribble pouring off his face whilst Rick was looking just a tad tense (to say the least). I decided to put on my responsible mummy hat (which I do do from time to time) and help make peace by offering to take Angus to the cafe for a babycino. Both Angus and Rick happily obliged.

As I took Angus out of the car, I asked him if Pete and daddy could come too.

He paused and said, “Pete.”

I asked, “What about daddy?”

He paused and said, “No.”

What do you know – two-year olds aren’t dumb. Nor are they forgiving.

But after a good drinking of The Loft Cafe’s babycino…

Babycino

…there were no more tears, no more snot, no more dribble and no more screaming. Just a little boy with a little milk moustache, happy to return to the “big car” to be reunited with his daddy once more (aaawwww…).

Epilogue

Sadly, we still have no Christmas tree, no fairy lights and no Christmas cookies.

Just four dozen Christmas ornaments waiting to be hung (they do look pretty though).

Christmas ornaments

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