year 8

This is me and my husband, starting our eighth year of marriage.  Undoubtedly the last five have been a test of our resilience and ability to juggle more than we thought we could handle, but it's also been a very positive journey so far, and one which I cannot complain about.  With good health (the value of which can't be underestimated), a happy home and enough challenges to provide us with balance, I feel very blessed to be writing these words today.

Happy anniversary, Will, I love you and our children beyond measure.

this phase

About a week ago, I breastfed my littlest boy for the last time.  I didn't realise it at the time, but I've known it was coming.  I went back to work, expressing lasted a little while, but mainly, the breastfeeds have been restricted to night feeds and the occasional morning feed; so, it was only a matter of time before it'd be hard to sustain the one or two feeds a day he was getting.

I have mixed feelings about it all because I know that if breastfeeding had been that important to me, I would have found a way to continue.  But without listing the reasons it came to an end, one of the feelings I want to remember is how sad I am that it's over.  I'm sad I don't get to give Hugo that connection any more, the cuddliness in the middle of the night, the ability to soothe him almost immediately.  But more than that, I'm sad that this phase of my life is over.  Save for a few months between Max and Hugo, I've been pregnant and/or breastfeeding for the last five years or so.  I'm lucky that I loved it.  I loved being pregnant, carrying my sons, feeling them grow and move and I loved breastfeeding each of my sons for nearly a whole year.  There were times I didn't feel so great about it but more often than not, I felt I was doing the best I could, and that felt amazing.  So, it's a tough thing to admit that phase of our lives is over, we have no intention of adding any more babies to our family (though there is talk of chicks and kittens).  Now, we look onwards, forwards, away from this phase of having these exquisite little babies in our lives, the ones that feel so soft and little, that know so little but learn so much and so quickly, the ones that show their emotions as clearly as can be on those faces that smile, laugh, cry, burp, these babies that you hold almost every moment they're awake, looking forward to the days they'll be more independent but knowing full well those days will make you write soppy words about how sad you are that they're growing up.

Much as I wish I had known Hugo was breastfeeding for the last time, I suppose really, it's a good thing I didn't. It's a good thing it came and went and now it's time to move on.  There are other ways we continue to try our best, and lord knows we fail a LOT, but we keep trying, keep chipping away, trying our damnedest to help shape these little boys into the best that they can be.  But for now, this phase, it's over.  Time to move on.

33

It's my husband's 33rd birthday today, which means a legitimate excuse to splurge on takeaway and drink good wine mid week.  Happy birthday, my dear.

flying

Time. It's flying by.  It's now over 10 weeks since Hugo was born (he has become the marker of time in our lives) and we are in a rhythm of sorts, where most things seem manageable, although that could be because I've stopped trying to do the hard stuff.  Hugo is now sleeping through the night (sort of).  We wake him for a feed at 10pm, and he's making it through till any time between 5-7am, though if he wakes at 5am he's asleep after a quick feed.  The other night, I couldn't be bothered expressing for his 10pm feed, and just fell asleep.  At the risk of jinxing our luck, I'm going to share that he slept for nearly 13 hours straight.

That was last Saturday, in fact.  The day I did something unmentionable, something I'm not proud of.  I forgot our anniversary.  Not our wedding anniversary, but the anniversary of when we first went out for that date in Covent Garden 11 years ago, the anniversary that we both feel is almost more important than our wedding anniversary.  After all, there would have been no wedding without that first day.  His first words to me were 'happy anniversary'.  His second: 'Did you really forget?!'.  Er, yes.  Which is hard to believe because (a) I've never ever forgotten anything like this before, and (b) all I think about is him, especially when he's not here.  I do things and think 'I must tell Will about that', I see things and I think 'Will would like that', I hear things and think 'he's going to find that so funny' and every now and again, I think about him and get annoyed because he didn't put something away where it belongs/threw his daks at the laundry basket and they ended up on the floor/forgot to mention he'd be working when I thought we'd be spending the evening together.

Truth is, with the boys, a baby, the redecorating, planning Ollie's 4th (FOURTH!) birthday party, and trying not to look in the mirror at this tired, withered old face, I just forgot.  And these aren't excuses, because I don't think you can blame anything on the busy-ness of life, especially not busy-ness that you've created yourself, but the anniversary just fell off the list of things on my mind.  Which is ironic really, because the first thing I think about in the mornings is him, and the last thing I look forward to at night is how he puts his arms snug around me before we fall asleep.

Anyway, he didn't forget.  He was his usual, sweet, thoughtful self, making me this beautiful card and giving me a well chosen and fitting gift, and writing to me a note that reminds me why I chose this man to be my husband.  He didn't once bat an eyelid that I forgot, which shamed me somewhat because I can only imagine what I would have done if it had been the other way round, right?  So all was good. Love was in the air.  And then I found his daks on the bathroom floor.

Happy anniversary.

fathers' day 2012

True love.

the arrival

At about 4.30am on 14 July 2012, Will turned and asked me if I was alright.  2 hours 45 minutes later, our son Hugo William Downes was born.  Neighbours were called to look after Ollie and Max, bag was already packed and in the car, we drove in the dark to the hospital, cursing over every speed bump that seemed to bring on a contraction.  And it was an intense labour with contractions every 5-7 minutes from the get go, which meant I went from half way there to ready to push in about 30 minutes after arriving at the hospital.  The pain was unbearable and every contraction made me feel like I couldn't do it.  I remember feeling out of control, pleading for someone to help me, trying to push and feeling helpless, the birthing team telling me I had to get the baby out, out, out now... and then when it felt like it couldn't be any more unbearable, he was born.

The euphoria of giving birth is really something spectacular.  I had previously only ever had labour induced and was able to manage the pain of contraction upon contraction with an epidural.  This time, we decided to wait, and while we'd booked to be induced this week (at a week over), we were hoping labour would happen in its own time, and I would be able to experience that feeling of recognising the baby was coming, and the build up of labour, rather than the intense experience of being subject to the artificial hormones and pain relief.  I got my wish.  I can't say I was altogether happy about it at about 7am on Saturday morning, but to have got through the experience the way we did, makes me feel like I have lived an amazing experience.

I came home the next day, and since then, it's been about the little milestones, first bath, first feeds, first poos (mine, not his)... and we are getting to know little Hugo, who is (in my husband's words) very cute and very loud.  He is also as soft as soft can be, so soft he hardly feels like he is there when you stroke his cheeks and that brand new hair on his head.  Sometimes (like the moment he was born) I see Max in his face, and other times, Ollie.

Ollie and Max?  I think it's going to take some time for the little men to come to terms with what's going on.  They have been incredibly sweet, but I think it's hard for them to see me absorbed with this new baby, and they are struggling somewhat with Hugo's intense crying noise, which we hear a lot because he doesn't like to sleep unless it's on me or Will and doesn't like to be left alone.  It is again somewhat overwhelming, this feeling of surging love for all three of our children, even if it is interspersed with complete exasperation at not being able to meet everyone's demands all at once.  Ollie and Max are still so young, at 3y8m and 2y3m asking them to understand the impact of a newborn on our lives is so far beyond reasonable, I just need to remember that every time they act up or don't do exactly what I need them to do.

And so, we are new parents again and every day is a new experience.  Our future has been reset again. I'm trying my best to cope with the early days of breastfeeding, postpartum recovery, lack of sleep and complete lack of the predictability and routine that I normally thrive on.  The relief of being on this side of things relatively unscathed keeps me going.  We have three sons.  We are a new family.  We are happy.  We are blessed.

nourishment

There is a place that Will and I go to when I need nourishment that can't be found in a sandwich, sushi roll or any other of my usual lunches.  It's a magical place in the middle of the Brisbane CBD, close to where Will's offices are and not that far away from mine (though far enough that I can't be tempted every day).  It's a place that we will meet at once a fortnight or so, to enjoy a bowl of what we know is good for us, each other's company and conversation about holidays we want to take, funny things the children have said and done, and how our days have been in anticipation of this meal to come.  But once our piping hot meals arrive in the mismatched crockery, we sit quite quietly, the only noises being those of appreciation for what's in front of us (the food and each other I suppose) before yet again announcing that Taro's make the best, the best, bowls of noodles we have ever tasted.  Ever.

new love

Sigh.  This is our latest love.  This is what has been making me so very tired, occasionally sick, deliriously happy, joyously hopeful...  We are just over half way through this journey of growth that's so short in comparison with the adventure to come after his/her expected arrival in early July.  It may be hormonal, but every time I think about this new life, or any other, it immediately replaces any feeling of inability to cope with an overwhelming desire to nurse and nurture, the feeling of anxiety becomes a feeling of nervous excitement for the future.  Which is a good thing, because raising our boys is a challenge for which I quite often need that reminder, that when all is said and done, this hard work is totally worth it.

This... is our latest love.

the year in review

I went back to work after giving birth to my littlest boy and to my surprise, loved it, I joined a gym and kept it up, we had visitors from England, we broke a fridge, we bought a new camera and took a million photographs, we edited our photos and backed them up responsibly, we realised we need a holiday but didn't have the time to take one, we escaped the floods but friends weren't so lucky, I baked a cheesecake and made a pavlova, both for the first time, we lost a baby and cried and cried, we learned our son is crazy for puzzles and our other son is a cheeky little devil with a naughty streak that is adorable, we watched movies, so many movies, I watched my husband become an actual architect, I used my KitchenAid way more than I thought I would, I Skyped my parents every week, sometimes twice, I missed them terribly, we didn't always try a new recipe every week but we always ate good food, I loved watching the royal wedding, missed England and her countryside, visited the GoMA at least twice, we still haven't managed to get out to dinner but we had an awesome party for Will's birthday, we decorated our garden with 800 fairy lights, we said goodbye to Sue, but hello to Emma and Clasein, I had the most awesome birthday week EVER and ate at my favourite restaurant with my favourite person, we visited a zoo, our house was a zoo, I discovered patience, then lost it again, I became a little more like my mum, we ate McDonalds for the first time in years and regretted it, I got to know my sister as my friend and lamented the years we spent apart but realised it's better late than never, our boys' birthday parties were awesome and it didn't rain, we didn't send Christmas cards this year, but I've been good at keeping in touch with those I love, we became really good at doing the kids' packed lunches in about 10 minutes, and kept on top of keeping house, I worried about how I'm doing at work but found out they think I'm ok, I playdoughed, painted, tidied, read to my sons, our boys started sharing a room together, we only broke a few baubles this year, I wished I had read more books and had more haircuts, we had Christmas at our house with my friend Kate, I learned the names of lots of vehicles, we repaired our lawn and now our garden looks fabulous, I got cross with my boys more often than I would have liked but always ended the day with kiss and a cuddle, I started and ended the year very tired.  But so happy.

Come on 2012.   I know you are going to be great.

the story of the mugs

So, remember the mugs?  They didn't turn out exactly how we thought they would.  We were hoping for delicate, fresh, glassy green, but the first fire turned out dark, dark green mugs - still very lovely but definitely a surprise.  Lavinia emailed me straight away and sent these photos - I think she was as surprised as anyone, and while I liked the dark green, I was gutted they didn't turn out how I thought they would.  So Lavinia made an executive decision to reglaze the mugs, and they turned out blue!  Beautiful... except that one of the mugs got hit by a piece of shrapnel from another item in the kiln, leaving a damn near perfect bullet hole.  Interesting, but not what you want in a mug.

So, one of our customised mugs didn't make it.  I'm gutted we don't have two matching mugs, but Lavinia sent two, unstamped spares and the one mug that survived, so I'm happy for now.  They arrived today and I waited for Will to get home from work before opening the parcel and drinking our first cups of tea.  They are beautiful.

I've asked Lavinia (who should be credited for all the photographs in this post) to let me know when her kiln is set up and ready for action again (it's being moved and won't be available for a few months at best).  I haven't heard from her yet, but if she hasn't been scared away from doing custom orders, I'm going to hope that she will give it another shot.  Excuse the pun.

It has just occurred to me, that this might be some kind of omen, but I only see it as a positive.  We actually now have three beautiful mugs, rather than two, and a story to tell, and one rather gorgeous stamped mug which we will keep safe rather than use.  Yes, I would have loved two matching mugs, but you know, we are so different, Will and I, it kind of works better this way and I guess the unpredictability of the kiln adds a nice vibe too.  There will be more anniversaries and I expect one or more of these mugs might be lost or broken over the many years to come.  And then I'll just email Lavinia again in the hope that she'll be able to put her very lovely talent to use for us again.  In the mean time, we will drink tea.  Lots of it.

personalised

We didn't really do gifts for our anniversary this year.  I thought about buying Will an iPad, but much as he would love one, we really can't afford it and we have enough screens to stare and point at in this house.  We talked about buying a new camera body as a gift for each other and for us both; we have a Nikon D70 which is fine and all but it's 7 years old and temperamental and since we take so many photographs and use it every day (and sometimes all day), it might be time to upgrade.  But again, we might just have to wait until we've saved a little more in the coffers... maybe we can do it to mark what I think is our real anniversary, the one that marks the day we first said more than a shy hello to each other, the one that marks our 10 years of togetherness later this year.

That said, I didn't want this milestone to go unmarked.  Five years of marriage.  It sounds important and I do think that anniversaries allow you to reset somewhat, take a step back to consider your life and what makes you happy (and sad, I suppose) and pull yourself out of the day-in-and-outedness that I'm prone to complaining about here, so it's right that they should be celebrated, in whatever little way.  We've had some trying times in these past two years in particular, and it's not always been easy, and God knows it's harder for Will than I think it is for me.  We've been challenged by our ever evolving relationship as we became parents and questioned what we really want out of this life now that we have two boys to consider first and foremost and yet still want to fulfil aspirations for ourselves and our family.  The shift of going from doing what we wanted whenever we wanted to having to put our little boys and responsibilities as parents first has taken its toll at times, and there were moments when it felt that we barely knew each other any more.  So it was important to me that we should mark our five years of togetherness as man and wife - it's been the biggest five years of my life so far.

So how did we mark our anniversary? We had a quiet evening, didn't go out for a lavish dinner or anything like that, but after the children were safely tucked away in their little beds we did drink some good wine (I see no point in drinking any other kind).

As for a gift, I wanted to give something meaningful but useful, something for us to share and something for us as individuals too...  For a while now, whether it's been at breakfast when one cup of coffee just won't cut it, or after dinner, when we've wanted that mug of hot chocolate to never end, or a Sunday afternoon when we've needed more tea than is good for us, every time we put the kettle on, one of us will complain that our mugs just aren't plentiful enough.  So, with our affinity for tea, and the ritual that we share every night after dinner, I decided the best thing for us was to order two customised, hand crafted mugs, stamped with the date and location of our wedding, made by this lovely person, who is firing them as I write this.  She's been kind enough to send photos of their progress along the way and already, they are beautiful.  I have a good idea of what they will look like when they are glazed but I'll save those images for another post.  Suffice to say, I can't wait to receive the finished product and drink our inaugural cup of tea in them, whilst sante-ing to the next five, ten, fifteen... fifty years of marriage.

And as for resetting, taking that step back?  Well, it's a good view from back here.  As these days go by and we continue to discover talents and shortcomings that we didn't know the other had, and we've no idea what tomorrow will bring, I feel secure in the knowledge that I chose the right man to do it all with. It might be retrospective to celebrate the five years just gone, but there is a feeling that the best is yet to come.  We're a heck of a way away from any sense of calm, that dream holiday to New York, to owning the cottage in North Cornwall or the winter chalet in the French Alps, but we have each other, our children and our aspirations.  And soon, mugs.  Big ones too.

and he married me

Golden Lane, Prague, 29 March 2005

He uses expressions like 'good lord', he loves soccer and not rugby, he likes to ride his bike, he never says no to pudding, he likes a good cup of tea after dinner, he doesn't wear jumpers even when it's cold, he thinks most 'fashion' is ridiculous, he loves the cricket and watches it with the volume down because he knows I don't care for it, he always asks whether we have anything planned before making plans of his own, he is an expert at settling Max when he's grumpy and at reading endless stories to our children, he wants to see the world with me, he makes the best train tracks for Ollie, sometimes he's too laid back, he can be frustratingly disorganised, he never ever raises his voice, he's always keen for a cuddle, he doesn't care much for separating colours from whites, he happily looks after our children when I am working late, he has no idea how much money we have (or rather, don't have), he is loyal, he is responsible but is still the kid he was when we met almost ten years ago, he is terrible with names and his memory is patchy at best, he is the big picture to my detail, he folds laundry without being asked, he does the hoovering, he procrastinates but always seems to get things done, he loves and lives for good design, he loves to read books by highbrow writers but can quote Futurama at the drop of a hat, he cannot live without coffee but gave it up without complaint when we were trying to conceive, he works hard at everything, he is funny (and not in a dad way), he loves his job, he gets cross with the pups but always has a pat for them, he is fair in everything he says and does, he cares about doing the right for our planet and for people, he reads the weekend papers from cover to cover, he knows more about most stuff than he ever lets on and five years ago today, he married me.

encore!

This week, Ollie's aunty and cousin came to visit.  We don't have much space in our house and I always wonder how we are going to squeeze everyone in but it always ends up being alright and it's a bit of a novelty getting the inflatable mattress out.   Ollie's cousin Emmanuelle (the girl of many nicknames, of which Emma seems to be the most popular) is six weeks younger than Ollie and was born in Paris.  She is kind hearted, sweet natured, she has a penchant for snacking and a very cute little vocabulary of French and English words.  Ollie, who is still of few words but really developing his language quickly, really enjoyed having her around and this morning seems to be a bit bored, plodding about the house wondering where all the fun has disappeared to.  He's not much of a mimicker but at lunch yesterday, Ollie listened as Manu reached for more bread and said 'encore!', thought for a minute, then looked at me and said 'a-core!'.  His first French word!  Hard to resist.

And in other, unrelated but still relevant news, Will and I start our tenth year together today.  Nine years ago, on 22 September 2001, and after more than a sensible amount of dithering, we managed to spend an evening together doing what we did best back then - hanging out in a London bar.  I am pretty sure that was the night I fell in love and nine years later we are married with two beautiful boys.  I never thought I could be so lucky.  Each year brings with it new challenges but each year seems to better the last. I have a feeling that this next one is going to be something special.

anniversary

(Our wedding day, 24 June 2006 at Tamborine Mountain)

Will and I celebrated four years of marriage today.  We all went out for breakfast, came home for lunchtime naps, packed a picnic and went to the Lone Pine Koala Sanctuary for the afternoon.  Ollie seemed to have a great day, meeting animals, patting kangaroos, bird spotting and generally enjoying himself.  After Max and Ollie were safely tucked into bed, we ended the the day with a big plate of carbonara, a glass of red wine, tea and chocolate.

I like being married.  I like feeling like I'm part of something, a partnership, a future.  Being a parent makes that bond, the decision to spend the rest of your life with someone, even stronger so I'm glad we spent the day as a family.

a sweet valentine

By Kate Wilson for Marc for Marc Jacobs.  Pretty!