weekend in melbourne

Dear Olive,
Clancy and I whipped off to Melbourne on the weekend and it was such fun. I had a friends party to go to, but I also caught up with many of my local friends, and we made it to the David Bowie exhibition at ACMI, too - which was so great, although being a Saturday it was extremely packed, and of course I made the mistake of thinking Clancy would sleep through it in the sling (who was I kidding). Which made it a *little* difficult for me to actually take much in - and I was asked more than once to get him down off the exhibits. (Rather embarrassingly, he even bit off a foam wall that was part of one of the exhibits! Thank goodness it was dark.) We stayed at a friends place; they have lots of space and also two cats and three chickens so Clancy was in heaven. When we arrived he stood outside the chicken pen and yelled DUCK. He loved catching all the planes, trains and trams that we rode on all weekend, and apart from the aforementioned indiscretion at the Bowie exhibition, plus some serious chopstick throwing at a dumpling house, he was an absolutely terrific little travel companion.  
What's more, back in Sydney, you and Shane had a really special, fun filled weekend too, so we were winning all round.

PS That last photo is one friends painting hanging in another friends - isn't it beautiful? She whipped up a quick portrait of our friends cat for their birthday card, too!

trouble

Dear Olive,
Goodness me this boy of ours is trouble. I don't know if it's a boy/girl thing, or just an individual kid thing, but he is so very different to you at the same age. He's physical and energetic (and so were you, but this is next level, and served with a side of aggressive destruction). He yells and hits and screams the house down at a simple nappy change, and then in the same breath smothers us with kisses and cuddles. Sometimes we can't physically get him in the car seat, so we just have to just wait it out, until he's decided he's ready. Same goes for the pram, and the sling. And sometimes shoes. He's obsessed with balls and he'll throw anything that's not tied down, anywhere in the house. Down the toilet, out the window, into the bin, at kids in the park. We're all hit in the head daily with balls/books/shampoo bottles. A few nights ago he started a fire in our kitchen when he threw something up onto the stove top. I was in the bedroom reading you a book and he came in and asked me to help him with his specialised language made up of grunting and nods. (Possibly not alerting me to the fire, but because he wanted his toy back.)  He is e.x.h.a.u.s.t.i.n.g. and by the end of each day I'm weary and battered. 
But, you know what, it's ok. It won't be like this forever. And because this grand, grand love he's brought into our lives makes all our hearts sing.

one full trip around the sun

Dear Olive,
He's the love of all our lives. Your Boo, Dads Clancy-man, and my CC. He turned one on the weekend. 
(And for the first time, I truly feel the bittersweet sting of my youngest child beginning to grow up.)

rolls

Dear Olive,
Roll upon roll upon roll.

CC food

Dear Olive,

I was clearly a little rash on my post suggesting it was going to be a slow process for CC to take to eating. Within days, he was on three square meals a day, opening up his little mouth to everything and anything, and quite a lot of it. Nothing, thus far, has proven offensive to his palate (even cat kibbles). 

I have a far deeper knowledge of nutrition these days, and I think I've done a better job with his food than I did with you - which could suggest something about how he took to it. Either way, he has reduced his breastfeeds (astounding!) because he's eating so much nutrient dense* food. His favourites - and pretty much everyday staples - are egg yolk, avocado, bone broth, pumpkin, broccoli, pear, coconut milk yoghurt, and all meat and fish. He'll even happily eat lacto-fermented veggies.
To cut down on how many meals I'm cooking, I usually give him a version of what we're having. Tonight, we'll all eat the same roast chicken and veggies - his chicken will just be shredded up tiny and the pumpkin mashed up a bit, the broccoli he can eat by himself.  
I seize any leftovers and freeze them so there is usually at least one ready to go meal when time is scarce, and I've found the refillable squeezie pouches to be so handy if we're going out. (We use Little Mashies.) Pre-cooked frozen meatballs (grain free, and loaded with greens) have been working a treat as a quick meal for Clancy (and in your lunchbox) too.
I still haven't given him any grains yet, because babies lack the enzyme to properly digest them, and, rather sadly, he seems to not tolerant dairy (he gets sniffly and vomity whenever I eat any so I've been off it for months now).
My great friend Charlotte wrote a super piece about feeding babies here. (She's got lots of amazing recipes on her blog. And stand by for her book, coming out soon!)
*Ain't that the buzz word du jour.

off to sleep, I love you

Dear Olive,
You were really tricky to get to sleep when you were little - sometimes I'd spend an hour and a half getting you down only to have you sleep for half that time. But when you were about 5 months old, I found this sweet little routine where I sang to you and then put you down awake, and you happily self settled from that first day on. I thought I had it down pat - a baby who put herself to sleep! Without crying! I was secretly high fiving myself. But of course, each baby is so different, and when sleepy little Clancy came along, it was quick and convenient to just feed him off to sleep; so that's what I did. As time has gone on, it's gotten harder and harder, and takes longer and longer. But you know what, as time consuming and annoying as it can be to lie with my boy and wait for sleep to come to him, it really is the most marvellous privilege to get to see him fall asleep - like I'm being allowed to enter a beautiful, secret world. Each time, before I put him in his cot, I make sure I stop, and take him in; my sleeping beauty. 
Off to sleep, I love you I whisper.

six point five

Dear Olive,
Clancy has been with us for six a half months, and that beautiful bond you had with him at birth is steadfast. He is so close to crawling and I can see how that will introduce a whole new level of angst for you, and test your love in new ways. But for now, your lego remains safe - and so does Clancy. (On that note, he has been up on his hands and knees rocking and yelling for the past three weeks - he is as frustrated as hell, as am I.) 
As much as my heart aches for his newborn self (oh, the ache!), I'm loving this age. He is the happiest, jolliest little darling, and we couldn't possibly love him any more. His growing awareness of his body and movement, means we can share in the most gorgeous cuddles and play. And it's so beautiful to be able to see how much pleasure he gets out of our touch. Especially mine. Any old stranger can make this happy boy smile and laugh, but it is undoubtedly the Mum and Clancy show. No one has ever been more thrilled to see me walk back into a room. Ever. I remember feeling this way with you, also: it wasn't so long ago that he was a part of me, and that sense of connection remains amazingly strong for both of us. It is beautiful, and wonderful, and exhausting; I wouldn't want it any other way.
I loved every phase of you as a baby, watching you grow and learn was a gift, and I'm looking forward to enjoying Clancy do this, too ... only, I feel far less eager for him to change so quickly this time around. I know from experience just how fleeting this time truly is.
Please could he stay this way, just for a little while longer?

PS I had a bit of chuckle at this article, my Mum was well known for a bit of a fly off the handle (all for good causes, of course!), and particularly loved this description of motherhood "Motherhood seems complex, but it's simple, really. It's just beautiful, gratifying, unceasing effort."

Exactly two years ago, I was in an Oaxacan market in Mexico and quietly bought this little romper for the baby I hoped to have. And now, here he is wearing it.

baby food

Dear Olive,
Clancy turned 6 months on the weekend just gone (I know! We can scarcely believe it, either). And aside from it indicating that we've all been loving him for half a year, it means he can start on food. It has always seemed sensible to me, to wait as long as I could before I introduced my babies onto solids - to allow their digestive system maximum time to mature. A friend told me recently that a baby is born with holes throughout it's gastrointestinal tract - an exquisite design so that antibodies in the breast milk can absorb directly into the babies blood stream. Isn't that amazing? 
There's a wealth of online resources about the growing nutritional needs of a baby, and how to go about meeting them through food - this article provides a great, easy to understand summary. And I found 'The Nourishing Traditions Book of Baby & Child Care' by Sally Fallon to be an invaluable resource for feeding - and everything to do natural, nutritional health. 
So far, off my finger, Clancy's tried gently cooked egg yolk, and mashed carrots cooked in broth (he flat out refused to open up at all for avocado). I wouldn't say he was mad for either, and over four "meals" so far, I'd estimate he's eaten about one eighth of a teaspoon. In total. *sigh* It's a slow process. (Not to mention a terrible waste of good food.) I remember a midwife telling me when you were young that food was just for fun before one, and I think I'll be reminding myself of that in the months to come.

the birthing of clancy cash

Dear Olive,
It was the Thursday before Good Friday and I was well and truly fed up with being pregnant, sick of receiving "any news yet" texts, and feeling pressure to produce a baby before Shane had a rare four days off work. I'd been noticing rhythmical tightenings all that day, but when I saw my midwife that afternoon, she seemed rather ambivalent about what they could mean seeing as they weren't accompanied by pain, so I tried not to get my hopes up. 
You and I went to collect Shane from work, and as we watched the bats fly out from Centennial Park, we both made wishes on the evening star. You told me yours (something about fairies - needless to say, it didn't come true), but I kept my wish to birth my baby that night to myself. (Now knowing now that my wish came true and yours didn't, you never tell me your wishes anymore.) We went out to dinner just the three of us, and all through dinner, I kept noticing the tightenings coming and going. We mused that it could be the last time we ate dinner as a family of three, and for that reason it felt like a momentous occasion, something worthy of a celebration. Although at the time, it seemed such a remote concept; that we would soon be four. We put you to bed after we got home, and Shane and I watched an episode of Game of Thrones. (Which, in hindsight, was the most ridiculously gory episode - the red wedding - hardly a gentle, relaxing lead into labour!)
I had two contractions during that hour that made me sit up and take notice, and at the end of the episode, I turned to Shane and told him the baby was coming that night. He didn't really believe me, and thought we should try to sleep, but instead we busied ourselves with packing bags (Shane) and downloading a contraction timer app (me). It felt exciting, but at the same time, the idea of labouring all through the night felt like a bit of a drag. Plus, the contractions were already a little painful and I knew they were going to get a lot worse! 
In the next hour or so I knew it was really happening, and I started to feel stressed out about what we'd do with you - the couple of local friends we'd organised to have you had all gone away for Easter. Shane kept insisting that we'd just bring you, but you'd become so emphatic that you didn't want to be there, and once my labour started I felt a really strong urge to not have you there, either. In the end, we called my brother, who came and collected you about 11:30. It felt like an emotional moment, waking you up and telling you the baby was coming that night. You cried, possibly with the enormity of the situation, but most likely because you'd wet the bed. Either way, we changed you, cuddled you, and you happily went off with Uncle Hayes in the dark of the night. 
I think my body let go once I waved you off, and my contractions started coming stronger, about four or five minutes apart. A bit after midnight, I called my midwife and told her I was in labour, and she suggested I stay at home for another hour. Shane put the plug in the bath, turned on the shower, and I hopped in. The water felt amazing, but I must admit, a part of me wanted to run away from what I was going through. In the dark room, I swayed and moaned and gripped the side of the bath. Over and over like a mantra I repeated what a friend had texted me ... loose lips, open mouth, fall into it. I realised I was carrying some fear; the contractions were hurting, even inbetween them I could feel pain radiating in my back and down my legs, and I was scared that perhaps my body couldn't do it on my own (after being induced after 15 hours of not progressing in labour with you), and I was frightened of what was still to come, too. I kept acknowledging the fear I was feeling, and consciously tried to let it go, willing my body to relax between contractions, breathing it out. A bit after 1, and with an overflowing bath, I told Shane I wanted to go to hospital. We only live about 10 minutes drive away, and I started to feel a bit nervous after I rang my midwife and she said she'd meet us there in half an hour. "Wait... what time can you get there?" I asked her, staring at our kitchen clock. She said she'd meet me there at quarter to two. That felt like an impossibly long time to me, I'd started to feel pressure building up in my bottom, and I tried not to panic. Shane said we could head straight up if I wanted to, but the time passed quickly, and we headed to the car. There was something so isolating about contracting in the dark of the night in the driveway. I kept my eyes closed for the car ride and gripped the back of the seat and it felt like it took a really long time to get there - in the short trip I had three contractions. We arrived at hospital and after the hilariously elongated check in with the hospital clerk equivalent of Basil Fawlty (are you sure you weren't born in England, Kellie?), we headed up to the birth centre. It was closed, but one of the midwifes from the delivery suite found us and let us in. She led us first into one room, but then changed her mind and took us through the same door that I laboured in with you; exactly the room I was hoping for. It felt like a fortuitous stroke of luck, getting this room again, but one that Shane and I acknowledged without talking. Shane immediately began running the bath and tried to cuddle me, to which I politely told him "not too much touching". (We laughed about that the next day.) Sandra our very lovely midwife arrived, apologising for being late. She checked my cervix, and when she did, my waters broke. She apologised again, knowing that I had really wanted to just let things run its course this time (after having my waters broken with you), but it didn't bother me at the time. She told me I was about eight centimetres dilated and as I hopped into the bath, she turned to me as she left the room and said "It really won't be long, Kellie love". In my mind, I thought but how long is not long! The contractions were so powerful, that between each one, all I could do was rest my head on the side of the bath. In the corner of my eye I saw Shane lingering around, not knowing how to help. I pointed to the chair in the corner, and he dragged it over and sat next to me. It wasn't very long before my body started pushing. I told Shane to get Sandra, because I was worried that I was still only eight centimetres. My body's pushing I told Sandra when she came in - even though it was pointless to worry because I could already feel the baby moving down. That's great! She said. So with her blessing, I pushed. And goodness, the feeling of that baby moving down was INTENSE. I looked at Shane in between a contraction, and said fuck this really hurts. It was not a sensation I remember feeling with you, in fact the whole labour was a huge deal more painful than what I remember feeling with you. But the pushing part, aside from the pain from the stretching, feels so powerful, and I thought of all the women who had gone before me, and how strong we are. I reached down and touched my babys head; it was the softest, loveliest thing I've every felt. It can only have been two or three contractions later when Sandra told me to look between my legs after the next one. I still at this point had no idea how long it would be until the baby was born, which seems strange to me now, seeing that I could feel the baby coming down. But all of a sudden, Sandra pushed the baby through my legs, and he came swimming up to me. I scooped him up out of the water and sat down. My labour had ended and sheer relief washed over me. It was immediately obvious that we had a son; I looked at Shane and he had tears in his eyes as he kissed me. Our boy was red and chubby and divine. And he was screaming! 
After a while, the cord was cut and the bath water, which had now turned red, was let out. Sandra helped me birth the placenta (I'd by this stage forgotten how to push!), and I got out of the bath and walked over to the bed. Shane and I cuddled our baby, and he fed for a long time. I had a tear which Sandra didn't feel confident stitching, so after about an hour, I threw on some clothes, and walked myself and my baby around to the delivery suite to be seen by a doctor. The labour had been swift and intense, but I felt amazing and almost completely normal. We were clapped and congratulated as we passed the midwives at the delivery suite desk.
While we waited to be discharged, I ate an egg sandwich Sandra found for me in the nurses fridge and read aloud Clancy of the Overflow; marvelling at the absurd possibility that this teeny baby boy in my arms could, one day, be a man. 
We walked out of the hospital with our new son (who was screaming again!) four hours after he entered the world. (And yes, we were those hopeless parents in the car park, battling to remember how to install the baby capsule!)
When you woke up that same morning at my brothers, you told them you'd had a dream the baby was a boy, even though you'd wanted a girl, and that even though you were disappointed, you loved him all the same.
Shane picked you up from my brothers after we'd had a quick sleep, and you ran through our door, yelling "Where's Clancy?". You kissed him and cuddled him, and I looked at you together and thought how blessed I am to have the two of you, and how amazing it is that the two of you now have each other.
Welcome to your family, Clancy Cash. We're so lucky that you belong with us.

a month of clancy

Dear Olive, 
Clancy turned one month old on the weekend. But honestly it feels as though he's belonged to us forever. I must admit, never in my wildest dreams did I envisage I'd be the mother of a son, but now that he's here, I couldn't possibly imagine how he'd be anyone else. And while some days do feel a bit like some kind of horror newborn groundhog day (a never ending cycle of crying/feeding/vomiting/changing/crying/rocking/catnapping, all while attempting to find reserves to stay calm and play vets/get thrashed at memory/build some wild fantasy lego construction for you), I can't quite believe how quickly we've settled into our new life as four (and in particular my new life as a stay at home Mum of two). I worked out early on that getting us out of the flat - ideally with friends - is the best thing for us all. Clancy happily sleeps for an hour or two in the sling or the pram, you get to release some energy (away from my side! What a relief!), and I get to bore a poor friend with a blow by blow account of Clancys sleepings and wakings and feedings of the previous day and night. 
Actually, even the harder times are really not as bad as they sound. Because it's all so filled with love. We are just exploding with love for our boy! You can't stop kissing him**, from the moment you wake up each day - and neither can Shane or I. And the amazing beauty of the second child, is the wonderful inner calmness within me; the absolute certain knowledge that it will all pass so soon*.

*Sometimes it just feels like an eternity at the time: the days are long, but the years short and all that.
**You've started carrying him around. He's always in a different spot if I leave the room (even though I've asked you not to lift him unless I'm there to help you.) Shit!