Riley first waving

Riley started waving a few days ago. Here's a sample. Enjoy!

Beach re-cap #2

Now for Riley's turn. This is my uncle with Riley. He'd take my son off to sit in the rockpools while the tide was low, giving me a much required rest; for which I will be eternally grateful. I think Riley is a much more tactile soul than Keira, and so part of his pleasure from the beach was all the different 'touches' he could experience, like rock, sand and of course water. I think I've said before how he could've sat there for hours.

Beach re-cap #1

Well, as I reneged on writing the actual account of our trip to the beach, here are some sneak peeks back onto our great week there. I will say now that I did not take these pictures. They were taken by my cousin-in-law (is there such a thing?) who was also staying. He is a great photographer and gave me permission to use what I wanted here. Thanks Chris, buddy. Here is a cropped picture that, well, I just like. But there's also a story behind it. This day was really quite cold, and yet Keira wanted to go swimming, but we forgot her suit. So Adam drove back to get it while I waited on the beach with the kids. While I was chasing Riley, I turned around to see Keira had stripped nude within seconds. OK, fine, I could live with that. I turned around to chase Riley who'd taken off again in those seconds I was looking at Keira. When I turn around again, I saw Keira...eh...how do I say this...squatting in between rocks...eh...defecating. Oh gross! What's more, there were people sitting all around us! What were they thinking of me?! I was absolutely mortified. I cleaned up the mess and waited forlornly for Adam's return. And as you can see, he forgot her pants, but no matter - she'd already gone to the toilet....

When your post title idea runs off

I was up every 1.5 hours with Riley last night. At one of these times, I thought of a great title for my next post here; but as what usually happens when I get a writing idea in the wee hours of the morning, I can't remember it when the time comes to put it down. Our bag eventually turned up yesterday. I was anticipating a showdown between Adam vs Courier Man (probably a lacklustre wrestling kind of line-up! But no matter...) but by then Adam was just happy they were here and let it all drop. We also, stupidly, decided to go to the shops. CRAZY times. The plus side was we saw many beleaguered, tired, post-partied-out people who looked a lot like us. Planet of the Zombies!

When the air transit system leaves a lot to be desired

I forgot to mention yesterday that Adam's bag was lost en route from Sydney to Melbourne. This hasn't happened to us before but I now see why people get so frustrated. After waiting in line for ages at the airport, tired and with a wriggly baby, our details were blearily taken and we were told it should be back with us by last night. We even got a call confirming that it would be with us sometime between 8pm-10pm. A bit late, but OK. Adam stays up. We tape a "Do not ring doorbell - sleeping baby" sign over our doorbell because Riley was the baby from hell and was sleeping against his wishes. I went to bed early and went out at 11.30pm to find Adam awake - albeit playing games. But no bags. Needless to say, we were peeved. I was on the customer service line this morning as soon as they opened. After waiting 20 min I gave up waiting; the "your call has progressed in the queue" spiel was making me see red. I was annoyed because a) they didn't show and b) we didn't get the courtesy of a call saying they wouldn't be coming. Eventually, THEY called US, and the courier had apparently told them he had come and no one was home. The killer was he said "he rang our doorbell". Right.......... Adam had 'words' apparently, but the upshot is we're still waiting for our bags. I hope it's the same courier, because I'm going to show him the sign again and say "recognise this?!" Lucky for us we didn't have any essential medication or documents in there. The most important thing, apart from our camera, was our toothbrushes. We're walking around today with fuzzy teeth and it's not nice!

Home again!

Well, here we are. We've walked through the door and already I've been met with the problems that I was more than happy to forget about for a little while. Like, just how to solve our toy storage situation when we've come home armed with tonnes more (enough for my little sister to have to drag a suitcase worth next weekend). But it was nice to see Keira run around and reaquaint herself with her toys. Even Riley, once I put him on the floor, made a beeline for his favourite toy - a drum, and proceeded to bang on that happily for a while. Now though, he's screaming in his now unfamiliar cot and I'm going to have to figure out a strategy to deal with his deplorable sleeping habits - formed out of necessity from the travelling, admittedly, but those I doubt I can cope with now I'm home and without extra pairs of hands. I'll post more over the next few days about our holiday, which seems in the dim past even though it hasn't technically finished yet! Miss me, anyone?!

You know when you're on holidays when...

This morning, Adam and I were walking around for about an hour asking ourselves "Is it Wednesday or Thursday?" and were both surprised and disappointed to find out it was in fact Thursday. I feel like I've lost a day or so thanks to Riley's antics. Now he seems to be better and happier, it's almost time to turn around and go back to my parent's. It's almost incomprehensible to me that this time in a week we're going to be home again. I think I'm begining to understand the term 'holiday blues'!!

Sunny Skies Again

Well, the rain has gone (I think). I am pretty sure it has because all of us, to varying degrees, have a bit of sunburn. Keira has taken to the water with gusto; having already fit in three beach visits and a pool swim today before her nap. I am having less of a relaxing time as yet, as Riley again has decided sleeping is not on his 'to do' list, so is only having one sleep a day and barely an hour at that. Throw in bad nights, and you have one grumpy mumma. I do feel slightly better though when, during my 7am pram walks with Riley to keep the house quiet, I see other bedraggled looking dads/parents out at similar hours walking their equally lively and bored babies--possibly to give their partners a bit of a lie in. We're all a comradely bunch. I'm now on a waving and 'hey, hows it going?' status with several people already. Better sign off now. I'm about out of computer credit.

Beachy Greetings

Well, we're here. And it's raining. Typical. Actually, it's been ok. We went down to the beach this morning and already I can pick out the differences between the children when it comes to the beach. At 9 months of age, Keira hated the sea, sand and anything related. Riley, on the other hand, is quite happy to feel the sand between his toes and isn't adverse to shoving great gobfuls into his mouth. And swallowing. Yuk! He doesn't feel like he's done wrong either, because he went back for seconds!

Gratuitous Photo Time

One thing I envy of most of the A-list blogs is that their owners usually have phenonemol photographic skills, and link to their flickr accounts (or something similar) with obvious pride. I, however, do not. I am a bad photographer, but occasionally I come up 'with the goods'. This waterlilly, taken at my grandparents farm, down at a waterhole, is one example. I like it. Here's our first family shot for a few months too. Merry Christmas!

Almost beach time

Having exhausted all we can do in Kempsey (which means we've visited the local Woolworths only about 100 times...I'm not joking) we've decided to head out to the beach tomorrow, a few days early. So, I'm not sure how often I'll get on a computer out there. I will be taking some photos with my brand new digital camera that Adam gave me this morning for an early anniversary present. It's very nice. So I hope to post those at some point as well. That's about it. I am very tired. Riley has come down with a cold, and that coupled with his ever going teething has meant he has been very grumpy and sleeping terribly. I am not looking forward to putting him in the travel cot. Sorry this is such a boring post. I can't even extract anything funny out of what's been going on lately. Maybe that's because nothing's happening....

Negotiating territory in a foreign bed

I used to love soft beds, and the double bed I bought while I still remained at home is one of these, upon which I've been sleeping for the past week or so. However, now, I prefer a mattress with a bit more support so it's taken me this long just to find sleeping positions that I can cope with and don't leave my back sore. Then Adam arrived yesterday and mucked up my whole system. He doesn't like my bed for the same reason he doesn't like 90% of all others - it's too small. He's always had problems folding his 6ft 5 inch frame into shapes that are amenable for sleeping. So, last night, as we hop into bed, there are butt scuttlings - of each other- back onto our respective sides of the bed. Both of us complaining at the same time that the space we have been handed is just NOT ENOUGH! Plus, you've got a soft mattress that rocks almost like a waterbed and I'm struggling just to locate some ballast. And then we've got the sheet/blanket factor. I have to be covered by something when I sleep; Adam is happy to go without. Then when I pull up a sheet/blanket, which may happen to brush over his calves or ankles, I get in trouble: "Stop covering me up!!" Ah, fun, fun fun. But we'll get there. We've had almost ten years practice. Or, one of us can go sleep in the spare bed in Riley's room, but neither of us want that! So the turf wars may go on....

When doing a Good Thing can be hard

My parents, to their credit, have been lifelong blood givers. It's been something I've been meaning to do for a long time. So when mum got a reminder letter on Friday for some open session times next week, I rang up to volunteer. The lady on the phone was delighted. It was looking promising until she read off a criteria I had to pass to see if I was eiligble. "Have you had a baby in the past nine months?" "Well, yes, I have - although it barely counts because he's nine months on Sunday" (Happy nine month birthday, Riley!) "Ok, I can let that pass. You see, if you have a small baby we don't tend to accept women, because their bodies are still generally recovering and we do what's best for her, and the baby. Are you breastfeeding?" "Yes" "Ah - - well, unfotunately we don't let mothers give blood, pretty much for the same reason as above. Come back when you've weaned" D'oh. Some lucky person has missed out on my A+ blood.

How my mother and I are different

My mother is a hoarder. Not the obsessive-compulsive kind, where it looks like her house and yard are having a permanent garage sale, but probably somewhere middle on the scale. I, on the other hand, am rather Buddhist-like when it comes to possessions (except books!) Anyway, last night mum and dad went out to tea, leaving me alone with the kids (I am looking forward to Adam arriving tomorrow!). Over the course of the evening, an intermittent electronic beeping was steadily driving me insane. I thought it was something to do with the house's alarm system, but when I went hunting for the source, I found it was coming from mum's work handbag. I pulled out this snazzy sports watch, which alarm was causing all the noise. Try and I did, nothing really worked to get it to turn off. At one point, I got it to stop and I went back to bed (yes, this was happening when I was trying to sleep). Rage was beginning to burn behind my eyes. As soon as I heard their car pull into the driveway I ran out (in only bra and undies - my dad got rather a fright) with the watch in my hand, surely looking mentally unstable. "THIS WATCH! It won't stop beeping!" "Oh that," mum says, unfazed. "I think its broken." "Well get rid of it!" "Why, it still works?" "Fix it then?" "I don't know how dear." Aaaahhhhhhh! She sees my face. "OK, we'll leave it in the garage overnight then." Fine. Fine, for a temporary solution anyway. If it'd been my watch, it'd've been backed over by the car several hours ago, compressed into oblivion. But that's my mum for you....

When I don't have much to say

I'm really on holiday mode now. My mind is pretty much mush. I can't help but think it's ironic that the weather here is comparitively mild, whereas in my home state, its blistering hot. (Note I said home state! Does that mean I'm becoming "mexican", as most New South Welshmen call any Victorian) I believe Adam's father has been fighting fires near Coonabarabran, so I hope he, and every other firefighter, keeps safe. I could mention the books I borrowed from the library the other day, but am about to return, all except the James Ellroy (strange writer, but I'm giving him a go) and a Gene Wolfe (very wordy, which doesn't usually faze me, but read: mushy brain) I'm also quite depressed as I heard news today about a friend's health issue (I'd better not go into further detail, sorry) and I'm just going to hug the kids a bit harder today - until Riley bites me, that is!

Was that me?! Really?!

"I have a clear memory of miscmum's tears when she turned 20, upon her realisation that she was halfway to 40. Remember that? What is your opinion on that particular frame of mind now, miscmum? Do you still wish you were 20 or are you happy with the experiences you have accumulated since then?" That was a comment on my revious post from my reflective and long memory-blessed sister. Do I wish I was 20 again? Honestly, sometimes yes. Then I could drink a bottle of champagne on my own and suffer no hangover. Now I can't drink a glass without my liver trying to process the alcohol with the highest level of discomfort and anger. I was about to embark on a Masters degree, so I was souped-up on academic jargon and thought I was so smart. Now, I have to think hard to string a coherent, yet amusing, sentence together. I was also determined to be a "serious" published author by the time I was 25, just like Zadie Smith, or Bret Easton Ellis, or any other number of talented individuals. Needless to say, that hasn't passed. But I think I'm a happier person now, than then. I'm more settled in my skin. So if that's the tradeoff you get for getting older, then I think I'll be ok.

The day has come

It's..... It's..... My Birthday. I've slid another year down the muddy slope closer to Thirty. The big 3-0. I don't think I'll start the therapy for that one until a bit later. As long as I've still got a 2-something, I can cope. (I must have a hang up about getting older.) I've gotten flowers (thank you husband). I've won $26 on scratchie lottery tickets. I've got a brand new Robbie Williams DVD. So, I'm content. But, as usual, I've got the birthday blues. Don't know why. Can't stay. Gotta chase a baby around the house.

When going to church can actually be entertaining

Yesterday, as we were all up, the kids and I accompanied mum to mass. As Keira has not been in a very long time, I was interested to see what she’d make of the experience. Like any other kid, after about 5 minutes she got wriggly and was more than relieved when it was over. What I found hilarious was the running commentary: “Mum, where’s Nan going?” (My mother was on every ‘job’ going, like doing readings and offertory. If you don’t know what that means….well, in sum they’re some of the many rituals that make up a Catholic Mass.) “Mum, look, pottys!” (I don’t think the priest would be amused to hear his confessional rooms as likened to a row of public toilets.) This was the clincher: “Mum, look, a PRINCESS!” “No, Keira, it’s a statue of Mary.” Pause. “MARY POPPINS?!?” “No…” Oh, God, how to explain? “Just Mary Mum.” There were people sniggering to themselves all around us. To give Keira some dues, anyone to her in long, flowing robes could very well be a Princess – one of those ones I’ve talked about before – and so she just came to a quick conclusion. Of course, by that reasoning, Luke Skywalker, Darth Vader, the Dalai Lama, and the Pope could all be ‘princesses’. Let’s hope not. Ok, to the events of the past few days, and this is a mini ‘Things I don’t understand Friday’ (albeit late) 1) Why does your baby decide to fall asleep in the plane the very second it touches down in its destination? 2) Why, when I’d been packing all week, did I not pack enough pants for Riley or t-shirts for Keira? I’m sure I put more in. Where did they go? So, we’re been washing every few days… …oh, which reminds me, I’ve got to hang some out on the line!

Back in the game, baby!

Please excuse my exuberance, but I have just single-handedly managed to get my parent's broadband back up and working. Boo-yeah! *gratuitous pelvic thrust time* You would understand my position if you could see the set up here in my parent's study: it's an intestinal tract of cables, of the likes I haven't seen since Adam's famous LAN parties at university. So, anyway, we're home. And it's been nice, although for the first few days, with ratty kids and hot weather I was beginning to wish I hadn't gone away at all. But it's settled down now and I can relax a bit. But not now, as I've got a girl with a dirty nappy and a boy being waved in front of my face by a grandad who doesn't know what to do with him anymore. Back later!

Misc Mum leaves civilisation

Hi all. It’s Adam here. I’m writing this post on behalf of Misc Mum who is unable to find any internet access. She is currently holidaying with her parents up in the sunny (and very warm) town of Kempsey. Telstra decided that this week would be good time to upgrade her parents Internet plan (for free), and of course they haven’t had Internet access since. Misc Mum would like to apologise for missing the last few day’s Blogs and hopes you will forgive her. She is trying to contact Telstra Bigpond’s Internet support, but has been unable to get through (probably due to several hundred other people having the same issue). Hopefully we will have her back online in the next few days. I will also try to get some holiday pics off her to post.