the last day of summer

The last day of summer (phew!).  And so it seemed fitting to make this mango and aubergine soba noodle salad by Ottolenghi.  Some tried and tested variations (and in my view improvements) to his original recipe:

 - Be generous with the aubergine.  He says to use two, I would say use two of the biggest bad boys you can find.  Or three normal ones.
 - Cube and toss the aubergine in olive oil and roast for 25 mins in a hot oven.  It's easier and less oily than pan frying in the 300ml of oil he suggests, though I don't for a second disagree that a well fried and daresay oily piece of aubergine is something delicious.
 - Use less sugar in the dressing.  He suggests 40g.  I used 20g and still thought it was too sweet.
 - Use more lime, the tanginess is deluxe and I think much nicer than the taste of the rice vinegar.
 - Thinly slice the red onion and steep it in the lime juice.  It's less oniony and goes a nice puce pink colour.
 - Don't bother weighing the herbs, just use what you think looks right.  Life is too short to weigh basil leaves.
 - Don't believe him when it says 'serves 4'.  The two of us ate the whole lot within minutes of me putting down the camera.  Incredibly, the recipe in the book (a bible of sorts in this house) says 'serves 6'.

The end.

tweet tweet

It seems we are always planning a birthday party.  That's what you get when your family's birthdays are as spread out as ours are.  October, December, March, April and now July are all birthday months, and then of course there are the anniversaries that some of us forget.

Next up, it's Max, dear little Max with his fiery temper but sweetest of natures and his love of all things wild (he has asked for a toy duck and a toy birdie to join his toy lambie, toy froggie and toy bear).  He wants a birdie party, and while I'm not entirely sure how we'll make it so, it is a sweet theme and one we should be able to do plenty with.  We've already tried our hand at a bird cake - not a cake for birds (there's an idea), but a bird shaped frosted cake - anything in the name of practice when it comes to cake.  And this weekend just gone, Will put up with my bossier than usual instructions on how I wanted the invitation to look and knocked the basic idea out in his usual casual style, while I then agonised over fonts and text size and whether I should round the corners or not, all of which seemed pointless when the colour printing woes started.

Cute?  I think so.  It's not going to be long before cute doesn't cut it with my kids, and everything will need to be boy flavoured, so I'm making the most of the sweetness of something as simple as a birdie party, even if it does have more than just a hint of putting a bird on it.  And this invitation indulges my love of that cute little birdie, the robin red breast, possibly my favourite of all the feathers.

In other news, this is my last week of maternity leave.  Next Monday I'm back to work (the kind that pays).  It's mixed feelings all round.  I'm going back to a new building, desk, outlook, probably a new set of clients, there will be many many faces I don't recognise, problems to solve, an inordinate amount of juggling and my age old inability to switch off from work... but then there'll be people I love there too, colleagues I'd call friends, a renewed appreciation for weekends and the opportunity to drink coffee (real coffee) and enjoy the odd lunch with my husband who'll be just a few minutes stroll away.  But the overarching reason I have this nagging feeling of anxiety that's been swelling over the last month or so is knowing I'll be away from my children.  Lord knows I am not the picture perfect mother I want to be, but every day I'm away from them is another day gone by that I miss out on trying my best again.  On the days when they are at kindy, I long to be with them again, even though I need the break so badly sometimes.  I pick them up early, let them play in the mud, spoil them a little with ice-cream for dessert or a new Matchbox car, knowing that before long, I won't be able to pick them up before the end of the day, take them for a drive to the scrap yard (it makes them so happy to see the material handler!) because I'll be rushing around trying to do a million more things all at once.  But me going back to work, it's happening and I need to deal with it and dwell on the positive change it will bring to my life and theirs too.

But I digress, as this post is about the party that is coming and I'm not talking about the one that involves me eating a lot of Easter chocolate.  In a month, Max of the fuzzy hair and inexplicably beautiful eyes and twig legs (not unlike a bird's) will be three.  Three.  THREE.  Now I'm no scientist, but surely this means the end of the terrible twos.  Right?

overheard

Ollie: (to Max) Now Max.  You get what you get and you don't get upset about it.

Me:  Ollie, don't be so rude!
Ollie:  But mum, you're rude sometimes too.
(it's true)

Me: (very frustrated) Oh Max, good LORD!
Max:  Mummy, no don't say good lord... say BAD lord!

Ollie:  (after he was back from looking at the neighbourhood Christmas lights with his dad) Mum, I had a lovely time light spotting around the neighbourhood
Me:  That's great, I wish I could have gone with you.
Ollie:  When we were walking around, quite a strange feeling came over me.
Me:  Really?  What sort of feeling?
Ollie:  (speaking very slowly and quietly) It happened when I saw a teeny tiny creature crawl out of a hole and land in the middle of the pavement!

Ollie: (after we gave him a peanut m&m) Can I have one of those little round things?  A P&M?

Ollie:  (as I was bringing Hugo out of his room after nap time) Mum!  Look who it is!
Me: It's Hugo!  Isn't he lovely?
Ollie: Yes
Me:  Do you love him more than anything in the world?
Ollie: er.... Yes
Me:  Really?  More than garbage trucks?
Ollie:  (thinking for a moment) I love them both.  I love garbage trucks AND babies.

Ollie:  It's the day before Christmas Day
Me: Yes, what does that mean?
Ollie:  We have to get a lot of things ready, like drinks and milk and carrots for Santa
Me:  What do you think Santa would like to drink?
Ollie:  Something like.... maybe something that only adults drink.

Ollie: (unwrapping his Christmas present and hopping from foot to foot) It's a side loading garbage truck! It's a side loading garbage truck! It's a side loading garbage truck! It's a side loading garbage truck! It's a side loading garbage truck! It's a side loading garbage truck!

must try harder

I'm not sure where to begin with this one.  It's not easy to write about, which means it can't be that easy to deal with.  It is something that I should have known a long time ago, before Ollie was born, before he was even an idea, but in truth, it's only in the last few months that I've realised it, and only in the last few weeks has the realisation been strong enough to leave me feeling very shaken.

So, this big realisation?  It's the realisation that parenting, at least parenting the way I want to parent, doesn't come naturally or easily to me.  A fine thing for a mother of three sons to admit, but here I am while they are sleeping, thinking about nothing else but my influence on their lives and how much better I know it could be.  I resort to snapping and yelling and time-outs way too often, forgetting to listen to the boys, to let them speak, to treat them the way I'd want to be treated.  It sounds so simple but the reality (for me) has been very different.  Getting them to listen is hard.  Then, getting them to do stuff they need to is hard (you know, eating, going to the bathroom, putting on sunscreen, bathing...).  By that stage, you've gone hoarse asking them time after time to put their shoes on because we are already running 30 minutes late for kindy, and then you yell.  And there's no turning back from that one, once you yell, it's hard to be calm again and then the affection you want to show your kids... well, it's there but it's hard to get out.  And after a tough day I'm not sure they want it either.  Never mind the impact of constant barking of orders on the kids, I have ended many an evening feeling very, very inadequate, exhausted and very unhappy, knowing I've not done all I can to bring out the best in them.  I don't want to be that mum.  I want to be the affectionate, happy, nurturing mother that enjoys her kids rather than endures them.  I want to be the mother they want to be with, not the one they want to avoid.  Above all else, I want them to be their happiest selves and to know I am doing everything I can to make that happen.  If I'm not going to try 100%, what's the point?

So, a few weeks ago I did what I have always done when I feel this way, and resorted to books.  Books on pregnancy, babies, toddlers are all part of our odd repertoire of architecture, cookery and history books, but it didn't feel like what I needed was there.  So, to the library, and we came across this book, the title of which pretty much hits the nail on the head when it comes to what I'm trying to achieve.  Correction, what we're trying to achieve. I've had it now for over a month, renewing it last week so that I could absorb as much as possible and so that my husband could do the same.  At first I was skeptical, it seemed a little simplistic and it wasn't telling me what I didn't already know, but really, it's helped enormously to be able to read, and read about something I care so much about, and to know my instinctive response isn't always going to be the right one.  By using case studies that I can completely relate to, I'm learning that there is always a way of dealing with things, of getting my point across, of communicating and getting the best out of my children.

The best part (after the fact that it seems to be working) is that we are doing this together.  Reading the book together has given us some clarity over how to do things, we talk a lot more about how to deal with situations we know are going to be tough, we are enjoying the kids a lot more and dare I say it, the kids seem to be happier too.  The consistency, the shift in gears, the change in attitude and the step back we've taken has had an impact almost immediately.

Anyway, it's not that they are bad kids, far from it, and there are so many marvellous moments we have with them that are completely devoid of frustration and angst, moments that are really quite wonderful and I wouldn't want this post to detract from any of that good stuff.  They are great kids, it's just that I'm not a great parent and probably never will be but just as I learned to read, to write, to cook, I can learn to be a better parent and be the mother that raises three kind, compassionate, open-minded and respectful men.  Books or not, I do know that for that to happen I need to be kind, compassionate and open minded first.

It's a long road this one, but there's no turning back and neither do I want to.  Those days of yearning for my independent self are long behind me, all I want now is to know I'm doing the absolute best I can as a mother and wife.  It's a slow journey but I'm hoping the track we're on is now the right one.

pearly white

There is a tooth inside this little pop of a mouth.  A pearly, white, little nubbin of tooth, just peeking through his petal pink gums.  I'm so excited to think about him eating proper food, chomping on fruit and veg, buttered toast, cheese sticks and of course, cupcakes (well, the icing anyway).  He seems to be enjoying being at the table with us all, sucking on a teething rusk after knocking back his pumpkin, yoghurt, icy cold watermelon...

Nearly time to say goodbye to that gummy little baby smile, and hello to that toothy, cheeky grin.  

184 days

The passing of time is never as apparent as when you become a parent.  Fact.

So soon he will be talking, soon he will be crawling and walking, soon he will be telling me what I don't know, and I'll cling to every word.  I'll be sad for these baby days gone but so happy I had the honour of being the one he wants to be with the most, even though I know it won't last.  He's taught me that today is the best day to appreciate him, his gummy smile, his inability to lie on his tummy for more than a minute or two, his cuddliness at 4am, today is the best day to read to him and his brothers, to let them play in the mud, to take them to the park, to give in to one more story.  It took his arrival into our already wild world to make me take a step back, and savour what is good about today.  Happy half birthday little fellow.  What else will you teach me?

progress

A week ago, we introduced dear little Hugo to a couple of spoonfuls of courgette, steamed and pureed until they were lump free.  I told him he couldn't have any dessert until he'd eaten all his vegetables.  I caved and gave him a teaspoon of pureed pear.

It's with some sadness that I'm seeing this little guy grow up but it's with excitement, too.  Yesterday, we were lying on the floor of his big brothers' bedroom (they were at kindy) and he discovered their box of little matchbox cars.  For a few moments there, he was in heaven, picking them out, one at a time, sucking them, bashing them with his fist, waving them around frantically, before dropping them and picking up another.  It was so cute seeing him being a little boy, rather than a little baby.

He rolls over, roly-polying around, it wakes him at night when he realises he's on his tummy and calls to be rescued, but won't settle for anything except a sleepy, fuzzy breastfeed, before I put him back in his cot and he gives me that smile, eyes half closed, the one that says, 'thanks mum, see you in a couple of hours'.

Earlier this week I took him to kindy, to the nursery there, where he's officially started (only one day a week) for a little play.  I can't bear to leave him just yet so we sat on the floor and drooled a bit.  You see although I don't go back to work until March, I've had to take a spot to ensure we have care for all three boys by the time I'm back to being my groomed self, looking after grown up clients who are at times as frustrating as toddlers.

Anyway, Hugo enjoyed his first tastes.  Avocado, mango and pureed carrots have all been sampled too, with varying degrees of success.  Most of it ends up on his bib/the floor but we have definitely turned a corner.  He's graduating from the bumbo knockoff his brothers used before him and last night I cleaned up the high chair we've had since Ollie started eating real food nearly 4 years ago.  Got out the little bowls and spoons.  Even cracked open my baby food book to start thinking about the meals I think this dear little fellow might enjoy eating.  It's happy and sad to think that this time next year, he'll be a toddler too, making a mess at the table with his brothers, refusing food, giggling at their monkeying rather than concentrating on his meal.  He does that already.

He'll be 6 months old next week.  Every day I wonder what he will be like when he's older, not forgetting that at this moment he's as sweet as they come, with a smile for anyone that smiles back.  I ache with tiredness and from the mental and physical demands of three young children but my heart is fuller than ever before.  Watch this space for more Hugo cuteness, because I can't help myself.

blue

Today's colour.  I'm hoping tomorrow's will be brighter.

new year, big year

It's 4 January today, already day four of this new year that already seems to be passing so quickly.  We spent New Year's Eve with my husband's siblings, their partners and children at the Gold Coast.  It was a lovely evening - to a point.  Good food and wine and family... I realised how much I value the relationships with my husband's many siblings and their partners (he's one of six), how nice it is to hang out with these good people, especially as I am so far away from my own.  I also realised with that as time passes, and we become less a part of our parents' families and more our own, that these relationships are to an extent unlikely to become any stronger and if anything, these passing days will see us spending less time together rather than more.  I won't lie, and I say it respectfully, with some members of the family, it wouldn't be a bad thing.

One of the very nice things Will and I realised as we were driving home from a busy, energy charged and kid-led couple of days (think bomb diving, golf-buggies, scooters, bikes) is how similar the parenting styles of nearly all the parents in the family are.  Importance is placed on stories, minimal tv, wholesome meals with a few treats thrown in, lots of time outdoors and lots of time focussing on the children whilst trying to lead by example with good manners and positive communication.  Everyone operates at varying levels, you know, some care more about the food they give their children than others, some are freer with the tv remote etc, but on the whole it was great to be amongst like minded people with children that are almost without exception well behaved, sweet natured, well mannered and up for some fun.  It sure makes looking after the kids smoother and I think the kids like it too.  Lots of people to hang out with and do the things they love.

Last night, as we were tucking into the Christmas ham that I only glazed yesterday (and enjoying it with modified versions of this coleslaw and home made beetroot and ginger relish more than any other meal this holiday), we talked about the last week or two and where we think our future is headed.  I had mentioned in passing to Will that one of the things I took away from this break was how simple our life seems to be and how I like it that way.  I crave spending quality time with each other and our children and for me, and apart from living closer to my own family, it's all I really want in life.  The opulence of the time we spent at the Coast, the excessive food, the drink, the golf buggies and ensuite bathrooms were all good fun, but I was so happy to get back to our little home, to water our tomato plants and then to put the children to sleep in their rooms before having an early night's sleep on our slightly lumpy mattress and familiar sheets.  Back to the budget, back to dvds we've watched countless times before, back to the dust on my bedside table, back to wishing we could afford some help around the house but realising that doing the chores and housework amongst the childrearing and togetherness actually makes me feel good.  Don't get me wrong, I'd hire someone to dust that bedside table tomorrow if we could afford it, but we can't.  And even if we could, I am certain I'd still feel as though there's not enough time and I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be happier.  A little less tired maybe, but no happier.

So, we said goodbye to 2012 and at midnight, Will and I were together with our sons.  I kissed their foreheads as they slept and thanked them for the best year of my life.  It was a phenomenal year, truly, with our new baby, a stripey party, a robot cake, the perfection of a tiramisu recipe... my dear little boys became a year older and their ever evolving personalities wowed us, their naive parents, who, just like this time last year wonder what this year will have in store.  What stories we will share as we fall asleep each night, talking about what Ollie said, what Max did, how Hugo is the most darling little creature we have ever set eyes on...

I do know this:  2013 will be a big year.  In July, it will be 10 years since I arrived in Australia to be with the man I longed to spend the rest of my life with (so far so good).  This year, we will spend our first full year as a complete family of five and we will make some significant decisions about where we want to spend the rest of our lives, or at least the foreseeable future.  I know these aren't easy decisions to make and I'm terrified of making the wrong ones - we've never been good at deciding anything, but I have come to realise there aren't really wrong decisions, are there?  Every decision leads you somewhere and provides an experience (like the other day when we decided to take the kids on the train to the video store on the hottest day of my life, what the hell were we thinking?).  And if it's the wrong experience, well now you know it and making the next decision should be easier.  Shouldn't it?  Of course!  (We aren't ever going to go out in the summer sun when the kids haven't had a lunchtime nap, ever again!)

It's not the decision making I'm scared of, it's the consequence, especially now there are little people we are responsible for.  I'm frightened of change (and lack of shade on Queensland summer's day), scared that the grass isn't as green as I think it is, and now we have our kids to think about and a little patch of green lawn is as important as ever.  But without actually stepping over the fence I'll never know what's there, will I?  There could be no grass at all... but there could be parks and vales and hillsides and forests and mountains... and if there's not?  I can come back to this lawn.  Or find another one.  Or accept that I might never find the right shade of green but I'll keep trying before having the revelations that the years are passing, passing quicker than ever before and the best thing I can do is to find some grass, any grass, lay down our lumpy mattress and let my kids loose with their watering cans and watch them make the grass green for us all.  Yes.

Happy New Year.

merry happy twinkle day

It's the end of a hot, sunny, long and marvellous Gold Coast Christmas Day.  Our children are asleep, after a 5.10am wake up (thank you garbage men).  My early morning crankiness soon passed and we enjoyed a tremendous day, playing with side-loading garbage trucks and cement trucks, splashing in a pool, riding scooters on a golf course.  We made a tiramisu to end all tiramisu.  We ate Christmas pudding.  I cried when I spoke to my parents and sisters on Christmas morning.  My children had a genuinely fantastic time with their many cousins.  Tuckered out, happy babies, it is a relief Christmas came when it did because we were all ready for it.

One last mince pie, a dollop of cream a little tipple of vin santo, and then time for a very, very welcome sleep.

Merry Christmas to those that celebrate it, and Happy Mince Pie Day to those that don't.