I'm moving!

Not physically, but my writing is!

Please update your favourites.

You can keep updated on the world of Nik at:

the cruciality of nappies.wordpress.com

I've found blogging about my learning as a Mum and in my devotion to God really exciting. If you'd like to continue reading, I'd love for you to check out my new blog.

All the posts from this site will be transfered as "retro blogs" so you can check them all out if you wanted to read from the start (there's not really that many).

It's been a lovely start, but I like the additional features of wordpress. "Follow me as I follow Christ" (or maybe just click the link of you want to follow my new life adventures...)

It's been fun. Thanks for reading my ramblings thus far, my friends!

I keep forgetting that time is passing

Even though I still feel as though I'm playing catch-ups with myself, I need reminders that time is drifting past me. Christmas is around the corner, where Willow will be closer to 9 months than 8. My eldest will be turning 2 at long last (it feels like it's been a long time between ages one and two), and there'll be more than one pitter patter of feet around our house. The thud thud thud of Avalon's gait is so well recognised by my ear, I wonder if Willow's will sound any different? (Although I'm working into this equation that Willow will find her feet at 8-9 months like Avy, but taking her current immovable status into consideration, this is probably a premature assumption)

So, I find myself the last few weeks still squeezing Willow into 000 jumpsuits . What am I thinking? This kid is almost ready for zero's I think, and I'm stuck in the past! I keep thinking that she's a newborn. I need a reality check, and probably a little more sleep would be nice, too.

Warning to all of us

I'm in two minds about posting this because I know the intense feelings when I saw this video.

I'm just praising God that this 6 month old survived. And amazingly, with only a bump on the head!

Willow has just reached 6 months. This could be any of us, really. As a Mum, you know how fuzzy your mind can get on minimal sleep. How hard it is to even get out of the house with the amount of child paraphernalia needed. I can totally imagine just taking a moment once I arrived at the train station to check I had everything and to forget about the brake. Or the hand strap.

It would be so easy to make a mistake just like this Mother.

I feel for her. You can see how tangible her grief is as she thinks she has inadvertently killed her child. It's awful. But a warning to me and all of us with little ones.

Playtime

Here's some updates shots for you all, taken in the happy hour of the morning.

Totally out of my depth

A friend of mine recently said to me that she see's me taking motherhood all in my stride. She said I never look stressed or agitated about the kids.

She did make this comment as I was childless at a wedding, or else I'm sure her comment would have been more like "gosh, you look a little overwhelmed today, are you ok?"

I realised that because I often post about my ideals, or what I would like to be like, my blog can look a little like I'm just cruising through motherhood. Truth be told, I'm pretty highly strung in general, so add to the mix two people whose sole existence depends on whether I treat them properly or not, and here I am a little over the edge of "highly strung" and more in the realm of "about to lose my mind" (hyperbole added)

To flesh out some of my journey as a mother, here's 3 incidents that occurred on the same day, that show me in my true light and to show those of you out there that although I put on a brave face, I'm totally out of my depth with this mothering thing! I'm sure that if I was a full-time nanny, I'd be fired right about now and searching for a new career.

Number 1. I change Willow's nappy, and leave her lying on the floor, playing, while I head to the kitchen to wash my hands and dispose of the poo nappy. I return no less than a minute later to see that Willow has successfully undone her new nappy and now has it firmly jammed within her gums, sucking ferociously on it's contents. (And yes, if you were paying attention, it was a new one, so thankfully that lessens the stress factor a tad. But the heart stopping delay in me realising that fact was somewhat damaging to my psyche.)

Number 2. Avalon decides that on this day, she will cry and writhe on the change table when I attempt to change her dirty nappy. This results in me pleading then shouting as her worm-like state causes me to clean ineffectively with the wipe and more effectively with my fingernails across her bottom. The reminder of this incident was seen on her ankles (chinese burn like hold marks) and smelt on my hands for the remainder of the day.

Number 3. As I spend a minute (yes only a minute) attending to poor little Willow's needs while Avy is bathing, Avy finds that moment a perfect opportunity to lean out precariously across the bath, hands outstretched. She rights herself before she falls headfirst onto the tiled floor, but manages to achieve her goal of grabbing her new nappy and bed clothes off the tiles and returning them into the bubble bath for a play.

See proof below.

This photo doesn't do it justice. It would have weighed at least 2kgs. At least I know now that I've been changing her far too regularly =)

Discovering words

I'm finding talking harder and harder as time goes on. The lack of sleep piles up, and the first thing that disappears is my vocab. Fortunately for me, I have a two year old who will fill in the gaps for me.

Me: "Ok Avalon ,the potato is just a bit too hot at the moment so I'm going to put it in the.. ah... the..."

"freezer" says Avalon a little too easily.

"yes, that's right, sweetie." (Inwardly kicking myself)

My 2 year old is now almost overtaken me at memory recall. (sigh)...

The intimidating task of parenthood

Each of my children are uniquely created. Avalon's sensitivity means that she is the most loving and gentle of children. She embraces Willow as her sister and cares for her, with not so much as a hint of jealousy. Avalon's timidity means that she readily accepts direction from other adults and shows empathy towards others. This makes her wary of new company, but I believe it will develop her into being a loyal friend.

Willow's nature is subdued, but engaging. She's content to meet new people and offers up many smiles to strangers. I'm still waiting to see how her personality will develop, but my instinct is that she will be a welcomer. Someone who enjoys meeting people and exploring new relationships. Someone who embraces change.

I'm very excited to see how these girls will grow up into women. The life experiences that will sharpen off their weaker areas. The mother I am to them will shape them into the type of people they will be. How they think of themselves. What they think of their body. My words will be important in the choices they make as adults. My words will either make themselves doubt their abilities, or give them the freedom to try. My fears, if I'm not careful, will be transferred to them. My weaknesses will become theirs, just as I hope my strengths will.

The best thing I can do for my girls is to continue pursuing God. Not that I haven't found him. (Nik, be more succinct.) More that I need to be focused on my walk with Jesus and pursue his truth, so that his words are my words. Till the end of days when his passions are mine, and his praise is the only one I seek.

In this world where sin is held esteemed and selfishness is god, it is hard to maintain focus on the truth. How do I teach my girls that they don't need to dress provocatively to gain man's respect? How do I teach them that their hearts desire should be to pursue God's righteousness and the blessings that come from that life? I think, probably, that I need to demonstrate as best I can myself. Surely, I will fall and trip. They will see me as weak. As a woman still on my own journey with the Almighty. But my duty is to try to set an example for them to follow. To teach them the truth: Jesus is the only man who deserves my life, my all.

Routines

What's that? I hear those of you without children asking me...

Well, a routine is a set time each day allocated to sleep and play periods which is meant to have each child less tired and grumpy. Basically, children in a good routine for them will find themselves happier. More like the babies you see in the Huggies ads. And maybe less like the type you tisk at in the shopping centre who are hurtling themselves onto the floor demanding __ (insert unreasonable food item here).

Avalon fitted quite well (with some intentional moulding) into the contented baby routine. This routine was by far the most helpful thing I read in my pregnancy. I had no idea about how to feed, when to feed, when to sleep these little beings. Add to the confusion that these things change every 2-4 weeks in the early stages of their life and it's a recipe for frustration if you're not prepared.

Willow on the other hand has really had no such luxury of a set routine, given that she only slept in my arms for the first 3-4 months of her life (from possible reflux or pain?) she had to accommodate to Avalon's day and sleep around it. Which usually meant short, fitful sleeps, more than was recommended by the book and closer to 3 hourly feeds day and night for many months. I'm thankful that at the 5 month mark these things started to lengthen out, to the point where I got some 4 hourly stretches of sleep this month, and one rare 5 hourly sleep! I'm still reeling from this surprise.

But the interesting thing about her is that she just complies so well with whatever is expected of her. For example, last week I went into the city for a hens night. It was wonderful to leave the cares of home behind, but my little koala had to come with me, as we're still attached for feeds. She had a half hour nap on the way in (instead of the 45 minutes needed) and her day sleep had been minimal too due to our various busyness. I thought this would make for a very upset child all night, and I prayed that I wouldn't ruin my friends' celebrations.

We laughed and carried on for close to 3 hours before she decided that she was, indeed, a tad sleepy. And started to fuss right when we thought it was time to head home. It couldn't have been easier. But Avalon in this same scenario would have screamed and screamed. My eldest is the most sensitive of little people.

Today's outings were pretty good, also. Wills slept in the car on the way, then woke up and let other's have some cuddles (thanks Sar and Nat) and then pursued sleep a little harder right when it was time to leave. She's just an unbelievable kid. I really can't complain. I can almost do anything with her, as long as I'm not out for too long. And as long as her day sleep doesn't exceed the recommended amount for her age, she'll still go down like a dream at 7pm in the bed. I'm very thankful.

But I'm a routine girl through and through. Because I've found time by myself to reflect high on my list of priorities now. Time to relax with Craig is way up there, too. And 'time to expand my mind' needs to come into my life at some point, too. Amongst the needs of the girls, my needs fall in second. And they usually fall in after 7pm. If I haven't done my routine well enough that day, I regret it that night. Either by the girl's overtiredness or lack of it. These mistakes eat away at my "sanity" time. And even though I've done away with that time for the first 5 months of Willow's life, I'm just starting to receive a little of it back. And it is refreshing beyond all reason! Whilst this time to myself will wax and wane with sickness and new children, it is special. And I have to be humble enough to gladly sacrifice it should my children need me in these hours. But when they don't (like thus far tonight), I learn, I evolve. I hate being stagnant for long. It's not my natural state, nor should it be. Once I get enough sleep for my mind to grapple concepts again, I need to indulge myself in some brain training before another pregnancy robs me of it once more.

So, I say, give me a routine, any routine, which gives me from 7pm to 7am to myself and the 'me' you see now will hopefully not be the 'me' you see next year.

How to protect them

I write this in the quiet hours of the night. Willow has just had her 11pm feed and I read this from the Australian:

Welfare authorities failed a seven-year-old girl who starved to death on a urine-soaked mattress...Ebony's room at Matraville was boarded up and the house smelt of urine and faeces. During the last two agonising years of Ebony's life, whose body weighed just 9kg when she was discovered at her home in November 2007, the dying girl received not a shred of assistance from official agencies...The NSW Supreme Court last week sentenced Ebony's mother to life in prison for murder and Ebony's father to 16 years behind bars for her manslaughter.

I don't know why these reports always shock me. But they do. I know that some people are screwed up and have big issues, and these same people have children. But the thought that someone would leave this poor girl boarded up in a room to starve and defecate in until her death totally sickens me, as I think it should sicken everybody, Christian or not.

The article is obviously taking a dig at DoCS for their poor handling of the case. I'm happy that the Labor Gov. has given them a huge funding lately. So it should. But I'm sure that DoCS probably needs about 15 times that much to handle every case properly (as we would deem "sufficient").

I've heard the following details from friends that work in the system. If there were 2 cases and in one case the child is being beaten and in the other the child is being sexually abused, usually they only have 1 willing family to take a child. The spot will go to the child that's being physically abused. Because the former child's needs are greater than the raped girl. The physically abused child is more in danger of dying, that is. Is this a good means of assessment?

Regardless, the point I really want to make is that there should be the 2 homes for the kids to enter into. DoCS shouldn't need to prioritise like that. In a world where children are almost idolised, I find it an anomaly that there aren't more foster carers. Is our society so selfish that we only truly care about those who share our blood line?

I hope that one day Craig and I will be at a stage of life where we can use our stable home to care for the neediest children in Sydney. Maybe God will give us a child to care for through the state. I'm sure my expectations of that child would be different to my own, but how different? I understand that a child coming out of imprisonment in their own room for years would have special needs. But what? How different would they need to be treated from my own children? Would a child that has been through so much abuse for so many years be able to cope with schooling? Would they speak? Would they still urinate in their bed at 7 years old? To get an idea of this girl's state, Ebony (alias) weighed 4kgs less than Avalon does at 2 years of age.

I can't even type out my raw emotions at the moment. I'm overwhelmed. The darkness of this world gets compounded by the day. I want to help these children. Somehow. One or more. Who knows, but I want to put it out there that each of us in a loving family should think seriously about sacrificing our picture-perfect family for these children. They are the downtrodden of this world. They are the helpless ones, who don't even make the choices to wind up in these horrific scenes. They just become the headlines. And sometimes DoCS isn't even aware of them. They suffer for the mistakes of their carers. Their parents should have protected them. DoCS should have protected them. But we can't just hold these cases out at arms length as it's so easy to do.

We need to protect them.

Read the full article at http://www.theaustralian.news.com.au/story/0,25197,26176011-5006784,00.html

The era of more sleep.

It is upon us. I see it glittering in the distance. A day where the mirror greets me with ease and the heavy lids are replaced by twinkling, refreshed eyes.

This morning Craig and I were indulged in a 9.30am sleep in.

And despite us waking to Avalons' "hand in poo" comments (which turned out to be the understatement of the century), no amount of poo in sleeping sacks can taint my morning's vibe.

I think I got 5 hours in a row, and after a short nappy change and bed cuddles with Willow, we all slept a further 2.5 hours! Not unheard of in our family, but unheard of since Willow's arrival.

So I write this with a little hesitation, but I'm confident enough to say that my dreams are on the way back to me! And I will welcome them, because whether they be enjoyable, or the stuff of nightmares, it means that I am actually sleeping! And that's a nice thought to wake up to.

True talent

I felt the lack of pictures on this blog, so rather than adding yet another photo of the only subjects in my life that can be coerced into a photo session (A & W) I thought I'd add someone else's subject instead.

I love this pic. I have no idea whether this guy even plays, but the photo whispers sincerity to me.

Find more pics of the like at:

fun with robots

What a fun way to communicate so much info

Drive '09 - Drive-BYE video from North Point Media on Vimeo.

Drifting off to sleep

Somewhere in-between dark and light

Settles a cloud within my mind

Swiflty switching between dark and light

Life before me glitters into sight

A gentle place between the mundane and the surreal

Cradles my heart with a warm embrace

Breathe, in out, in out

Clouds thicken

softly, softly.

All in His hands...

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.

Happy Birthday Noah!

Avalon's little friend, Noah turned 2 the other day. We celebrated his life in beautiful weather in one of Sydney's amazing parks.

Faces of Willow

Little Willow is such a joy to have around. Gurgling delighted "ga" 's at us whenever we care to look. She sleeps at night like a champ, smiling at me one minute and eyes closed the next. And she adores her big sister, giving her cheeky grins like she can't wait to tell Avy of her latest plans of mischief.

Here's some pics I took of her the other day when she was in one of those adorable little baby moments.

Dubai prototype

Avalon's towers are progressing as her patience develops. This is just a model of what she's working hard on producing with architect Zaha Hadid in Dubai.

Disciplines of a Godly Woman _ Barbara Hughes

This true story shook me to the core.

Pastor Scott Willis and his wife, Janet, along with six of their nine children, piled into their minivan, buckled up, and left their home on Chicago's south side for Wisconsin. It would turn out to be a day of excruciating pain and horror. While driving north on Interstate 94 in Milwaukee, the van ran over a large piece of metal that punctured the gas tank, immediately turning the vehicle into an inferno. By the time the van stopped and the parents fell out, their children were hopelessly trapped. Six of their children went to live with the Lord that day.

You'd think the Willis' would conclude that their God was far away at that moment. Yet, the burned, bandaged couple, still in physical pain, gave witness to God's grace at a news conference. Janet relates that when she looked back toward the van and began screaming, Scott touched her shoulder. "He said, 'Janet, this is what we've been prepared for.' And he was right. He said, 'Janet, it was quick, and they're with the Lord.' He was right."

In their shared hospital room Scott and Janet comforted themselves by watching videos of their children, reading passages from God's word, and talking openly about what had happened.

The Willis' testimony amidst the tears and heartache is amazing. "I know God has purposes and God has reasons," says Scott. "God has demonstrated his love to us and our family. There's no question in our mind that God is good, and we praise Him in all things."

"It's his right," agrees Janet. "We belong to Him. My children belong to Him. He's the giver and taker of life, and He sustains us."

With these words, Janet and Scott Willis demonstrated to the world and particularly to believers what it means to "run with perseverance the race marked out for us."

When the drama unfolded on National Television, an icy fear gripped my heart. I suspect that most Christian women quietly prayed something like, "Dear God, please don't ask that of me!" The Willis' amazing faith, poignantly revealed the shallowness of our own - the tentative commitment that lets us fall apart if we experience even the inconvenience of losing the car keys.

Faith in the goodness of God in the face of extreme adversity doesn't just happen. It grows out of a discipline of perseverance in the day-in, day-out grind of everyday life.

What a great testament to God's goodness! I'm inspired that this couple in the midst of a horrific loss of dearly loved children were able to still be assured of God's love and goodness to them.

It's obvious that God sustained them through their suffering and was comforting them as only one who has experienced such a loss can do. (God the Father also watched his son die a torturous physical death, and can comfort us in our times of grief.)

I can't imagine the crushing pain of one child of mine dying, let alone six. But as the woman said, they aren't ours, are they? They're Gods. He knit them together. He moulds their hearts and minds. They are on loan to us, but are never truly "ours". And God can take any of us to live with Him at any moment.

I wouldn't ever want to experience this type of loss, but I know that If I do, I'll collapse in grief into God's soft embrace.

Cast your cares on him

Here's an embarrassing window into my life as a Mum, which hopefully will uplift your spirits as it did mine, today.

I've lately been trying to pray about anything and everything as the bible tells me too. Because God cares.

Mediocre as this is, I was quite disappointed about losing a nappy bucket lid in the massive winds last Monday. (Yes, I know, I have a very boring life, such are my daily disappointments..) But regardless, I asked of God "Please return my lid to me! I don't want our house smelling like nappies, and I only just bought that bin..."

I was expecting God to answer this prayer with a "yes" and for the lid to turn up one day as I meandered through the streets of Glenmore Park, but in God's infinite wisdom, he knew that by the time that happened, it would most likely be perishing in the heat. So he returned it to me today. To my front drive, in fact. At the end of today's strong winds. It was just sitting there as I looked outside waiting for a friend to drop by. I did a double take. Could it be? Yes it is!!! Thanks God!

So never buy into the lie that God only cares about "big" stuff in our lives and to spare him the rest. God's mighty shoulders are big enough and He's longing to carry all the mundane disappointments and trivialities of our fragile hearts.

It's going to have to be all up to the cow soon...

With my supply slowly disappearing, and my body saying "enough!" with much hair loss and ridiculously flimsy nails, the days of me continuing to feed Willow by myself are numbered.

I've been relying on the good-ol' reliable cow for some time now for top-up feeds, but here's some shots of her first taste of adult food. The stuff the big people like.

It's hilarious that all kids have this look on their faces at the first taste of rice. But I find it equally hilarious when this look was also displayed on Avalon's face recently.

She asked to drink some expressed milk I had prepared for Willow. I of course, hesitated but then obliged and handed over the bottle. Yada yada yada, I came away from the event with an incredibly bruised ego.

A nice surprise.

Today has been so amazing!

Despite the ailment of a head cold, and regardless of being husbandless for a few days, today was brilliant!

It was the sort of day which made me think "bring on the 10 kids!" I know, I'm a sucker for a hard life. But today was so easy that those thoughts definitely rolled through my head.

The Winter sun was out, and I woke at 7.30am to Avalon's "cuddle Mummy" cries. If I hadn't been up half the night, coughing, this would have been the most decent of sleeps. I rolled over in the bed to see little miss Willow all serene and beautiful. She stirred with Avalon's cries, balled up her fists and gave an almighty stretch, with a smile spreading across her face. Her hands managed to escape her wrap as she arched her back like a cat, so I snuck my hands under the arch and picked her up in my arms for a snuzzle.

This is how the morning began, and it just got better from there!

I managed to convince Avalon that I'd bought her a special breakfast "treat" because Dad wasn't home. And 2 Weet-bix disappeared quickly from her bowl.

She then played by herself as I made myself a mega cup of coffee ("one for me and one for... oh wait... two for me!")

But wait, there's more...

My Mum then visited and we put on (and dried) 5 loads of washing. (Only the mothers out there would testify to this being a significant addition to my glorious day.)

Mum played with the girls and helped clean until the house was positively beaming in approval, and then after she left, my girls and I enjoyed the remainder of the days warm rays, finding "treasures" on the footpath outside our house. (note: treasure is referred to loosely and could be substituted for the word "rubbish" instead.)

Then as I tucked my girls into their respective beds, and after only a few cuddles, they're asleep. What's better (and this is not to say that I don't miss my husband) but I looked around, and the house was STILL CLEAN!

Praise the Lord for my Mum and for sunshine, and for climbing frames, and for rubbish, and for dummies, and for coffee!

But now that I'm alone, I do wish that messy husband of mine was back from his conference already.

Controversial much?

I'm totally about to blow your minds.

I love Dexter.

As in the tv show about the serial killer.

I know it's totally gory, but who here hasn't seen a Tarantino movie? My point is, that if you find something brilliant, you can overlook it's uglyness.

And besides, I'd like to argue that Dexter's gore is usually more character driven than what we see in Tarantino flicks. Tarantino likes pushing the boundaries of the style of gore commonly accepted in mainstream film. I'd say it's even occasionally superfluous. He puts some scenes in there just for the shock factor.

But Dexter is in a realm of it's own.

Why do I love it?

In a society that is obviously pushing for a way to categorise and control evil (as can be seen by the thousands of CSI and Law & Order style series), Dexter is a unique addition to society's thoughts on evil.

Dexter himself is restrained by a series of rules, so we ask ourselves "Can evil be used for good? And if so, is what Dexter doing, really wrong?" This idea is then juxtaposed as Dexter in each episode gruesomely carves up his "deserved" victims, and we see clearly the monster that he embodies.

It's totally captivating. The writers cleverly force the viewer into liking Dexter and even sympathising with his crazy urges to kill. Dexter is shown as purely a product of his life experiences. And we ask "Hey, poor Dexter! It's not his fault! With a past like that, who can blame him?" and then moments later, a cold, calculated kill sends chills down your spine.

It's all together brilliant. And it gives me a window into a world which, without God is attempting to undo our preconceived "Christianised" views of the relationship between good and evil for us to explore.

Where will it lead us?... I'm dying to find out (no pun intended.)

Moving out

Today marks the start of Avalon entering the realm of the big people.

For today she journeys out of the familiar comfort of bars and into the freedoms and luxury of the "big girls bed" (which incidently is smaller in size to the cot).

There may have been protests, there may have been tears, but this move is for her own good.

After all, everyone needs to learn some day that inescapable bars are not to be looked at fondly and wantingly.

Avalon the architect

Ok, this isn't boasting. It's really not. I just want you to see how much Avalon loves building. I don't know how these building skills relate to others her age. They could be far more advanced. I wouldn't know. But, regardless, this is Avalon's latest passtime. She builds.

And she tetris'.

Craig saw a Threadless t-shirt the other day which said "Tetris taught me the fundamentals of architecture." Maybe she'll enjoy creating houses as much as I do? Or maybe she just likes it caus all kids like to build blocks.

But she really likes it. She likes building so much that after she finishes, she dances in glee.

Some cute pics

We were so excited to see my sister and her bundle of beauty "Annika" down from QLD this past week.

Here's some lovely shots of the cousins together.