Progress

As Harper approaches another milestone - the 12 week mark - he's getting bigger and sleeping longer at night and has become the wriggliest baby in Wellington. We've moved him from his wee bassinet into his cot, he's taking a bottle of expressed milk without melting down like Chernobyl, and yesterday he made a grab for his feet. He has been more and more interested in the world around him, the mobile that hangs over his cot, his wrist and foot rattles, and he seemed to totally love going in the stroller to Newtown yesterday, even chatting to the man in the post office queue in front of us. He was graced with a visit from his Graham grandparents last week who let his parents out for an evening (they went to the pictures and saw Lars and the Real Girl which is excellent and had his mother all choked up at the end). He could be spotted in the company of his grandad Ces (above) in the stroller doing the rounds of the neighbourhood even though the weather was a bit pus.

Today, Harper's mother achieves her own milestone - she's writing her first freelance article since Harper's birth. And even though she can't remember her own name somedays and has once called Harper Sweeney, she's doing alright at it and is today interviewing chef Richard Till.

Tiny Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday Tiny Happy. You're the first blog I really got attached to, that I read most days, that inspires me even though I don't sew (yet) and the contents of the neatly packaged brown paper parcels coming through the mail over the last 18 months have been awesome, much treasured gifts. First there was the coin purse (see below), then the ipod cover, then the tunic (which I can at last fit again!), then the smocks, then the apple-appliqued bodysuit and bibs, then the little brown owl suit and the patchwork shoes. You're a genius with vintage fabrics, and your clothes for kids are beautiful. Harper and I have been very lucky indeed to make your acquaintance, and hope to see you in the real world again...

Smelly

Today I bought a tea tree deodoroant and the smell of it is exactly like the insect repellent we coated ourselves with in Cambodia. Every time I move my arms a little waft of Asia comes out. In a good way.

Hat tip to Mr Cheng for the pics.

Autumn

The glorious summer has ended. I know this because I bought new slippers yesterday, and new flannelette pyjamas last week. My hands as well as my mouth crave hot cups of tea to be warmed by. I put socks on my baby's feet under his stretch-and-grow. My wet, washed hair needs a blowdrier. It's time to put away my red stripy jandals and pull my red scarf out of the bottom drawer.

It's been an amazing summer. It was the summer I went swimming at Scorching Bay with a stripy singlet stretched over my belly then had leisurely coffees at Maranui with sand on my barefeet - on a week day. It was the summer I modelled my boulder-sized body under the trees in the town belt, resplendent in a strapless red top. It was the summer my Harper was born. It was the summer that nappies were dried under the blazing mid-morning sun, cicadas deafening me as I pegged them out. It was the summer I found a pair of sandals I can live with.
Still, autumn and winter have their own joys. Craft night. Mittens. Roast chicken. The Film Festival. Hot chocolate. Sleeping under piles of blankets. Knitting. Red scarves.

Let sleeping boys lie

I love that I live in a house full of boys. I love when the boys in the house are asleep.

Charles in charge

They say not to leave your baby unattended when he's playing, but does having the cat watch over him count?
Today, Harper has been learning to throw. He doesn't quite grasp the concept, let alone the ball.

Hundreds of crazy people wear out feet for charity

This weekend the annual Oxfam Trailwalker takes place. You may remember a group of people doing this event last year, which involves walking 100km in under 36 hours for charity. This year, our pal Jenelle is taking part. Go girl! Remember to change your socks, eat heaps and ignore the little pixies lining the route around 5am.

We are feeling Much Better

Thanks for your messages, advice and support - we are feeling much better now thanks. A trip to Plunket yesterday confirmed that Harper is as thriving as thriving can be on the minimal amount of milk he seems to get, in fact, he's upped his eating time to a massive ten minutes and last night he had one feed that lasted nearly half an hour! He's so great. In fact, I feel the complete opposite of Monday today - totally enjoyed the last few feeds, he snuggled in close and fell asleep afterwards. Precious. He's making the most amazing cooing sounds at the moment, I really do think he was a bird in a past life.

Counting the blessings

Two days ago I hit the wall. The big, black parenting wall. Sometime in the murky hours of the morning it all just rolled into a great big ball of 'can't do it' . I resisted the urge to get into the car and drive off, not looking back. But it was tempting. I feel ashamed to admit it, but there it is.
I am nostalgic for the days when Harper would feed for ages then lie back on my lap with milk running down his chin and a sleepy look on his face like he was drunk. He was happy, pain-free, satisfied. Those were good days. Now I have to coerce him to eat anything because he's started to link food with reflux pain. I am lucky to get five minutes of eating out of him. He spits his reflux medicine back at me and I get so angry - I want to yell 'but this will help you! Don't you want to feel better?' Instead I try to talk calmly and sweetly to him in those high pitched tones he loves, and scoop the spat-out Gaviscon back into its cup for another go. Thank goodness we have bibs galore.
But a phone call to Bronwen (I am lucky to be part of a health service that includes my midwives, one of which, Bronwen, is a lactation consultant) and she's round within the hour rubbing my back and getting the Gaviscon into him herself. She allays my fears that my baby is starving and tells me to hang in there with the breastfeeding though it looks like luxury to just stick a bottle in his mouth. She wakes me up to myself, and I'm able to take a few steps back from the wall, put the car keys back in my bag and let myself off the hook for a while. Harper, sitting in his bouncinette, caws like a crow and hoots at the toys hanging on the baby gym. He's happy.
So today, things are much better, though I feel like we are getting by by the skin of our teeth right now. Plunket tomorrow, to check out if Harper is still the weight-gaining machine he was four weeks ago, or if this reflux is really affecting his health in more ways than just the pain. In the meantime, I'm reading Keri Smith's blog, who agrees with me that there is no 'right thing' in this parenting lark, and to accept that it is what it is, whatever it may be. And counting my blessings, of which these are the highlights:
1. The Postie
Awesome dad, keeps me calm(ish), takes good care of me
2. Friends and family
Especially those that provide us with food! If you know anyone with a young baby, cook them dinner tonight and take it to their house. It's one of the best presents you can give them.
3. Knowing that he will grow out of this
I met a woman at the Plunket Family Centre whose four-month-old boy screamed after every meal from day one of his life. And she got through it. So will we.
4. Harper
He's an awesome kid, who really is incredibly strong about all this. It must be a shite existence for him sometimes, but he still manages to giggle at his mother singing Incy Wincy Spider off key.