Monday 28 May 2012

And then she was two





Somehow, it would seem, I have been a mother for two whole years. Our baby girl and the light in our lives, Miss I, turned two on Saturday. Where has that time gone?? A few weeks ago Mr G and I were looking through some photos from when she was first born and I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Part of me wanted to laugh out loud; because the birth is now two years behind me; because we've survived; because our tiny bundle is now a walking and talking girl who makes us laugh. But I also felt sad because that time has passed. Miss I will never be that tiny baby again and until I sat down and really looked at those photos I had forgotten she was quite so small and fragile. 


On the odd occasion, ok frequently, I share with you the frustrations that I encounter shepherding Miss I through life. For me, motherhood isn't an entirely effortless pursuit. But it is a road densely filled with joy, affection and laughter.  On a daily basis, tantrums notwithstanding, Miss I's kisses, smiles, giggles, funny words, silly dance moves and insistent instructions make me laugh and melt my heart. Watching her personality unfold as she grows and learns is easily the best thing in life. 


Last year on her first birthday I shared a few things I had learned. Today I will do the same. 


Two years go really fast. Despite the fact that some one hour blocks, usually between 5 and 7pm, last a lifetime you will blink your eyes and suddenly the baby in front of you can open doors, climb furniture, pretend to blowdry their hair while wearing high-heels, do running cuddles and insist on choosing their own clothes. 


The apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Every time we ask Miss I what she dreamt about her answer is the same: cake. I can't say i don't know where she gets that from.  


The radio, or music, is a godsend. No one appreciates my dancing more than Miss I at the end of the day. A bit of background music combined with me busting some terrible moves is the perfect tonic to soothe my tetchy child through the nightly dinner preparation/cleanup/witching hour. I'm not sure who it serves best but it seems to ensure sanity is intact.  


With just a handful of words the world very quickly becomes a toddler's domain. No. More. Stop. Up. Cake. Just about does it. Anything beyond those is a bonus really. 


Little people are capable of experiencing a wide range of emotions in a very short time frame.  Miss I is more than capable of navigating hysteria, delight, tears, frustration, happiness, bewilderment, shock and joy in any given hour. Funnily enough this induces much the same reaction in me.


Transparency is endearing. Toddlers are not big on facades. If their Dad leaves the room they will happily burst into tears, if they want to be really close to their Mum they will jump up and place their nose square on with hers, if they want a toy someone else is enjoying they will snatch it or alternatively stage a show with their displeasure the shining star or if they want to explore their inner nostrils they will do so with abandon.  Although frustrating at times, this transparency is possibly the most delightful aspect of spending time with little people.


It is possible to grow, deliver and nurture tiny babies who will emerge as funny, caring, crazy and delightful toddlers. Which still blows my mind. 

Wednesday 23 May 2012

Routine Household Disputes

Routine Household Disputes (RHD)
Definition: Issues, usually relating to household logistics, of minor consequence that emerge repeatedly throughout cohabitating adult's lives. When taken cumulatively, despite their minor consequences, RHDs can be infuriating.

Let me paint the picture. Last night I was sitting up in bed engrossed in a magazine while Mr G was pottering around getting organised.

Mr G: How do you think the Greece economy will affect out household in the next few years?
(Actually he didn't ask this question. At least I don't think he did. I was so engrossed in my magazine I don't know what he asked.)
Me: Yes.
Mr G: Are you listening to me?
Me: Sorry what did you say?
Mr G: Is that a bridal magazine you're reading?
Me: Yes. As a matter of fact it is. Of these dresses which one is your favourite?
Mr G: Are you kidding? Why are you reading a bridal magazine? I have been wondering why that's here.
(At this point I should point out for any new readers that Mr G and I are already married. We had a lovely wedding almost three years ago and there are no repeats on the horizon.)Me: Because I love weddings and I got given it an event. Anyway there's something else I want to talk about.
Mr G: I can hardly wait.
(He didn't say this in words but his facial expression did.)Me: I'm planning a blog on our routine household disputes.
(Very not thrilled face crumple from Mr G)
Mr G: Oh you mean the one where we argue about how much I do around the house without help?
Me: Err, no. Not that one.

Because that one doesn't exist! Well only very occasionally. Mr G then went on to explain that the reason it seems like he has a higher error margin in the laundry (RHD #1) is because of the sheer volume he washes compared to me. He ends up responsible for lots of colour run disasters whereas I very rarely do. According to Mr G this reflects my meagre laundry contribution measured in quantity. Naturally I argue it reflects my superior skills. But that's not the dispute I need to discuss with you.

Given the change in weather Mr G and I have been locking horns over one particular issue: temperature. Is there an issue that causes more angst between cohabitating adults?? Certainly not in this household. Mr G is largely immune to the cold.

Take Tuesday morning, for example. It was a crisp 11 degrees in Sydney and Mr G was wearing jeans and a t-shirt. "Would you like to get a jumper?" I caringly asked on the off-chance Mr G had mistaken our home town for Darwin as we headed out the door. "If you have a good immune system you don't need layers*." Say WHAT??? (RHD #2) I should say that Mr G is intelligent and trained in the medical profession. And yet!! I actually suspect the cold weather does affect Mr G: his judgement in particular.

Which brings me to our RHD #3. Read carefully here because I need your help. We play this game where Mr G opens every window in our apartment and I close them. And then he opens them and I close them. Then he opens them and usually I go a bit berserk. (This pattern is repeated in our RHD #4 where Mr G unplugs every appliance in our house. Daily.)

To be fair Mr G agrees that in winter, at night time, windows can be closed. Joy! But. First thing every morning he opens them. Why? Because he says keeping the windows open warms the apartment by letting in the heat. From WHERE, I ask often?? So my question is this - does opening the windows in winter warm the house???

Think wisely before you answer because my marriage depends on it. Kidding! The beauty of RHDs (as opposed to Extraordinary Houshold Disputes) is they don't have the ability to derail a relationship. See most RHDs turn on which party has the right answer; and being definitively right – on any issue – in the NABM household is a wonderful, wonderful thing. So am I right???

Do you have RHDs? If you share I promise I'll tell you you're right!

*While I've been writing this Mr G actually texted me a link to this article.

Sunday 20 May 2012

Road tripping. In style.

Last week I had absolutely intended to chronicle my road trip with Porsche. However. The morning after my return Miss I staged the most substantial tantrum of her short career and the memory of any luxury faded. Fast. I spent the day subsumed with guilt that somehow my 36 hour absence had caused the aberration in her behaviour which, sadly, lasted far longer than my mini-break. As such, it was the only topic I could blog about. But. I am thrilled to report Miss I's equilibrium has been restored; she has been back to her delightful self the last few days and I've now got the mental space to revisit my slice of heaven in the Hunter. Halleluiah.

A while ago I was invited to take part in an initiative run by Porsche and Destination NSW called Women with Drive. The plan was for a few female journalists to go the Hunter Valley and tour through some wineries, restaurants and businesses run by successful 'women with drive'. Before I had even left there were a lot of things I loved about this trip. For one thing, I really liked that I was invited. For another thing, I really liked the bit where they organised a car to collect me from my home. Have you ever imagined something so civilised?

Now I had assumed the car collecting me would be of the Porsche persuasion. Not because I momentarily mistook myself for someone really precious important who is only transported in high-end performance vehicles but because I was under the impression we were being driven up to the Hunter in the Porsches. So I was only momentarily disheartened when I came downstairs and saw there was a perfectly lovely sedan of the not-Porsche-variety waiting, with a suited gentleman opening my door. I mean it wasn't a Porsche but it was a real life chauffeur. Collecting me!!

He took my luggage, I waved goodbye to Mr G and Miss I who were in their pyjamas and I stepped inside. There was a selection of glossy magazines, the driver asked my preferences for the radio and the temperature and we were off. 'Well, well well,' I though to myself. 'This whole driver business is pretty lovely.'

And things only got better. After meeting the other girls, being served coffee and divided into pairs, we were handed the keys. It turned out we weren't being driven out of Sydney – we were driving ourselves. I happily gave my partner in Porsche-ing the driver's seat first up. The dashboard honestly looked more complicated than a pilot's cockpit and frankly I was a bit terrified of being in control of a vehicle worth more than some houses. I got over that quite quickly once I was in the driver's seat.

Our first stop was Keith Tulloch's cellardoor for a winetasting and lunch at Muse Kitchen. I cannot picture a more delightful setting and the lunch – tasting plates ranging from potted pork to stuffed zucchini flowers to roast lamb with apple and mint jam to saffron mashed potato - was several thousand notches above my standard Wednesday fare. From there we popped over the road for an alfresco tasting of Lisa McGuigan's wines. Lisa set up Tempus Two and is now making wine under her own name. A brown snake meant we did the tasting in the vineyards at her parents' home which meant we had the great fortune of meeting her mum and dad who are two very special characters. Who were rather taken with my our wheels.

The next stop was The Hunter Valley Cheese Company where we caught a glimpse of the cheese-making process and then sat down for a structured cheese tasting. Now given the wonderful side project I'm working on my options at this tasting were limited. So. I made up in quantity what my new friends enjoyed in variety. Afterwards we hopped back in our very swish wheels and drove to our hotel in style. I arrived in my 'villa' at about 5pm and the next scheduled activity wasn't until 7.15pm. My room was plush, spacious and, oh, so quiet. At this point I reflected. Could I be any luckier? Hell. No.

I napped in my ginormous bed, watched some television and relished serenity that I very rarely experience between 5pm and 7pm. After meeting up with the gang before dinner I realised I wasn't feeling up for another big meal so I settled for room service and Offspring instead. Not a bad compromise at all. But I did have food envy the next morning when I heard what everyone ate at Majors Lane.

After a sleep in and breakfast in the dining room it was time for a Swedish massage in the spa. And I'm not even joking. It was every bit as heavenly as it sounds and I followed it up with a shower in the spa, using every single product they had on offer; shampoo, conditioner, body scrub, body wash, body cream, face serum, face cream, hand cream. I might have taken it a bit far but I was really in my element.

Glass blowing was next which was quite a hoot. I'm still waiting for my handmade treasure to arrive but am excited to show Miss I the high standard of craftsmanship I will expect of her. Our last destination was Margan Wines which features an expansive organic vegetable garden which is hand tended daily. The harvest, naturally, supplies the produce and direction for the Margan restaurant. We sat down on the outside veranda for a spectacular three course meal; the food was honestly out of this world. At the end we were each handed takeaway coffees, posed for some pictures and began the drive back to Sydney.

Of all the things I am, a car aficionado probably isn't one of them. However. I became very attached to the array of luxury vehicles I had the joy of driving and they certainly made our corolla feel a little different on my return. Aside from the incredible way they drive, I loved how impeccably clean the cars were. There was not a smidgen of life's mess or wear and tear on their pristine leather interiors which felt quite like the trip itself. A luxurious contrast with reality.

*If you're a more visual person you may not have read this far but I have created a Facebook album of the trip which can be viewed here.

Wednesday 16 May 2012

Where is my manual?

I'm not much of a gambler but let me share with you some terrific odds. Based on the past few weeks I will not be winning any accolades for my parenting endeavours. But to be fair my darling daughter is equally unlikely to be awarded anything in the well behaved toddler stakes either. And therein lies my dilemma. What is a well behaved toddler???

I love Miss I so much that it hurts my heart. Of late, however, it is also hurting my head. Because she is causing me to tear my hair out. Frequently. We have had a week or so of behaviour that is more challenging than usual. Everything. Has. Become. A. Battle. Wanting to get up, not wanting to get out of her cot, getting undressed, getting dressed, eating breakfast, not eating breakfast, wanting milk, not wanting milk, reading a book, throwing a book, wanting shoes, throwing shoes. And that my dear readers is usually before 7.15am.

It continues in much the same way throughout the day. Four days a week the office is my reprieve between 8.30am and 5.30pm but any resolve I've developed in that time is obliterated quickly upon our reunion when Miss I stages her fifth meltdown in as many minutes. And it makes me head hurt.

It is exquisitely draining to have this tiny person, who I love and care for with every ounce of my being, simultaneously drive me to distraction. And the bit that kills me is not knowing what to do or how to handle it. She is my little person and despite everything I know and adore about her, I don't always know what she wants. Some of the time I'm sure this is because she doesn't know what she wants and other times it's because she can't have what she wants (say, cake for breakfast). But both those scenarios are common with toddlers; my issue is not knowing how to best diffuse or manage it.  

I once blogged about the Square Book Round Baby dilemma and I've been thinking about it again. Miss I is no longer an unfamiliar tiny baby for whom I desperately want a manual. She is a robust little girl who I know inside out. Most of the time I feel like I could easily bash out a manual based on her many quirks. But lately the page is blank. Quite like my expression the other afternoon when Miss I went from happily playing with me to being outraged and inconsolable seconds later because Mr Potato Head's ears wouldn't attach on her first attempt.

It became crystal clear that this behaviour isn't because I'm misreading all her cues or because I'm simply not cut out for this mothering gig. Or any of the other ridiculous reasons I've been mentally workshopping.

The real issue, is that like many two year olds, patience is not Miss I's strong suit. And as she has been aggressively enforcing her zero tolerance policy for practically everything she has rendered me a bit the same. And that particular combination - impatient toddler and impatient mother - does not a happy household make. So it's obviously time for me to dig deep because the odds of Miss I upping her threshold are ve-ry slim. Maybe I would be good a gambler!

Do you have any toddlers in your life? How do you maintain your sanity?

Tuesday 8 May 2012

Good news week

Hi folks! Ordinarily I never blog after work. I find after a day at my desk writing followed by entertaining, feeding, bathing, teeth-brushing and book reading with Miss I, then scrambling together some dinner, I'm magnetically drawn to the couch. Not my laptop. But tonight I'm breaking from tradition because if I don't there will be nothing to post tomorrow and where is the fun in that??

You see I normally write a blog or two on the weekend but delightfully this was not possible on the weekend just gone. The NABM household went on tour to Brisbane for a wonderful, wonderful, wedding. Highlights include meeting the whole Wiggles entourage on our flight, enjoying the most civilised and scrumptious brunch Mr G and I have enjoyed in years at Anouk with Miss I and my parents, catching up with several dear friends and celebrating a truly memorable wedding. A post on weddings is well overdue but suffice to say this was spectacular and heart-warming.

The only downside to our weekend away was that the Joyce's were on their own wedding tour to Byron Bay which meant our paths didn't cross. But the Joyce's parents, who had themselves travelled to Byron to assume babysitting duties, very kindly donated their home to us and my parents who also assumed travelling babysitting duties. Gold stars all around!! It made the weekend entirely easy. Albeit blog-free.

So why can't I simply whip up a post tomorrow, you ask? Well, my dear readers, it is because of a pretty significant perk of the job. I can't blog tomorrow because I am traveling to the Hunter Valley for two days. A Porsche will collect me in the morning and whisk me away with a few other women to enjoy some local wineries, restaurants, beauty spas and a luxury hotel. And I'm not even kidding. I still can't get my head around it. I will tell all on my return!

Finally to round out what has been a very good week in the NABM household I have to confess I've been working on a side project. For the last 13 weeks I have been busily building a baby in my spare time. I was overwhelmed to catch a visual sighting of the early results last week - at this stage all looks good! NABM is growing!! A more detailed post on this news will be out soon. Actually who am I kidding? There will be several!

So that's my week. What's news in your world?

Wednesday 2 May 2012

Village people

Today's blog is brought to you by a virtual red velvet cake. On Sunday afternoon I baked one and it took me so long, required so many bowls and exhausted so much elbow grease that it literally ate my allotted blog writing time. So I'm sorry if this reads like it was hastily written. It was!

If we're friends on Facebook you may have seen something I wrote this week for work about fathers. It was prompted by a column in The Sydney Morning Herald written by the parenting author Robin Barker. At the risk of boring you I'm sticking to the topic today because there is another, more personal angle, I want to elaborate on. The thrust of Barker's piece was that the importance of the mother-child bond in the early years gets overlooked when women are making decisions about going to work. Something about it irked me. Actually, several things did. For one thing, it didn't mention fathers. At all. Nor did it mention grandparents, aunts, uncles, friends, carers or godparents. To overlook the wonderful and important role that all of those people can play in the lives of children - and their grateful parents – seemed to me a glaring omission.

As the daughter of a supportive, loving and encouraging Dad* I can't fathom dismissing the part he has, and continues to, play in my life. Not just as my Dad but also as my Mum's husband; his support undoubtedly gave Mum more breathing space to love and care for us while we were little and vice versa. I say that with some certainty because I see the same dynamic at play with myself and Mr G and just about every family I know. Even aside from any benefit I derive from having a committed partner-in-parenting, I can't for a second dismiss Mr G's endless love, enthusiasm and adoration for Miss I**. And why would I want to? It is priceless and matters every bit as much as mine.

In an ideal world all children would have two parents; regardless of gender I think the task of rearing little people requires the patience and resilience of at least two adults. Sometimes I think three would be better. In the real world though two parents are not always available and in that case the role of other adults – whether they're grandparents, kind carers at nursery or just good friends – becomes even more treasured. Because who ever said it takes a village to raise a child was on the money. Big time.

The role of parents in the development of their children can't be underestimated. Being the mother or father to a small person is an overwhelmingly wonderful and precious role. It brings with it more delicious love and joy than I had ever imagined. But parenting little people is a hugely demanding task. The responsibility is relentless and being able to share the thrills, the spills and the task with others is immeasurably valuable. For everyone involved.

I think little people benefit from learning they will be loved and cared for by people in addition to their parents, just as I think parents benefit from learning other people will love and care for their little people. Whether it's spending an hour with a grandparent, a night with their aunty or a day with engaged and caring teachers, it helps a little person develop trust and understanding that the world is bigger than just their parents and that that can be quite fun.

Although this may seem entirely self-serving because I'm a working mother who uses childcare four days a week I quite genuinely believe this. Whether you work or not, and whether your child is one or 18, it is extraordinarily beneficial to have the support and involvement of other people. And that is something I thought Robin Barker's column didn't recognise.

Do you agree or do you think I'm barking mad?

*It's a cliché but my Dad truly is as good as they come.
**This is not to say that on the odd occasion I might suggest to Mr G that the role I play in our joint parenting endeavour is especially valuable. And, you know, warrants flowers and frequent praise.