Post Easter Post.

Easter has been and gone for another year. Good Friday Eve I found myself at the Coles chocolate aisle just as school broke up for the holidays. There were children (and adults) everywhere getting their last minute chocolate flavoured eggs and bunnies.

Last year we had a not-so quiet Easter at home with a colicky baby. The year before we were on our way home from our New Zealand honeymoon. The year before that we went back to my home town and this year did that again.

Easter always holds a special significance for me as I used to go on an Easter Camp, and when I was 15 I took the true meaning of easter into my heart and became a Christian. Now, over ten years later, I married a Christian man, and we have a son - so this year, funnily enough being Luke's second easter, but one which I wanted to reflect on so much more than last year, I had to ask myself, what will Easter mean for us?

I love chocolate, don't get me wrong. In fact, I love it a bit too much. Although Hendrik & I didn't really want to buy any for a number of reasons. We came home with an abundance of assorted shaped chocolates filled in what was once a carton of beer. The problem with this is that it is three peoples worth of easter eggs, and that being Luke not really eating chocolate because of only being one, and also because he doesn't really like it. His father wouldn't be a chocoholic, yet me, I could eat it all day every day, which is a problem. For this reason, I like to not have chocolate in the house because I stumble on the temptation which jeopardises my getting fit and healthy thing I'm trying to get going.

There was only one option for church in my home town on Easter Sunday, and that was a dawn service at 6:30am. I thought that it probably wouldn't suit with Luke so I didn't push it. Yet 5:30am Luke was ready for the day. We went to church.

After Church, I sat Hendrik and Luke on the bed and handed them each a smaller-than-the-larger-size Cadbury hollow easter egg. Luke held it in his hand, smiled and made excited noises. I explained to them that I wasn't going to buy them an easter egg, but I wanted to as a symbolic thing, the symbolism being the empty tomb on Easter Sunday after Jesus rose from the dead. I remember my Gran telling me this many years ago. Luke proceeded to chew the foil off the egg, which followed by Hendrik holding him upside down as I stuck my fingers in his mouth to get any loose bits that hadn't been swallowed.

I believe that kids are very kinaesthetic and visual. I think that by making this connection each year is something that he will remember. I don't believe that I am brain washing my child, but I do believe that it is my duty as a Christian parent to at least give my son the opportunity to learn about his parents faith, that I hope and pray he will also follow when he gets old enough to make these choices. There is a deeper meaning to Easter, and I think that it's okay for kids to know it - even if they don't want to believe in it.

Meanwhile, I'll leave the spoiling of the big chocolate bunnies to the grandparents!

This time of year

Here it is, Luke's birthday eve and I'm trying to keep it together. I'm loving and dreading this all at once.

Last night I had a dream that he could run. This morning when I was out shopping I saw a little boy walking with his mum: he didn't look much older than Luke. He waddled along beside his mother, grasping her hand. I need to remind myself that there are so many other things yet to come that I can enjoy with Luke. This blog post by Lisa Jo Baker really hit the nail on the head for me.

Earlier last year I wrote a five part story about my labour and birth experience. Labour was long - two days. I know I have had a lot of new readers since then, so while we're reflecting on this time of year, I'll post it into one, big, long post for the sake of easier linking in the future. Enjoy.

Chapter one ~ The High Tea

It had been a long and difficult pregnancy, although it did only seem like yesterday when I saw those two lines staring at me, and rushing to my friends house to ask for advice in the middle of the night.

I was certain that I was going to ‘go’ early. At 37 weeks I waited and waited. I knew something was going to happen. But barely a braxon hicks contraction. Nothing. I really wanted to go early and have a special leap year baby born on the 29^th of February.

The three weeks before my due date I spent viciously cleaning the house. I was restlessly nesting. But nothing was happening. My due date came and went, and I was still pregnant. I wasn’t looking forward to the birth, but I was so sick of being pregnant. I had been sick for the whole thing. I didn’t see much magic in pregnancy. I wasn’t excited or had any of these feelings that other people seemed to have for me.

Then it happened.

I was on the couch doing my usual pregnant thing. Being lazy, checking Facebook, pinning things on Pinterest. Something on facebook popped up about spare tickets to a High Tea run by Light FM. I was hesitant at first, given that I was already 40 weeks pregnant and more than likely it would be in a different area of Melbourne. But then I asked if I could come along. Why not. It was aimed at mothers, and I was about to become one. Instantly, Lucy, the presenter of their morning show emailed me the details for the high tea the next morning. As I thought, it was on the other side of Melbourne, but I didn’t care as I was going a little crazy being at home all the time.

I was 40 weeks and 3 days when the High Tea was on. I walked in and felt a little awkward at first, but then people started talking to me, and casually asking, “so when are you due”, to which I would reply, “last Friday”. People gave me a look of, ‘are you crazy’, but were generally very nice about it. Lucy so desperately wanted me to go into labour there and then: it would make a great on-air story she said.

I had no feeling of anything happening any time soon. Although, I was a first-timer, I didn’t know what to expect. Was labour so spontaneous that it just comes on while you’re casually eating cake?

The High Tea was great. Sharon from the circle spoke about being isolated, as did GI Jane. I was really glad they spoke about this because it was something I knew I may struggle with, given that I live a fair distance from everybody these days. I got a manicure, and ate these fantastic strawberries.

I didn’t want it to end, because I really liked having people around to talk to. On my way out the crew handed me a showbag and told me their tips to bring on labour: eat spicy food and go for a brisk walk.

I was beginning to get a little desperate. I was already past my due date and I hear it is horrible to be induced. When I got home I began ferociously cleaning a bookcase. Then I went on a fast walk to the mailbox. I almost died walking to the mailbox. It’s outside a milkbar and I had totally lost my breath. I think I worried a few teenagers sitting outside with their cool energy drinks. The problem is, I didn’t look pregnant, I just looked fat. So it looked like a scene from The Biggest Loser.

That evening my husband Hendrik came home. We decided not to cook dinner, but to eat the spicy chips that I got in the showbag. They were nice, but wow were they spicy. I thought I may regret it later as I had suffered pretty bad heartburn the whole pregnancy.

I watched some TV to give the chips a chance to reach my stomach and then went to bed. I slept really well, until about 1am…

That’s when ‘it’ started.

Chapter two: the beginning...

It was 1am onWednesday, the 21^st of March 2012 when I felt a twinge. I got up togo to the loo and told my husband I thought I could be in labour. I keptgetting these strange feelings in my stomach, like a pain. They would come andgo at different times. Actually, it wasn’t that bad. If this is what labourwas, it was going to be easy. How wrong I was!

Hendrik insisted Icalled the Midwife. I got on the phone and the midwife told me not to worry.She said that it sounded like I still had a fair way to go. She explained thatcontractions generally get worse with time, and that they would gradually worktheir way into my back. She also told me that they would be more regular andcloser together.

By 5am I thought theyhad gotten worse and closer so I rang the midwife again. Because I had rang asecond time, and I sounded like I had absolutely no idea what I was talkingabout, she asked me to come in at 9am for an assessment.

We got up, hadshowers, ate breakfast and were down at the hospital by nine. I was in mypyjamas still. We had put the bag in the car for my hospital stay.

A nice midwife calledJess came and took me to a consultation room. Hendrik happily told her that Ihad a sister called Jess also. She hooked me up to a machine to monitor thebaby’s heartbeat and my contractions. She made me press a button whenever I hada contraction.

After two hours hookedup to this machine, Jess feeling my stomach, she then said that she wanted todo an internal. An in-WHAT? I explained that I was totally not okay with this,but really, it had to be done. I think I may have cried.

I was already 3cm ofthe way to a baby! I was excited, because this meant I was in pain for a goodreason.

Then Jess said, “okay,you can go home now”. Go home? Am I not having a baby today? She then explainedI needed to go home, because if I stayed there they may start inducing me orsomething. So home we went.

I woke up severaltimes throughout the night when the contractions seemed to be getting into myback. I called the midwifes a few times and they told me several things, that Ishould have a warm shower. So I had a 2 hour shower (or so it seemed). Istarted using a TENS machine, which is like electric pulses that go down yourback to confuse the pain. At first it worked, but in the end it just felt likeit was burning a hole in my back.

That night I calledthe midwife again and she told me to use a warm pack on my back and have apanadol. I had bought a warm pack for labour off eBay – one of those liquidones that ‘frost up’ when you press the little button inside and they heat up.I should have tested it a few weeks before, because it didn’t work!

The pain got so badthat I began to scream every time I got a contraction. Hendrik ‘breathed’ withme, but eventually I felt like I couldn’t do all that stupid breathing theytalk about. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even pee. Something felt so wrong.

By Friday morning (sotwo days later), Hendrik told me to stop calling the midwives and being bubbly.He told me to seriously call them and tell them that I am in so much pain. Idid. A contraction came on while I was on the phone and so they then insisted Icome in.

It was raining veryheavily. Hendrik dropped me at the entrance of the hospital and I went in.Suddenly everything became overwhelming and I began to cry. I sat on a littlechair and cried while Hendrik parked the car in the ridiculously expensivecarpark. A pregnant lady came and asked if I was okay (remembering that Ididn’t even look pregnant. Just fat). I explained the events of the last 48hours as this stranger comforted me. She said that she would be doing the samething in the next few weeks.

Hendrik arrived and wewent upstairs where midwife Jess met us and took us straight into theconsultation room. She did another one of those horrible examinations, and saidthat I was now 6-7cm. 

She immediately gave me a room, Hendrik got my bags, andI settled in.

I had wanted a waterbirth from the beginning. Every time I had called the midwife I reminded themof this. Jess came in and sadly broke the news to me that I couldn’t have awater birth as there was nobody on that day who was trained to do one. My heartshattered. It was going to be my way to get through labour. I didn’t know how Iwas going to now.

Not long after that,the head-midwife came in and asked a favour. There was a student doctor whoneeded to witness a birth. I said sure, thinking the more the merrier. How Iregretted it when he walked in, was actually rather good looking and muchyounger than I was. I didn’t want that nice young man staring where the sun doesn’t shine!

Chapter three: high

So suddenly there was a good looking student doctor introducing himself to me, and a contraction comes on and I’m trying to be polite. The midwives offered me sterile water injections as I was in so much pain and it was mostly in my back. The catch was I had to be incredibly still as a contraction came on for them to put it in. Didn’t think I’d be able to. So I declined.

Then one of the midwives suggested I tried the gas. I hesitated but agreed. This is where the real fun began.

As instructed I inhaled the gas as a contraction came on. I thought it may taste foul, but it didn’t taste like anything. But boy, did it have an affect! I started saying “wow! That is great!” I turned to Hendrik asking if he wanted some. I then recall laughing hysterically. I was definitely on a high. Did it do anything for the pain? Probably not. But it was great!

Despite not being allowed to have a waterbirth, I could get in the bath for pain relief, which was bliss. We all wandered down to the bath room (I stumbled down there). We took the gas too. In I got into the bath, fully naked. It was nice. Except for the fully naked part. I had actually packed Hendrik’s bathers as well so that he could get in too. Didn’t happen. Hendrik ended up going downstairs to get some sushi. He asked if I wanted any. Of course bloody not!

While Hendrik was gone, I was laying there naked in the bath feeling rather awkward. I started talking to the young doctor… “So…. Which uni do you go to? Oh… Monash! Right, I wanted to go there.. I went to La Trobe..” You know, small talk. As much as I could to distract myself from being big fat and naked in a bath with people watching.

My contractions were getting stronger and that urge to pee was not going away. I couldn’t though no matter how I tried. I sucked and sucked on the gas like crazy. Jess checked the baby’s heartbeat. It was over 165. They told me they would check again in 5 minutes and if it was still at that rate I had to get out.

Hendrik came back and said that my Mum had been trying to call. I really didn’t want to worry her, but obviously when she had tried the home phone, my phone and Hendrik’s phone for a number of hours and couldn’t get through she was getting suspicious… and worried. I actually planned not to tell anyone, including my parents until after I had given birth. Hendrik asked if he could call her, and I agreed. She needed to know that I was okay. He went outside and made the phone call.

Meanwhile, Jess checked the heart rate of the baby and it hadn’t gone down. I had to get out of the bath, which was a real shame because I was really enjoying the warm water. Hendrik came back in and said that he had spoken to my Mum, and that she was very happy.

Suddenly when I got out of the bath, got my clothes back on (no bra, no undies. Who cares), I began to cry as I made my way back to the birthing suite. Jess asked what was wrong, and I couldn’t really pin point it. Then she said, “okay, that’s enough gas I think.” Apparently it can make you teary if you have too much, and I’d obviously been having too much of a good time.

The good-looking doctor had gone to lunch. I was alone with the midwives and Hendrik. The contractions were becoming unbearable. I tried the gas again but it had lost its affect. I was sucking so hard and then just screaming because it hurt so much! Then between the contractions something remarkable happened. I was on the biggest high I have ever been in my life. One midwife came over to me and checked my pulse. I looked at her eyes. They were this beautiful, greeny-bluish colour, just like mine. I then told her, “you have such beautiful eyes”. Jess came over a bit later and I noticed her eyes were the same colour. “You have beautiful eyes too!”

The contractions grew stronger and the midwives had to put a catheter in to drain my bladder as I felt so like I needed to pee and couldn’t. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as I feared it would, and it definitely took away that horrible, uncomfortable sensation.

Jess then said she was leaving and I was mortified. But she left me in the hands of another midwife that told me I had to stop screaming. Her name was Kelsey. Kelsey told me that the pushing part is easier, because you can actually focus on putting the pain somewhere. Pfft. Yeah right?

Then a mega beast of a contraction came. I screamed like I was about to die. I was now in so much pain. I asked for what I never thought I would, and that’s an epidural. The midwife almost laughed. It was way too late for that. I started saying some really stupid things like, “there’s got to be another way!” and “I don’t want a baby!” I think the midwives are used to this.

Then suddenly, there was a very weird sensation. I felt something leaking. And then I gave the biggest scream I have ever screamed in my entire life…

Chapter four: PUSH!

Suddenly I was screaming louder than before. I didn’t know that it could even be possible. Kelsey took a look and said that I had ruptured my membranes. That’s fancy midwife talk for waters breaking. I was beginning to panic. I had heard stories about the water being different colours meaning the baby was distressed. I asked that they were normal, they were.

I had the sudden urge to push. I began to scream. “I need to push, I wanna push!”

I could see the feet of the good looking doctor behind the curtain. I was feeling so miserable I almost told him to bugger off, but then thought I may eventually appreciate the extra company and set of hands (as long as they stayed away from ‘that’ area) later on.

Kelsey told me I needed to calm down, and that I couldn’t push until they checked me out first. I had some more gas and the head midwife, I think she is the boss, came in and told me to calm down. By then I had had some more gas and I looked into her eyes. They weren’t that lovely green colour like Kelsey and Jess’, but they were brown. Nonetheless I told her she had beautiful eyes also. Then Kelsey broke it to me that I couldn’t have gas when I was pushing. I was devastated.

They had to do another one of those invasive internals to make sure I was 10cm before I could start pushing. And this time I had to have two, to make sure. By this stage it didn’t hurt anymore. Thank goodness I was 10cm.

Kelsey asked what I was having. I didn’t tell many people what I was having when I was pregnant so I hesitated, but I told her that I was having a boy. She asked if I had a name picked out and I told her that I had, and it was a secret!

They raised the bed so that I could hang over the back of it. They said it would be easier to push this way and that gravity would help me through it. It was so hot and they made me take off all of my clothes. By this stage I figured everyone had seen everything so why not. I was still boiling. I asked if they could turn the heater off, but they said they had to keep the room really warm for when the baby came out.

I looked at the clock. It was about 5pm. I had no idea how long it would take to push the baby out. I actually doubted somewhat that I could, as I thought that because my Mum had me via C-section, it must automatically make me the same. The midwives didn’t understand that when I told them. This is the part when I started to push.

With every contraction I pushed like I was doing a poo. The midwives were cheering me on, saying, “put it into your bum! Yeah, that’s it!” Then they got a torch out and shone it where the sun doesn’t shine. “Wow, he has black hair like his daddy!” they said. The student doctor had to hold this thing to check the baby’s heartbeat against my stomach. It was so tight and uncomfortable but it had to stay there.

I think I may had done a poo. It felt like I was not getting anywhere, but the midwives assured me that the baby was definitely moving down. Throughout the course of the pushing, I thought about really random things, such as the tulips in Holland. Then I thought, maybe it’s not a boy. Maybe the sonographer got it wrong! She was a student, and it could have just been an umbilical cord in the way. I needed to get this baby out, because I needed to know.

Once I got near to the end of pushing, they made me change position – to my side, lying down. Hendrik was given the job of holding one leg up in the air. I asked him to put it on his shoulder so that it didn’t feel like it was going to fall. As I continued to push, Hendrik held my leg while the student doctor wiped my face and gave me sips of water.

Kelsey got an apron on. She told me to do little puffs and push very slowly. She told me it would sting. As I kept going I kept waiting for the sting. No sting, perhaps the baby is still a fair way off. I kept pushing and puffing, and just when I thought it’d be at least another half hour, suddenly the pressure was gone and I saw a whole body slip out…

Chapter five - An End and a Beginning

A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a baby is born into the world. – John 16:21

It was 5:58pm. I didn’t expect everything to happen so quickly. I don’t know what I expected with the pushing phase. I thought perhaps three hours. One hour was all it took.

I didn’t expect that once the head was out the body just slipped out so quickly. I remember seeing a little body and I was shocked that it was already here. Before I knew it Kelsey had picked it up and placed it on my chest. What on earth just happened? I was a bit worried because the baby didn’t initially cry, but soon enough it did! I gave it a bit of a cuddle and it stopped and just gazed into my eyes.

Hendrik was on my shoulder crying, but then was staring at the baby as amazed as I was. I checked, it was a he. I felt an overwhelming sense of joy that I’d never thought I’d feel. I spent nine months thinking how my life would completely change and that I probably wouldn’t like it. I think I was around people that led me to think that way also. This all faded away when I looked at his little face (that didn't really look like me at all).

He was so incredibly adorable. I think I said this many times. I just wanted to wrap him up and go straight home with him and cuddle him all night. I was in love like I’d never felt before. I wasn’t in pain. Suddenly I felt a sting on my side. The midwife injected me with oxytocin which was to get the placenta out. I wasn’t too concerned. I was way too enthralled with the baby on my chest. When the placenta came out we stared at it, thinking, oh my goodness that is HUGE! (Bigger than the baby.. Where did I hide all of this?)

Hendrik cut the cord. Kelsey asked his name. I proudly said, “Luke”. Luke was born hungry. I’ve always been fascinated with how babies grab onto your finger really tightly. One of our first moments together when he grabbed my finger, and strongly pulled it into his mouth and began to munch away.

I kept saying over and over how adorable he was, like I was surprised about it. I could tell by the 20 week scan that he had Hendrik’s flat asian face. He looked a lot like Hendrik, with big Chinese eyes.

A midwife came in and said that they had to give me a few stitches. I freaked out. The only time I have had stitches was when I fell off the monkey bars in my first year of primary school. That was only 2 stitches and it was a traumatic experience. They said I could have some more gas they did it, but actually I didn’t feel it. Awesome. Free gas.

Then, we called my Mum. She was about to go to Adelaide to fly over the next morning. My Dad was excited, as was my friend Luke who we named him after.

I lied there with Luke on my chest for about 2 hours while Kelsey did the paperwork. A lady came in looking for me. She had my dinner. Just in time! I gave Luke his first feed, then Hendrik got clothes ready for Luke and I had a shower! I remember looking at myself in the mirror thinking how hot I’d just suddenly become. 

We moved to another room, which had a double bed meaning Hendrik could stay the night with us. I didn’t want to sleep. I wanted to stay up all night looking at my gorgeous baby.

So this is the end of my birth story, but really the start of another. Even though my labour was long, the life after with a newborn is where the real challenges started.

The End.

A year and a day ago

This is me, a year and a day ago. I was forty weeks and four days pregnant, and I was about to drive across the city, alone. Pregnancy surely had made me crazy, but I thought that with a towel down on my drivers side seat in case my waters broke while travelling, I should be okay.

That night, after eating several spicy chips, a brisk walk to the post box, and taking everything off the shelf, dusting, spray and wiping, and putting it all back neatly, I had my first contraction at about one am. 

It's a cold and windy day in Melbourne. Luke has been good at sleeping. I haven't. Last night I couldn't sleep as my mind was racing about this past year. Luke will be one on Saturday. 

I picked up my iPhone and started to look at photos of the year that had passed. Luke has grown so much, and spiritually and emotionally - so have I.

At about eleven PM, as I was flicking through each photo, one by one, the screen of my iPhone being the only source of light in our room, I heard Luke stir. I walked to his room, picked him up and he nestled his head into my shoulder. He knows when I feel uneasy. I took him back to the room and lied him next to me in bed as I fed him back to sleep. I wanted so bad for him to stay, and for me to cuddle him through the night, but the reality is, none of us can sleep well when there's three in the bed. 

Eventually I drifted back to sleep then the darkness was pierced by the sound of Luke crying. Hendrik went to him as I looked at the time. One AM. One year ago, at exactly this time, I would have gotten my first contraction that hinted that my baby is on the way.

We went to MOPS at church today. He loves it as he gets to play with different toys and children. I came into the room and just watched him for a while. He would look at a child, smile, looking ever so Chinese as his eyes would squint and look like how my mother in law does when she laughs. He would look at another child and laugh and smile again. He was so happy. I then got into his line of sight and when he spotted me crawled over, grabbed my legs and pulled himself up. I picked him up and he held me tight. I held him in front of me and asked if he had had fun, and in response he gave me a big, wet, sloppy Luke 'kiss'.

Looking through those photos again, we have come so far, but looking at him today, and the way he interacts in the world, reminds me that although the baby chapter is coming to an end, and toddlerdom is just around the corner, we are in this journey together. And what a beautiful journey it is and will continue to be.

The Apple

I left the coffee shop with my hands full: hot cross buns, two apples, and a skinny latte. I breathed in the cool, crisp Autumn air I had been longing for in the previous hot, unwelcome March days. The sun was barely risen. You could see rays of light just poking out of the clouds.

I stepped off the pathway and stranded in front of the drivers side of my husbands big blue Civic. I missed the keyless entry of my Jazz, where I can juggle so many items while also struggling with a wriggling baby. I placed my coffee on top of the roof of the car and caught a whiff of it's roasted aroma as the breeze drifted past me.

I held the keys in my left hand, the groceries in the other. I flipped around for the big, black key on the keyring laden with industrial counters and office keys on the single keyring that had no lanyard like my own.

Suddenly, everything went into slow motion as an apple, a Pink Lady, fell from my hand. The pink lady, the most expensive of the apples at Coles. The brand I decided over a Fuji, I considered a treat being an extra dollar, the whole $5.90 a kilo. I screamed, "no!" as it hit the ground.

I looked to see if anybody was watching. I looked back into the coffee shop in dispair to see if anybody had seen the tragedy unfold. But their cares were none less than serving the customers their morning medicine.

I bent down and picked up the apple. The asphalt had imprinted its once crisp skin, which now bounced and squished under my index finger.

 And this is what happens when I make the effort to be healthy...

March Denial

Do you remember the show on Channel Seven called Four Weddings? To jog your memories, it was when four bride-to-be's would attend each others weddings and score them. At the end of each show the four brides would stand out the front of a prestigious mansion on a sunny day, while a limousine drove up the driveway. The wedding which scored the highest would win a dream honeymoon, the winning groom stepping out of the limo, pashing his new bride and they race off in the limo, leaving behind three pouting losers.

That's kind of what life is like for me at the moment, except we're talking first birthday parties. And we don't rate them or pout. Actually, it's a lot of fun. But I need to stop eating all this cake and party pies!

We won't throw a party for Luke. We decided this a long time ago, but as I've gone to each party (one every weekend) I've been asking myself whether I am depriving Luke of his first birthday. Am I doing enough for him? Have I got him enough presents? Am I a normal parent or am I being what could be classified as a snob?

We will be doing something special for his birthday, which will involve aunties and grandparents. It just won't be a party. I will make him a cake like my Mum did at my first birthday. We will take him out and have a great day.

I think I'm in denial that it's March already.

I think part of me pushing the 'no party' thing has been because I am in denial that my BABY will be one.

I'm in denial that I have what could be defined as a toddler, who is currently taking baby steps - but would rather crawl because it gets him to his destination faster.

I'm in denial that in the last twelve months, I've achieved nothing professionally (but so much personally).

I'm in denial that all of those days where I nursed a colicky baby WERE actually special, and as much as if/when a second baby ever comes, these moments I spent with Luke are finished.

I'm in denial that the innocence and magic of being a first time Mum won't be there again.

I'm in denial that as Luke get's older, so do I.

But denial can't be all that bad, and really, because it isn't really denial. It's more looking back on what has been, and while feeling sad that this time with Luke has passed, we have so much more to look forward to in the coming years. Walking, creating, talking. And that makes my heart sing.

Less than two weeks to go. And I will probably cry that my baby isn't a baby anymore.

If you would like to wish Luke a happy birthday - please, send a pig, seed or toilet from TEAR, OXFAM or Compassion. If you wanted to send the card option, email Luke (dot) Irawan (at) gmail.com and we'll give you his address.

They know.

When we got back from our last trip to Indonesia we came home to new neighbours. While I haven't really gotten to know them, we have definitely gotten to know their cat.

Peppy is a favorite in our house. She is unbelievably friendly and puts up with Luke 'patting' (bashing) her. The best part is, Luke can have a pet without us maintaining it. Excellent.

As I'm writing this Peppy has just jumped over the fence and is at the window saying 'hello'. 

She knows.

Just like she knew when the accident happened. She would not leave our yard and her face was full of concern for Luke. She hung around for days worried about Luke's wellbeing.

What is it with animals and them 'knowing'?

What is it with babies 'knowing'?

Last week I got sick after letting 'the wind enter my body' (Indonesian thing) and just wanted to sleep. Hendrik went and got Luke in the morning and put him next to me in bed. Instead of demanding food, Luke grabbed my face and gave me a 'kiss' (more like, tried to eat my face, but it's the thought that counts). He started playing a game that only he and I play where we try and match our voices with each other (and I check his teeth, he thinks it's a game!).   

We're all about 'ish', we even made these pants

He knew.

And then this morning, he woke up many times distressed throughout the night. Finally when we all got up for the day, we noticed that one of the 'ish' (that's Luke-speak for 'fish'). Had died.

Animals, babies. They know.

How Meal Planning is Changing My Life

Hey Good lookin'
What's cookin'?

Beware, here comes another motherly-inspired blog post.

Although this post will seem very 'family'-esque, and you may not be at that stage of life, read on. I think there's still a real benefit in meal planning, whatever your circumstances.

I recently bought the book Parents Need To Eat Too. While I've struggled to make some of the recipes in there because they are very.. well.. American, the approaches to baby friendly meal time preperation that author Debbie Koenig writes are valuable!

Getting all teacher like, using a white board

I had heard about people meal planning but had never tried it myself. I decided that if I was going to attempt some of Debbie's recipe's I was going to need to plan it out strategically, especially as I was going in blind with all these wonderful new ingredients. While we have now adopted meal planing weekly, I have heard of people doing it monthly. In fact, someone I was talking to yesterday was saying how they do a big 'cook up' once a month. We can't do that because our freezer is too small to store stuff, but I also enjoy cooking as a bit of a past time, and I like eating fresh. I'm trying not to bake because I end up eating a whole cake or batch of cookies by myself.

This is how meal planning is changing lives in our house:

Saving money
I used to go out to Coles every day as an excuse to go out of the house. While that's a great idea, I would always end up buying more than what we needed. Since meal planning we have compared the bills - we have saved money and long term, it will pay off. Hopefully meaning hubby will buy me flowers more often!

Strategic Shopping
We often shop at a local fruit and veg market for cheaper and fresher produce, and then buying the other groceries either at Coles or Woolies. We tried Aldi but didn't see much of a difference in price or quality and ended up being just one more place we had to drag Luke along to. Aldi is a bit of a hoarders paradise with lot's of tempting cheap things to buy that I don't need, so I'm trying to avoid it if I can. When I have planned meals for the week I try and work out which place has the best specials suited for our needs - although regularly we just go to wherever the car is parked closer to at Fountain Gate.

Sometimes dinner is as simple as
crackers, dip, cheese & salmon.

A sense of achievement
Not having a 'career' I'm working on anymore, it's good to feel like I have achieved something. It has also been a chance for me to try out new techniques in my cooking, and learning about new ingredients and how they are used. It's kind of like an unwritten professional development.

Less Hoarding

Have you ever bought stuff just because it's on special, only for it to be stashed in the pantry and found when it's out of date? (And I'm talking about something that has a 3 year shelf life. And let's not talk about the spices from 1991). I'm infamous for having a lot of nothing in my bursting-at-the-seams pantry. I've learnt to buy what I need, week by week. I've also learnt not to get sucked in to buying 2 to get a cheaper price either. Unless I need it, I'm spending more money than I need to. The same goes for buying in bulk. While it's cheaper to buy so much per 100g if you buy more of it, if it's going to go stale or you'll throw it out, it's not only bad for the environment, but it's also bad for your pocket. Be aware! Things like spices and staples like rice and pasta are okay to buy in bulk if you can fit them and use them! No more buying for the sake of buying in this house!

"Heathers Spanish Tortillas"
from Parents Need to Eat Too

Less Cooking
I only cook three times a week, max. I usually choose meals that will last two nights. This is strategically planned around personal training on Monday & Wednesdays and small group on a Tuesday when Hendrik is left to battle solo. Sometimes I can make enough to give to the neighbours or freeze for a rainy day!

Luke included
Planning means I can think about how the now solid-eating Luke can be included. He is generally pretty fussy and only will eat what we eat about 20% of the time, but we're getting there! He loved my chowder the last few nights. Even if it did make him fart lots.

Meal prep while catching up on TV
under the aircon in the lounge

Healthier options
Meal planning means that I'm not 'living in the moment' of how I feel, but actually thinking about what I want to buy and how that impacts my health. And as I'm not going to the supermarket on a daily basis the temptation of the half-price-chocolate-bar isn't there.

Calmer house
Knowing what I'm going to cook every day eases the stress because I know what time I need to have Luke fed and napped so that I can start cooking. There's less panic of "ohmygodwhatamIgonnacook" and I find that we are all generally happier. Not to mention Hubby - food is the way to a man's heart, you know.

So, want to come over to dinner? You're most welcome. Just let me know a week in advance, so I can plan!