A mother hen from the beginning

Beware of the rambling nostalgia post.

I experienced a pretty amazing childhood.

The most memorable part of that time in my life, were the animals.

I would have to say, out of the many different pets I've had - The humble chook was my favourite.

Toby the Alpaca.

Even though the alpaca was fun to walk, ducks were awesome to wade around in the dams with and the ferrets were fun to play with...
My fondest memories surround the time we hatched out some gorgeous, tiny chickens.

I was immediately in love with the tiny, wonky necked, bug eyed, Rhode Island Red. I named her 'Cheap cheep', (cause she didn't cost anything and she said cheeep a lot.)


She was my best buddy. I had a warm light box over at the laundry and I'd spend a lot of time with this chook. Probably too much time. She would sit on my shoulder and eat the flies that buzzed around in summer. She followed me everywhere.

Mum and Dad's current favourite

My favourite part about Cheap Cheep, was her wonky walk. She would walk like an emu and look at everything with her head turned to the side. We all joked that dad over-heated her egg a little.

As I got older, I didn't forget about Cheap cheap. In highschool, my brother Isaac and I hosted a wedding, with a wheat cake. Her husband was very hard to catch and they didn't stand near each other, but as far as we were concerned, it was true love.


I will always remember that chook of mine. She was my baby and I was her mother hen. I even remember what day her birthday was.

My childhood memories are so rich and clear for me. This is just one of so many. Thanks for reading and sharing in one of my most cherished.

Married to an animal lover

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I must confess: Green-eyed-puppy daydreams.

I must confess - I daydream quite a bit....and not in a cool Nina Proudman kind of way.
Allow me to share the back story of one particular day dream.

Every afternoon, my two fur babies play together in the backyard.

They are hilarious to watch. Ruby, with whatever toy she can find, growling and poking Possum with it. Possum takes the bait and attacks her, playfully.



They are off in their own little world, full of joy!

It's funny that only yesterday, I noticed the dogs that live either side of our place, barking. They barked and jumped accusing my dogs of having too much fun. They were essentially being the fun police. This got me thinking.

Do my dogs know just how lucky they are? Are they rubbing it in the other dog's faces?



Then my imagination ran wild, as it often does.



Scene opens in backyard -
*Ruby walks down the back steps and turns to Possum.*
Ruby: "Yo, Poss. Let's go eat our breakfast right next to the fence. We can see how annoyed that big dog gets."
Possum: "Awesome idea Ruby!" 
*Both carry their morning chicken neck to the fence, eating with their bums in the air, rear ends facing the other dog, through the fence.*
Dog next door: "Woof. Woof. Woof."

Dogs can't talk, Bianca. You idiot.

I think they know just what they're doing.

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Failing at food.

I will admit right now. I thought I had this 'solids' thing all worked out. Notice the past tense?

 I saw this today....

Oh, no. That's just what is going on here.

It all started so wonderfully. Eli would eat anything. Everything I served up, he demolished. I thought, WOOH! This is fun!


I cooked for him.

He loved it.

I let him get messy.

He loved it.



Then the sleeping stopped. The precious nights of precious sleep, they were gone! I pushed through for a month, before seeking medical advice.

Hello Lactose intolerance. *insert forehead slap*

What now!?

Lactose-free formula, cheese & yoghurt. Scanning packages for ingredients. Only after realising that explosive bouts of diarroeah were due to eating things he shouldn't!

Phew, sleep came back.

Gradually, food variety decreased.

His appetite decreased.

Tonsilitis. Antibotics.  2 weeks later. Ear infection. Antibiotics.  
Bye-bye sleep!

I feel like a failure. He hasn't eaten a vegetable knowingly, in at least a week! (thank goodness for thermomix vegie hiding)

I will soldier on. He will get better.

And maybe, when he is well for more than a few weeks at a time, I won't have a fussy eater anymore?

Pleeeeeeease....?

Dear Time.

Dear Time,

I wish you'd stop sometimes. I just wish you'd atleast slow the hell down! I mean, c'mon - how come when my son has a 3 hour nap and I'm enjoying some me time, suddenly all the time is gone and he's awake again.
Yet, when it's 5:15, he's just finished dinner & we've got bathtime in 15 minutes, it feels like the day will never end!


I want you to slow down, so I don't miss the little smiles and giggles. The steps, the cuddles and all of the funny little drunk-baby-german words. (My latest favourite is "Tisses" - followed by a sloppy, open mouthed 'Waaaaaaah") It feels like, one minute, I was holding a tiny, sweet boy in my arms. As his little chest rose and fell, over and over - I thought those moments could last forever. Now, I'm struggling to button up clothes around his chubby, pre-walker legs. His alien-sized melon, doesn't fit hats anymore, and the beanies just squeeze over. That cheeky grin shows me he's still that same sweet boy, he's just not so tiny.

How'd that happen!?

How'd the past year become a blur?

So, write back and sort this out please. Give me a plan. How do I make these moments pause for a bit?

Yours,

Annoyed.

Bianca


P.S. Do you know the guy who grows money trees?


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It's ok to get away.

I am a firm believer that every Mum needs a break.
It doesn't make you a bad mother if you spend time away from your offspring.

I recently had my first solo break from Eli since he was born. I planned it, spread my love and my time around carefully. Ofcourse I would have liked to see more people, spend more time. But, I felt that I did exactly what I wanted with the time I had.

I called it my baby-free-long-weekend. I actually visited several babies & children, so this wasn't true! But I could give my attention and my cuddles to those munchkins & not be worrying about my wee one emptying cupboards, licking floors or escaping houses!

It was a very strange experience at first. I packed, I waved goodbye to my gorgeous men and drove away, knowing they'd have a great time together.

There was no baby in the back.

I turned the music up loud and sang away.

Marty wasn't beside me to chat to. (Unlike our Noosa trip, when Eli was 3 months old! There were some serious tears from me, leaving that time!)

I got bored really quickly. I rang every person I could think of. My iPod went flat, I lost decent radio reception for far too long. After what felt like forever, I arrived!

The weekend was a blur after that. Highlights included -

Vegan restaurant for dinner. Mmm

Sleeping until 8am, because I wanted to.

Going to and from friend's houses whenever I wanted.

Baby cuddles.

Pint sized tour guide, showing me her totally amazing house.

Karaoke!

All of the delicious food and drink.

Amazing orange cake & BEST milo ever.

On my way home, I thought about my next solo getaway. Maybe Cairns? ;)

Tell me about your solo getaways - make me jealous!

Renting Shmenting

Martin and I have lived in 7 different rental properties in our 7.5years together.

It's either impressive or sad. I'm going with both.

We've moved for many different reasons. Some very grown up, like - moving out of town for a job. Or - landlord has sold our current home.

Some not so grown up, like 'But I really want a puppy!', or - the carpet feels funny.

Either way, we've done it. We've packed our stuff up, shipped it off and unpacked it again, somewhere new.

We're currently looking at moving again. 38 week pregnant Bianca, in July last year, said "I'M NEVER MOVING AGAIN!"... But Mummy Bianca, with an adventurous and very mobile baby, well... Well, she wants a bigger place. Where my dogs can't see through the fences to bark at leaves falling from the trees. And my thermomix can have a home of its own, on the bench. Not on an old piece of wood, on the stove top!

Despite my long list of rental properties, (and yes, there were at least another 3 or 4 more before Martin hit the scene) - I am very easily pleased! I used to have a massive list of all the things I NEEDED my house to have, then I gave in cause the bath was a cool colour, or the back yard had a swing seat. 

But these days, it's short & simple.

- Must have a bath.

- Decent sized kitchen.

- Heating (seems a no brainer, but I've gone without it before!)

- Storage. 

- Enclosed backyard.

What have a missed?

What's on your list?

Blood, sweat and tea towels

I'm going to start with the moral of the story:

Don't let my husband do housework.

It all began on a happy, sunshine filled day (I lie. I felt like crap and it was overcast. Again. 9 degrees outside) I left the house cranky, because it was a laundry-filled, feral-fest! I grunted at my husband - who has the man flu, and walked out with Mr cute butt.

We visited his Nanna and Poppy and had a lovely time. On the way back into town, I had jobs to do. I was on the phone to my attractive, intelligent sister in-law and I kept getting missed calls from Marty. I finally gave in and hung up, to contact him. I assumed he wanted take away for dinner.

I got this text message:

I have cut my hand open on the fan.

Then another:

Come home. I think I need stitches.

I frantically rang him, thinking he was dying. Of course he answers the phone cheerily and says "It's fine! Just a little blood. You should look at it though."

I drove down the driveway and was greeted by my blood covered husband, holding frozen peas against his right hand. Smiling. Yes, smiling. Freak. I immediately told him to get in the car and I dropped him at the emergency entrance. (Personally, I wouldn't have put frozen peas on a cut, but whatever!)

Eli and I went home, because it can be a long wait and he needed dinner.

I walked into the house.

I saw washing baskets and I smiled. He'd been folding!

Then I saw blood spatter on the walls.

On the clothes.

On the floor.

On the fan.

FAR OUT. Seriously?

He couldn't wipe any of that up?

He knocks on the door, 20 minutes later. Had run home. Cause, that's what you do when you've just gotten stitches.

"I didn't even have local anesthetic!"

*insert Peter Griffin sigh*

Love that man o' mine!

365 days of the Tiny Love.

At 10:40pm on Monday the 8th of July 2013...
A star was born. A twinkly, shiny, bright star.
He lit up our whole world.

I couldn't believe that I could love anyone or anything as much as I loved him. From the very second he was placed on my chest, I knew he was mine. I remember the first thing I said to him "Hello there, we've been waiting for you!' as he cried his very first cries. They were strong and sweet and music to my ears. (Imagine a bagpipe, playing heavy metal) 

That beautiful, wrinkly little bundle of love, soon grew into a bigger, cuter version. He loved to smile. (Still does!)

This same tiny Love has made me smile and laugh, almost every day. Some days he has made me cry. 

Just when I think I can't love him any more, my heart grows a little bigger to fit some extra in there.

As he grows and learns, I watch in amazement.
We made that. We made him.
And he thinks we are the best things he's ever seen.
That smile he gives. It's just for us. That sloppy, disgusting kiss I receive on my cheek. All mine.
I am his Mum. He is my Bubbin. My tiny Love. The best thing I have ever done.

Happy 1st Birthday, you little rascal. Don't ever stop being cheeky.

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Wordless Wednesday - My fur babies.

First there was Possum

2 years later, there was Ruby

Instant friends

Quirky girl

Fluffnut

Loves to walk

Oozes the love

Just be silly and have fun.

A friend sent me this quote last night: -

"Oh my God, what if you wake up some day, and you're 65, or 75,

 and you never got your memoir or novel written; 

or you didn't go swimming in warm pools and oceans all those years, 

because your thighs were jiggly and you had a nice big comfy tummy; 

or you were just so strung out on perfectionism and people-pleasing that you forgot to have a big, juicy, creative life, of imagination and radical silliness and staring off into space, like when you were a kid? It's going to break your heart. Don't let this happen."

- Anne Lamott

This quote spoke to me. It made a few things click.

Why am I focusing on all of the things I should be/or not be doing?

My weight? Who cares... Let's go swimming!

Why didn't I dance at my beautiful friend Renae's wedding? I'm sure the crowd would have loved my kangaroo, shopping trolley and whipper snipper moves on the dance floor.

I am anxious day and night about things I cannot change.

What if I wake up one day and ask myself  "What have you done with your life? Have you lived?"

I don't ever want to ask myself that question. I want to be too busy living life, to have time to question it.

I'm going to just be silly and have fun.

That's all.

Official complaint for item #4782

Dear Baby Store manager,

I recently purchased a tiny human from your store. (Well, it was last July. But that's recent, right?)
Upon unwrapping him from his packaging and reading the instruction manual, I was pleased to see that he was gorgeous. This soft little smooshy specimen. I held him, as he was quiet and cuddly.

After a few days, the problems began. I found that he was possibly malfunctioning. I read the manual, but no-where did it describe how to stop this tiny human from crying for no reason. It also didn't tell me how to stop him from leaking fluids!

Hmmm, what's this?

I finally came to terms with these things and got into a good routine of feed, play sleep with this tiny human. He was even sleeping well at night. Things were looking up. I decided he was a good purchase after all.

Suddenly, he decided to start waking up for longer. What was I supposed to do now? There was no-where in the manual that explained what to do with him during this wakeful time. He also started fussing while feeding. That was the only thing I could count on, until now.

I got used to this and once again, was happy with my purchase.

On and on, this kept up. New things happening all the time, with my tiny human. Having many moments of buyers remorse and then realising that yes, I did want to keep him.

I am writing to tell you that you must be more accurate and detailed with the manual.

I am currently dealing with this tiny human speaking gibberish (that I can't understand, because there's nothing in the manual!!), biting me, emptying all of my cupboards and climbing out of the bath. 

This isn't acceptable!

It's very lucky that I'm attached to this tiny human, because I'd be returning him for a full refund, otherwise! 

Consider this a formal complaint about the terrible manual. I hope that by the time I get to my second, third and fourth tiny human purchases, you'll have improved things!

   

Yours sincerely,

Bianca

Wordless Wednesday - Adventures of the Tiny Love.

Here I come!

It's so beautiful.

Ooooh, up there!

 

Oh! A stick!

MY stick.

What you looking at?

Daddy, what's that?

                                              

No, I don't believe you.

She said WHAT?!

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