The New Royal Baby:: Or The Fresh Prince

I remember vividly that day taking my babies home. Exhaustion, excitement, bewilderment, big love - all rolled into one memorable day.

I know the world has gone crazy with talk of the new Prince, but sometimes it's good to be carried away with something else. To lose yourself to something exciting and sparkly when real life is anything but.

I loved Kate's appearance in polka dots, an homage to Princess Diana when she appeared after the birth of William. She looks so happy, as does he.

I go melty at the sight of that newborn. Swoon.

Wah! Wah! The Non-Newborns

I've just had a few days of annual leave. I've relished being back at home. Picking the kids up. Spending more time with the kids. I miss being at home with them. Today I went back to work. It hurt. I missed them like a crazy lady.

Tonight when I finally got home after sitting in the car for what felt like forever, I wrapped them up like newborns.

I love those little kittens.

MirKerr Makes Me Purr

First of all, forgive me for the ridiculous title of this post. But peeps, it's true. I love this girl. She's a natural beauty. She grew up in a town not far from mine own town. She's a country girl. Us country girls have got to thigh slap together.

She marries Orlando Bloom. Hot. Hot squared when they make a baby. When baby is born = hot cubed.

And then she releases this image as the first of her wee bebe on her blog.

Helloooo Miranda Kerr. Mother and child.


I had a mini-argument with the gals at work about this image. I loved it. They didn't. I think it's delightfully natural. MirKerr looks so at ease. So blissful. And I think it removes some stigma about breastfeeding publically. The gals at work didn't dig on seeing her boobie. I don't find boobies offensive. I love this image. So natural.

Happy Babymoon Miranda and Orlando - and welcome beautiful Flynn.

Yo! Yo! Yo! It's Time To Glow To Sew!

What the heck have I been up to?

I'll tell you what. Despite having the appearance of having everything together - I don't!

Juggling work and family life is a circus act I tell you, and right now I'm riding on a unicycle across a wobbly tightrope over the top of very hungry lions. I know you dig it.

And it is for this very reason that this is the sum total of my sewing for my friend's baby who was born two weeks ago. Man I better put the pedal to the metal and get a-sewing, because this baby is going to grow grow grow before we know and all she'll have to show from me is this wonky little square-ish thing.

Breastfeeding

One of my co-habiters Nat drew my attention to the fact that it is World Breastfeeding Week. She's written a great post over here about making super excellent breastmilk.

And given I am a devout breastfeeder, here's my post to join in the celebrations.

I began my breastfeeding career in May 2005. It was a rude shock to me that it did not come naturally. The nurses grabbed my *modest* bosoms and shoved them unceremoniously towards the Doctor. It wasn't happening and it was frustrating and every time I needed to feed the Doctor, my sweet little newborn, I had to be 'monitored'. Like I was on probation. Like I need a Lindsay Lohan style ankle bracelet thing to monitor my progress. They then decided I should try a nipple shield.

My oh my, if you've never had to use a nipple shield, consider yourself lucky. The luckiest person in lucky town.

Using a nipple shield was, to me, so unnatural and repulsive, but I did it to feed my baby and get these toe rags out of my sight! I also requested to see the lactation consultant before I was released from hospital. The response was, no, you can go home and come back and see her.

Not a great solution for me. So we sought a private lactation consultant - Leila Chirgwin. Leila was exactly what I needed. She was gentle, nurturing, reassuring. And she helped me better than all of those nurses combined shoving my boob into the Doctor's mouth. Leila helped us wean the Doctor off the nipple shields, and had us feeding well within a few days. With nipple shields I felt like a fembot. Without nipple shields I felt like a totally rad mama.

I got mastitis ten days after giving birth to the Doctor. I vividly remember lying in bed feeling very grey, wanting to die. I felt cranky and digusting. I couldn't lie on the sore side. I felt sick as a dog. My breast felt as though it was on fire. I went to a GP and he told me that I was 'young and just had the flu' and that I'd get over it. Despite the fact I had shown him the very red, very cranky segment of sore breast.

Coincidentally I had an appointment with the Early Childhood Nurse that afternoon and she sent me off pronto to get an appointment with any GP because I had mastitis and if I didn't go on antibiotics straight away I might wind up in hospital. So off I went with my Mum and the Doctor to visit.. the only doctor I could get into. A geriatric doctor. He promptly conduced that I needed antibiotics and we went home. Within hours of taking them I felt infinitely better.

Throughout breastfeeding I had many bouts of mastitis, but for the most part, I managed to nip them in the bud before they spiralled out of control via massage and ultrasound, and continuing to feed feed feed off the sore side. New mums go through so much, and are on such a steep learning curve, mastitis is like a double dose of rude shock.

We persevered and The Doctor and I continued breastfeeding successfully until he was 19 months. We loved it.

When Tiny came along, I knew not to expect anything to be easy, but that little sucker came out sucking, and thankfully breastfeeding was a dreamy ride with her, and rarely a bout of mastitis. We breastfeed for 22 months.

Now Tiny likes to pretend to breastfeed her dollies, and talks about 'nilckles' - which to her is milkies.

The Australian Breastfeeding Association is a fantastic organisation with loads of support on tap (pun not intended). If you ever need any help or tips or tricks with breastfeeding call their hotline, they are amazing.

1800 mum 2 mum

1800 686 2 686

I've featured this clip before on my blog, but I love it so much - especially those stretchy, stretchy nipples - it's up again. I love it.

* Please note:: I'm not critical of anyone that can't breastfeed - this isn't meant to be an anti-formula, Gisele Bundchen type rant. I just loved breastfeeding. I really struggled with it, I sought help, and it took a long time for it to click. I had a lot of grey days when it just didn't work for me. It wasn't just boom - the Lactation Consultant remedied everything, it took weeks, maybe months to master it.

* I realise nipple shields help lots of people - but for me, it wasn't a solution to my problem. I felt it was the easy way for the nurses at the hospital to get me out of their way for someone else to come in, without giving me the option to visit the lactation consultant. They have their place, but I also wasn't shown how to use them properly, so in the wee hours, when I was trying to get a nipple shield to stick and my newborn was crying, it would have been more helpful to a) show me how to use them properly so they don't keep coming off and b) let me see the damn lactation consultant instead of having to go home and come back later. At the end of the day, we're all trying to feed our babies, right?!

Small Babes & Runny Noses:: Giveaway

Recently I purged a whole heap of my beauty products. I know what's in some of these products is bad, bad bad, and then some. So I tossed them. The petro-chemicals, parabens, they put in them - wowsers, I don't understand how they manage to get away with it.

Breathe!

I know you probably already know that there are loads of products out there containing petro-chemicals and parabens. Nasty things they are, so it's nice to come across products that steer clear of such things. Particularly when it comes to the smalls.

Since Winter is promptly upon us, here comes cold and flu season. The only thing worse than having a blocked, snuffly nose, is a wee one suffering the same, with very little relief.

Little Innoscents has an easily absorbed vapour balm that brings warmth to the body and helps with breathing and the alleviation of nasal congestion (no more snuffles for your snuggly). It's safe for babies and is fresh and natural - got to be a winner!

Made by a Melbourne mama it's been made with beautiful natural essential oils such as lemon, spearmint, eucalyptus, lavender, peppermint and rosemary, combined with caressing and natural beeswax and shea butter. Mmm, we likey!

There should be a tub in every family medicine cabinet.. A natural organic alternative to Vicks. It contains no turpentine.

I am lucky to be able to give away to five lucky readers a tub of Little Innoscents Vapour Rub Balm (RRP $10.99) and to ONE lucky winner a complete set of the Little Innoscents range (RRP $69).

To enter, visit the Little Innoscents website, then come back and tell me ONE THING that Little Innoscents does not contain... It's very simple my friends. Go forth and conquer!

You have 'til next Friday to enter. Australians only - sorry dudes.

Remember

Remember holding a new babe in your arms. The way she looks at you adoringly. Remember this. Etch it into your memory. Hold tight, it won't be long before she's crawling away discovering, but she'll always remember your voice. Your calm touch. The way you look lovingly at her. She'll remember the way you always wanted to be close. Remember that life changing moment when she just smiles. Grasp it firmly, never let it go. Those coos. The way she's happiest just to be close and listen to your heartbeat. Remember the smell of a newborn. That milky, sweet goodness, just at the top of their head. At the nape of their neck.

....clucky much?

Remember to hit this link to visit more...rememberers.

When The Doctor Was Born

My firstborn. My heart. I remember waking with a sore back. I knew the sign. Matt had long gone to work. I had a plan to meet my sister for shopping. I knew I was in pre-labour, but who knew how long that would last? And as if birth was going to get between me and a cash register. No way Jose.

I drove off to meet my sister, all the while my back pain increasing, a sneaky contraction here and there. I sent Matt an SMS "It's a nice day for a baby" to which he didn't reply (I later learnt his battery was almost dead).

My sister and I shopped. Things were ramping up. I could feel that baby was coming. I went back to my sister's house to watch some waterbirth movies. I'd heard that watching these can bring things on a little quicker. After my movie time was over, I drove home. I don't really remember that drive, but I do remember pulling into our driveway and my father-in-law and a handyman telling me that they were doing some jobs around the house. Fabulous timing because all I wanted to do was crawl into a steamy hot bath and say vamoose to the sore back. I did. I threw caution to the wind. I got in that bath. Then got out. Dressed. Decided to go for a walk to get some things to make Labour Aid. Clearly I was delusional. I walked the two kilometres and all the while my contractions were coming on stronger, more rhythmically.

I stopped off at our local Blockbuster and as any reasonable labouring woman would do, I hired Sex and the City. I remember standing in the store experiencing a contraction. Breathing. Hmmm. Hoping no one would notice a heavily pregnant, heavily breathing woman.

When I checked out the DVDs the guy said a cheery 'see you on Sunday' - and I thought - no buster, you won't. I'm about to have a baby. Overdues - I'll see you sooner.

I don't know how I got home on that long walk, but I know I had to stop here and there to rest. Breathe. Breathe. Open.

I walked home. Made Labour Aid. Got lemon juice all over the floor. Bottled my Labour Aid. Rested. Another bath?

Matt finally come home and I remember my aching body being held in his arms. Ah relief!

We had a quiet dinner together (hey - things can get a little rowdy around here), and went off to bed. I slept until around 1am when things started really ramping. And I vomited (there's an ongoing theme of vomit here lately, isn't there?). I had all the lights off. I hate lights when I feel unwell. I am an animal in the dark. I sit in the bath again. I feel my contractions. I feel them grow ever stronger. I get out because the bath isn't hot enough. Matt's still sleeping. How ever do men sleep through such a mad racket?

Finally, around 2am Matt came out to find me labouring away, I think by this stage I was back in the bath. We decided to call my sister who was coming with us, driving us to the hospital and who would be with us throughout the birth.

I sat in the darkest room in our house. Matt kept turning lights on. I kept turning them off. Breathe. We were in touch with the midwife, and we knew we had a 40 minute drive ahead. The midwife tried to stave us off, but I knew we had to go. I was ready to go. We clambered into the car. My fashion sense clearly thrown out the window. Me in Matt's old paint splattered tracksuit pants, a very worn, almost transparent t-shirt of a Chinese woman smoking an opium pipe (?), Birkos and a quilted cotton Chinese jacket. Very continental. I'm sure the world has never seen such haphazard styling before.

My sister drove like the clappers. Down the highway, I felt every bump. Every single bump in my bump. In my heaving body. Breathe. Hold the seatbelt away. Drive behind a garbage truck. Thankfully it was 3:30am by this time. Traffic was clear. This baby had good timing. And then the Labour Aid exploded all over my foot. Excellent.

We arrived at the hospital and the guy at the front desk insisted we fill out the forms before going up to the Birth Centre. Then I, leaning over the reception desk let out an almighty moan and he realised I was in labour, so reluctantly let us go up. We went up and went into our room. Dark. Quiet. The midwife expected me to be 3cm dialated. Instead I was 8.

Briskly (as brisk as any labouring woman can) I tore off my clothes (I couldn't bear my fashion genius any longer - truth be, I can't stand being dressed when feeling ill either - must be dark, must be naked - how wrong does that sound when typed?) and got into that bath. Oh that bath. That gloriously deep, seductive and calming bath. Hot! Hot! Hot! I laboured away for the next couple of hours in that bath.

Matt had a sleep. MATT HAD A SLEEP! --- Apparently just another day in the office for him. Meanwhile...

My contractions became more and more fierce, I rode them out, but I was growing tired. I held Matt's and my sister's hands. And then my contractions. My contractions - they damn well stopped! I had to get out of the bath because apparently I was too relaxed. Damn it. There goes my water birth. All throughout the birth our wonderful ante-natal teacher had been calling us to see how things were doing. That woman is a guru.

I got comfy on that birthing ball and cushions, propped up.

And after two hours of puuuuuuushing, (and me going, I can't do it, I can't do it - and everyone else saying - you ARE doing it, you ARE doing it, and then me going - COME ON! Lleyton Hewitt stylie) that big-headed, cone-headed, Mohawk-ed baby finally, finally came out.

That there friends is how the Doctor arrived. 10:02am on the 20th May.

Things

I've been mixing things up a little here at PottyMouthMama Headquarters. I'm crazy like that.

I'm making dinners the night before (casseroles and curries are my friends, beef vindaloo tonight for tomorrow). This is saving me time (and a serious case of dishpan hands).

I'm trying to tidy up small parts of the house all the time, in an effort to keep it tidy (Mum are you reading this?!).

I'm rewarding the Doctor via a star chart for tidying up his bedroom and packing up his toys.

I've become hooked on Masterchef.

I've found new compact fluorescent light bulbs that don't cast a blue light and make me feel like I'm in one of those anti-shooting up rooms (you know when you're out somewhere and they have that blue light). This is particularly big news for me, because although I use these bulbs, I've been really cranky about them. Welcome me into 2009 with this revelation.

I'm turning 30 in about eight weeks and still haven't completed my list. Better get my skates on, huh?

But before my birthday there is a little someone turning the big four. I can barely believe it. I've spent much of today reminiscing about my firstborn. Taking a walk down memory lane via our photo albums. Those first days with a newborn in my arms. Not to mention the pain and thrill of labour. The struggle to learn how to breastfeed. The incredibly steep learning curve. The fear of coming home with babe in arms. Watching our newborn unfurl as the days went on. And of course, that wonderful newborn smell. My big boy is turning four. I know this may sound strange, but I could always imagine myself with a baby, but I'd never foreseen a small person. Evolving. Developing his own likes. His own dislikes. So my thoughts are turning to the soon-to-be little birthday dude. A mixture of sadness, happiness and great, great joy.

PottyMouthMama Grand Central:: Peak Hour

It's hitting peak hour here at PMM Grand Central. Our headquarters have been run amok with Christmas activities, and the state of the house is testament. Santa, all I want for Christmas is a housecleaner to whizz in and wave a magic wand - and begone mess! We've got glitter where you wouldn't believe. Sequins all over the kitchen table, the house smells like gingerbread, and the washing up is piling up. Presents to wrap, Christmas songs to play, and more Christmas baking on the agenda.

Our salt dough decorations are decorated - bedazzled within an inch of their life. There's a whole lotta sparkle on them there decorations, the Doctor is particularly heavy handed on the bling. What's not to love about bling? Who isn't into it?
Gingerbread biscuits are fresh out of the oven and smell divine. I may have indulged in a few too many. Just the wonky ones. One word of advice on this front, the recipe I used from this book said to put the holes in the biscuits when they were fresh out of the oven. I did this, and risked life and limb (of the gingerbread men, not me) by cracking the biscuit with my skewer. I think do it before the oven, then you eliminate this risky business.

And finally, I've been busy stitching a little onesie for a little one. A while back I began embroidering straight onto a singlet, but it proved too fiddly for me, so I ditched that in favour of this one. I did French knots for the collar. Now that took me some time, after I finally figured out why I really was getting into a knot before I even pulled the stitch through.

This means I can now cross a few things off my to-do list. Finito!

Oh The Love

So I met the newest member of our family today. Oh man. She is sweet. So tiny. So delicate. Babies really are like flowers - as the days go on, their faces seem to unfurl like petals, they blossom - the reason my daughter's middle name is Rosie.

And my sister is amazing. She's baked and birthed a beautiful healthy baby and after all that, she glows.

Women are incredible, aren't they? I always marvel at our bodies.

At the risk of getting all smoochy, I'll take a sharp right here and show another wee singlet for the wee new one. The girl needs pink. I know this gal can understand!

And you know what - I'm going to stitch some more little things for this precious new babe.

A New Babe: Birthday

I've been a little absent these last few days. Pre-typing posts so when I do get back to my 'puter, I can just hit post and be done. Poof! It's there. The beauty of desktop publishing.

So. My sister had a new baby this week. Great excitement. Great, great excitement. I get to meet the new little one today. I have butterflies just thinking about her. A new fresh baby girl. Sweet!

I've been trying to stitch a few things up for the new wee one. Well I've only done one singlet. One measly singlet, but it's made with much, much love. It's almost visible that love (along with a few wonky stitches). What little gal doesn't like a cruiser with ribbons from the handlebars. I know this big girl would love one (hint for Matt: 30th birthday fast on the approach - six months to go - layby NOW!!).

Back to the baby. Pre my own babies I used to be so, so frightened of holding babies. They are so delicate. Do you remember holding a newborn in your arms?

I always marvel at the tiny fingernails. The fragility and the miracle that is a baby. About the little heart inside that boom-boom-booms all by itself. Isn't that incredible?

Clucky much?

It Was Never Going To Be Breakneck Speeds

But I thought, hey I can embroider a singlet without fabric stabiliser. It will just be a little slower, but I can dig it.

So I dove head first. I started this little singlet for part of a wee babe's Christmas present. This was Friday night. This is how much I stitched that night. And I didn't go back. Without fabric stabiliser, this was one wonky, slooooow stitch. It was more like a torturous exercise than a joy. I usually think stitching is a joy. This was tedious wonky-tonk to a tee.

As a quick aside, he's kind of like a German schnauzer.. Don't you think?

But I do need the stabiliser, no matter if he's German or Herman. Arthur or Martha. No matter his name, he needs stabiliser. I need stabiliser. The world needs stabilising.

So here's the audience participation. If you've used stabiliser before, in particular for a singlet - what kind do you get? Tell me my friends. Point me in the right direction.

An Update

My husband has been chastising me, though I know he'd vigorously deny it if you asked. Lucky he's a little lax when it comes to reading my blog, otherwise I'd be in big trouble for telling you.

You see apparently here at PottyMouthMama HQ I've neglected to update the status of his painting, and have left you, dear reader, hanging. You're probably sitting at home, drumming your fingers on the table, comfort eating, -re-watching re-runs of The Golden Girls and calling people you don't really want to talk to, all because you've been wondering, what ever happened to...

So here it is. The finished painting. I love it. It hangs beside my bed and I love waking up to see my first newborn - swaddled up, jaundiced, puffy head from two hours of pushing, ah yes, that's exactly as I remember my little love bug.

Have I mentioned my husband is an artist, first and foremost, but currently he's masquerading as some sort of crazed office worker at an insurance company..? Oh the things you do to bring home the bacon.

He's been hung in the Dobell at the Art Gallery of NSW, has had a number of exhibitions, and he's hopefully working towards a new show soon.. Watch this space (because apparently I am doing his PR too).

Which brings me to tell you that the Dobell is currently on at AGNSW. For anyone that doesn't know, it's Australia's most prestigious drawing prize, and usually amasses a number of wonderful works. If you're in the city and want something to do, check it out.