growing

Hugo.  Little Hugo.  Not so little Hugo.  He's growing by the second but he's still my baby boy.  It won't be long before he's huge-o.  Hah!

fathers' day 2012

True love.

fresh

As if looking after a newborn and two rambunctious toddlers wasn't enough, we've suddenly decided to act on our decision to redecorate the house.  Not renovate, just redecorate.  Painting mainly, with a bit of serious spring cleaning and sprucing thrown in.  We figured a room a weekend is achievable and so far, we've managed to stick to that ambition.  We have a freshly painted bedroom and dining room, including all the trim, doors, nooks and crannies.  The difference is spectacular, and only in actually undertaking the task have we realised how much the house really does need a freshen up.  We've been here almost six years and it must be at least ten since it was renovated.

It always seems simpler than it really is, and I am writing this while trying not to stress about the piles of crap lying in our bedroom/living area and focussing instead on the fact that we got it done.  We moved our mattress into the lounge and lived like the bedridden grandparents of Charlie Bucket for the weekend, which I have to admit was good fun.  Who doesn't like eating ice-cream while sitting in bed in front of the tv?

So this week, I'm going to restore our bedroom to sanctuary status, sort through piles of clothes, get stuff dry cleaned and thoughtfully place nice things here and there so it feels good to walk in there after a day of chaos.  And then, even though it wasn't the easiest thing to do with the kids wanting to get involved and a 6 week old baby stuck to me like a (very cute) limpet, we'll do the next room, and the next, until it's all done and dusted.  Just in time for summer.

one month

He's got big, brown eyes, a mesmerising gaze, a voice that means business, the softest of skin and hair, and he loves to be snug.  He's started offering smiles, though they are still few and far between; I'll do anything to see that little face light up.  It already feels like I'm spoiling him, though of course he's only a little baby, so it's not really possible, but if Ollie's my pride and Max is my joy, surely Hugo, with his hairy little back and fuzzy ears is the apple of my eye.

Last night, Will said something to Hugo that made my heart cry a little.  "You're looking big, Hugo, not like a newborn baby anymore."  He's right, of course and I agreed with him straight away before realising how time is escaping us.  While I've been dwelling on the tiredness, the boys' behaviour and Hugo's insistence on being carried around all day, life goes on, and Hugo is one whole month old.  Today.  At this rate, the Christmas I'm so excited about will be here before we know it.

move over salvador

Lately, I haven't felt like saying or doing much.  The lack of sleep and resultant difficulty finding the energy to connect with the boys (husband included) has meant I feel a little withdrawn and I'm back at that place where I'm doubting my ability to do this parenting thing.  It's that same place fraught with uncertainty over the future, the homesickness and the feeling that I am bearing the weight of the world on my shoulders.  I know I'm not, it just feels that way.

Still.  I managed to sit down and do some silly collaging with Ollie and Max the other day, and it was something we all enjoyed.  Max especially loved getting sticky and messy, and it was so sweet to connect with him in the fug that has been concentrating on bonding with Hugo.  The boys' creations now take pride of place in the frame of this Dali print that let's face it, pales in comparison to what they made.

Our house continues to become their house, with their belongings taking over what was once a grown up space, their noise permeating every inch of this little wooden home we live in and their artwork taking centre stage over the paintings and prints that used to adorn our walls.  Our house.  Really, it's their house and we are but lucky to live in it.

go team gb

and that was the week that was...

not good.

Will picked up hand, foot and mouth.  He couldn't cuddle or help at all with Hugo, and while he's been helping as much as possible with the boys, there were a couple of days there where it all felt way too much.  I was left feeling rather lonely after a week of no physical contact with Will, not so easy when you are still sleeping next to each other, and definitely not easy when you are feeling very hormonally challenged and just want a cuddle.

Max had diarrhoea, and still has somewhat, and the doc thinks it's probably his way of dealing with the hand, foot and mouth.  Either way, middle of the night wake ups to sloppy poops from your two year old are not fun.

Despite the lack of contact, it was inevitable that I'd be ill too, and I had a fever and sore throat over the weekend, making night feeding extremely difficult, and day feeding for that matter.  Again, it's probably how I've dealt with the family lurgy, Ollie and Max too had fevers about a week ago and the theory is they had the bug then and just didn't show any more symptoms.  Doesn't make it easy to manage.

This winter, it feels as though we have been battling colds, sinusitis,  coughs and other bugs almost all the time.  It's a given when your kids are in day care that they will bring home germs, and it is winter after all.  But it's such a worry when you have a teeny tiny little baby in the house, and yes, I know, worrying won't help anyone or anything (something I have learned from my ever positive sister who's mantra is to relax, everything will be ok!), but it's my way.

Winter is different here.  The houses in Queensland aren't easily heated the way they are in England.  There's no central heating, the mornings are very cold, and while the winter sun is lush, the nights are cold and dry.  In England, it's cosy inside.  It's nice to go out knowing when you get back indoors it will be toasty warm as you put the kettle on for that welcoming cup of coffee.  The days are short there, but we have Christmas and the holiday season to look forward to.  Here, winter seems so... dull.  And it makes me yearn for the holiday season and we all know what I think about Christmas in the heat of the summer.

So the upshot of it all is that I am looking forward to spring (not necessarily summer) when there'll be a little more life around, a little more heat in the mornings and we won't be telling the boys they can't enjoy water play because it's too chilly to be running around in wet clothes.  The doors and windows will be open again and surely there will be less illness in our lives?  And maybe with spring might come the promise of a trip back home, because I don't know that I can make it through a fourth year without seeing the faces I love, being in the countryside I so adore and experiencing that unmistakeable atmosphere of home.  Home.

settling down

We are now in week 2 of being five, and things are settling down considerably.

Hugo is lovely.  We've had an exhausting first week and some days when he's been quite the cranky pants, but he is still lovely.  In fact, the word I'd really use to describe it would be magic.  It's been such hard work getting to grips with breastfeeding and lack of sleep, but every time I look at him, I melt a little, and when his eyes lock with mine... I can't begin to tell you how that makes me feel.  He likes to sleep and is a pretty ferocious feeder, but he gives me a bit of time between feeds.  He likes to be snug, held and cuddled but is getting better at spending a few moments in his moses basket while I prepare meals or get things organised for bath time.  That said, even when he's happy to be lying on his own, I choose to hold him, because there's nothing like that feeling of holding your own baby, barely a week old.  He locks his gaze with mine so that I can only assume he's trying to tell me something with those big, big eyes that might be blue like his brothers' or brown like his mum's, either way, he's a fuzzy little peach.

It's hard though.  I wish I could make everyone happy all the time, the boys are so good but I can't do as much with them as I would like, and the tiredness, it's a fog that makes it all that much tougher.  And if you are a mother, you might remember what it's like when you are just dozing off and then you hear the static of the baby monitor and you know you have to get up for an hour long breastfeed.  Having Will home these first couple of weeks is wonderful and in many ways it's him that's bearing the brunt of the hard work - looking after Max and Ollie.  We were saying only this morning that we don't feel much busier than we were a couple of weeks ago, and in fact Hugo makes me sit down for a little while each day, either when I'm feeding him or just stealing a cuddle.  But we are feeling like we need to be that much more organised.  What helps is that the boys are already learning to be a little more independent and they don't seem to object when the reason we can't do something is because we need to help Hugo.  At least, not yet.

But the good feelings have taken me by surprise somewhat.  It's as though we are that much more relaxed with it being our third time venturing into baby raising and so we are enjoying it more and savouring as much as we can.  The first was stressful for me because I had no idea whatsoever, the second was good because Max was such a chilled out baby but we really struggled with Ollie being a challenging toddler, but this time... even though Max is now that toddler, and I'm still not entirely sure what I'm doing (I've never had three kids before), I know Max will get over his tantrums, I know I will turn a corner with the breastfeeding and soon enough these new days will be over.  I don't know what the future holds, but I do know that we need to enjoy every moment we can.

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.

overheard

Me: His eyes are?
Max: Orange!
Me: His tongue is?
Max: Black!
Me: He has purple prickles all over his?
Max: Back!
Me: Where are you meeting him?  Here by this lake, and his favourite food is?
Max: ... Ice cream!

Ollie: There's a spider outside and he's trying to get into our house!  Let's kill it!
Me:  No!  Why would we do that?  He's just minding his own business, building his web.
Ollie:  Actually mum, we call it a webSITE.

Me: Ollie, it looks as though you need to do a wee.  Do you?
Ollie: No
Me: You are squirming a lot. Are you sure you don't need to go?
Ollie:  I don't need to go to the toilet
Me:  Ollie, are your underpants wet or dry?
Ollie: (pauses...) Mum.  I am going to the toilet and I am NOT going to answer that question.

Ollie:  I don't know where I've put it, mum.

Me:  Me neither.

Ollie:  It must be with all my other curiosities.

Ollie: (to Max, who was this close to being put in the naughty corner) Max, do you want to go to jail?  Or something similar?

Me:  Do you know Ollie's full name is Oliver James?

Max: (who's favourite engine is James) No

Me:  And your full name is Max Henry

Max: NO!

Me:  Well, what's your name?

Max: James

Me:  It's Max Henry

Max: No! James!

(a small tantrum ensued)

Ollie:  You know mum, your mouth is going to have to get REALLY BIG for the baby to come out of it.

(Isn't it just.)