Silence is golden. Wait, silence is TERRIFYING.

Not in a scary movie kind of way. In a 'Ahhhhh. Silence. It's beautiful. Imma sit here with my phone and a cup of coffee and- WAIT WHY IS SO QUIET OH MY GOD ARE THE CHILDREN OKAY?'

Example one:
It was just silent in the lounge room, save for Sesame Street. I assumed that because I couldn't hear Millie singing 'Old MacDonald' or hear Pippa crying (teething and sick, again) it was all okay. Pip crawled back into the room with three dummies. I swear the child is a dummy ninja. I can never find any, yet she crawls off into her room and comes back with one in her mouth, one in each hand and a look of unbridled, pacified joy.

I hear Millie sitting at the dining table behind me playing with her cars. Then I realise it's a little TOO quiet. I turn around to see Millie sifting through my purse with a handful of change.
'Mum? I'm going to put this in my moneybox. Please get it for me. Now.'

The child is a tiny dictator genius. I foresee her being very rich and me being very poor on account of her constantly stealing my purse, Mr S's wallet and relieving us of our change.

Example two:
It was very quiet in the dining room one day, and when I went exploring for Millie, I found her with a bundle of towels on the bathroom floor. She closed the door on me and said 'It's okay Mum, I'm cleaning it up.' She'd been washing the bathroom floor with a facewasher. Thankfully she is not a kid who cleans with toilet water, she's been in love with the mixer tap since we showed her how to use it.

I rue the day we bought the step for the bathroom.

Example three:
I went to make toast for the girls and after some silence, I heard Pip bellowing. I came into the room to find her on all fours on the kid's table, having scaled the chairs to get up there. We're trying to teach her how to get down, we haven't been entirely successful yet.

Example four:
Whilst I have been typing example three, Millie was sitting next to me. I have just turned around and she is no longer watching my typing intently. She's sticking stickers on the lounge room windows.

This is why we can't have nice things.

Through her eyes

Millie intensely dislikes having her photo taken, unless she's wearing her favourite frilly pink Peppa Pig with her Lightning McQueen undies underneath. She LOVES looking at the photos on my phone, and has recently expressed an interest in taking photos on my old iPhone and looking at the photos on the view screen of Mr S's lovely fancy Nikon DSLR.

He's been showing her how to take a photo using his camera, and yesterday she snapped this. I think it's my most favouritest photo of myself ever. There's something about the carefree abandon on my face, where I wasn't worried about taking a 'good' photo. I just smiled at my beautiful girl to make her smile.

In the rain, on a Friday.

This morning I turned and threw another log into my cart, readying it to bring another load of firewood up to the house from the yard. I saw a car pull up across the road at Former BNHQ (That's right! They've moved out!) and start blaring it's horn incessantly. It looked very much like a car that used to visit BNHQ and that was often how they would communicate to visitors.

I marched to my gate and said 'Excuse me mate! I've got a sleeping kid here! Please?!'

The male driver glared at me and roared (yes, roared) 'MAYBE YOU COULD CUT ME SOME SLACK HERE? I AM TRYING TO GET A DERANGED WOMAN OFF THE ROAD, I HAVE A BABY HERE TOO.'

Then I saw her. A young woman, looking pregnant, dressed only in a nightgown, wandering along the tiny verge on the highway, crying. Then I saw the driver, a young man, looking terrified and angry and slightly deranged all at the same time. I raised my hands in a 'Sorry, sorry' gesture as Mr S came out of the house to see what the commotion was. I watched, saddened as she walked up to the car, got in and they sped down the highway.

Oh my god. What on earth was their story? As a young Mum who has suffered with anxiety and PND (twice!) my mind raced to the unimaginable. What drives a young Mum to walk the highway in a nightgown at 9.30am? Where were they going? I hope he was taking her to see a doctor. Unfortunately, I doubt it. Is she ok? Is he ok? Is their baby ok? I hope so.

Then, Lady Pippa woke up, Mr S brought her to the window to wave at me. We've had an uneasy week here, with reflux and no sleep and finally getting some sleep help. We began our sleep training with Pip yesterday and so far, bless her, she's got it. I had my first full night's sleep in a year last night. Pip did not move a muscle from 8pm-5.45am. Fist pump.

I dropped my cart handle, shed my raincoat and boots, ran inside and smooshed her little smooshy cheeks and kissed that sloppy open mouth kisses that she offers and ran my hands through her curls.

I do hope the family I saw this morning are ok.

Oh, oops.

You see, I keep meaning to write here. It's just that I don't have much to say, except for the things I don't really want to say.

Lady Pip vomits a lot. Like, A LOT. Mr S and I can now catch a vomit in a bucket without messing up the floor - one of us can fly out of bed not quite awake before she begins to gag properly. After a long few months of discussions with our Dr, reflux was diagnosed, reflux meds prescribed and I added in some anti reflux formula. It's been a shitty shitty winter of colds, flus and infections, one after the other. Coupled with many months of being out of bed 4-5 times per night it's a wonder any of the Smyths functioned at all.

Thankfully the formula at night seems to have helped her settle and the anti reflux meds are working. It's absolutely heartbreaking to see your tiny beloved refuse to eat, cry when she swallows and make the most gut wrenching sounds when vomiting, and to try and wipe her own face with a towel afterwards. Millie hears Pip start to gag and runs for towels. What a life eh?

I hate not being able to fix it. I've got a sense of self importance as a mother that makes me want to have all the answers, fix all the problems and make it all better for my children. For goodness sakes, why isn't that possible?

I am blessed with a special group of ladies that make up my Mother's Group. I sew at night with one, take long walks with a pram with another, another one brings Pip frozen cubed meals when she won't eat anything I try. They are amazing women.

So, what have you been up to this winter? I've been making a quilt, walking with my new pram, finally getting some sleep and catching vomits in a bucket like MacGuyMum.

I know. You wish you were me.

FFS Friday - Heidi, a chippie, and the flu

• It's been a few weeks since my last confession. FFS.
• I suspect when I sleep more I'll be able to whinge more. FFS.
• Millie has had a cold/cough/conjunctivitis for 10 days. FFS.
• After two days of sitting on her to put eyedrops in her eyes, I gave up on the chemist's approval. FFS.
• Guess who got a cold and conjunctivitis on Tuesday? FFS.
• I've never wished my Mum and my in-laws lived around the corner as fervently as I have this week. FFS.
• Millie averaged a tantrum every 10 minutes yesterday. That average includes the time that she was sleeping, therefore silent, therefore not upset. FFS.
• I have used my Caps Lock Voice and Caps Lock Eyes for too many days in a row and I'm emotionally wrung out. FFS.
• Millie was sufficiently recovered to go back to daycare on Wednesday. At 6pm Tuesday her carer let me know that her daughter had gastro and she wasn't working on Wednesday. I almost cried. FFS.
• It's been raining and I have no rain cover for the pram. We haven't been walking for a week. FFS.
• This contributes to my grumpy pants. FFS.
• Pippa Jane is delightful and gorgeous and won't let me out of her sight. FFS.
• Whilst cooking a roast for dinner with friends last week the oven made a funny noise and got cooler. I started frantically googling 'Silverside roast in oven died can I use pressure cooker?'. Yes, you can. NO FFS.
• An element also stopped working a few months ago. FFS.
• The electrician finally returned my call and told me it wasn't worth fixing. FFS.
• I procrastinated for a week until Mr S said 'Dude. What are you doing? WE DON'T HAVE AN OVEN. Can you just buy another one please?' I said 'I don't think we can afford it.' And then I realised that thanks to my super budgeting skills and YNAB, we can. NO FFS.
• It's the first time we've bought a major appliance without going into debt. It feels REALLY good. NO FFS.
• 
  
• Her name is Heidi and she's beautiful. NO FFS.
• Why, pray tell is she in the dining room?
  Well. The old stove was 530mm wide. The gap is 541mm. Heidi's specs were 540mm. The man in Harvey Norman measured her and said she was 545mm. Our sparky and our chippie suspected it'd be ok. (see where this is going?)
• Heidi has too much junk in her trunk and doesn't fit.
• The chippie is hopefully coming tomorrow to amend my benchtops. FFS.
• If I ever meet the people that built my house I want to shake them. Hard. There's not one aspect of this house that is built conventionally. Remember the three false walls that had to be put in the bathroom last year so we could tile? The bathroom pipes that have NO squeeze room underneath the house? The septic tank that was concreted over? FFS. FFS. FFS.
• Heidi has a double oven. NO FFS.
• She's a very expensive yet beautiful addition to my sewing room right now. FFS.

Is it wine time yet?

Linking up with Sarah for FFS Friday...

Lately

I saw this post by Stacey over at Veggie Mama and thought it looked like a spot of fun. It seems like a nicer explanation of my days than 'I washed nappies. I hung washing out. I put more washing in the dryer. I played cars. I had my hair done by a 2 year old. Pippa didn't sleep. Pippa slept. I didn't sleep.'

I mean, it's not that the above isn't an interesting explanation, but this seems like less of real life and more of fun life.

New quilting

Making : A new quilt for snuggling on the couch with.
Cooking : Banana cake, loaves of bread, yoghurt.
Drinking : Moccona instant coffee with a dash of cinnamon. Don't hate me coz I love instant.
Reading: Freakonomics by Steven Levin.
Wanting: Time. Always time.

So icy

Looking: Out the window at the icy mist.

Playing: Anything on Qello.com, or the new Deborah Conway album, Stories of Ghosts.
Wasting: Half eaten toddler meals.
Sewing: A giant pile of paid mending. Turns out men are hard on their work shorts.
Wishing: I went to bed earlier than staying up with Mr S and watching The Cleveland Show.
Enjoying: Thinking about my next quilt.
Waiting: To finally finish my tax return.
Liking: The freezerload of bananas, just waiting to be turned into cake.
Wondering: Which load of washing to do first.

Oh my heart.

Loving: Pippa's sounds, words and giant sized smile. And the giant full faced raspberries she's currently giving the ottoman.
Hoping: She decides to sleep soon.
Marvelling: At making two humans. Seriously? Smash some genes together and... humans. Weird.
Needing: To put the little bits and pieces of the lounge room away where they belong.
Smelling: Coffee.
Wearing: This isn't a good look today - giant sized trackies, explorer socks, a nice red shirt with a nice cardigan over the top. Half ready to leave the house.
Following: Through on projects is my downfall when I'm this tired and forgetful.
Noticing: The birds that seem to live in my roof are getting much bigger, ergo louder.
Knowing: Like Stacey, that this isn't forever. I will sleep again and my children will not throw tantrums.
Thinking: About how Pippa's escalated from giant smiles and raspberries to giant tantrums and yelling in the space of a paragraph.
Feeling: Tired. Happy and satisfied after sewing class last night, and spending time with Mr S drinking hot chocolates and watching Cleveland... but so very tired.
Bookmarking: Red Pepper Quilts and Ms Midge.
Opening: Post that tells me I need to send this letter to my health fun and an electricity bill that wasn't nearly as scary as I imagined.
Giggling: This is so freakin true.
Feeling: That my headache might not go away today. Aaargh!

Tell me what you're up to!

FFS Fridazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz. Sorry, did I nod off?

Not only do I think I am the most fashion-boring person in the world right now, I'm worried I'll fall asleep midsentence. FFS.
And to make myself stay awake, I just. keep. talking. FFS.
I've been spending so many nights sitting up holding Lady Pippa that I now enjoy watching TV at 4am. FFS.
I have a severe case of the Social Mummy Pretendies , that is, trying to sound like I'm not an overtired not-quite-sane Mummy. I'm convinced that half of my new Mother's Group hate me. FFS.
I'm sure they don't. Maybe? FFS.
I'm attempting to lessen my sugar intake. By lessen, I mean eat sugar like a normal person. Apparently punishing one's porridge with brown sugar isn't healthy. FFS.
That said, porridge with some pear and a sprinkle of brown sugar is very tasty. NO FFS.
Mr S and I have been watching Prof Brian Cox's Wonders of Life series. Mr S watches it, but Prof Cox has such a soothing voice to listen I've fallen asleep every time. FFS.
I go to bed to listen to sewing podcasts and fall asleep immediately. FFS.
I can tell you that to sew with linen you should cut on the bias and then you... do something else. FFS.
Millie is pretty much fully conversational now and she's such a joy to talk to. The only issue if that if she's not talking to you, she's talking to Pippa, her dolls, her cars, Pippa, the birds on the roof... It's very freakin noisy in my house. FFS.
She's cute (and she sleeps). I'll keep her.

FFS Friday - Sick sick money sick rain floods

If I could sum up our recent weeks for a FFS edition it would be this:

• Sick.
• Sick.
• Money.
• Texta.
• Washing.
• Sick.
• Sick.
• Washing.
• Sewing.
• Sleep.
• No Sleep.
• Washing.
• Raining.
• Tumble dryer.
• Raining.
• Roof leaking.
• Raining.
• Washing.
• No roof leaking.
• Raining.
• Sewing.
• Retaining wall waterfall.
• Raining.
• Mr S digging trenches.
• No more retaining wall waterfall.
• Sick. 
• Washing.
• Sick.
• Nappies.
• Washing.
• Sewing.
• Sewing.
• Good news.
• Bad news.
• Worse news.
• Sick.
• Sick.

'Mum? Doing?'
'MUUUUM. WHEREAREOOOO?'
'MUUUUUUUUUUUM. MUUUMMY MUM MUM MUM MUUUUUM.'
'Yes, Millie?'
'I've got a car.'
'That's great! It's a cool car.'
'Yes!'
Leave room.
'MUUUUUM. MUMMY MUMMY MUM MUM.'
'Yes, Millie?'
<silence from Millie. She just stares.>
FFS.

I was made redundant from my job at the end of the financial year. Quite strange, really, but it saved me from making a decision I'd been putting off for almost a year. I kept extending my unpaid leave because I wasn't ready to think about it. It's strange to not have a job for the first time in five years. At the same time it doesn't really feel real, because I haven't been to work for 10 months now. But it's still weird. FFS.

The amount of times my children have been sick this year I barely would have been able to go to work anyway. FFS.

Nothing says reliable employee like needing lots of sick leave for your kids. FFS.

So I guess it's a good thing I'm a SAHM now. But some days I really miss the drive to work (alone), the drive home (alone), the spare half hour to go shopping (alone). I miss the challenges of my job, but I don't miss the inevitable office drama. I think I just miss being alone. FFS.

The good news is that the girls are glorious. As I type this, Pip's standing up at the television table watching the screensaver on Apple TV and swivelling the volume knob (note to self, check volume). Millie is turning into a stellar little lady who loves to share and cares so very much about her family. We're all 'bestens'. I love them all so much.

Not a particularly triumphant return to FFS, I know, but I've got Peekaboo to play and washing to hang up. My life is glam.

It's a First World Blackout

Firstly, goodness me. It's been a month since I last blogged.

Ah, real life. You are sweet.

But my story. Oh yes. On Tuesday morning, after 24 hours of the heaviest rain we'd had all year, there was a blackout at 7.30am. I was in blissfully alone in the shower with no one saying 'MUM? WHAT DOING?' or 'MUMUMUMUM WAAAAH' or 'MEOW' and when the lights went out I panicked momentarily, thinking that the hot water would stop. Alas, we have a giant sized hot water tank, so I was sweet on that point. So I kept showering in the pale light of morning, and then the barrage of the potential things that my day might entail entered my uncaffeinated head like a freight train.

In this order:

1. I cannot blowdry my hair. No fringe for me. Help.
2. I will need to use my breastpump manually. Help.
3. COFFEE.
4. My phone is not charged.
5. HOW WILL I ENTERTAIN MY CHILDREN ALL DAY WITHOUT THE USE OF POWER OR TELEVISION?

I know. Drastic, right?

I can rally my own inner troops. I brushed my fringe down and hoped for the best. I set up my pump manually and Millie wanted to help. I'm quite glad, it took an age to pump the bottle and substantially less time for flu-ridden Pippa to drink it. I could go for a drive to charge my phone. Small pot of water on the fire and then there was coffee.

The last point, however? Well, my shoddy parenting skills showed. Millie asked for Sesame Street (aka Pippa's first naptime and Mummy's coffee time) and we had quite a lengthy discussion about how the television wasn't working. After Millie had me try every remote twice, she agreed that perhaps the TV just needed batteries. Indeed.

We played lego and dollies and read a few books. We looked at the cows outside and that's when I realised that I was very very tired. How?

Well, I had an epiphany with the cows. The cows don't know if there's a blackout, because they mosey about during the day and snooze at night. They just are.

Then the power came back on, Pippa had a nap, I had another coffee and our day went on. I vowed to get some more sleep, because really? Zen cows? 

(I also put all of my iDevices on their chargers quick sticks and boiled the kettle to put in a thermos lest there be another blackout. Mummy needs iDevices and coffee on hand at all times.)

FFS Friday - Is that what day it is?

Best laid plans and all that. We are currently in the Winter of Sickness here (FFS) and ergo, the Winter of No Sleep (FFS). I frequently forget what day it is (Mr S tells me to get a real job. He's just joking, lest I stop cooking him dinner.) and have fallen asleep standing up over the cot more than once. FFS.

I realised I haven't had more than three hours of unbroken sleep since the middle of May. FFS.
I have resorted to drastic measures to keep myself awake comforting and feeding Lady Pippa. I have eyedrops in the bathroom to avoid the dreaded sandpaper eyes, a sugary muesli bar slice to keep my occupied and I've begun to use Facebook again in the middle of the night. I also watch TV on the iPad. Sometimes I still fall asleep mid-phone fiddle and poor Lady Pip has copped an iPhone to her person from a great height once. Oops. FFS.
When I do go back to sleep Lucy wakes me up. FFS.
Mr S sleeps through most of this. FFS.
Mr S has a delightful habit of not being able to read my mind and ascertain my caffeine levels in the morning before barraging questions and housework suggestions to me. As I was walking out the door with Millie this morning he asked me why there was still an envelope on the hallstand. It is a fair point that I had actually dealt with said envelope, and just not removed it, but there was no sweet sweet caffeine coursing through my veins and I glared lasers with my Caps Lock Eyes instead. FFS.

Illness
Millie got a cold. FFS.
Pip got a cold. FFS.
Millie got better. No FFS.
I got a cold. FFS.
Mr S had threat of a cold. FFS.
We got better. No FFS.
Pip got sniffly again. FFS.
Whilst Pip was getting her vax, Millie was off daycare with another cold. (FFS) The Dr commented that I had both girls today, and I replied along the lines of 'Yes. Only sick on daycare days.' Our sweet Dr asked if I minded her looking Millie over. I insisted it was just a cold. She insisted on looking. Millie had severe tonsillitis. FFS Mummy.
The next two weeks I took Lady Pip to the Dr twice with said sniffles and vomits, only to be told it was a virus. FFS.
She spiked 24 hours of 38-39oC fevers last Friday, and woke with a rash on Monday. I thought it was a viral rash and didn't fancy going to the Dr again to be told it was just a virus. Overnight it spread to her face and she was VERY unhappy. FFS.
I took her to the Dr and she too has tonsillitis AND scarlet fever. FFS.
Scarlet fever WTF??!!!! FFS.
Luckily my girls love medicine and have taken their liquid antibiotics with gusto. I got another cold on the weekend and threw a mini wobbly and went to bed for 90 minutes of uninterrupted sleep. My cold immediately lifted. No FFS.

As I'm typing this, Lucy is sitting next to my keyboard trying to lick my fingers. FFS.
I am never alone. Ever. FFS.

BNHQ's dogs bark every time I go outside. I will not miss them when they move. I don't think I've ever seen them take their dogs for a walk either. FFS.

I haven't added in how Millie drew on the cream microfibre couch with red texta, how much I'm loving a show called House of Cards right now, and all the things I've been sewing. That's for another time.

Yes, cream microfibre couch. FFS.
It's also really really freaking cold here at the moment. FFS.

That's a lot of FFS. You're welcome.

FFS Friday - It's a long way in the car sometimes.

Last weekend Family Smyth and I took a little trip interstate to visit Mr S's Granny for her 90th birthday. It was amazing trip and I was so happy to see my little girls enjoying their cousins, Nanny and Poppy and of course, Granny. Naturally, I also managed to collect a few FFS moments to share...

• The night before we leave I am packing. Of course I'm packing on the fly. Why would I spend a week coordinating my luggage and making sure I didn't forget anything? It's not like I'm a SAHM. Wait a minute... FFS.
• Lady Pippa refused to sleep this night, so I was packing my bag at 9pm with a baby rolling on the floor sounding like Bobcat Goldthwaite. FFS.
• Eventually I get her to sleep, finish packing and head to bed at 11pm. Lady Pippa awakens at 11.15pm. FFS.
• We get up and rolling in the morning and fly to our destination with no worries. We pick up our hire car and begin the epic trek to the NSW/VIC border. What do you MEAN it's 330km to the border? That's THE END OF MY ISLAND THANKYOUVERYMUCH. FFS.
• We stopped frequently and it took us 6 hours to get there. FFS.
• We all shared a room and it meant that Millie was not fond of sleeping. The first night we battled through, the second and third nights she slept in the middle of our double bed. FFS.
• She got sick on the last night we were there and was snotty and inconsolable on the way home. FFS.
• Pip joined the Illness Party the next day and has been requiring several thousand cuddles per day (No FFS) but isn't enjoying having high fevers and hates taking panadol. She vomits every time we try to give it to her. FFS.
• Millie has taken to being very offended by Pip's crying. She is in no way helpful attempts to console her by patting her and saying 'It's otay Pip, there's no monsters' and when that doesn't work, shouting 'STOP IT PIPPA STOP STOP STOP STOP STOP.' FFS.
• I was feeling very sorry for my girls on Wednesday and my day's thoughts went from:
  11am: Oh my poor darlings, maybe I won't go to sewing class tonight. I want to cuddle you all better.
  2pm: Dear god, go to sleep Millie. Stay asleep, Pippa.
  4pm: Packs bag with latest sewing projects whilst humming a tune to block out the noise.
  5pm: WHERE IS MR S? Still humming. Wind up burning the pasta sauce after stopping one child throwing a camping lantern at the other. Mentally balled up in a corner rocking and back and forth.
  6pm: Mr S arrives home 'Do you mind if I go to class? No? BYE BYE.'
• Now I am thick headed and snotty. FFS.

Nuby Reviews - Rhythm Bottle Feeding System

A while back I was contacted by Nuby Australia and asked if I'd be interesting in joining their team of bloggers - a Mummy Blogger if you will. They offered to send Family Smyth some of their new products to test, review and giveaway here.

First up is the Rhythm Bottle, with additional teats and disposable liners. Curious. I'd seen these advertised and wondered both what they'd be like to use and what the actual point was.
There's a better explanation of bottle usage over on their website but essentially it's a sterilised liner that fits in the purpose-built reusable bottle and reduces air in the milk filled liner, thus reducing air intake by your littlie, thus reducing colic.

Let's begin!
Child and toddler paraphernalia not strategically placed.

Lady Pippa has the odd bottle every now and then, and has always suffered with colic and gas. Whilst she latches well she doesn't need to work particularly hard to breastfeed and is a bit 'relaxed' slack about the whole affair, so I was keen to try the bottle system for one of her bottle feeds.

The bottle is supplied with one newborn sized teat, so Nuby also sent a packet of 3+ month teats to fit the bottle. There are notches in the sides of the teat to help you align it in the bottle top and there are air intake holes in the teat itself.

Pip do it on her nown.

What's disconcerting about using the bottle is there's no bottom in the bottle, so it looks just like a regular bottle, only it's really a cylinder with a screw top. The first time I washed it I knew something wasn't right with it but I just couldn't work it out. It took me a few seconds to realise there was no bottom in the bottle. I'm sure that if I had more sleep it would have been slightly more obvious to me...

To use the liners and bottle system you assemble the liner within the bottle, warm the feed seperately and then pour into the liner. With the bottle top and teat on, you push the bottle of the liner upward within the bottle, essentially pushing the air out of the liner through the teat, making it somewhat airtight.

Feedwise, the Rhythm bottle system works just like a regular bottle. As the bottle is emptied, the liner collapses on itself. Several comparisons sprang to mind, but, well, I'll leave that one well alone. Pippa enjoyed being able to hold the bottle herself whilst we fed and I found the bottle quite easy to hold. I did have trouble with a bit of leakage through the air intake holes, and I'm not entirely sure how to get around it.

Finished feed. Collapsed liner. 

THE MRS SMYTH RECOMMENDATIONS

The Good Bits

• The liners are sterilised, so if you are formula feeding and needing sterilised bottles these would be ace for on the go.
• Pip did not have as much gas after the feed, and I do think that the liners reduce air in the feed. Win!
• It's easy to assemble and far less daunting (for me) to have to think about sterilising bottles and teats. I've never formula fed under 6 months before so I've not needed to worry about sterilising bottles and teats for breastmilk.

The Not So Good Bits

• There was a bit of leakage through the top of the bottle, so that would be cumbersome if you were feeding like this every day, but perhaps you'd find out how to fix that.
• I don't like the disposable nature of the system. I think it's a great idea for now and then, but unless you had a baby who had severe colic I don't agree with throwing away liners for every feed.
• Cost. The bottles, teats and liners are relatively inexpensive, but at approx $7 per box of 50 liners, it could wind up being pricey if you fed with this system full time.
• I disagree with feeding juice to babies and infants, and I think it's counterproductive and unhealthy to advertise  'Simply drop a pre-sterilised liner into a Rhythm™ Disposable Liner Bottle and fill with breast milk, formula, juice or water.' (Source: Nuby website)

Overall

I really liked the system. I wish I'd had it for my first baby Millie, who had weeks of colic and gas in her early days. I love the disposable liner system for travelling - I'll be taking them with me when we travel interstate this month.

What do you think? Would you try the Nuby Rhythm Feeding system?

*Products were supplied to me by Nuby Australia for the purposes of review on my website. No payment was offered or accepted. All opinions are my own.

FFS Friday - Twonager Edition.

We are about to journey to family birthday interstate. Two kiddlywinks under 3 on a plane and a 4 hour car ride. Gulp. FFS.

In a discussion with my SIL about portacots, car seats and high chairs she says she's just spent an entire afternoon with my MIL going through her wardrobe trying to decide what to wear to the birthday party - did she have anything formal enough? I hadn't even given it a thought until she mentioned it. Now I can't stop thinking about it. My personal checklist to leave the house these days is: vomit free? Let's ride. FFS.

I've been sewing up a storm - pics to come. In the course of the last week I've burned my hand on my iron and sewed my finger. Bent needle and everything. Amazing. FFS.
I did finish two quilts, a skirt, a bag, hemmed some jeans and abandoned a project.
I gave said Twonager a quilted blanket I'd been working on since March. She'd been watching me work on it but I hadn't let on it for was her. I set the washing machine for 5am, had it in the dryer at 6am, folded it up and gave it to her at 7.30am.
'Remember it was your birthday? Here's a present Mummy's just finished for you.'
'I don't like it. I don't want it.'
'It's a special blankie, Mummy made it just for you.'
'I don't want it.'
FFS.

I thought it was an anomaly until we were gazing out the window an hour later, talking about the moo cows across the road...
'Oh! Moo cow, Mummy!'
'Yes! Look at it! Now, remember Mummy made you a special blankie for your birthday?' Hushed, reverent tones.
'Yes. I don't want it.' Hushed, reverent tone.

FFS.

Despite telling me 'IT IS SO PITTY MUMMY IS IT MILLIE'S?' for the last two weeks and  subsequent rejection she has been snuggling under it all afternoon and said 'I REALLY LIKE IT' tonight.

Thank god. FFS.

FFS Friday

This week kind of levels out to a nice, even keel. That said, there's been all manner of excitement (question mark?) and excitement (real, live excitement).

It turns out that despite the myriad of cars, comings and going and noise, only two people live at BNHQ. They are actually quite nice to speak to. Their dogs still bark all day and they fix their cars all evening, but at least I'm no longer worried they're going to maim me. NO FFS.

• Pip has gotten two teeth in two days. I imagine this is quite painful, and I'm certainly sharing in her pain as she had me out of bed 9 times on Monday night. FFS.
• There's more coming. I can see their taunting white points. FFS.
• We went camping last week and it was amazing. However, as I was ferreting through the linen cupboard finding blankets I rested my head on the sheets to get a better look inside. Then I realised I'd not only fallen asleep, I'd fallen asleep standing up in the linen cupboard. FFS.
• I need to put a sign on my front door saying 'A TWONAGER LIVES HERE.' This week has seen the introduction of the 'Time Out' space for Millie. It's so hard, and I'm mourning the loss of her sweet little baby innocence to a two year old who seems to be as stubborn as her mother and father. FFS.
• When I went to pick up Millie from daycare on Wednesday at 2.59pm, the car did not start. FFS.
• I love living in the country. I rang my local Bridgestone service centre who dropped everything, drove to my place, jump started the car (cost: $0!) and offered to follow me to their centre so they could check the battery. NO FFS.
• I got them to replace the battery in Handsome James. That was $125 I hadn't seen coming. FFS.
• He runs like a dream now. NO FFS.
• He needs his shocks replaced, and is getting two done this month and two the following month. The car account currently has $0 in it. FFS.
• In the past two weeks I have rotary cut my finger once, cut the same finger with a knife and mandolin sliced a different finger. FFS.
• I have always bruised easily (YO PLATELETS, WHADDUP?) but it's a bit extreme at the moment. My legs are always covered in bruises and I can tell you what every single one is.
  'This one's the bed end.'
  'This one's the fire guard.'
  'I ran into the clothes horse.'
  'Millie pointed her elbows into my thigh.'
  'I ran into the door frame.'
  Sadly these are all true. I'm just freakin' clumsy. FFS.
• After the 9 wake ups from Lady Pip on Monday night, Lucy woke me up for a 10th. Suffice to say I didn't react particularly well. FFS.
• The cat really is a f**king fruit loop. FFS.
• I joined a quilting class in Huonville. I bloody love it. I left Mr S with the kiddies at 6.30pm Wednesday night and came home at 8.45pm to a quiet house. I'm going again next week and every available opportunity after that. NO FFS.
• My latest project looks awesome. NO FFS.

Easter eggs, lies and a washing machine.

I have a very serious problem.

When I did a load of washing yesterday and washed my dressing gown I was certain that I had emptied the pockets. Whilst Mr S was unsurprised that I thought I'd emptied my pockets and I had not, it brought light to a much more serious problem.

It appears that someone has been in my house, sitting around all evening not only wearing my dressing gown but eating a large quantity of Cadbury solid easter eggs. They have then stashed the evidence in my dressing gown pockets. 

When I took the load of washing out of the machine there was a handful of scrunched up easter egg wrappers, a mangled receipt and a lone tissue. But mostly easter egg wrappers.

I'm certain that this is an attempt to derail my Yummy Stay At Home Mummy Yoga Pant Wearing facade... it makes it seem as though all I do is sit around in my dressing gown eating (my children's) easter eggs.

You and I both know that it's all lies, right?

FFS Friday...Up next... Locusts.

Perhaps that's a bit of an exaggeration, but after this Tuesday? It truly felt like it.

• I've been feeling less than awesome for a week or so now and I've been blaming it on my flu shot of two weeks ago. Truthfully, it's probably sleep deprivation. Gah. FFS.
• I awoke at 1am and fed Pip, and again at 4.30am, and again at 6.30am, at which point I made a cup of tea and leave the tea infuser in. That's how dire my situation was. I congratulated myself on using breastfeeding as a way to weigh the least since early 2010. The downside is the lethargy. The plus side is aforementioned weight loss and the ability to imbibe a disgusting amount of chocolate and sugar. Sort of FFS.
• We breakfast, Pip goes down for a nap and I attempt to ready Millie for Playgroup, aka Mummy Time where Millie gets to play too.
  Pip wakes and will not feed before we go out. Uhoh. This does not bode well. I find a dummy clip and congratulate myself (again) for a job well done, ensuring we have a quiet car ride without Pip flinging her dummy all over the place.
  2 minutes up the road, I hear Pip yelling from her seat. Pull over to discover that dummy is indeed, still in her mouth. She's just holding it out to yell. FFS.
• 8 minutes up the road, Pip is still yelling in various dulcet tones of Bobcat Golthwait. Turn the radio up. Millie exclaims about every cow/tree/car/truck she can see.
  15 minutes up the road, Pip yells louder again and Millie demands 'SING, MUM. TOO LOUD, PIP.' from the back seat. I begin singing songs about bicycles, working through my repertoire until I hit The Beatles. We make it to my friend's house and I dash inside to say hi whilst the kids are happily waiting in the car, talking to my friend's kids.
  I dash back out, realise it's been a few minutes and both kids are screaming, snotty and inconsolable. Millie gets a box of sultanas, Pippa a headpat. We head to Playgroup. I sing more Beatles tunes loudly and Millie and I listen to Pippa's banshee screaming. FFS.
• Into Playgroup, Pippa starts screaming when a friend says hello to her, and doesn't stop and won't feed for the next 40 minutes. She eventally feeds, burps, looks happier. Millie sidles up to me and says 'Poo.'
  No poo. She wanders off, and comes back in a few minutes, walking like a cowgirl. Alas. FFS.
• I change her nappy, change Pippa's nappy at the same time and run out of wet wipes. Congratulate myself for having the exact number of wipes required. You can see where this is going.
• Millie comes running up again, walking like a fragrant cowgirl. SERIOUSLY? FFS.
• A friend hands me her wet wipes and I realise that I'm out of Millie nappies. She is shoehorned into a Pippa sized nappy and we head home.
  Well, almost. Pippa screams in the car park for ten minutes and I rock her gently by the side of my car until she's somewhat consoled. She is not consoled. I pack her into the car and thankfully she's asleep before we hit the highway.
• I bought a beautiful fancy True Cut Rotary Cutter this week. I nicked the blade on the second use. FFS.
• The next day I bought a replacement blade. First cut went via my finger. FFS.
• I have low platelets. This means I bleed a lot. I panicked, rand Mr S at work (voicemail?!) and Googled 'How to stop cut bleeding'. Pressure on wound, wound above heart. FFS.
• I was cutting white muslin. FFS. Thankfully (?) the cut was so deep it didn't bleed immediately. Muslin saved.
• That night Mr S was out, the girls were in bed by 7pm and the house was mine. I sat down on the floor with all my fabric and pattern and got cutting again. I was interrupted every ten seconds by Lucy the cat rubbing my hands, licking my fingers and scratching the pattern. FFS.
• Lucy also feels that using her litterbox is optional. Next to the box is much nicer option. FFS.
• Thankfully Lucy's litterbox lives in our bath, so it's an easy clean up. We've just started bathing both girls in the big bath so most days I wind up disinfecting and scrubbing the bath. FFS.
• Mirena. Enough said. FFS.

You missed my FFS, didn't you?

Now, go and enjoy Sarah's FFS Fridays too...

To the left, on the bench please.

It's the enjoyment of shopping online, with the smugness that comes from knowing you do not need to venture to The Supermarket.*

*Unless you are me and even though you have an extensive list to shop with, there is inevitably a few things that slip my mind. Usually the glaringly freakin' obvious things, like bread.

Let's rephrase that then.

It's the enjoyment of shopping online, with the smugness that comes from knowing you will need to venture to The Supermarket, but it's a duck in and out job, not a packed lunchbox kind of affair.

I started doing my groceries online a few months ago when my lovely pregnancy hormones vacated and left my mental health somewhat lacking. Along with seeing my GP, I started to find any little ways to make life easier. Strangely enough, the prospect of not taking an infant and a toddler to the supermarket made me feel like my life could be easier.

I tried my local supermarket, but their food quality was crap, delivery expensive and they didn't have the basic things online for me to purchase. Their phone assistant told me it was 'probably that the shop your order is picked from is low on stock, so they reserve that stock for in person shoppers.'

What now? You're charging a premium per item and in delivery that means I can't buy my BBQ sauce online because someone in New Town might want to buy it?

'Could you not just pop in to your local Supermarket and get it in person?'

Yes. I could. But, genius, that isn't why I'm doing my shopping online now, isn't it? When I leave detailed notes in the 'Detailed Notes for This Item' section, I also have an expectation that my personal shopper whom I'm paying more from might actually read it, not completely ignore it.

So I tried The Other Supermarket from Another Town. And grocery toting angels sang from on high. My groceries are delivered to my kitchen bench. I can pay by EFTPOS in my kitchen, should I choose. The delivery is half the price of The Supermarket, and we're actually spending less on our groceries because I'm not wandering aimlessly distracted by shiny things for some unknown reason. My delivery person will even take the plastic bags away to be recycled. My one beef is the sheer amount of plastic bags used - they have no other option unfortunately, but last week I received one zucchini in a clear veggie bag in a shopping bag. One.

The other first world bonus of doing my shopping at The Other Supermarket is that because we've never shopped there, their home brand goods are like another fancy brand that we haven't tried yet. I've so far whittled us down to Other Supermarket Corn Flakes, Other Supermarket Pasta, Other Supermarket Lemonade... as I clicked through this week's shop I hopefully said to Mr S 'What about Other Supermarket Ice Cream?'.

'No. Absolutely not.'
'Okay, okay, I just thought I'd ask.'
'I am 33. I have tried them all. I have been around the ice cream block.'

I did not buy the Other Supermarket Ice Cream.

Clothes. THEY ALSO SELL CLOTHES. I bought P a pair of socks to test the Clothes At A Supermarket quality, and they're not only lovely, they are highly reasonably priced.

So once a week I write my list, I sit down and click my grocery shopping into the ether of the internet. As if by magic, two days later it turns up in my kitchen. MAGIC, I tell you.

This is absolutely not sponsored. It would be brilliant if it was.

Tormented by the major keys...

of children's music.

It's up there with realising that you're still watching Giggle and Hoot but the baby is asleep and the toddler is at day care.

I've always had a song stuck in my head. Usually it's a half written one that won't leave me alone until I finish it or at least write it down. Since I've had children it's a little bit different. Now it's either various Play School tunes or really catchy half written children's songs that won't leave me alone.

Today I am HOME ALONE.

I'll just let you ponder that for a moment.

I KNOW. ALONE.

I've been playing catch up with sewing, and have had the grand event of starting AND finishing a project in the same hour. Oh my goodness!

But there is a dark side to this joy that is Parental Alone Time.

It's the children's songs stuck in my freakin' head.

I happened to catch myself watching Giggle and Hoot's 'Gigglearium' this morning after everyone had gone out (oops) and now I can't stop singing 'Singing Solo'...

There's also usually a few varieties of Justine Clarke's greatest hits, including 'Dinosaur Roar' and 'Jelly Jelly Jelly'. It's a good thing I think she's ace.

I'd love to sing cool indie songs in my head, so I could seem cool and indie... but the truth is I'm just a country folk loving nerd who makes up songs about bicycles to make her gorgeous girls smile.

If you need me, I'll be cuddling my new sewing machine and stroking my Kindle.

At least, that's what I said to friends on my 30th birthday. The reality was more "If you need me I'll be sitting on my lounge room floor holding a baby who won't sleep and partied from 12-2am then from 5am onwards, sitting next to a toddler who also woke at 5am. She's watching every episode of Peppa Pig ever produced on the iPad. And I'm holding my Kindle."

So it was safe to say that my days of a lavish, hedonistic birthday are well behind me. This year I turned 30 and was absolutely spoiled rotten by both sides of my family - they all pitched in and purchased me a new Janome sewing machine. Her name is Janine, and she's beautiful. She's far more detailed and fancy than my Elna could ever dream of being, and does amazing things like auto lock stitching and one touch buttonholes. I'm fairly sure she does more than that, but my days of spending ALL day playing with new birthday presents are also well behind me. I snatch 35min blocks here and there among Pippa's catnapping day schedule, and am mostly sleep deprived from staying up late quilting. The sewing shop that Mr S purchased Janine from offers free lessons, so I'll be heading in there soon to get a bigger overview. May I just point out that Mr S chose Janine with no assistance - the man is amazing.

Lucy loves Janine too.

Kindle rocks my world.

And a Kindle. Mr S bought me a Kindle and MY GOODNESS ME I am a convert. My brother is a walking advertisement for Kindles, but I never really got it. I mean, why would you choose to read a screen when you could touch a book. The answer is, you'd choose to read a screen that doesn't feel like you're reading a screen (no eye strain!) and you can do it one handed whilst feeding a small child or whilst having "Quiet Time" (Peppa Pig is on) with a toddler. The books are also much cheaper than print books and I'm fairly sure I just lost my job in a bookshop with that last phrase.

The Kindle rocks my world. I'm actually reading books again, after a long hiatus of not reading much at all, or re reading books I already owned because I never got to go to a shop to buy books since being on maternity leave.

If you'd care to see my Kindle Wish List, you may find it here. If you have any suggestions of books I might enjoy reading, please let me know! I'm still a book browser, and I find it hard to browse online. If only there was somewhere that sold Kindle books and I could ask a friendly shop assistant "If I liked this, what should I read next?" - ah, the online shopping lament, no?

Big Red Bus

I've decided every parent has one. You know, one of your children's toys that you absolutely loathe and will go to great lengths to hide, as you're not allowed to destroy it. (Mr S will not let me rip the battery connectors out.)

Now I am allegedly a grown up, I realise that MY toy that parents loathed was a set of green jingle bells. Let's pause for a moment here and recognise who would buy ANY toddler a set of jingle bells? I don't remember who bought them for me, but I remember they were from a shop in Terrigal, NSW. They were GLORIOUS! They made the most amazing sound.

I don't remember them going missing, but I do remember being significantly older when they magically reappeared one day. It was only a few years ago that I realised one of my long suffering parents must have hidden them from view. Honestly, who'd blame them?

MY toy that I absolutely loathe is a plush red Harrods bus. It is a gorgeous bus, bright red and fluffy, direct from Ol' Blighty. But it takes BATTERIES. It whirs on the floor, bumping into objects and walls, righting it's path and continuing on it's merry way. That's what it's meant to do. It does not work on carpet. Toddler Millie has not worked this out. When it doesn't move on the carpet, she just flips it on it's side, still turned on. And all I can hear is 'WRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR'. If you turn the bus off, she comes running over saying 'OH! BUS! ON! GOOOOO!'.

At the height of my pregnancy with Pippa, Millie's bus obsession was in full swing. And the bus was magical. By magical, I mean, REALLY REALLY ANNOYING. There. I said it.

One day, I could not stand the sound of the bus attempting to journey across the carpet any longer. So I hid it in the top of our pantry.

I even wrote about it on Clairey Hewitt's blog and won a year's supply of Garnier face cream.

The bus reappeared just before Pippa was born. Mr S found the bus and returned it to it's rightful tiny owner. Then I hid the bus on the top of a bookshelf. Mr S found and returned the bus again. He knows precisely how much I dislike the bus. I think he's wondering how long before I crack, wailing maniacally and stabbing the bus.

Yes, I could just take the batteries out. However, Millie now brings me anything that doesn't work saying 'Battees Mum please?'. It's easier to remove the bus altogether.

I have tripped over the bus in the dining room, kitchen and bathroom in the last 24 hours. I fight a losing battle with all toys in this house, the Harrods bus being the bane of my step-on-toy existence.

At least it's not painful like lego. It's a plush, soft, step-on-toy experience.

My name is, uh...

Amy! That's right!

Pregnancy #1 gave me baby brain. Sleep deprivation made sure it stuck around. It lifted, momentarily, then I fell pregnant again. Pregnancy #2 made me more of a dullard than ever.

Pregnancy #2 Dullard Highlights

• I forgot my name. Several times.
• When I did remember my name, I called myself by my maiden name.
• I forgot how to use my ATM card. I stood over the machine, holding my card, certain I knew how to do this. The kind manager at Australia Post gently reminded me, to be rewarded with my pregnant embarrassed awkward brand of vitriol.
• I forgot what day it was.
• I once almost forgot to pick Millie up from daycare.

Now, I'm not pregnant anymore. A reflux-free life aside, I was looking forward to being able to remember such key important life skills as:

• My name
• How to drive the car
• and other such important matters.

I did forget how to drive the car the other week. That's not how I bingled it and wound up with a fancy hire car for two weeks, incidentally. That was a whole other fun story.

I've been blessed enough to accidentally get my first gig in 18 months for this weekend. I say accidentally, because I was at Playgroup, and the venue owner was there with her kids and said 'HEY AMY! WANT TO DO A SUPPORT SPOT FOR DEBRA CONWAY?' (We yell a lot at Playgroup. There's a lot of loud small kids around.) 'SURE!' I said. Forgetting that I hadn't played guitar in about a year, banjo for two and a half years. I figured when I said I wanted to be paid that they'd rescind their offer. But alas, they did not. Oops.

Muscle memory is a beautiful thing. My hands know how to play my songs, my voice knows how to sing them. My brain has ABSOLUTELY no idea of the lyrics. This is bad. I've spent a week or so feeling confident that I had this, that my head could remember the lyrics and we'd just keep singing. After all, that's what I'd done for five years on the live music circuit and my brain had always come through.

Ah, no.

Instead of taking over and filling in the words as I open my mouth, my brain goes
'Winter comes, and I don't know his name, are charity and faith all just the same, if anybody asks do I still feel the same, I'm just waiting for the thaw.... And...uh, well, um. Shit.'

I worried quietly about this for the remainder of the week, convinced if I could just keep singing it I'd remember. I don't know if I've got those lyrics written down somewhere, and I panicked that I wouldn't be able to find them if I did.

Eventually I said to Mr S late one night 'Hey - do you remember the beginning to the second verse of Thaw? It's just that I can't remember how it starts, and I know it should be just there, and I'm sure I can remember it, but I haven't been able to do yet, I think it starts with the melody dum dum dum...'

He looked at me and said 'Did you listen to the CD?'
'CD?'
'Yes. Remember your second album? When you recorded that song?'

Oh.

Wish me luck this weekend, be prepared for plenty of witty banter and potential humming.

Conversations Grown Ups Have

My sister, Salad, is 5 years older than me. We shared a room growing up and I remember her taping our room in half once, with only a narrow pathway to navigate the room. It was big enough for two feet, I know this, because she stood there and taped around her feet. She also used to eat in bed and we'd be plagued by ants in the summery heat of Southern NSW. I also stole her CDs, her clothes, and most of her things really. I just wanted to be like her.

Suffice to say, our childhood conversations didn't really amount to much. She was wonderful when I performed at the final assembly of the year when I left my high school at the end of year 9. She played the guitar for me, and loaned me a dress that she knew was my favourite.

Now that we're (much) older, we are great mates. We talk most days on FaceTime and it's such a delight seeing my nephew grow up, as I'm sure it's great for Sal to see Millie & Pippa too.

However, I got to thinking about the subjects of our conversations now - aside from the requisite baby poo questions. Recent topics have been:

• How much we both love broccoli
• What food to send to family daycare?
• Baby sleep? HOW? HOW?
• How to make tabouli
• The best way to clean a bathroom
• How exactly we each clean our bathrooms (I have 1, she has 3!)
• Our 'bad mother' stories

Let's reflect here. THE BEST WAY TO CLEAN A BATHROOM? Sweet Jesus. The glamorous life of Stay At Home Mums.

I love it. I love her. I wouldn't change a thing, except to make her live next door. I yearn to have my family close, but I have to balance that yearning with the knowledge that we all have very different lives in very different parts of the world, and if we all lived in the same place (again), we'd be miserable.

That said, I'd still make her live next door. To me. Here in Tasmania.

FYI, if you scrub the toilet and wipe down the sink and mirror every day, bathroom cleaning isn't that daunting. Scrubbing the glass shower walls however? I want a maid.

Adios, my twenties.

This is my last evening of being a twenty-something. Tomorrow, I become a thirty-something. Weird.

It's strange to be finally turning thirty, because I felt like it would never happen. I watched everyone around me turn thirty, forty, fifty, sixty, but I seemed to perpetually stay in my twenties.

I don't really remember turning twenty, aside from feeling the sting of adulthood. The fact I only felt it at twenty is ridiculous, by that stage Mr S and I had been dating for almost three years and living together for almost two.

Thirty feels different, like perhaps this is the breathing space I've always wanted and I'll fill my own skin comfortably. I'm excited about being thirty.

Tonight I thought about all the things I'd wanted to do in my life so far:

• Earn a living as a musician. Tick.
• Get married to Mr S. Tick.
• Have babies with Mr S. Tick. Tick.
• Play at awesome festivals as a musician. Tick.
• Record albums of my own songs. Tick.
• Work as a graphic designer. Tick.
• Own a home. Tick.
• Go to New Zealand. Tick.
• Go to the South of France and travel from one side (Cannes) to the other. 

So, to be completely honest, that's amazing. Maybe my French daydream delights in the planning, not the fruition. Oh, how I love to plan.

Vanity-wise, I'm not particularly wrinkled, I'm not grey haired (I asked my hairdresser to check) and I'm not overweight. That's right, this week heralded a surprising return to Pre-Pippa weight. Feeding a monster-sized baby, chasing a toddler and doing 20min of exercise most days has seen me lose 23 kg (18.5kg if you subtract Pippa's birth weight) in 14 weeks. I'm shocked and secretly delighted.

My twenties were the most fun filled, saddest, most fulfilling time of my life thus far. I can't wait to see how my thirties pans out.

Happy Birthday to me, and a special thought for my Mum, who thirty years ago today gave birth to her last baby. (I've decided that Mums get shafted on their kids birthdays - who did all the work here huh? HUH?)

Plans for my thirties?

Stay tuned.

Thankful Thursday: The Dusty Blog Edition

Dear Internets, it's not you. It's me.

I've lost interest in the Twitter, and Facebook seems to never refresh fast enough for me. I deleted Twitter off my phone a month or so back, and I haven't missed it. I find it's a medium that requires you to be in constant contact, or none of it makes sense.

What have I been doing instead?

Cuddles. More cuddles. Building blocks. Sewing. Cleaning the house. Oddly enough, quite enjoying cleaning the house. Teaching Millie how to use the kitchen. Watching Pippa roll over for the first time. Listening to Pippa's baby chats. Teaching Millie how to say 'Love'. ('Lub') Hanging with Mr S.

The first year of a baby's life is hard for the parents. I've said this before. It's a year of feeding feeding feeding, sleep deprivation, a lot of infant bodily functions with tiny glimmers of awesomeness. This time, I know this, so I enjoy the awesome (baby cuddles and chats) and attempt to ride through the yucky (Pippa's colicky refluxy screaming for an hour at a time).

I've had my brush with Baby Blues this time, and once I stopped the Mini Pill I slowly returned to normal. There were four weeks where I just couldn't stop crying. It was awful. I must say that thankfully there was no "pane of glass" between me and my babies, I just couldn't stop crying, then I'd cry more because it was so ridiculous.

So, to the Dr that refused to prescribe meds and told me ride it out another week, thank you. I spent a long time weaning off meds years ago, and I don't want to do that again.

I've been SEWING again. I say it with caps, because it makes me so happy. Sorry, SO HAPPY. Millie pulls a chair up to the ironing board (at the non-burny end) and chats to me while I'm sewing. This week she chose two kinds of fabric for 'Millie's Bag, Mum?'. I can't refuse that - and she was SO happy.

I'm thankful for Lady Pippa who is really quite a laid back kind of gal, she fell asleep in her bouncer today whilst we moved all the furniture around for a pest spray, and then slept right through it. Bless. Her eyes? Oh my goodness. I could look at them forever.

No pics here today, you'll have to use your best imagination photos. Why no pics? I've been busy, Internets. Busy cuddling my babies.

Can you hear it?

Can you hear it? The sound of (relative) silence. I can hear traffic whizzing by, my hard drives humming, the fish tank burbling. Like I said, silence.

Why silence?

BOTH OF MY CHILDREN ARE ASLEEP. AT THE SAME TIME.

I dare not breathe too loudly, start any projects or boil the kettle lest one of them wake up.

That is all.

FFS Friday - Shiny Things Friday

• My blog-jo is missing. Have you seen it? FFS.
• As Mr S and I wish to not add to our brood for a little while, I began to take the Mini-Pill. It made me feel more-than-slightly unhinged. FFS.
• After four weeks of taking said Mini-Pill I realised I'd been in a bad sad mood for four weeks. Cue Doctor visit. Cue no more Mini-Pill. The thing is, I'm still waiting to feel better. FFS.
• This morning I've been followed around by a meowing, scratching random things Lucy-cat. FFS.
• I did a lot of clothes washing this morning and it's pouring with rain now. FFS.
• Pippa gets awful colic at the same time every day. A friend mentioned to Andrew that her kids were the same, she cut out all dairy and it made a real difference. This week, Oat Milk, Nuttelex, Sweet William Chocolate and Not-Tim-Tams entered my world. FFS.
• Oat milk, Nuttelex and Not-Tim-Tams are fine. Sweet William Chocolate is not. FFS.
• I REALLY like butter. FFS.
• I'm hoping that the dairy-free business will help with my Operation Skinny Jeans. Last week I lost 2 kilos.
• I am having a Big Birthday in a few weeks. Help. FFS. Despite this, my hairdresser has confirmed that there are no grey hairs on my head. Win.

Shiny Things Friday

Oh my god, my kids are lovely. Pippa loves to snuggle and Millie loves to cuddle. I could not love these two any more.

Taking photos of a toddler means they're mostly blurry.
But look at her!

Lady Pippa wearing a new dress and loving it!

Covered in kids. Love it.

My kitchen helper. She wipes the bench and everything!

I was in the other room and heard Millie chatting. I came in to
hear "Bowl. HAT! Bowl. HAT!"

Pippa was sent some bibs by Ros at Sew Delicious.
She couldn't decide which one to wear, it was too exhausting.

Linking up with Sarah at Dear Baby G.

#operationmove - a check in

I'm pretty pleased with myself. For the last 11 days I've completed my recovery stretches twice per day, with the exception of Sunday. On Saturday night Mr S was away, Pipster woke me at 4, we dozed until 5, and at 5.30am she chucked all through my bed. GOOD MORNING! So, on Sunday I struggled with 4 hours sleep.

I've found that I no longer wobble on the spot when I'm standing still, my abdominal muscles feel much stronger and I have got hamstring strength. All this in 11 days? I'm impressed. When I put some new batteries in our scales on Tuesday and realised that I've lost 15kg since Pip was born, I was happy. I'm going to continue with the stretches and start doing some cardio next week as well.

Whilst my core and legs feel stronger, I've developed a nasty pain in my back. I'm pretty sure that it's because my core is no longer taking the brunt of my weight anymore, and my back is pretty weak. I found my TENS machine in the cupboard (thankyou Freecycle!) and I intend to give it a whirl on my back. Family Smyth are also heading to the pool this afternoon, and if I can find my goggles I'll be doing a few laps. I'm also contemplating a double pram for walks out and about. At the moment Millie sits in the pram and Pip hangs out in the Ergo, and my back complains. Lady Pippa is not a small baby...

Last week I pulled out my pre-pregnancy clothes and it was not the shopping extravaganza I had hoped for. I'll be rocking my maternity jeans for a few weeks more.

SIDEBAR: I'm sad when I have to put my maternity jeans away and go back to Real People clothes. WHO invented the button and zip? Truly? Elastic waisted jeans are, quite frankly, the bomb diggity bom bom. Fashionable? Well...

I hope to record a loss on the scales next week, however as long as I'm feeling stronger, that's the important thing right now. If I were deathly serious about the kilograms I'd be eating far less chocolate, Oreos, hot chocolates, coffees and biscuits. *wink*

That's right, I give myself Gold Stars.

That's right, I give myself Gold Stars, and other colours too.

Ok, so I had a break. I didn't really mean to, however I got the biggest case of writer's block and started enjoying cleaning my house instead. I know.

Buuuut I'm missing writing. I started writing some lyrics down again the other day as well, and that's a huge thing for me. I haven't written a song for almost three years.

I've seen so many breakdowns of 2012, and it was a huge year here in Haus of Smyths. We renovated and we had another baby. Only two major things really, but by golly were they life changing and life affirming.

There's no more talk of adding to our brood for at least another couple of years now, so now, it's time to smash some goals.

First up is my Moving goal. The awesome Kate from Kate Says Stuff and Sarah from Dear Baby G have been inspiring me with their fitness and health posts lately.

Kate's been writing about Operation Move since September, and now, I'm in. I've never been an awesome exerciser, so I'm setting my goals small to begin with. I'm doing my recovery strength exercises 20 min/day and playing 'STOP! GO! RUN!' with Millie as often as possible. My back is quite painful at present from contorting myself whilst feeding Lady Pippa and carrying around an almost 6kg baby daily, so I'm hoping that gaining some core strength back will be helpful here.

I stepped on the scales today and so far I've lost 15kg since Pippa was born. By my calculations there's 8kg to go until I'm at Pre-Pippa Weight, 13kg to Pre-Millie Weight and 17kg to Skinny Waisted Jeans Weight. I'm aiming for somewhere between Pre-Millie and Skinny Waisted Jeans weight by the end of the year. I'm taking a stab in the dark and saying that breastfeeding a giantess of a baby is going to be remarkably helpful.

Sarah's been following 12WBT and absolutely SMASHING it. And she now looks even more SMASHING. I love the idea of 12WBT but I'm not willing to stop eating ten tonnes of sugar and fourteen blocks of chocolate just yet...

So that's one of my goals for this year. I've put reminders in my phone for my strength exercises, and I subscribe to the Jerry Seinfeld 'Don't Break The Chain' productivity theory. That's right, I give myself coloured stars on the calendar praising myself for doing my exercises. Here and now, I've just made myself accountable. Here we go!