Crying over regurgitated milk

Last weekend was brilliant for baking - Cherie taught me to make pasta, and we made buttermilk scones on the Saturday (which were amazing), and A&M had really long naps, so a pretty relaxing day altogether. Then, this Monday I got up at 5am and went for a run, and, as Cherie was off work, we later walked all the way down to the end of the river path (about half an hour either way) in the baking heat, so come Tuesday, I really struggled to get out of bed.

Wednesday was its usual nondescript humpday self, but Thursday was, without doubt, the worst day I've had had in Australia so far. I woke feeling pretty sleep-deprived, as fairly usual by now, and Cherie told me that she thought Michael had a fever and might be ill. He then confirmed this by lolling about on the sofa with his bottle (he's usually pretty active) and then being spectacularly sick - it still kind of amazes me the way that young children (or maybe just Michael?) react to this - or rather, don't. He vomited everywhere, then carried on as normal. I cleaned up (not sure the sofa will ever smell quite right again though :S) then Cherie left, with me under instruction to give him plenty of fluids, keep him as warm as possible, and if all else failed, resort to baby Panadol.

Michael, evidently not done with his spew show, then covered himself and the rug again, just after I'd finished dressing him and putting his pyjamas in the wash. I cleaned him up AGAIN (this time more of a cursory 'let's hope you don't do this again' wipe-down), rescued a soggy, but still smiling (masochist) Tickle Me Elmo, and set about preparing Annie's lunch etc. for Kindy. We dropped Annie off at Kindy - where Michael was unusually quiet - though this was made up for by having to manhandle another little boy, first out of Annie's buggy seat in the buggy, and then by stuffing him back into the gates after an elaborate attempt to escape behind the buggy, as if was more Alcatraz than local Kindy. When we got home, Michael been sick yet again on himself (*neglect disclaimer* I hadn't initially noticed, because of the aforementioned lack of fuss he makes) so I changed him and put him straight to bed.

After a fairly peaceful morning, during which I let the gardener in, and made some stock (a.k.a shoved a whole load of salt, oil and old veggies in the Thermomix to blend and steam-cook), Michael woke up, seemingly a bit better. I persuaded him to eat a little, but on finding him still lolling about, put him back to bed. I'd been texting Cherie on and off about his progress, and she'd told me to let her know if I needed her to pick Annie up from Kindy. As Michael had been seeming better, I told her I thought we'd be ok. In hindsight, I really wish I'd hadn't said that, as about 10 minutes into the journey Michael was again copiously sick - this time in the back buggy seat (that's now 2 out of 2 for seat spew). I cleaned him up as best I could with babywipes I had to hand (thankfully I'd had the foresight to bring a change of clothes too) and we still managed to make it to Kindy on time.

Annie was really good about getting back in the buggy (usually it takes a bit of persuasion, not to mention food-related briber, viz: 'Who would like a biscuit?!' EVERYBODY! ALWAYS!) but on the way back, she dropped her sunhat out of the buggy without me noticing, and, failing to get a coherent answer about what she'd done with it (she was too busy laughing...devious beast) I had to go back along the route (mostly uphill, in an English rose-wilting 20+ degrees) until I found it. When we eventually made it back, I gave Michael baby Panadol, which was unpleasantly like dosing an animal - I had to hold his mouth and shoot a pippette-worth in while he squirmed and cried, and then put him back to bed. I dismantled the buggy cover to put it in the machine, then hand-washed the worst sick off Michael's clothes (an au pair's work is never done...) before putting them in too.

As I stood up from bending over the sink, I bashed my head pretty severely on the corner of the drier. It was the straw that broke the camel's back, and I burst into tears, suddenly feeling exhausted, completely out of my depth, not to mention pretty homesick. I stood in the back garden sobbing for about 5 minutes (Annie was thankfully absorbed in pre-school TV...I love you Channel 22) before pulling myself together and starting to prepare a bath for Annie. Cherie arrived home a few minutes later, and, I think somewhat understanding the trials of the day from my resigned demeanour, was really nice to me all evening - taking over bathing duties, making dinner, and generally taking all responsibility off my hands. Phew. Let's hope the rest of the week develops into better things than the egg-sized bruise currently forming on my head...

Hot air

Today was pretty uneventful as days here go. I managed to get up at 5 again for a run (am quite pleased with my "tenacity" so far on that front...two days and counting! :D) and later took Annie and Michael to Blind Playgroup, where both had a good, if a little fractious time - Michael had seen Cherie leave the house in the morning (she usually sneaks out whilst we're involved in something) and was a bit unsettled all morning.

We then returned home for naptime, during which I managed to switch the baby monitor to the wrong station, picked up someone else's wailing baby on it (possibly next door, as they have a little girl a bit younger than Michael), then woke Michael up (who then started wailing) when I went to check on him and Annie. Intelligence fail... (I blame the severely early mornings).

Other that that, I made some pro-biotic yoghurt (I'd initially planned on bread as it was a good day for getting dough to rise (a.k.a warm and dry) but couldn't find the right flour, and so ended up having another go at the yoghurt which, fingers crossed, won't turn out tasting slightly cheesy, like the last attempt, or of the pea and ham soup I made yesterday - the stock was v. potent and the thermomix still smells of it, despite having been washed out several times since).

So, till tomorrow, and the exciting trip I have planned around Story Time at the State Library of WA. (You can take the girl out of the library...)

Night night!

A xx

Post

Today I confirmed, as my inclinations suggested, that 'less is more', when planning a day with young children, and that their exhaustion can be your best friend. Having both Michael and Annie with me alone for a change, I'd initially thought I might do something ambitious, and take them into the city (a cramped but short bus ride, or 25 minute walk but with more pleasant train journey at the end) to go to the WA State Library, which was recommended to me as a place to take children by the wonderful woman at the WA Museum when I went with Michael.

On being told by Cherie that Paul was likely to want to Skype with the children at about 2pm our time, and having done a run down by the river at 5.30 this morning (Michael is a v. effective alarm clock) I decided instead to head to the playground near Kindy, in order to also get to the Post-Office and sort out my long-overdue postcards/parcels for various people.

When I attempted to go into the Post-Office on the way to the park though, both Annie and Michael kicked up a stink (Annie was actually tearful about it, which is pretty unusual for her - I think she was fazed by the fact that we were walking the route to Kindy, but going somewhere different), and I relinquished, taking them to the park first instead.

We had a long run around - although both were more interested in sliding down the poles that held up the swing set, and watching two men cut the grass, than anything legitimately proffered by the playground as entertainment - Michael though, endearing as ever -has taken to shouting 'Weeeee' at the top of his voice when engaging in outdoor pursuits, which makes him at least look and sound as if he's having fun.

Having successfully tired both out, the post-park Post-Office trip was far more successful, and I managed to buy stamps, envelopes, and address and weigh/post two parcels (filling in lengthy customs and excise info (embarrassingly having to detail the exact tacky Australiana I was sending), and even having to hand over I.D(!) whilst they merrily sang (on Annie's part) and charmed strangers (on Michael's part).

The rest of the afternoon culminated in making pea and ham soup (I'm getting delusionarily Delia thanks to the wonders of Cherie's Thermomix) and continually checking the PC to see whether Paul had logged in to Skype. It was pretty frustrating actually that I largely planned the day around this 2pm Skype date (which, after Cherie calling semi-anxiously from work, turned into 'maybe 3 or 4pm'...I'm guessing Paul is sadly no more organised in the UK than he was here) which never happened. Guess I'll know for next time that it's only a casual arrangement.

There was just time left in the evening to watch another episode of Aussie Masterchef, to which I have become addicted (it featured Rick Stein...whose kindly and calming British mannerisms made me feel mildly homesick again), do some nice wooden puzzles with Annie and Michael (and laugh at Michael's improvisation for a bottle warmer, which resulted in him drinking out of Cherie's Uggs), and have a thorough discussion with Cherie on the merits of the iPod Touch, and various Elmo lots on Ebay before bed.

Night night!

A xx

Freo, Fre-e-e-o!

I took the ferry to Fremantle, Perth's largest Port Town today after a very late start (half 10 - at which Cherie seemed decidedly p*ssed off - she'd invited me to go with them down to the river in the morning, but I'd never actually agreed, and hey, it's my day off!).

Unfortunately, by the time I got to the Ferry Terminal there was only one more ferry going and I had to wait an hour and a half for it. Still, I browsed the rather run-down dockyards (mostly home to greasy spoon cafes) and ate a sandwich and some licquorice allsorts sitting in the blazing sunshine so, you know, could have been worse.

The ferry ride, when the ferry finally arrived, was really awesome. The guy doing the commentary had a fantastic dry wit, and something to say about almost every point along the coast. Fremantle, or 'Freo' as it's know to most Aussies, on the other hand, was a bit of a let down. It did have a great central markets - particularly where food was concerned (I ate a LOT, saw a few digeridoo displays, and just resisted buying a Aussie metal lizard and a platypus puppet...I might yet go back for them). I also sampled 'cobbers' from a 'lolly [aka sweet] shop'  purely because I wanted to know what they were - though they turned out to be rather boring chocolate caramels - and some chocolate coated-pretzels, because I love them (remember 'Pretzel Flips'? I couldn't get enough of those things, esp the white ones. I've just looked them up on Wikipedia (font of all chocolate knowledge at least) and they sell them (and exciting new variations!) across the U.S still...next stop!).

Other than the markets - which weren't that different to Camden/Borough there didn't seem to be much more to Freo, although the lonely planet guide insists that it's a centre of cultural excellence. I suspect I'll have to go back to take in the museums/art galleries etc at some stage, and give it a more fair recce, given that a Sunday afternoon is probably not the best time to see somewhere in all its usual glory.

I did appreciate the free bus service that loops all around the area - that and the beauty of the sun setting over the looming dockworks. The trip to Freo, and subsequent walk back from Victoria Park train station took up most of my afternoon/evening, and before I knew it, another Sunday was over, and it's back to another week of infinite domesticity and Elmo sing-songs...

A xx

Petit Crime

This morning I woke really late because of the severely upset stomach of yesterday/last night. I was feeling much better though thanks to the combined factors of pro-biotic yoghurt, peppermint tea and effervescent electrolyte tablets, so we went to swimming lessons as usual. Unfortunately (possibly because I woke so late :S), we arrived pretty late to the class (and as it's only half an hour, even 5 or 10 min makes quite a difference) and Michael was unusually reluctant to get into the pool, and then spent pretty much the whole lesson wailing plaintively.

Finally it was over though, and after a brief stop back home (where Michael tried to consume pegs as I put out the washing) we went on to 'Babyland' so that Cherie could look into a new buggy for Annie and Michael. Unfortunatey I didn't get to experience the wonder of 'Babyland' because Michael fell asleep in the car, so I stayed in there on baby-minding duty. It was pretty interesting seeing all the people going in though - I don't think I've ever seen so many pregnant women all in one place.

Once Cherie had made a deposit on a suitable buggy (apparently for even just the basics (without rain-covers etc) they can cost in the region of AU $1000 (that's about £580!) we went on to a shopping centre nearby, where I had an hour or so to myself to look round. After discovering the post shop was shut, I spent most of the hour browsing in an arts and crafts shop, amused by the emphatic signs on not allowing children to bite polystyrene shapes, as every week some apparently had to be thrown away due to bite marks. Funnily enough, it was quite comforting reading, having witnessed the vast number of things Michael has put in his mouth just since I've been here (a list that includes uncooked rice, a tablespoon of salt (meant to be mixed into playdough); random bits of plastic; his own hands/feet/shoes; anything that remotely resembles a bottle; DVD cases; foam letters for the bath; a funnel; pegs; and countless pebbles/stones/bits of bark/tree kernels). Anyway, after debating whether to buy the children some washable window crayons (I didn't in the end as they weren't suitable for under 3s, and I thought it probably wasn't a good idea to pave the way for indiscriminate drawing on furnishings) I met Cherie and we returned to car to unpack the shopping she'd done, only to discover that Michael had casually slipped two pairs of purple tights for 6-8 month olds into the bottom of the buggy. Not only a thief, but a cross-dressing one at that.

The evening was further Michael-mischief themed when more thorough inspection of the missing Elmo DVD situation (as there are only 3 "Ah-moo" DVDs, and he is in constant demand, you quickly notice if any go missing (i.e. the repetitiveness becomes that bit more unbearable) and the simultaneous mysterious rattling of the DVD player led me to realise that said DVD was actually trapped somewhere inside the player. Risking electric shock, and probably voiding all sorts of warranties, I removed the case from the player find two DVDs in there, evidently posted in at an opportune moment by Michael, who has an on-going love affair with all manner of electrical gadgets. Somewhat miraculously, both DVDs and player were ultimately unharmed and functional, but this discovery led to a rearrangement of brown goods to place them within less easy reach of the tiny criminal masterminds. Later on this evening, (and speaking of 'brown goods rearrangement'), Cherie mentioned some 'welts' she'd noticed on Michael's behind (which turned out to be scratches he'd made himself, as he has insanely sharp little fingernails, honest!) but, just as she laid him on his front, dropped his nappy, and we both bent over to look, he let out a prolonged fart, made all the more hilarious by the totally innocuous look on his face.

Anyway, on that (bum) note, till tomorrow (and hopefully slightly more sophisticated fare...)!

A xx

Bogged Down

I was looking forward to today because on alternate weeks, we go to Braille nest, or Annie's teacher Veronica comes to the house to teach her (they mostly play learning games, and a do a bit of work on the Braille Typewriter).

I thought that Veronica coming to the house might give me an opportunity to stay in and get some chores done, but it turned into an attempt to distract Michael from joining in so that Annie could have some valuable one-on-one time with her teacher. I decided the best plan would be to take Michael out, and initially intended to go to the park near Kindy, so that I could get to the Post Office too. However, Veronica scuppered my plans significantly, first by suggesting that we only be about 30-45 mins (the walk to Kindy is at least 25 mins, and she said this despite the fact that she was staying for at least another hour...grrr) and then, on seeing Rosie getting excited when I herded Michael outside (which she does every time we go into the garden), said something along the lines of 'If you're going to the park, I expect Rosie would love to go with you? She looks so excited at the idea!'.

Veronica is one of those kindly but faintly commanding people, and as I knew Rosie hadn't been out of the garden in about a month - it sounds a little cruel but it's a pretty massive garden, and she's a very little dog I decided to give up on my Post Office plans, and just take Michael and Rosie out. This meant we couldn't go to the park right near the house either though, as it's surrounded by roads, and not enclosed by gates (very few of the parks here seem to be, despite many being near rivers or roads), and I wasn't sure how Rosie would be at returning if I let her off the lead. As I'd suspected, it wasn't until I got Rosie's lead (ok, I guess I'm just highly suggestible...) that she went really mental, and started leaping all over the place.

We trekked down to the river (about a 20 minute walk) and I couldn't even let Michael have a play in the playground because I was worried about Veronica's randomly imposed curfew. I took comfort in the fact that Michael wasn't at all bothered about not being let out of the pram, and Rosie a) had a whale of a time racing around the green by the river and b) was very well behaved, only stopping to get a bit muddy digging in some earth works, rather than bombing into the river, or disappearing into the trees as I'd worried she might (a lot more of a concern when you're minding a child in a buggy as well, as you can't exactly go racing off after them).

In fact, the main impediment to the outing was the irritating closure of some of the pavements, without replacement of pedestrianised paths. I knew about one side of the street where this was the case, and deliberately crossed to use the other footpath, only to find the same thing on the other side - the choice for pedestrians being to either veer into the road, or onto a sand/grass bank. I chose the latter, got about halfway across the sand, and then just could not push the buggy any further, nor push it back. In the end, I tied Rosie to the buggy, and lifted the entire buggy (thankfully it was the single as opposed to the double one, and therefore relatively light), with Michael in it, and Rosie attached the 100 yards or so onto the next bit of pavement. In 25 degree heat, it was a bit of a herculean feat.

Given my relative travails, I wasn't exactly bet pleased to return to Veronica mentioning that she'd found the fire too hot, but hadn't been able to turn it off, so they'd been meaning to go outside, but she hadn't been able to get Annie's shoes on and therefore they hadn't been able to go into the garden, as Annie only had bare feet otherwise, and she was worried about that because Annie had a cold. She also informed me that Annie had a dirty nappy, and she hadn't felt brave enough to attempt to change it. I appreciate that the fire is quite difficult to work if you've not done it before, and that Veronica was showing due concern for Annie's health, but really, not being able to get shoes on a toddler, or at least attempt to change a nappy (that incidentally was only peed in, and, due to the rather dire nappy-supply situation atm, didn't even really need changing)? It's not rocket science woman! I concluded from this visit, that Veronica, whilst a very lovely, doting woman, and someone with the patience of a saint when it comes to trying to keep Annie's attention long enough to teach her something, has little to no natural skills in terms of day-to-day childcare. I feel legitimised in my smug sense of superiority in this area, as, not only did I get Annie and Michael fed and down for simultaneous naps in the same room (not always easy if one of them won't sleep), but in their naptime I managed to make yoghurt, butter and buttermilk banana bread. I'm on fiiiiiiiiire today! :D

My domestic/childcare elation was only curtailed slightly by having to retire to bed at about 5.30pm with a severely upset stomach, when Cherie came home, probably caught from Michael's vomit yesterday. Karma I suppose for whinging about Michael being ill, and thinking mean thoughts about Veronica...booo :(

A xx

Sick of Museums

Today got off to a pretty interesting start, as the continued torrents of rain meant that Cherie didn't run to work this morning, and it was touch and go as to whether I would bother taking Annie to Kindy or not today, especially given the fact that she has a cold that makes her sound like she's swimming (i.e. gurgling a lot and gasping for air) when she's eating. The weather cleared up sufficiently for me to decide that she'd be better off at school though (that and she had a prolonged inexplicable tantrum when I attempted to leave the room for 5 minutes to get myself some breakfast, so I can't honestly say I wasn't looking forward to it being just Michael and me again).

With Annie packed off to Kindy I decided to up my cultural intake for the week, and go with Michael to the WA Museum, which is just a short train ride from Kindy, into the city. It all went pretty swimmingly - the journey was really easy and cheap (you get free return within 2 hours on trains and buses here  - makes a refreshing change from TfL bleeding you dry!) and the train deposited us virtually at the entrance to the Museum. Michael was also reasonably well behaved, and the staff at the Museum went out of their way to be kind and helpful (Michael, much like his Dad, is a bit of a charmer, and I get the feeling that a lot of people think I'm a single young mother, struggling to cope (well, they've got the last bit spot on at least...), and showed me exactly where the good exhibitions for children were located, and also recommending other things to do with children in the area (n.b. as entry fee is donation only, *must* remember to give a generous donation next time - these good intentions somehow only ever remain good intentions with children in tow).

We left at just the right time (though I'm determined to go back alone and look around more thoroughly - the aboriginal history display looked really interesting, in a harrowingly awful colonial sort of way (think Rabbit-Proof Fence), but its lack of interactive elements meant it failed to hold Michael's attention, so I only got a brief glimpse) and I even managed to shop for Birthday present for Em, and try my first ever meat pie - apparently the traditional foodstuff of Oz) whilst Michael later snoozed in the buggy.

So it was all going suspiciously well - and I thought as much - when suddenly, as we waited for the bus, apropos of nothing, Michael vomited copiously all down himself in the buggy. As I scrambled to get him out of his vomit-soaked clothes, remove the equally vomit-soaked padded bit of the buggy seat, and clean up everything as best I could with wet-wipes and anti-bac hand lotion, we missed the bus, and had to wait a further half an hour in the drizzle before another one came along, with Michael, fairly understandably, whinging pretty much the whole way home. Curses.

Once I'd got Michael hosed off, into some fresh clothes and down for a (mercifully long) nap, I commenced a thorough cleanup operation, and put some rice on to cook (n.b. rice cookers are the most awesome time-saving machines, Im'na get one asap when I leave home). I then texted Cherie to tell her what had happened, just in case it turned into anything serious (the inoculation Michael had recently might have been a factor), and thankfully she decided to come home early from work to pick Annie up from Kindy so Michael and me didn't have to venture out in the rain again, thus saving me an afternoon of further misery.

All in all it was still a pretty good day. My only mild worry now is the fact that the afternoon's events (well, mostly the intermittent torrents actually) prompted Cherie to suggest that I start learning to drive the Toyota, so that I can make it to Kindy in 5 minutes, should I need to, especially as the buggy currently has no rain-cover. She was pretty keen on the idea, saying that it was only the au pairs from countries in which they drive on the left that she was worried about driving here. She seemed pretty flippant about the idea that I needed an International Driver's Permit to drive here, and given my nervousness about driving an unfamiliar car on unfamiliar roads, I decided, for once, that there are some reasons I don't like the similarities between Oz and the UK (other than, you know, the partial let-down of coming to a place across the world that's basically a facsimile of home). Anyway, she said I could do a few test drives and then it would be up to me whether I felt comfortable doing it, so guess I'll just see how it goes...

TTFN!

A xx