• profileIt's not just pictures of the cats.

    About a boy named Hugo, a girl named Sophia, and three cats.

    January 2018
    M T W T F S S
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two beautiful

I don’t understand why it’s so hard to get a nice photo of both of them together. It’s just impossible. I must have taken a couple of hundred photos in the last few days trying to get both of them together, smiling (or just not crying), not eating or pulling hair or trying to run away, without a tsunami of drool hanging off the bottom lip or food smeared from ear to ear.

I used to get so annoyed at those childrens photographers in shopping centres who chase you down and try to convince you to have photos taken in what seems to be a fairly obnoxious manner. Now I realise they are being annoying on purpose! They don’t actually want me to say yes! Then they’d actually have to try to photograph my children!! AND THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE!!!

And this one, even though the colour is a bit funny, just because she is so cheeky and I hardly ever catch that in photos because as soon as she sees the camera she puts on her photo face.

what Hugo learnt at preschool today.

The yellow line at the train station is very dangerous.

You walk over it and fall on the track then the train runs over the top of you and squashes you like a creepy crawler, and your bones come out. Then a helicopter comes and saves you.

Okay.I may never get him on a train again.

However this is the same child who, sitting in the pushchair on a perfectly flat, very wide footpath, with no other people or cars around, yelled “QUICK MUMMY, put my seat belt on or I’ll fall out of the pushchair and roll along the ground and fall onto the road and get squashed flat by a car!!”.

I am so proud of you.

Today you started preschool. That little sentence does not seem big enough to hold all the emotions it creates inside me. I am letting myself have just a tiny few minutes to feel sad at how quickly you are growing up, when I look at you and see more and more the person you are becoming, and less and less of the baby you were.

“Ok, ‘bye Mum! See you later!” you said, already turning your head to the excitement of other children and rooms full of activities yet to be tried.

I am missing your constant stream of chatter (I never thought I’d say that!), your elaborate imaginative world and games.

I wonder what you will learn away from me? Will I still be able to create magic for you in our lounge-room by turning a cardboard box into a treehouse or a train? Or by spreading out your blue sheet and making an ocean on the floor for us to swim in together as cuttle fish, chased by Sophie, the creepy-crawler fish? How much longer will I be your ultimate resource for providing answers to all your questions? How long until I hear “But *someone else* says …”? How soon until I hear you talking about something and realise I have no idea who told you that, where you learnt that, what made you think that?

Sophie misses you. Taking toys is no fun when there is no-one to take them from. I can’t elicit from her the paroxyms of giggling delight that you do without trying. I am surprised at just how much mischief she is getting into without you here to entertain her. We will enjoy these days together but this first day, it all feels a bit strange with a Hugo shaped hole in everything.

I’m so proud of you.

Feed me Hugo, feed me

This is Snappy. She’s a red venus fly trap Hugo got for Christmas. I wanted to call her Audrey, but Hugo thought Snappy was more appropriate.

I wonder why they call it a wondersuit?

Bonds Wondersuits are the quintessential baby outfit for Australian babies. I know from experience that even a boisterous two year old boy suddenly looks like a baby again when you put a wondersuit on him.

The thing with wondersuits, though, is that they are incredibly frustrating to put on. It is almost impossible to slide the fragile curled up monkey limbs of a newborn into the arms and legs fully. Sophia spent her first few weeks with her sleeves and legs hanging uselessly and her hands and feet curled up towards the body of the suit. I remember saying that I should be better at doing this the second time around! (but have since come to realise that no-one ever achieves full success in dressing a newborn, they just grow quickly enough so you think you’re getting better at it).

But that’s nothing compared to trying to get a wondersuit on an active, nearly crawling seven month old! It’s like trying to scoop jelly into rubber gloves using your hands (actually, I’ve never tried that but I imagine it’s on par as a frustrating and difficult task). Sophia seems to have some kind of spring mechanism so that when she is placed on her back she automatically flips over and starts commando crawling away as quickly as she can. And when I finally get all seventy eight four limbs into the right places, I have to try to get all those snaps done up before she’s off again. (There are ten snaps on size 00 and twelve on size 0. It’s a toss up between having the extra size to ease the dressing process vs having extra snaps to do up. The jury is still out on that one).

We recently experimented with Bonds new ‘easy suit’ – so named because there are no snaps, it’s designed with a slit at the back so the top goes on first then the legs slide in, and it’s all quick and easy … or not. The first part was mostly easy. Then I performed a kind of baby origami to get her legs in, that produced at least as much grizzling as doing up the snaps on a wondersuit. And certainly not the kind of activity I’d want to replicate in the middle of the night when I’m 90% asleep. They are very cute though 😉

Maybe they call it a wondersuit because it’s a wonder anyone can ever get them on a baby.

Hugo at five months, too cool in a wondersuit.

Newborn Sophia, with empty sleeves.

seven months

Sophia is seven months old. The last month has crept passed us very quickly! We are looking forward to Sophia’s first Christmas although it is Hugo who is really excited by it this year. I don’t think he really remembers much from last year (beyond asking to put the tree up every other week since then). We haven’t really talked much about Santa to him so his understanding of Santa is a bit haphazard. All week he has been shouting out “YO HO HO, MERRRRRRY CHRISTMAS” and I keep picturing Santa dressed up like a pirate :)

Sophia continues to get more and more active. She isn’t yet crawling but pulling herself up to her knees (usually as her head crashes to the floor – I once said “Oh, poor Sophie has a melon head” so now every time she does it, Hugo tells me “Sophie just did a melon head!”). She also propels herself forward by digging her toes into the floor and she manages to get where she wants to by rolling and twisting. She is also sitting up (occasionally, and still very wobbly) and has a tooth, which Hugo proclaims is “nice and new and shiny”. I have a sneaking suspicion another one is on the way.

“knock knock”

Who’s there?


Strawberry who?

“Strawberry vanilla!!!” *insert maniacal laughter*

(no, I don’t get it either)

it’s beginning to look a lot like …

I take none of the credit for this scene.

new cat!

Yesterday we went into Daddy’s office for a children’s Christmas party. They had a fairy doing face painting, and Hugo wanted to be a cat. Sophia was a reindeer for about 3 seconds until it became apparent that face-painting a six month old is not a good idea – especially when they are as dribbly as she is!

(Special hello to those of you who saw this post on your rss feed and couldn’t click the link fast enough *hehe*).

gratuitous cuteness

I can’t believe how grown up he looks with short hair. For the first few minutes after he had it cut he actually looked younger to me, I think because the last time he had such short hair was *ahem* over a year ago (yes, it has been that long since his last haircut). I think he quite likes it short now. And he doesn’t seem to be overly affected by the trauma of the actual experience. This is not one of my finer parenting moments, but I will admit that we bribed him with yum cha to have a hair cut. I have this vision of him in the future on a psychiatrist’s couch explaining that he was never again able to eat prawn dumplings without having flashbacks.

I was using the extra-cute lens for this picture, it’s amazing – you can’t even see all the lunch smeared all over her face!