I just wanted one nice photo of them...

A job at Pixie Foto is not in my future and my respect for photographers has increased a further 100%.

Letter to Bobbin - eight months

Hey there smoosh face,

Happy eight months!

You managed to scare the bejeezus out of me last week when you choked on some food. You went red, tried to heave it up, had tears in your eyes and couldn't make a sound. I shoved your Dad out the way, unclipped your highchair buckle, held you on my forearm, tapped (OK, thumped) you on the back and out it popped. It was less than five seconds from beginning to end, but it felt like forever, particularly the whole unbuckling thing. I'm so glad I did the first aid refresher; it gave me the confidence to just do it. About an hour later, when my heart had stopped pounding and you were playing happily at my feet, I had a bit of a cry at how close we got to losing you.

You have TWO tiny little teeth after a whole six weeks of them being so close to the surface that if we took a pic of you with the flash they would shine through.

You are starting to get a little bit more in to food, but only slightly (put off by choking?). We were doing the whole baby led weaning thing with you because you're all "Ima hold that myself, yo", but you're not getting enough food in to you and though you haven't lost weight, you are not putting enough on.

So I've been making some yummy mush for you. No really, it's yummy, I tried it. You are not a fan. Most of the time you purse your lips tight as can be whenever I bring the spoon to you. "This is mush. I want what you have". We'll keep trying.

You've started crawling with one foot and one knee and we're wondering if you'll move to two feet crawling like your brother did. Last week you started cruising around furniture, so nothing is safe any more. Your brother's LEGO, previously out of reach on his table is now calling to you so we've put up a gate. Naturally, rocking on the gate is now your favourite pastime.

If you're wondering why I started this letter to "smoosh face", here's your answer:

This is your favourite face to pull and I love it to pieces, it's just so funny. You'll be great at selfies, just look at that duck face! I absolutely love how expressive you are, there is no guessing how you're feeling, you let us all know straight away.

Keep babbling away my little darlin', but if you could go back to being a good sleeper, that would be ace.

Love you to the moon and back, Mama xxx

Where's Where's My Glow??

I have a pet hate in the blogosphere. It almost trumps undisclosed sponsored content and a lack of spell check. Almost. It's when Bloggers go away for a bit for whatever reason and then apologize for being away.

What are you apologizing for? Having a life? For having multiple interests and responsibilities? Tell me what you've been doing, I'm interested, but if you start it off with a sorry my first reaction is to roll my eyes.

So. I've been away for a while. Not sorry. Just busy.

I'm not busy doing. I'm busy being. And right now, it is exactly what I need to be doing. Err, being. Whatever. Confused yet? I am.

I'm focusing on having two kids, which, suprise, surprise, takes up more time than I imagined now that both are mobile. I had visions of doing a quick tidy up when Bobbin sleeps, or popping on a load of nappies. HA! That's Tricky time. Or me time. Or buy bread time.We've all been struggling to adjust to the different amounts of attention being received and everything else comes second to family. Everything.

My mood continues to lift. I catch myself singing and noticing a beautiful flower or gorgeous weather. It's been a long time since I've wanted to crank up the stereo and dance along, and I find myself doing it a few times a week now. Perhaps it is the reason behind Tricky saying he would prefer they sung Macklemore at kindy instead of Incy Wincy.

My anxiety is still an issue and all my OCD tendencies are coming back with some new ones thrown in for shits and giggles (hello, CLEANING AT MIDNIGHT). I've never been anxious without being low so this is new territory for me. Sometimes I scream at my head "YOU'RE HAPPY, YOUR LIFE IS PERFECT, WHY ARE YOU STILL TERRIFIED?" And it replies "Dude, you know you're talking to yourself right now, yeah?". Good point, mind, let's pretend this never happened.

A friend who noticed I hadn't been blogging asked how I expected my blog to expand if I wasn't "doing" any more. I haven't tried to expand this blog for a couple years now; I like to plod along without a specific purpose other than oversharing and recording memories I can embarrass my children with at their 21st birthday parties. It's not an unmanageable empire, it's not a full time job, it's a hobby, and a bloody fun one at that.

But, just being feels pretty damn awesome right now. And if I keep doing it, remember to actually take my meds, and keep going to therapy (oh therapy, I love you), then I think this being thing will do me good.

Are you a do-er or a be-er?

Letter to Bobbin - seven months

Hey hey Bobbin babe,

Well, where do I start? Another jam packed month of milestones, but I suppose the biggest and the best was meeting your Aunty Kitty for the first time. She bought you a gorgeous silver bracelet the same as one she got from her aunty when she was a baby and since you're totally in to your bling, you love it.

If you're wondering how Aunty Kitty actually feels about you, a hint can be found in the bajillion photos she has taken of you! She's smitten, and so are you.

We headed down to Albany last weekend for your first wedding. The dress code stated that all babies must wear silly headbands with flowers on them. OK so it didn't really, but geez you looked cute. You spent the whole ceremony and group photo time waving at everyone, because you can do that now. You wave at almost everyone who makes eye contact and beam your gorgeous smile at them, a social butterfly in the making.

Most times, after you wave, you give yourself a round of applause. Because you can do that now, too. Which is super handy because now you can clap when I dance around in front of you, my captive audience.

You are getting closer to crawling, but still aren't quite there. You get up on your knees and rock, then flick your legs back and just pull yourself along commando style still. You get up on your knees to look at things and sometimes you'll get up on one foot and one knee, but then you look a little confused (like "how the hell do I get this other bloody leg up?) and get back down.

But you've been focusing your attention elsewhere... on TALKING! You can say Mum, Dad, Nan, Hello (you sound like a teletubbie) and you are trying hard to say Tricky, but it comes out as a funny hissing noise. I can't believe it!

You have almost zero interest in mushy food and are more inclined to go down the baby led weaning path. You'll suck on carrot, broccoli, avocado and bread, but the second I put any mushy stuff near you, you bat it away and your lips automatically superglue themselves together. Is it my cooking? Or are you just going to be Miss Independent? You're still getting lots of milk and growing, so I'm not worried.

Tricks is not too impressed that you keep "stealing" his toys. But he will then grab one of yours for you, wiggle it in your face and throw it across the room in a little sister version of fetch.

I wonder if you'll start crawling in the next month or if you'll commando for a while longer? I wonder what your next word will be? I can't wait to find out.

All my love,

Mama xxx

What is red, has a booty and is really rich?

I could sing the National Anthem at age three. It is my claim to non-fame. It was recorded on cassette tape for posterity (and the purposes of showing off, obviously) and now no one can actually play the bastard because none of us have cassette players any more. So you're just going to have to believe that I was super talented once and then wonder what happened because I haven't been asked to sing at the AFL Grand Final. I could totally sing better than Meat Loaf. But I digress.

The other day I looked at the calendar and realized that I'm going to blink and The Trickster will be four. FOUR! Now the first thing others might do on recognizing that a birthday is looming is decide on a cake theme. Not this chick. For me, it was time to teach Tricks that Australian's all love Ostriches or something...



Booty, rich and red? Love it! Close enough, Tricks, close enough.

What awesome thing could you do as a kid?