The wheels on the bus go round and round...

Took Alice on her first bus ride into the city this week. She enjoyed the bus so much that she slept all the way there and all the way back. She managed to be very sociable during lunch with Auntie Katy and as a fellow diner remarked upon seeing her smile, "You've got to be happy with that". Not sure about him referring to Alice as a "that" or indeed very happy that he thought she was a boy. However, the latter is probably my fault - she wasn't really suitably attired for a girl about town amongst the sartorial elegance of weekday Sydney. I thought that her trackie pants and hoodie looked cute, but they were blue.

Other news this week - she's gone back to sleeping until 7.30am after a nasty few mornings of 6am and we have taken to exhausting her in the evenings with games of rolling, flying, dancing and sitting up. Gymberoo today was fun - we learned actions to "the wheels on the bus" (which incidentally go "all the way to town" in Australia, as opposed to the UK, where they just go "all day long" with no mention of reaching a destination - surely a sorry indictment of the congestion in England's green and pleasant land, if ever there was one) and Alice very much enjoyed the swing. I'll smuggle in a camera next week. Neither Alice nor her chum Marley made it right to the end of the class - they both got a bit "nattle" (as her Dad would say) and had to be rescued from under the parachute. But the best bit...you haven't laughed until you have seen 15 babies be walked around in a circle to the Oompa-loompa song.

Must go - hitting the town tonight which means making sure that Stu has nothing more to do than to put her to bed and find a surprise pasty supper awaiting him. They won't quite compare to my meal at Balzac, but I think he'll be pleased.

Tried and tested. Failed.

Last week I decided to give Alice a go at an earlier bedtime and one less sleep. For those of you who worry about "Poor Stu" and his aforementioned help with looking after her on one day at the weekend and during the now legendary "Four women go to Surry Hills and don't drink that much but can't handle it because they've been sober for a year" night, please be comforted to know that I decided to start this new routine while he was at a work function. Black tie. Held at that posh hotel on Martin Place, the name of which I don't know because I haven't been into the city forever. Trying it this way meant that if it didn't work out, then he wouldn't have to deal with the fallout and also because he is deadset against any changes. He gets to be the smug one amongst all the new fathers at work and is happy with that. I keep referring him to Madison's blog, which is liberally littered with references from Neil to the fact that "Vanessa knows best", but he doesn't seem to think that the same applies to me. So I just went ahead and did it anyway. I think that Vanessa and I might have that kind of approach in common.

Ho hum. So the first night - Thursday - she had all her sleeps (4) but I cut down on a feed to try to cut down the evening awake time and to have her asleep in bed by 8. Would she fall asleep, boys and girls? Oh no she didn't. Oh yes she did, by 9pm, by which time she may as well have had her usual amount of feeding. But she slept all night, so all was well. I'm smug. Stu's out late and up early, so I'm not able to spread the good news, but things are going well.

Next day - Friday - Nonna Keefe e-mails through Facebook (ooh, she is down with the kids, my Mum) and suggests that Alice might like to drop a sleep and play in the afternoon. Hurrah, thinks I. One less time I have to shhh her and more time for playing on the internet. I mean, with Alice. Deciding that this approach would combine nicely with that of the day before and make her easier to put down earlier, Alice and I set forth, minus one sleep and minus one feed again. After all, it had worked the day before.

She went to bed quite nicely. Father grumbled, but I knew best. Or did I? At 10.30pm we heard a waaahhhhh, but she was easily shhh'd back to sleep. And then came the big one - 4.20am - waaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh. I haven't seen the number 4 in a time in the morning since she was 9 weeks old. Stumbled in to see her. As ever, she was delighted to hear me (lights remained determinedly off), but would not go back to sleep. Fed her and burped her, but by then she really seemed to think it was morning. Even in the near pitch black, she was chatting, singing, waving arms and legs about and seemed pretty content. Perhaps I should have just left her to amuse herself, but there was no chance I would have slept while listening to the cooing and gooing and waiting for the inevitable grumbling before she falls asleep, so I persisted in trying to get her back to sleep. FINALLY at 5.30am, she went.

Next day - Saturday - obviously was not having that again. I have my reputation and Alice's to protect around the traps of the Eastern suburbs mothers groups. (None of whom gave me any sympathy for getting up in the night once in 8 weeks). So we went back to the old routine, with all her sleeps and all her feeds. That night she slept until 8am. Same again last night. So I might leave it a while before trying any more changes, although the idea of missing out a sleep is still very appealing.

And anyone worrying about "Poor Stu"...he slept through the whole thing, waking only to tell me that he "told me so".

Alice's trip to the zoo

Stu and I had a lovely time on Alice's first trip to the zoo. She was awake for half of it and asleep for the other half, but displayed some curiosity towards some of the animals. We set her up for a day out in her sunnies, but decided to compromise on the sun hat instead, so that the other babies wouldn't laugh at her.

I think it was quite hard for her to see bears and kangaroos sleeping against similar coloured backgrounds, but she did look straight at the tiger, the lions and the giraffe. For a bit.

And then she just looked at the fence in front of the animals

or at me or at the other zoo-goers, with their scintillating conversations, ("I just can't get over how much Chatswood has changed") or at the Chav child called Annabel, which we didn't like much, or the lady who was breast feeding while walking around the zoo shop. Eeew.

It was a great day out, although slighly miffed that the Great Southern Ocean exhibit was more of a Great Southern pond with only two fairy penguins in it. In fact it was a lovely weekend. Alice hung out with her Dad for most of yesterday, so I was able to go for breakfast with Auntie Kirrily and talk about weddings, go to an aerobics class and do some comedic Irish dancing and then Stu did bath, bottle and bed so that I could watch Grey's Anatomy. She behaved impeccably, so I'm hoping that he will be volunteering to do it all again sometime.

Thank you for your interest

Dear All,

Thank you so much for being interested in our progress. I have tried to make the comments setting easier to use, but I really appreciate the e-mails from the fanbase (!) For anyone else wondering about Alice's movements in the last 48 hours...

1. Yes, thank you, the jabs went OK. She behaved very nicely while the doctor fed her the nasty tasting rotovirus one (not sure what this is, but am sure I don't want my daughter to suffer from a disease I've never heard of) and only cried while the needles were going in, not afterwards. She's been a bit grumpy the last two days, but nothing that some extra TLC can't resolve.
2. Sleeping un-swaddled is going OK. Haven't been brave enough to try that at night yet, but we've managed it for the last three days worth of daytime sleeps (all 12 of them) in a cute baby sleeping bag with arms pinioned down with a blanket on top and things are going well. One of these days I'm going to have to be brave enough to vary the night routine, or the poor child will end up having a bottle and sleeping swaddled until she's 10, but, as proud (and rather dishy) Aragorn said in The Return of the King, "It is not this day".

From all of us here at the good ship Alice, in the immortal words of Edward R. Murrow, “Good night, and good luck.”

Goals

I recently remarked to a friend that I had so much on my "to do list". As a fellow coffee drinker and park walker, she just looked at me blankly, the concept of having things that really needed to be done having faded as fast as the pain relief of the epidural.

"You know", I continued, "getting rid of the dummy, Alice sleeping unwrapped, not rocking the bassinette, moving her to the cot".

"Oh", she said, "you mean 'Goals!'"

And I must confess that I like her thinking. A goal is something that you strive to achieve. That you'll work hard at but it's a thing of the future, rather than a thing of the present that you need to feel bad about.

Be this as it may, I have tried to prioritise what needs to happen to get Alice to sleep in the manner in which I'd like her to become accustomed. Following last week's eulogy to her wonderful sleep habits, you may wonder (as I do, sometimes) why I'm trying to fix what may not seem to be broken, but in fact there are some needs that must. So my order of priority is:

1. Sleeping unwrapped - I have to start to do this for safety's sake. Although she seems to have forgotten how to roll, when she remembers, she needs to have her arms free so that she doesn't land on her face in her sleep and stay there. Neither Alice nor I have worked out what to do with her arms yet. This is her natural position and surely it can't be comfortable?

2. Stop rocking the bassinette - I need to keep doing this for now so that she will get through more than one 40 minute sleep cycle unwrapped. Otherwise, she wakes up, realises that her hands are quite interesting and that's it.

3. Move to her cot. Could be combined with 2 when 1 is all sorted. She still has room in the bassinette and besides, am using the cot for storage for Alice's menagerie of cuddly toys.

4. Dummy - am not so fussed with this one. Nowadays, we only use it when first settling her for day sleeps. It tells her it's time to stop the chatter which has become so prevalent over the last few weeks and days and I remove it as soon as she is calm. I might wait for this one until after all those plane journeys in the UK, as it might come in handy then. And it stops her sucking her thumb, which is a really good thing.

So these are my goals for the next couple of weeks. Agonised over as only a person not working and with only one child can.

In other news, we have her 4 month immunisation jabs later today and as alluded to earlier, she has started to jibber jabber in earnest. Before, we had coos and goos. Now we have constant noise - very cute. The fact that you can hear it from outside with our windows closed (we live on the second floor) might not be that great for the neighbours, but at least she's not crying. In fact, she really seemed to be trying to sing along with Baby Mozart this morning and cheering on the Gladiators on TV last night. We are also at the stage of everything going into her mouth, which is also - at least for now - very sweet. Does anyone know when the dribbling will stop?!

Missed my curfew

Last night I made it out of the house for my first "big night" in over a year. Oh, it was such fun. Alice was suitably tired out from her gymberoo class (where she actually started to nod off during the band practice, while she was adroitly playing the triangle) and Stu made it home in good time to receive all the instructions for baby-sitting, so the scene was set.

I haven't even been in a taxi for at least 4 months so had completely forgotten how it all works (clue - had to direct the driver at every turn as usual - The Knowledge is an unknown concept here). Arrived at the pub (15 minutes early, as is my curse) and immediately felt too old, incorrectly dressed and as though everyone was looking at me and wondering what I was doing there. It turned out that I had walked into a private party so, in fact, they were doing just that. Went and hid in the bathroom for a bit, trying to remember how to apply lipstick and then skulked around the bar with a glass of rose. But - wha-hey - got a little bit chatted up at the bar. Oh yes, my friends, she's still got it.

After all that excitement and after letting the 25 year old at the bar down gently, (asking, "Would you like to see a photo of my baby?" works wonders), the night went on from there - 4 girls on the town with their babies safely tucked up at home with their daddies and we really had a lovely time. I say "out on the town" in the loosest sense of the word - we went for dinner and then remained sat at our table gossiping until we were thrown out of the White Horse when it closed. They had to pack up around us. However, we knew that we really were "out" when we schlepped down to Bar Cleveland.





All in all, a glass was broken, photos were taken (poor old wait staff had to sit through pictures of Alice on my camera before they were allowed to take them), and we laughed and laughed. Managed to stay out to the shamefully late time of 2am, which was very exciting. Not so much by 7.30am when Alice woke up.

Obviously, I have been carried away with this blog and think I'm Bill Bryson, as I decided to take notes of the evening to be able to write about it here. The saved message I found in my phone read, "Trendy, too old, private party, wet! Man at bar, dog tags wail, real friends, cabbie lost!" Make of that what you will. The really shameful thing is that after a year of sobriety just a couple of glasses of wine and some pre-expressed milk. Roll on dinner at Balzac in two weeks with Auntie Cate and then, after that, I'll be staying home for a good few months.

Nothing much to say - just a lovely photo

Happily sitting, drumming her fingers on the chair in Myer (a department store which UK readers may be amused to know was until recently known as Grace Brothers), waiting for me to get on and feed her.

Off to the park now - the weather continues bee-yoo-tiful here in Sydney.

First Mothers Day

Back in my "yoof", I used to spend hours debating with my father the use of the apostrophes in the name of one of my former employers, St Paul's Girls' School. Those days are gone and I am a bit stuck on where it should be in Mothers Day (or indeed whether there might be more to life). A day belonging to many mothers (Mothers' Day)? A day for just one's own mother (Mother's Day)? Mothers used as an adjective (Mothers Day)? Who knows. One yearns for the British "Mothering Sunday", even though it's a bit of a cop out. Anyway. So that Alice doesn't feel different or left out in her chats around the see-saw at Gymberoo, we have decided to keep English Mothers Day for our own Mothers and Australian Mothers Day for me. It also keeps me on my toes when it comes to the constant streams of greetings cards required for UK relatives.

Alice managed to buy me a Clarins gift set, which I thought showed early signs of sensitivity and taste. I would have had breakfast in bed if I hadn't had to get up and feed her/ faff around with the express machine for the next feed and then insisted on watching the good wishes on the ticker tape on Weekend Sunrise in a vague hope I might get a mention along with the westies (real life examples, with more apostrophe issues: "Mum your gr8, luv K8", "Thanks Mum for being there for me when I crashed my yute" etc). But coffee and banana bread on the sofa was a good second.

The rest of the day was spent at the Alcorn-Kurtzes' house (really am struggling with that apostrophe) where the cat had disappeared up the chimney, Alice was assigned her very own bedroom for her sleeps and we were fed and watered royally. Alice seems to have gone off her Uncle Tom somewhat, however, and screamed each time he spoke to her in the car, as well as displaying a quivering bottom lip when he looked in her direction over lunch. I can't wait until I can enjoy a proper Alcorn lunch without needing to be the designated driver. It certainly looked like fun.

We didn't remember to take any photos to commemorate the day until we got home and these fairly accurately but unspectacularly capture our mood by 7.30pm. Knackered!

A tribute to Uncle Ru

We had some sad news last week from the UK and as we are unable to get back there to be with Aunty Shell, (due to a lack of a passport for Alice), so we decided to pay our own tribute to Uncle Ru. Alice didn't get to meet him, but I'm sure she would have loved him, despite the fact that he would have been approximately 17 times as tall as her.

We wandered down to the Bali memorial on the cliffs at Coogee to be there in time for when the service was held in London.

Then we mooched down to the shrine of the Virgin Mary of the Launderette and thought that it might have amused Ru to know that this "sacred" place is dedicated to a vision of Mary sighted (from this very spot) in the door of the local laundromat. Myself, I take comfort in the fact that baby Jesus probably dribbled as much as Alice did and that Mary probably needed to do as many washes as the next new mother. I would have made that joke to Ru when they came to visit. He thought Australians had no class and I think this might have cemented that impression.

We didn't get to know Ru well enough - he and Michelle met and married while we were already living here. But he was a lovely bloke and completely adored her. I've spent the last 3 days immersed in his blogs, which are a lovely insight into the man.

We came home and toasted Rupert. RIP and all our love to Aunty Shell xx

The new regime

As Alice and I hurtle between our various mothers' groups, I am struck more and more by what a great baby she is. I'm sure that Stu would consider giving her at least 9.5 out of 10 now (that extra half point reserved until the point when she smiles more at him than at me - probably as soon as she is weaned - she knows which side her bread is buttered). We have a nice little routine going now, which no longer involves grumpy evenings or missed sleeps and it is to her credit that when she woke at 6.20am this morning I was horrified. I mean, that's like, early. I used to get up at that time when I worked for a living.

So as a note to my future self, in case I ever dare tempt fate by having another child, (and with apologies to those who aren't interested in how we spend our days) here's our 14/15 week routine:

7-7.30am: Wake and feed. Then Alice sits on Bumbo chair and watches me make breakfast, sterilise last night's bottle and dummies.
8.30-9am: Alice back to sleep after a book (current favourite, Possum Magic). I compulsive obsessively buy the latest baby gadget on eBay, play on Facebook, idle on Yahoo with other mothers in endless Replies to All mails about how to get babies to sleep. Usually throw a wash on too, since most of our stuff from the previous day is covered in baby sick or dribble.
10-10.30am: Wake and feed. Playtime in baby gym/ tummy time/ persuading her to roll again/ with her mini aquarium with fishes I have named after West Wing characters to keep myself amused (Sam the Clam, CJ the Starfish, Toby the Tunafish and Josh Crab).
11.30-12pm: Back to sleep. I eat.
1pm: Wake and feed. Usually depart for an activity/mothers group/pilates/walk with a sleep during those activities for Alice.
4pm: Wake and feed (are you getting a sense of the repetitious nature of the day?!)
5.30pm: Catnap - now in cot although we sometimes walk if she hasn't had any other fresh air that day (walk from front door to car to get to shops to buy yet another baby gadget doesn't count, I'm told)
6.15pm: Feed
7pm ish: Fun starts - Daddy home. Pater takes an elaborately long time to change before having Alice plumped onto him. It's a far cry from our courting days when he used to turn up at my flat to a 3 course meal, a fine red and Sky Sports. I run around making dinner, cooing at Alice (who is getting tired by now) and then we eat. Alice enjoys new jumperoo toy while we have dinner. Thank goodness for Fisher Price.


8pm: Feed, bath, play in bath with Daddy, Keith Horse, Keith Duck and Keith Sheep (we have been unwilling to let go the idea of Little Keith)

8.45pm: Bottle and bed. Until the morning. Yeay. Mum and Dad watch the Sopranos with the sound off and the subtitles on (since two nights ago when a gunshot on the telly woke her up and we felt like the worst parents in the world). I would rather she dreamt of boobs and her mobile rather than that she lived in a ghetto.

And a note on that last bit - I am living with the guilt of giving one formula feed and that she goes to bed relatively late. It's gradually getting earlier and to have a bit of evening after she has gone to sleep is bliss. Until after my two nights out in May, nothing will change. The routine is set in stone, so that even Daddy can manage it, while I paint the town baby pink.

Rolling, rolling, rolling...

I thought we might end up skipping this stage, but this morning, she rolled over. I had her on her tum and looked away. Looked back and she was just about to complete the manoeuvre - just waiting for a bit of attention first. Lots of praise and then smiles from both sides. But would she repeat it?! As Grannie Aly would say, "Would she thump!"

We were at Gymberoo on Friday where tummy time is strongly encouraged. Regular readers will know of Alice's aversion to this. However, peer pressure won out and she is now happy to be on her tum and is almost performing the cobra position, which she must have learnt back in Baby Yoga last term.

She's also started to pull herself up into sitting if we give her our hands to hold. Obviously just slumps like a buddha baby once she's there, but it's never too early to work those abs.

More photos next week - didn't manage any this week.