sad and complicated

This evening, when I was reading to the boys before bed time, Ollie said to me, 'Mum, I feel sad.  And complicated.'  It was easy to see how this was a funny thing for a three year old to say, but we talked about it for a bit.  He was feeling sad, because I had forbidden any tv this evening, and though he couldn't quite tell me why he was feeling complicated, I'm guessing it was because he was so exhausted this evening, he couldn't possibly have been thinking straight.

What struck me though, was that lately, I've been feeling a bit sad and complicated.  I think it's probably post birthday blues, or the pressure of my work life, or feeling tired and achey regardless of how much sleep I get.  I mean, I'm also quite happy and generally as content as I've ever been but I'm a bit sad too.  See?  It's quite complicated.  I don't have much to be sad about, life is ticking along nicely, we have plenty to anticipate and the kids seem... manageable.  Enjoyable, even.  But there's something and I think it's that feeling of belonging (or lack thereof) that's creeping back into my life, making me question where we want to be as a family.

So anyway, I have made this post all about me, but really, it's all about my children.  They are far better at articulating themselves than I often give them credit for.  It's easy to brush off some of the things that kid says, but much as he couldn't quite tell me what he meant, I'm pretty sure that sad and complicated is just how he was feeling at that moment in time and credit to him for knowing just how to tell me about it.  I hope he realises that happy or sad, I will always want to know how he's feeling.  Even when he's all grown up and life really is complicated.

bunk

Part of the two days off we had last week involved a trip to IKEA.  Yes, we do like to punish ourselves sometimes.  But it was surprisingly pleasant walking around IKEA, childless, with an aim and a little extra time to wonder whether we needed more kitchen ware or tea lights.  And what was the aim?  To purchase the the MYDAL bunk bed for the boys.  I've had my eye on it for a while, nothing else has really compared either for style or price, and since this purchase would also mean new mattresses, duvets and sheets, we needed to be sensible about how much we had to spend.

So we bought the boys their first bunk bed.  We got it home in our Corolla wagon (just - it was comical how scrunched up we were in the front of the car with the bed, mattresses etc in the back), and then we painted it.

This is the colour - Gunnard (Taubmans).  I love it.  I love grey, actually, and I'm increasingly finding it's my go-to colour. The reason for the grey on the bunk bed was so that it would match most of what's in the room.  White was the other obvious choice but our house is fairly white as it is and I liked the idea of the grey against the quilts I made for the boys and the rest of the colour in their room.  As a result, it looks great!  I'm so pleased with it.  And as a bonus, it feels and smells a bit less IKEA-y than it would have if we'd left it with that ghastly natural pine look.

But most importantly, the bunk seems to be a success with the boys, though that I think is due in part to the talking up we've done of it over the last couple of months.  We've taken Max out of his cot and he's now in the bottom bed, and the biggest problems for him are (a) he wants the top bunk and (b) when he does accept he's sleeping in the bottom, he cannot stop himself from getting up and goofing around, much to his brother's delight.  These photos do not even get close to depicting how much joy he's getting out of maximising the cheek involved with bed time now.  Last night (night two - the first night Max did actually decide he wanted to sleep in his new bed), we spent about 90 minutes listening to toys being thrown around, fits of giggles, boys jumping on the top bunk, then a slightly smaller boy jumping on his brother... it went on, but they did it and managed their first night in the bunk bed.  And as I'm writing this, Ollie is squirming around in the top while Max is sound asleep.

It's the start of a level of shenanigans we haven't really had before.  Max is always a little cheeky when we put him to bed, but Ollie is generally a good boy.  Now that they are both out of their cots, it's given them (ie Max) a level of freedom that means Trouble.  But, much as it was annoying that they took until 9pm to go to sleep last night, they went to bed happy (and only really got yelled at a couple of times) and it's reinforced that they really do like sharing their space with each other.

Speaking of spaces, it could be nesting, but it might just be normal-everyday-have-to-organise-it-now!-me, we are starting on the baby's room, which has been a spare room for the last few months and is now beginning to look like a nursery.  Will dismantled Max's cot to go in there this morning and I went through all the many clothes we have to pick out the ones that I will eventually wash and fold neatly in anticipation of that day we bring this new life back from the hospital.  Softly, gently, aching with love and that feeling that the world has just started again for us.  God willing, it will be that way.

birthday

36 years old today.  Never quite thought I'd be this content to be 36.  It sounds so old when you are in your late teens and even your twenties, but here we are, closer to 40 than 30, busier than ever, with more to look forward to, but not so busy that we couldn't take the day off today to enjoy a very nice long lunch.  Happy birthday me.

first trip to the pictures

Our boys don't watch a lot of tv.  They would if we let it happen, but we don't  and they generally watch about fifteen minutes of Thomas/Octonauts/Pingu after bath time.  Sometimes a PlaySchool when it's been a rainy day and they need some entertainment while I cook dinner.  We've tried to watch a movie with Ollie (Cars) but I think we got about ten minutes into it before the chaos and noise of the over the top animation got to Ollie and he decided he didn't want to watch it.  It wasn't a surprise really, we've managed The Jungle Book and we are also fans of The Gruffalo, but these are sweet, gentle animations.  He's been known to watch Bob the Builder from behind a cushion, so he's not the kind of kid that likes to contemplate anything too stressful.

We'd been thinking about whether it was time to take the boys out to the movies.  The Lorax, we were told by our parent friends, is great!  The kids will love it!  They'll have a great time!  It's such an awesome movie!  OK.  So, we decided to take the plunge and take our boys to the pictures for the very first time to see said movie, despite what now seems to be the obvious indications that maybe we should have waited a while.

I thought it would be fairly tame.  I thought the animation would be gentle, cute, Dr Seuss animation.  I didn't think about it from the perspective of a three year old, and definitely not from the perspective of my boy, who's always been a little sensitive and never really enjoyed anything that might result in overstimulation.  The movie was actually great, but it was loud, full of references that we as adults can process and understand (the music, the images of thunder and lightning, the kid going to find the Onceler in the dark) but that a three year old would reasonably find really quite scary.  Ollie tried his hardest but even with the help of his little comforter and sitting on my lap didn't help, and he seemed positively relieved to say yes when I asked if he wanted to leave.

Max on the other hand, seemed to be ok.  Maybe it's because he was snug on his dad's lap, or maybe he was too young to question what he was watching, although there was a moment when he squeaked a little and needed to be comforted, but on the whole, I think he could have handled it.  But we didn't stay the course.  We left after about twenty minutes, did some shopping, ate our many packed snacks anyway and talked to Ollie about what he didn't like.  Turns out it was the previews.

two!

And that was the weekend that Max turned two and we had every ingredient for a fantastic stripey birthday celebration in our garden.  Superb.

chocolate nutella clouds

We have illness in our house this week.  Remember this?  This was the last time the boys were actually properly sick, and it was very coincidentally a year ago, just before Max's 1st birthday party.  With his 2nd birthday this weekend, it's a little unfortunate that we're back here again, but this time with dry, barking coughs and unrivalled fatigue and general lowness and fingers crossed, just about enough time to recover, unlike last year when we had to postpone the festivities.

That said, Ollie's coping with it ok.  He's tired, but he's not fighting the need to sleep which is good, and judging by the way he ate the chocolate cloud nutella cupcakes I made yesterday, his appetite seems to be ok, although I think he'd eat the icing off a cake any day of the week.

Here's the recipe for these intense little mamas, which I made under the ruse of practising for Max's party next weekend (any excuse).  Of course mine didn't turn out quite so cute, but they were pretty good nonetheless.  The frosting, whilst cloud like and pretty spectacular, was actually too much for me and Will, way to buttery and sweet but the cakes themselves... they were arguably the best chocolate cakes I've ever eaten.  And I'm not that big a fan of chocolate cake (a vanilla butter cake is my choice).

But the children loved the frosting, and not so much the cake, so I guess there's a symmetry there that's cute.  It was nice to see them enjoy the messiness of chocolate cupcakes when they were both feeling a little fragile and it was particularly nice to know I could make them feel that way with something so simple.  Yeah, they should have been eating chicken soup but you know as well as I do that was never going to happen.  In fact I did make chicken dumpling soup for dinner with last night's leftover chicken and broth (and predictably the boys didn't touch it) but Will and I loved it and felt great afterwards.  That has to count for something.

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.

vanilla custard

There is laundry to fold, people I need to write to and lists I need to make for Max's upcoming birthday party, but instead I'm going to write about custard.  Not of the cowardy cowardy kind, but that lovely home made pale yellow sweet velvety kind that I always thought was such a mission to make but now realise it's totally easy peasy.

This was the recipe, (I think, they are all much the same anyway). I didn't bother with any straining business and let my KitchenAid do the hard work, all that whisking of egg yolks and sugar, and then I slowly poured the warmed milk/cream into the mixer while it was still going, and then dumped the whole lot back into the pan and within minutes, there it was, the elixir to my puddings, home made vanilla custard (made with extract rather than a vanilla pod, which I didn't have at the time).

But since then, and speaking of vanilla, one of the most exciting parcels ever arrived this week.  18 natural java vanilla beans, sourced direct from the farmers themselves at a price of their choosing, and sold to me at a price that is positively bargainous.  From the most lovely people at Indrivanilla, I paid US$34 for 18 shrink wrapped beans, soft as you like and about 7-8" long each.  You're lucky here to get vanilla for less than $6 for a dried up shrivelly bean that's been sitting on a supermarket shelf for months, so the fact that I am writing this and able to smell the incredible aroma of this vanilla that I paid less than $2 a bean for (including express delivery from the US, that is), is somewhat exciting.

I'm going to put half the beans in brandy or bourbon, or maybe even vodka, so they keep forever and the rest I'm going to use in anything I possibly can.  Including custard, because now I know it's so dang easy to make.  Food.  It makes me so blummin' happy.

overheard

O: (blinking really fast) Mum, would you look at my eyes!  They're going mental with all the opening and closing!  Mum, did you hear me, I said, they're going MENTAL!

O: (playing with his Lego figures) You! You're a bad criminal.  You did a poo in your pants!  I'm going to drag you to jail.  Oh, you really impressed me, you did a poo on the toilet.  WELL DONE!

Me:  Ollie, it's almost time for a sleep

O:  But I don't want to go to sleep, I want to keep playing

Me:  Well alright, you can play for another couple of minutes, but then we'll read a story and go to bed

O:  But I want to play for THIS MANY minutes, for LOTS of minutes

Me: OK.  How many minutes do you want to play for?

O: (pauses...) Four

O:  I want to hug the baby
Me:  OK
O:  (hugging my growing belly and patting it gently)  The baby has to grow a lot before we can meet him.  (...pause...) Hello baby, what are you doing? and then the baby says "I'm moving around... I'm moving towards mama's mouth because I have to pop out one day" (!!)

O: (to Max, as they were playing rather nicely together and with their big garbage truck) Excuse me... excuse me, MY DEAR!

Me: (after watching Ollie finish every bit of his mustard and tarragon chicken dinner) Well done, Ollie, you ate a good meal there.
O:  (somewhat confused by the mustard in his dinner)  Now I can have my crumble and mustard (he meant crumble and custard)

Will: (reading to the boys) "And then he climbed all the way to the top of the tallest of trees!"
O:  I'd like to do that
Will:  Really?  You'd climb to the top of the tallest of trees?
O:  (pause) I'd climb to a smaller one.

Me:  OK Ollie, it's time to go inside soon, just another 10 minutes of playing in the garden and we'll go inside for a nap
O:  I want to play for FIVE minutes!

Me:  Ollie, do you need to use the toilet?
O:  No
Me:  Then please stop fiddling with your underpants
O:  But I'm just trying to sort out my wing-wang, it's going mental!

Me:  (while Ollie was playing with his Lego at the dinner table rather than eating his dinner) Some of us at the table are eating our dinner, Ollie.
O:  Not me!

Me:  Night night Max.  Can you say 'night night'?
M: Na na
Me:  I love you, buddy.  Can you say 'I love you'?
M:  Na na
Me:  But can you say 'I love you'?
M: COOKIE!

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.