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Posts Tagged ‘babies’

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It’s been a busy month in our neck of the woods.

Almost impossible to believe but my two babies turned 1 and 3. As their birthdays are so close together, we had a combined party at the park. In a month of brilliant Sydney sunshine, the party landed squarely on a weekend of rain and record gale-force winds. As children are blissfully immune to bad weather, we grown-ups proceeded bravely outdoors.

At the party we had…

Rugged up children bearing bikes, trikes and scooters and rugged up relatives bearing fruit platters and presents.

A cake-off. The 3-year old’s Nigella Lawson Chocolate Cake versus the 1-year old’s Donna Hay Carrot Cake. In my humble opinion, the hands down winner was Ms Hay. Her carrot cake is so fabulous, it will be the subject of my next blog entry.

Loads of fabric bunting that was double gaffer-taped to poles and flapping madly in the wind (though I managed to get a miraculous ‘still’ shot between gusts).

Little handmade touches that included Where the Wild Things Are invitations:

Duck-food for a bike/scooter trip to the pond:

And take home goodie-bags made with scrapbooking paper and this handy little sticker making machine I found on my op-shop travels:

Oh and what do you do if it’s a Saturday morning and there’s only one table at Sydney’s most popular inner west park? You get an early morning covert operation underway to mind the table, is what you do…(thanks uncle).Until next year kiddos.

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Peak Hour [pēk ou-er]

n.

1. The period of the day during which family activity in the home is at its highest, children are at their neediest and parenting stamina is at its lowest.

Peak hour in our house is usually between the hours of 5pm – 7pm. It’s a period of heightened activity when multiple meals are prepared and served, eating is supervised, food messes are cleaned, baths are run, children are washed, teeth are brushed, protesting bodies are dried, pyjamas are sourced, children are dressed, hair is combed, beds are prepared, books are read and endless negotiation over lights out and sleep.

Each day when the clock ticks over to 5:00pm I have a moment of pre-emptive exhaustion. It is incomprehensible that we will survive the next few hours.

To my ongoing amazement, we always do.

Then after that last protest is heard and silence finally descends upon the house, all the things I have been adding to my ‘after the children are asleep’ mental to-do list throughout the day, just dissipate with exhaustion.

Peak hour is hardcore. It’s for people with nerves of steel.

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We have a lovely neighbour that dotes on our children. She spends time with them in the garden, buys them little presents and sneaks freddo frogs to our son when we’re not looking. She’s their honourary Aunty.

On the weekend she gave this little tea cup to our daughter. She told us that she’d seen it in an antique store years ago and fell in love with it. She bought it just in case she had a daughter. Now with her one boy all grown up, she wanted to give it to someone special. I couldn’t think of a more perfect gift for a little girl, or boy for that matter.

Since my son turned two, we have started having regular ‘tea parties’. We lay his table with a tablecloth, set napkins and serve tea with cake. I think it teaches him table manners and the enjoyable ritual of sharing a cup of tea. He has a groovy United Nations mug his real Aunty bought him back from New York. It will be great when my little girl can join our tea parties too.

And speaking of tea, saw this little find, The Vintage Tea Party Book, at Gleebooks:

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Someone today asked if my daughter and her cousin were twins. A little similar in looks, they mostly share a lovely similar temperament. My sister and I agree that ‘these two play well together’.

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Last week I ordered my little girl her first pair of shoes. These shoes are made by a company called Baby Paws, which is located in Australia. The shoes are handmade upon individual request. It’s nice to have something this special that is locally made.

I used the same brand for my little boy’s first pair of shoes. They are pictured here, thoroughly worn in with the indents of his little toes. I love the story these shoes tell. He was so active, it almost wiped me out. Running around like he was built for speed. Too worn and threadbare to give charity, I will keep them forever.

I can’t wait to see the story my daughter’s first shoes tell.


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Korka baby bib

I made this bib for a friend who lives with her beautiful baby boy in the hippie heartland of North Coast NSW. The fabric was given to me as a gift a few years ago from a cousin in Alice Springs. Observant followers will note the curved edges of the bib. Baby steps people, baby steps. My sister and I are still yet to launch our Etsy shop, but in the meantime I thought I’d give one of our little woven labels a try.

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This past week we have been visiting my family interstate. My mum lives on the outskirts of the Barossa Valley in South Australia, in a little place I like to think of as the land the Internet forgot.

As a parent, I’m starting to approach these trips with a mixture of excitement and dread. I love seeing my family but it’s the ‘getting there’ that’s the hard part.

Imagine a slippery little fish flip-flopping around on the jetty…then try and put a seatbelt on it. This is our boy, pumped with excitement, on a flight. Ten minutes in and he’d quickly vetoed his carefully selected activity books and become disinterested in the in-flight entertainment. He squirmed and wriggled and protested relentlessly about the unjustness of his seatbelt. The only things that gave us any time-out were snippets of movies on the iPad, in-flight refreshments and a little excursion to investigate the bathroom facilities. Thoroughly.

The baby was a lot easier. The flights had been timed to coincide with her naps and she complied beautifully. (This may be due in no small part to the return of our old nemesis, the dummy.)

Highlights of the trip:

Celebrating the first birthday of a little miracle boy.

The crazy chaos when the whole family got together for a photo shoot.

Marvelling at the changes in all my nieces and nephews.

Watching my brother-in-law’s stand up comedy act.

Finding a babysitter in the most unsuspecting of places.

Lots of cups of tea with my mum and my sisters.

Listening to my little brother sing Jeff Buckley’s Hallelujah at the kitchen table after dinner. That song was in my head for days.

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