Hmm More sickness

Our family is blessed. Really we are. All in all, we're quite healthy little things. That is, up till addition number 2.

Willow's petite frame is an expression of her fragile nature. I've felt that way ever since she was in my womb. She seems to be plagued by sickness more so than the rest of us. And suffers quite a bit even with a small illness. And because I'm so unaccustomed to these glitches in healthy-ness, I fret a fair bit when I see my kids go through it. Because naively I think surely if you aren't as fit as a fiddle, you must surely be on the brink of death!

The last few days have been pretty scary. We've contemplated a trip to emergency after Willow returned I believe to be all the milk she'd consumed in the last half a day onto our bed, followed by another bout early the following morning onto our landlord's carpet (uh-oh). This following a week of it coming out the other end too after her immunisations, and I'm starting to get the dehydrated vibe. Last week we were able to get her 4 month shots after her bout of MRSA prolonged our 2 month shots. And we're attempting to catch up. (She's now 5 1/2 months) I knew she'd be sick from them. These vibes aren't exaggerated given our experience with her little life so far.

Here's her scary moments to date:

7 weeks in utero- we find out that she could become disattached at any moment if the blood vessel burst. God obviously wanted her around! By 13 weeks she was large enough for the blood vessel to not end her life should it have burst (oh, the stress!)

All was well until 37 weeks in utero - We went to the hospital for a tour and ended up staying overnight due to a fainting nausea 24hr virus which made little Wills' heart race dangerously fast for 12 hours. Nurses handed us over to doctors who handed us over to specialists who decided after a night of constant monitoring that they would actually not cut her out of me as was threatened earlier the day before. Her high heart rate could have caused her death. Again, God wanted her to stick around.

37 weeks onwards- constant contractions until a false alarm at 38 weeks and scare at 39 weeks where she didn't move one morning. After a coffee and usual breakfast didn't bring about movement, we went for more monitoring at the hospital. We returned well, but tired, awaiting her eventual arrival.

Her birth was quite unproblematic, with my post-partum hemorrhage being the only issue.

Then 8 weeks out- diagnosed with MRSA (multiresistant stephalococcus oreaus) or something that sounds like that. An aggresive infection which brought the guys in has-mats from the bereau of infectious diseases into our ward and put her into a crib made of steel bars.

3 weeks of antibiotics later, and she's a healthy chicken again. Except for the constant colds... which haven't abated since.

I am blessed though that Willow takes these illnesses in her stride. And I pray for a friend of mine whose girls are always ill with very severe colds, and I thank God that I've never been tried in this measure yet. She's amazing, this friend of mine. I read her blog and I'm in awe of how completely devoted she is to her calling as a mother. And I find great strength in her journey. I'm always so encouraged to continue on with the same enthusiasm in amongst my meager struggles.

So come what may, I have now accepted illness as a constant companion to my life. Forever haunting the hallway. Willing to snatch away sleep from all of us with little warning and replace our smiles with sunkeness. I just hope that the saying is right that "whatever doesn't kill you will make you stronger." Because if that's the case, I know a few superhumans who'll be wandering the globe in another 20 years from now...

Reminiscing

You're going to laugh at what I'm about to say (or write). I know it. Because it's stupid. That's how I know that at least you'll scoff a little. Some form of breath will leave your lips. I'll almost bet on it.

So here's my news.

I want to be pregnant again.

There. I said it.

Response? I know, I'm stupid. Totally stupid. But let me be more nuanced. I want to be pregnant again, but I don't want a baby =)

That is, that I loved both times how exciting it was to have a baby inside of me. To wear moo moos had I wanted and to not be judged. If I wore a moo moo now, people would just say "well, she's really let herself go, hasn't she?" Which would most likely be the truth anyway (chortle).

It was when Avalon was the age that Willow is at now that Craig and I said to eachother, "yeah, let's have another one!"

Except that Avalon was pretty much what I imagined in my naive youth that having a child would be like. She slept brilliantly from 7pm till 10 for a quick snack, then usually slept again till 7.30am the following day. Sure, she had her moments of teething and sickness which changed that routine, but by and large, we didn't even know we had a child at night she was so settled.

On the other hand, our second daughter Willow has been much more normal. She wakes more often, feeds like a newborn still (at 5 months) and is generally the type of sleep-depriving child that most new mothers talk about. Don't get me wrong. She still sleeps better than some babies. She doesn't wake up and want to play at 3am or anything, but she still wakes, and fusses continually throughout the dark hours.

So my feelings towards pregnancy are completely stupid. I feel overwhelmed as it is. I really don't want another child yet, but for some reason, my body does. Where's the logic in it? I don't know. The depths of the heart are too vast to understand.

I'm hoping it's because, overwhelming-ness aside, I really love being a Mum. I'm hoping that this is just what's buried beneath the blurry eyes and the dark circles. Because in my day, there's not a great deal of time to think about such things. Of anything of the future, really. Because today is so now. Today is so overwhelming. And today has so many things to do in it.

But regardless, the thought came through my mind today. I'd love to be pregnant again. To be hanging up the washing on the line and catch a glimpse of my big belly shadowed on the grass beneath me.

But I know that for my own sake, and for Avalon and Willow, it'd be better to have a Mum in her right mind than loads of brothers and sisters and Mum in an asylum for the insane.

Poo poo poo

It's on nights like this where Craig's out again and I'm on my own to listen out for cries from my newly settled-in-the-same-room children that I dread the decision to do washable nappies.

Sure, they're great for the environment "ra ra ra", save me money "yada yada yada"...

But I'm totally over holding my breath until I see stars come into my field of vision.

My friend Sarah said I'd get over the poo factor, and that I'd stop wearing gloves after a while.

Wrong. Sorry Sar.

I'm actually getting even more neurotic and sterilising the gloves afterwards, just in case one ever falls off the sink and Avalon ends up having fun with it while I'm obliviously feeding Willow in the adjoining room.

The task is so unrewarding that I've decided to tally how much I'm saving on using them. Then I've decided that I'm going to treat myself to another piece of furniture in our sparse house. Probably a useless piece of furniture. You know the type. Looks-great-but-with-no-real-purpose type of furniture. The type of furniture which Craig would think is a waste of space so we'd never get it type of furniture.

I'm so silly, but when I spend much of my waking life in this house, it's nice to think that there'll be a little reminder of my unnecessary efforts staring back at me every day.

I think once that useless but pretty piece of furniture is sitting in a room ,it'll be then that I'll say for sure "yeah, washable nappies, they're worth the effort!"

Tonight's events

After a relatively painless childrearing day today, I was left as usual on a Sunday to do the sleep routine on my own.

Here's how it all went down tonight.

We got ourselves into the house with minimum fuss. What I mean by minimum fuss is that Avalon did cry hysterically for "Daddy" on the 3 minute car ride home. But stopped once I told her she's having a special time with Mummy tonight and we're going to have frothy milk together before bed. (Happy days! Frothy milk for Avy means milk with some cinnamon sugar on top and for Mummy means a big cup of espresso!)

After laying Willow down, putting Avalon into her highchair with some food and getting the nappies off the line (thankyou 33 degree day for drying them proto) I went ahead with preparations for our "frothy milk" which was cut short by Willow's hunger cries. Ok, leave the frothy milk, Avy can go to bed a little later. Willow is fed her top up formula bottle, and put upstairs to bed, and I'm back on task. Milk out of the fridge, machine on, cups at the ready.

I look over to Avy. Her finger is up her nose AGAIN. Grr. "No fingers in noses Avy, I'll get you a tissue"

Avy: "Pea in there" (sheepishly)

Me: "Is there a pea up your nose?" (getting more tense)

Avy: (quickly responds) "Yes"

I race over and tell her to "blow it out" into the tissue. Unfortunately, children only know how to blow out once they've sucked air in through the nose first. The pea creeps further up. Ah! Getting more tense. (Avy somehow bypasses my tissue and sticks her finger up there again, lodging the pea further up.) Ah again! Think, Nicole, you're a smart woman (ok, debatable...) "Avy, blow really hard this time"

She blows and I see some green, and am able to squish the top of her nose now so that the pea comes out with a triumphant "pop" onto the table. Completely covered in snot. Gross. Oh well, at least it's out. Relieved sigh.

Quick as a flash, Avalon's hand darts out and grabs aforementioned pea and puts it into her mouth. Oh, ok, so that's grosser.

She smiles at me and says "yum." (feeling a little ill now but trying to hide my disgust). "Sure, sweetie. Don't ever put peas or anything else up your nose again! You will get very sick."

I realise that time is ticking and the frothy milk still needs preparing and eating. My precious night time is seeping away. I reconsider the bowl of veges and replace it with some playdough so I can finish the milk before it's midnight.

Next thing I know, Avalon is completely choking. I didn't even see what happened, but I get 10 points for a good guess. She's swallowed the playdough. A BIG chunk of playdough. And now she can't breathe. (stressed sigh) "Avalon, are you ok?" (much choking and coughing later, she can talk again. But now she's holding her throat and there's tears in her eyes.)

Avy: "Sowwy Mummy"

Me: "Did you eat the playdough?"

Avy: "Yes" (Again, sheepish)

Me: "Don't ever do that again, Avy! You'll get a sore tummy.

Avy: "Peter Wabbit...no eating...uh uh..." She recites what she knows of the Peter Rabbit story where he goes to bed with a sore tummy after eating all the veges in Mr McGregors' garden.

I'm now considering whether or not to continue with the plans of special "Avy and Mummy" night. But, I figure that I want to be a Mum of my word. So I go full steam ahead and ask God that she doesn't die while I try to fulfill my oath.

As I'm sitting here typing away, I assume that you can gather that God kept her around. You might also be able to guess from my amused tone that my espresso was indeed savoured with enthusiasm.

Birthday looming

Speaking of a second birthday around the corner, I thought I'd put in some research for making an unusual cake for Avalon's party this year.

After browsing through these photos I'm now more overwhelmed than ever, especially after last years duck cake taking me 6 or so hours to bake & make. And it turned out very average! =)

I might need to invest in some ready made marzipan or sugar frosting this year...

Strength needed

I think we're well into the "terrible twos" with Avalon even though she's still 3 months away from her birthday.

The last few months have been discipline overload.

It's funny how both Craig and I imitate how we were disciplined as children ourselves.

Craig does the "1..2...3 smack" approach which I'm finding myself doing now too. But I prefer not to give much of a chance at all and just tell Avalon firmly "no". She looks at me, smiles and does whatever I've just told her not to do. I prefer this method because I'm a little bit on the dramatic side, and I seem to think that if ever Avalon was in serious danger (like running onto the road) then giving her 3 seconds to obey could be the end of her life. So I give one second, and if I know she's heard me, then the punishment comes.

I tried the "naughty spot" which is pretty useless on her now. She's realising that it's not much of a punishment. So I've resorted to smacks which I never, ever wanted to do. But she's too young to reason with, or to punish by removing favourite toys, etc. So what else do I have left? But today I discovered a new weapon which is quite effective. Now that she has moved out of the cot into the big girls bed, I'm planning to put her in it away from us for punishment. I hope it won't overflow to sleep issues, but to be honest, her night time getting to sleep couldn't be much worse than it is now.

The dog gave me the idea. I remembered that for certain types of dogs (labradors especially) that the worst type of punishment is removal from you. Seeing how Avalon is acting up to get my attention, I hope removing my attention from her will be an effective punishment.

It's incredibly frustrating. I really, really hate punishing her. But, "spare the rod, spoil the child", etc.

Training little people to think differently is really difficult. I'm basically attempting to train sin out of her. Pretty much an impossible task from the get-go. But she does need to learn consequences, and she needs to learn to obey authority. Or how else will she learn to obey the Lord's commands? It's a tedious, mentally challenging and frustrating ordeal. And I'm tired of saying "Avalon. Stop. No!"

Tara, tara, tara

Following on from a previous post on Dexter, I have an equal favourite (could it be possible?)

Granted, the 'United States of Tara' has only seen it's first season, and Dexter is into it's fourth consecutively excellent season to be aired this month in the US, but I have high hopes that Tara's brilliance will continue.

Toni Collette's Tara is just ingenious. You know that someone's a good actor when they get a part like this and they can convince you that the male persona they adopt is actually real. Cody, who wrote the movie, Juno, writes such true dialogue, and so much of the comedy is Office-esque which made me an instant fan.

Tara plays a housewife with alternate personalities, all of which are pretty confronting. And these multiples 'alters' have such real and raw moments with her family members as they attempt (unsuccessfully) to snap her out of it. I love all of the moments created in this series so far. It's just brilliant from beginning to end. Season 2 (airing early 2010) can't come around fast enough for me!

It could be working...

I don't want to speak too soon just in case... but Avalon had a 3hr lunch nap yesterday AND slept well at 7.15 till the following morning. Tada!

Sometimes it pays off to take a risk. I just hope it continues!

Trying something new

It's always so scary changing the status quo at the Hamilton household. We don't get a lot of sleep lately, so we've been rethinking a few strategies for the girls. The only problem is that I know we could change things and have it all turn out worse tonight, or for the week or for forever. You just never know the repercussions of your actions.

So tonight's test is to move Willow into Avalon's room. It seemed to work ok on our holiday, and my thought is "we couldn't really lose any more sleep than we have lately, could we?"

With both girls fussing and waking considerably last night, my new thought is maybe they'll both get more day sleep if they shatter eachother as much as they shattered me last night with their wakings.

This is another hard thing about parenting 2 kids under 2. I was under the false assumption that I'd at least get some 40 minute sleep cycle sleeps during the night. But not so with 2. Just as the first is resettling and you tuck yourself in again, the other cries out for some unknown reason. Then that one settles and 15 minutes later, the first starts again. It's very cruel.

I never talked about or even considered sleep as much as I do now. It's like when you're on the 40hr famine and all you can think of is food. When a basic human necessity gets taken away from you, it can be all consuming.

What bothers me more though is that my children have a resistance to late nights. I'd expect some sort of flow-on tiredness into the following day that might allow me to indulge in a 2hr nap. Nope. Think again! Avalon's 1.5 hrs is all she ever wants, thank you very much! And any more than that and we pay for it the following night with a 9pm tuck-in.

Grizzle, grizzle. =(

It's 9pm now and I'm tying this and considering an early night might be in order. I'll ask Craig to bottle Willow the 11pm feed so I can get some good hours in before the wakings begin. The only down side is that this special after 7.30pm time is the only time I have to myself in the day. And it really does seem like such a waste to sleep through it.

Regardless, I think I'll let my sensibilities direct me tonight and take one for the team. Pillow, here I come!

Timeless truth

This message was preached by American Church Leader, John Piper, a year before my conception (for those of you who are trying to do the math, December '80)

And I loved how he explains so clearly the importance of listening to what God says through the bible (his word). So I'll share it! Remember, you may have to read this twice (or 3 times if you're like me) if you want to fully comprehend the message. But, no exercise for the mind is a waste of time!

And let me preface what I have to say with a warning so as to awaken you to the seriousness of listening to the Word of God. When Jesus spoke and no one believed, John explains their unbelief like this (John 12:38-40):

It was that the word spoken by the prophet Isaiah might be fulfilled: 'Lord, who has believed our report, and to whom has the arm of the Lord been revealed?' Therefore, they could not believe. For Isaiah again said, 'He has blinded their eyes and hardened their heart, lest they should see with their eyes and perceive with their heart and turn for me to heal them.'

That is from Isaiah 53:1 and 6:10. There is another passage in Isaiah that helps explain how God blinds the eyes and hardens the heart. It is Isaiah 64:7 where the prophet laments, "There is no one that calls upon Thy name, that bestirs himself to take hold of Thee; for Thou has hid Thy face from us, and has delivered us into the hands of our iniquities." Therefore, the way God blinds and hardens is not by coming into a person's life and making it evil, but by withdrawing from the person's life and leaving him in his own sin. Only when we see this will we give God all the glory not only for providing a way of salvation through the death and resurrection of Christ but also for effectually applying that salvation to our lives by drawing us to Christ in faith. "No one can come to me," Jesus said, "unless the Father who sent me draws him ... No one can come to me unless it is granted him by my Father (John 6:44, 65).

So the warning is this: Believers, give God all the credit for drawing you into the Kingdom of Christ, and let the truth of Christ stir you up to greater reliance on Him; do not boast over the lost sheep as if you did not have to be carried into the fold yourself. Unbelievers, give heed to the Word of God and pray that God might open your eyes and soften your heart lest you be found blind and hardened and without hope. Pray, I say, and listen, because God has spoken these things that you may believe that Jesus is the Christ, the Son of God, and believing have life in His name.

The simple things

Surely one of the best things about looking after children is their sense of wonder about the world.

I've heard John Piper before explain that sin clouds our view of our world so that we are bored easily. He tells in one of his sermons about how Adam and Eve must have looked at the sun's rising every morning with the same awe and enjoyment "Look Eve!" Says Adam "he's done it again!"

Avalon raked her chubby hands through the sand at Batemans Bay for hours on end these holidays. Her peaceful smile exuded contentment. Her long blonde fringe whipped up by the cool breeze, she was mesmerising to watch. And I was drawn to reflect on my own lack of wonder at God's beautiful creation.

Sure, when I see what I believe to be a spectacular sunset, I look to the Lord in thanks and praise. But when I walk over the wet earth and my shoes get muddy, I get annoyed. When my eyes get blinded by the setting sun on my journey home in the car, my initial reaction is to grunt in frustration. Wouldn't it be great to see the true beauty of everything that God has made? And never tire of it? To never tire of seeing that God has magnificently pulled the earth around again so we can view the sun hovering over the land, pushing away the darkness for another day?

I'm really quite looking forward to seeing what my renewed self will be like in heaven. God will complete the work that he has begun by stripping away all my sin, and I'm positive that I'll never frustrate myself again.