...except for a trip to EUROPE!! Weee!
Who says weee anyway?
Germany is our base where we still stay with my buddy ol pal and her husband in Ulm. In the middle of our trip we take off to London and Paris to see the sights, scale the side of the Eiffel, beat up on the fluffy hat man at Buckingham etc.
If I'm not on here again for a little while, we leave on Tuesday the 24th and back in the early morn of Friday the 17th, April. Darren has a gig that night, eeek!
Well au revoir for now, enjoy your work, house cleaning or whatever it is you do, I on the other hand will be high flying it over to the other side!
Did I mention that Noah has taken to vocalising very loudly, experimenting with his voicebox, all in time for our 25 hour flight...thank goodness 3 hours of that will be spent in Abu Dhabi airport, our stopover.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Friday, March 20, 2009
She's the same as me!
www.baconismyenemy.com
If I didn't know any better, I would've thought we were twins even though we look completely different to each other. Giyen blogs her journey with weight battles and depression, both of which have become almost like old friends in her life as have they have in mine. No longer something to fight off but to just love, learn about and deal with.
I often talk to or hear people describing depression and it is like in the movies when you see one of those silly women beating up a mans chest, taking out her anger and sadness on him whilst he grips her arms with such strength that she eventually wears down and relents at which point, he takes her into his arms. I feel like I was once in repeat mode, pounding away and hating my weight and depression, wanting it to just go so I could be 'normal'. At some point though, I pressed play and relented, let myself feel and breathe and just be. Learn it, love it, live it should be my motto! Best thing I ever did, life is a tonne easier these days.
If I didn't know any better, I would've thought we were twins even though we look completely different to each other. Giyen blogs her journey with weight battles and depression, both of which have become almost like old friends in her life as have they have in mine. No longer something to fight off but to just love, learn about and deal with.
I often talk to or hear people describing depression and it is like in the movies when you see one of those silly women beating up a mans chest, taking out her anger and sadness on him whilst he grips her arms with such strength that she eventually wears down and relents at which point, he takes her into his arms. I feel like I was once in repeat mode, pounding away and hating my weight and depression, wanting it to just go so I could be 'normal'. At some point though, I pressed play and relented, let myself feel and breathe and just be. Learn it, love it, live it should be my motto! Best thing I ever did, life is a tonne easier these days.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Sicker than a sick sick
Ok not that sick but feeling pretty shoddy, snuffly nose, sore throat and sore noggin. Adrian was hit with a 24hr bug on Friday which was promptly ended on Saturday with a visit to MY ensuite! I mean we had guests and all but seriously dude, my bathroom?! Good thing is he is all better now and was in fact able to play his first soccer game of the season that afternoon with his Griffith grandparents in tow.
Ok so you are being prewarned, don't say I didn't tell you! There are really two meanings to this post title.. Gross baby story ahead...
So Thursday morning baby and I are having a lovely chat on the lounge together with him sitting on my lap...you see where I'm going with this yet?
I hear the familiar rumblings I have come to know so well and lift him quickly into a standing position. Sometimes that stuff has nowhere else to go but up and out you see so I like to take precautions. Problem is I was obviously too late as I look down and see a small sample on my lap. I turn him around to inspect the back of his nappy. Houston, we have a problem! Not only has he managed to cover half his back but what I thought was a small sample was in fact a reasonable sized pool which must have sprung a leak as I feel a dampness easing it's way down between my legs, heading for the couch below. (Thank goodness it's leather!)
Panic hits as I frantically search for the best way to handle this dire situation. Reason sets in and I lie baby tummy down on the couch whilst I very carefully peel off my fishermans pants (recommended for this very situation as things could have been much more catastrophical without the pooling factor). It is indeed very tricky doing this mindful that there is carpet below me and the blinds are all up for the world to see my juggling act. I manage successfully and carry baby upstairs for his inevitable bath.
The phone rings whilst I am undressing him on my bed. He is on a folded over cloth nappy but nethertheless he is a wriggling pooey mess. I answer the phone. I know, stupid. It's Adrian's principal and she proceeds to explain that Adrian will not need an exemption form to go overseas as our trip runs into the school holidays and the time we will be away is under the 15 days requiring the form, blah blah blah.. I almost chuckle to myself as I wonder what she would think if she knew I was walking around half dressed with underpants wet with baby poo ( yes, it went that far!)
I undress baby after hanging up and carry him to the bath and just as I'm about to put him in, I feel a warm trickle work it's way down my chest, down my belly to the floor below. He's weeing! "You've got to be kidding me!!", I shreak which turns to laughter as I see him light up with delight at my squeals. Ratbag! With nowhere else to go and with a sudden trigger urge to use the loo myself, I lie him down on the bath mat and watch helplessly as he rolls onto the cold tiles, smiling madly obviously relishing the fact that I can't do anything or we may just end up with a much messier situation.
Finally I have him bathed and carry him all towelled up to the bed only to hear the doorbell ring. Crap! It's the courier guy, I get some ridiculous notion in my head that I can leave baby undressed on his towel, throw something over my head , run downstairs and accept the delivery thinking that the husband will pitch a fit if he knows I ignored it. I mean it's the power supply for his beloved 'Frau Mac'. Reason once again sets in as I survey the situation with naked baby ready to take aim at any given time and I am standing there still half dressed with baby muck all over me. Uh yeah, lets be smart eh, Rch? I begin to dress him whilst shushing his cooing so as not to hear the incessant ringing of the doorbell when the guy realises there is indeed someone home.
I step into the shower and wash like the water may be cut by the water board any second as I listen to the growing cries of my sweet little angel who no longer wants to be entertained by his cradle mobile.
Darren often says they come in cute packages so you won't leave them at the hospital, lucky Noah is so darn cute.
Ok so you are being prewarned, don't say I didn't tell you! There are really two meanings to this post title.. Gross baby story ahead...
So Thursday morning baby and I are having a lovely chat on the lounge together with him sitting on my lap...you see where I'm going with this yet?
I hear the familiar rumblings I have come to know so well and lift him quickly into a standing position. Sometimes that stuff has nowhere else to go but up and out you see so I like to take precautions. Problem is I was obviously too late as I look down and see a small sample on my lap. I turn him around to inspect the back of his nappy. Houston, we have a problem! Not only has he managed to cover half his back but what I thought was a small sample was in fact a reasonable sized pool which must have sprung a leak as I feel a dampness easing it's way down between my legs, heading for the couch below. (Thank goodness it's leather!)
Panic hits as I frantically search for the best way to handle this dire situation. Reason sets in and I lie baby tummy down on the couch whilst I very carefully peel off my fishermans pants (recommended for this very situation as things could have been much more catastrophical without the pooling factor). It is indeed very tricky doing this mindful that there is carpet below me and the blinds are all up for the world to see my juggling act. I manage successfully and carry baby upstairs for his inevitable bath.
The phone rings whilst I am undressing him on my bed. He is on a folded over cloth nappy but nethertheless he is a wriggling pooey mess. I answer the phone. I know, stupid. It's Adrian's principal and she proceeds to explain that Adrian will not need an exemption form to go overseas as our trip runs into the school holidays and the time we will be away is under the 15 days requiring the form, blah blah blah.. I almost chuckle to myself as I wonder what she would think if she knew I was walking around half dressed with underpants wet with baby poo ( yes, it went that far!)
I undress baby after hanging up and carry him to the bath and just as I'm about to put him in, I feel a warm trickle work it's way down my chest, down my belly to the floor below. He's weeing! "You've got to be kidding me!!", I shreak which turns to laughter as I see him light up with delight at my squeals. Ratbag! With nowhere else to go and with a sudden trigger urge to use the loo myself, I lie him down on the bath mat and watch helplessly as he rolls onto the cold tiles, smiling madly obviously relishing the fact that I can't do anything or we may just end up with a much messier situation.
Finally I have him bathed and carry him all towelled up to the bed only to hear the doorbell ring. Crap! It's the courier guy, I get some ridiculous notion in my head that I can leave baby undressed on his towel, throw something over my head , run downstairs and accept the delivery thinking that the husband will pitch a fit if he knows I ignored it. I mean it's the power supply for his beloved 'Frau Mac'. Reason once again sets in as I survey the situation with naked baby ready to take aim at any given time and I am standing there still half dressed with baby muck all over me. Uh yeah, lets be smart eh, Rch? I begin to dress him whilst shushing his cooing so as not to hear the incessant ringing of the doorbell when the guy realises there is indeed someone home.
I step into the shower and wash like the water may be cut by the water board any second as I listen to the growing cries of my sweet little angel who no longer wants to be entertained by his cradle mobile.
Darren often says they come in cute packages so you won't leave them at the hospital, lucky Noah is so darn cute.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Cinnamon Jam Drops
Mum had an afternnoon tea with the fantastic women from her church to celebrate her 50th last weekend. The guests were asked to bring a plate of food so I thought this was the perfect opportunity to make the jam drops as requested by nagging fellow blogger/ friend, Chilli Walter.
Source: An old Marie Claire cookbook, Food + Drink
Cinnamon Jam Drops
Yes, those spaces are there for a reason..they smelt literally irresistable just out of the oven
3/4 cup self raising flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 cup rice flour
75 grams unsalted butter, softened
1/3 cup sugar
1 egg beaten
berry jam ( I used 2 types of raspberry)
Preheat the oven to 180℃. Sift together the cinnamon, flour and rice flour. In another bowl, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, then gradually add the egg, beating well. Fold into the sifted ingredients until just combined. Roll a teaspoon of the batter into a ball and place on a baking tray lined with baking paper. Repeat with the remaining mixture. Press a deep indent into the centre of each ball and fill with a little berry jam. Bake for 8-10 minutes, or until golden. Makes 36.
A good quality rich and seedy jam is ideal I found and the fresh cinnamon I picked up from my local fruit market gave it a scrumptious tastey taste! They did, however crack a little so I'll have to see how to perfect that with my next batch.
Now to twist Nanna's arm for the fork biscuits..
Source: An old Marie Claire cookbook, Food + Drink
Cinnamon Jam Drops
Yes, those spaces are there for a reason..they smelt literally irresistable just out of the oven3/4 cup self raising flour
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 cup rice flour
75 grams unsalted butter, softened
1/3 cup sugar
1 egg beaten
berry jam ( I used 2 types of raspberry)
Preheat the oven to 180℃. Sift together the cinnamon, flour and rice flour. In another bowl, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, then gradually add the egg, beating well. Fold into the sifted ingredients until just combined. Roll a teaspoon of the batter into a ball and place on a baking tray lined with baking paper. Repeat with the remaining mixture. Press a deep indent into the centre of each ball and fill with a little berry jam. Bake for 8-10 minutes, or until golden. Makes 36.
A good quality rich and seedy jam is ideal I found and the fresh cinnamon I picked up from my local fruit market gave it a scrumptious tastey taste! They did, however crack a little so I'll have to see how to perfect that with my next batch.
Now to twist Nanna's arm for the fork biscuits..
Saturday, March 7, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
I'm still here..sort of..
I have been so busy lately what with organising our overseas trip- accommodation, travel, passports etc as well as 2 birthday get togethers for my mother who is turning 50 in a couple of weeks.
I had quite the dilemma with the passports. I needed to get consent from Adrian's father for the passport but he passed away when Adrian was 4 and the application says that I must provide a death certifcate. I don't have one and upon calling Adrian's grandmother to ask if I could take her and the certifcate with me to apply, I find out that they had never applied for a certificate and only had hospital paperwork. So this means I have to apply for a certificate but I am not next of kin, Adrian is but it would be difficult and better if he were 12 years of age. So after consulting the website, I ring said grandmother back and ask if she could provide 3 copies of ID and could she please sign a letter I have typed up allowing me to apply for a certificate. I then learn that her ID is all over the shop with her old maiden name or English first name on various cards, papers. After trying to figure it all out over the phone, i decide that we will probably be ok. She asks if I would like her to come with me to the registry of births, deaths and marriages and I said I'd really appreciate that. She has been so good about all of this.
Anyway so we arrive at the registry with about 40 people (no joke) waiitng to be served, we collect our ticket from the electronic machine with various options and sit, preparing to wait for over an hour as we are being told that is the wait. TEN minutes later, our number is called and we are served. Our form is not completely filled out because I want to make sure I'd answered a couple of things correctly so he sends us away to fill it out with me thinking, ' this is where the hour wait comes into play'. He interrupts my thoughts with, ' when you are done, bring the form back over to me and I'll serve you'. I fill it out within a couple of minutes and within another 5, he has printed out 2 certificates for us both ( I paid for Adrian's grandmothers as a token of my appreciation and for being so good about it all). I find a lounge, feed baby and head out for the long drive home, dropping Aji (grandmother in Hindi) off along the way, phew!
All of that has taken up the last 2 days. And we still have to do the passports! I have us booked in for Saturday morning so I'm pretty sure the rest of it should be pretty straight forward.
Mum's birthday and trip organising is a story for another day!
Noah's great, still a little dream baby and very tall for his age. He has been in the 90th percentile for his age with each visit to the clinic. He's into holding onto things, trying to roll and has loved his baths since birth. Just a happy baby really. I warned Darren of the sleepless nights, the crying etc but so far Noah's been pretty cruisey. I keep saying I'm not holding my breath or counting my chickens just yet but I was saying that 3 months ago so, so far so good.
As for Daz, he has the Prime Minister coming to use his classroom next week and Darren needs to have a piece ready for his students to perform in the hall!
Yesterday, Adrian and I went to an optometrist, me for a new pair as mine are old and wrecked and Adrian to see if he would need a pair. I came out with a very cool looking pair and Adrian will need to start wearing his in class to see the board, go to the movies, watch TV etc. So we pick them up in a week or so. So pricey though, thank goodness for our health fund, we get around $140-180 off each pair.
We are currently waiting on my Grandfather to get better after he underwent a triple bypass a week ago. He has been very slow to recover, not really waking up for 4 days afterwards and although he is now showing some recognition, his kidneys are also slow to function so he had dialysis yesterday. I'm yet to hear the results of that... A little worried as Grandad is 83 years old. Dad was thinking of going up there yesterday or possibly tomorrow, a little part of me says, 'go there Dad, just in case'. Grandad only just remarried end of last year so I'm hoping they both have a couple more years to spend with each other.
Such a practical update I know, but it is all time will allow at the moment. I'll be sure to share the grossest poo, wee and projectile stories Noah has in the very near future... just to keep you keen.
I had quite the dilemma with the passports. I needed to get consent from Adrian's father for the passport but he passed away when Adrian was 4 and the application says that I must provide a death certifcate. I don't have one and upon calling Adrian's grandmother to ask if I could take her and the certifcate with me to apply, I find out that they had never applied for a certificate and only had hospital paperwork. So this means I have to apply for a certificate but I am not next of kin, Adrian is but it would be difficult and better if he were 12 years of age. So after consulting the website, I ring said grandmother back and ask if she could provide 3 copies of ID and could she please sign a letter I have typed up allowing me to apply for a certificate. I then learn that her ID is all over the shop with her old maiden name or English first name on various cards, papers. After trying to figure it all out over the phone, i decide that we will probably be ok. She asks if I would like her to come with me to the registry of births, deaths and marriages and I said I'd really appreciate that. She has been so good about all of this.
Anyway so we arrive at the registry with about 40 people (no joke) waiitng to be served, we collect our ticket from the electronic machine with various options and sit, preparing to wait for over an hour as we are being told that is the wait. TEN minutes later, our number is called and we are served. Our form is not completely filled out because I want to make sure I'd answered a couple of things correctly so he sends us away to fill it out with me thinking, ' this is where the hour wait comes into play'. He interrupts my thoughts with, ' when you are done, bring the form back over to me and I'll serve you'. I fill it out within a couple of minutes and within another 5, he has printed out 2 certificates for us both ( I paid for Adrian's grandmothers as a token of my appreciation and for being so good about it all). I find a lounge, feed baby and head out for the long drive home, dropping Aji (grandmother in Hindi) off along the way, phew!
All of that has taken up the last 2 days. And we still have to do the passports! I have us booked in for Saturday morning so I'm pretty sure the rest of it should be pretty straight forward.
Mum's birthday and trip organising is a story for another day!
Noah's great, still a little dream baby and very tall for his age. He has been in the 90th percentile for his age with each visit to the clinic. He's into holding onto things, trying to roll and has loved his baths since birth. Just a happy baby really. I warned Darren of the sleepless nights, the crying etc but so far Noah's been pretty cruisey. I keep saying I'm not holding my breath or counting my chickens just yet but I was saying that 3 months ago so, so far so good.
As for Daz, he has the Prime Minister coming to use his classroom next week and Darren needs to have a piece ready for his students to perform in the hall!
Yesterday, Adrian and I went to an optometrist, me for a new pair as mine are old and wrecked and Adrian to see if he would need a pair. I came out with a very cool looking pair and Adrian will need to start wearing his in class to see the board, go to the movies, watch TV etc. So we pick them up in a week or so. So pricey though, thank goodness for our health fund, we get around $140-180 off each pair.
We are currently waiting on my Grandfather to get better after he underwent a triple bypass a week ago. He has been very slow to recover, not really waking up for 4 days afterwards and although he is now showing some recognition, his kidneys are also slow to function so he had dialysis yesterday. I'm yet to hear the results of that... A little worried as Grandad is 83 years old. Dad was thinking of going up there yesterday or possibly tomorrow, a little part of me says, 'go there Dad, just in case'. Grandad only just remarried end of last year so I'm hoping they both have a couple more years to spend with each other.
Such a practical update I know, but it is all time will allow at the moment. I'll be sure to share the grossest poo, wee and projectile stories Noah has in the very near future... just to keep you keen.
Sunday, January 25, 2009
The 'house' above
You may be wondering what that 'house' is doing there at the top of my profile?
Darren's Nanna and Poppa ( he has long since left us), lived here and it still stands today on the farm in Griffith. Here they raised their sons, Barry (Darren's father) and Graeme. Both sons stayed, married and built their own houses on the farm. Here they had their children. Darren left the farm at 18 years old to go to Uni here in Sydney.
I know lots of sketchy details about this house but I would rather do a little research so I can fill you in.
I just love old buildings and houses, love them! As we drive to Griffith, one of my favourite past times has been looking at the old and delapidated buildings along the way. I wonder what is the history of each one, who lived there and what did they do, how did they live?
I plan to put a new pic up the top from time to time, sometimes as a talking point or sometimes merely because I like it.
With the recent weather being up to and over 40 degrees celsius, I cannot imagine living in a house like that. Bring on the air con!
Oh and one more thing. Down the left hand side of my blog entries I have posted my youtube clips which I will add to with time. The xtreme tobogganing is me at 24 weeks pregnant trying to find a lame slope so as not to do any harm...it was certainly a lame slope.
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