M-M-wAAAAAAAH!

And so the birthday was over. With the party and Australia Day done with, Alice was promptly marched off to the doctors for her 12 month check and her latest jabbers. Poor little thing was pretty grumpy to have three lots of needles stuck into her little thighs and to be prodded and poked, weighed and measured. It turned out she has a smallish head, is of average weight and is developing nicely. The doctor was mildly interested to learn that she is not yet pulling herself to standing, but gave her another 2 months to pull herself out of her inertia before we are to start to worry. I'm not at all worried as yet - she is crawling at 90mph and having tried to do a 360 degree bottom swivel myself, I can attest that you need some good core muscles to try to pull yourself around in that way. She has also started climbing - eg up and over your legs if you are sitting on the floor - so her legs are gaining strength. She has been known to master a kind of downward dog position when standing on a soft surface, such as sand or the bed, so am sure it will come.

In other Alice news, she has done a few cute things recently:
1. Taken herself off to the change table when she had filled a nappy and sat patiently looking up at the change mat until I got there to change her.
2. Looked at the zoo animals with a very quizzical expression, similar to this one:

3. Then adjusted to the sight of odd creatures, smiled at them and even greeted the wallabies with a royal wave.
4. Requested the continuation of a game of bouncing on the bed (it started as trying to get her to stand, but then we had too much fun bouncing) by crying "bou-bou" (sounded a bit like repeating "bouncey-bouncey" after me, honest).
5. Liberally distributed big cuddles to any parent or grandparent who happens to be nearby.


Back to the dreaded doctor's office - the poor man was quite traumatised to have made her cry - impossible to think that a man of medicine could be such a softie. The yin and yang of the practice is completed, however, by the scary dragon of a receptionist. She didn't care that Alice had sore little legs and that we had to stand about in the 100 degree office while she faffed around and made us wait for 15 minutes before I simply had to sign my name. I have to book 9am appointments because my blood pressure can't stand how she lets her favourite patients in ahead of those who have appointments. But I digress...



Alice has now had her MMR and unlike the Blairs, I can solemnly (and publicly) declare that she had the combined vaccine and since the media had no interest in reporting that the first load of research has been utterly refuted, I am sure that she will be fine and will just hope that she doesn't get too much of an adverse reaction (fever symptoms are due one week after the jab for a 24 hour period). On arriving home, I gave her some banana milkshake as a treat and realised/relished how tired the jabs made her. She passed out at 7pm that night and not a sound was heard for another 12 hours. If Stu and the dustbin men hadn't been up at 5.30am, and if the waiter hadn't been quite so assiduous in topping up my wine glass when we went for dinner, I could almost have cobbled together a whole night's sleep.


PS Yes, am bad mother who went out the night of the jabs. We were only 5 minutes away though, honest.

The Big Oh-One

It's amazing to think that our baby is one. The day when she officially became a toddler (according to all the books) had been looming for some time and I spent the much of the preceding month thinking, "This time last year, we were still calling her Keith", "This time last year, I was asking for an epidural" etc etc and it really felt as if the birthday was a teensy bit more about me than Alice. However, as it got to evening time on 24th January, it dawned on me that actually, the birthday was not mine to own but mine to cater for and that I had better get my act together.

The 40 degree heat on Saturday wasn't helping and we were very grateful when a cool change blew through on Saturday evening so that I could at last put the oven on and make some of the treats for the party the next morning.


The big day arrived and our heroine woke at 5.30am to greet the happy morn. I suppose that is a pattern which will carry through her early years on 25th January. I had hoped for a little more sleep and certainly grumped about enough to let the birthday girl know this fact, so her Dad took her out for a birthday walk so that I could have a birthday 45 minutes extra sleep. After Alice's return, some more cooking and a special birthday steaming nappy, I set off for the park to prepare the birthday tree and the birthday spread.


Having spent months browsing cake websites and thinking about associated co-ordinating party themes, I decided to wait until she is old enough to nag me for Dora the Explorer parties with genuine trips for her and her whole class to South America or Barbie parties with take home cadillacs for all and to just do a nice spread and make the cake myself. So the theme was along the lines of Australia Day (that's on 26th Jan for the pommie readers), with a twist of englishness (ie Neil said that you had to have frazzles at a first birthday party, so I bought some of those too).


Suffice to say that the event went well and both Pass the Parcel and Backyard Cricket kept the grown-ups amused. The Anzac cookies were the hit of the morning (especially with the birthday girl) and I was very pleased with her cake(s). Alice had a lovely time, ate the marmite sandwiches (ah yes, that was the other piece of englishness) and gamely sat on everyone's knee, as required, enjoyed the singing of Happy Birthday and didn't seem to mind the dollar shop balloons bursting loudly every few minutes.


She was completely zonked by the end of it and so we broke up the cricket before anyone was too badly injured and took her home for a birthday nap. She had a birthday cold so Stu and I cancelled our/her birthday dinner out (without her) and had champagne at home while Alice frolicked in her wrapping paper.

Did I mention that I was quite pleased with the cake?!


There had been some minor dramas with the first batch of chocolate button eyes melting into an amorphous mass in the heat and the Annabel Karmel recipe for the cakes designating that the ears should be made out of langue de chat biscuits. The Sydney french community seems to exist without these staples, as I could not find them anywhere. A tin did turn up at Jones the Grocer in Woollahra, but when invited to pay as much as a morning at daycare would cost for them, I politely declined and used banana sweeties instead. The girl at the cash register was most put out.

So Alice is now a one year old and um, nothing seems that different from when she was eleven months. She is still chatty, happy, an early riser, refusing to hold her own bottle because she likes a cuddle with her milk, smiley, very fast at crawling, loving her books, scared of the Coles delivery man and pretty easy going. However, it still feels like a real milestone and it was lovely that at least one set of grandparents were around to see it. We'll celebrate all over again next month with Nanna and Grandad Keefe - really every day is Alice Day around here!

Working family

I am absolutely delighted with being back at work. The current two day week is just perfect in terms of lifestyle and I think that adding a third day (from March) will be perfect in terms of my role at work. Also, during last week's heatwave, it was wonderful for both Alice and I to be in air conditioned environments that didn't involve spending loads of money on things we don't need (my usual M.O. to deal with 30+ is to head to WBJ). Alice is doing well at daycare - the nice ladies who look after her have obviously got to know her a bit and with comments such as, "She loves books, doesn't she?", "Wow, she is such a messy eater", "She is a real little character" and "Ooh, she is cheeky", I know that they are keeping a watchful eye on my precious little bundle of joy.


They also celebrated her birthday this week, which looked like lots of fun.

She is settling in well - exceptionally well, the ladies tell me. She screams blue murder when we leave, but apparently settles quickly and then is cheery all day. I am trying not to feel too guilty that they also say that she spends most of the time with her nose pressed to the window. They seemed to be telling me that as a nice story, but then I could see that they regretted saying it as soon as they saw my face. Still, her mother needs to contribute to the family pot to keep us both in the shopping habits to which we have become accostomed.

Lucky country, lucky baby

Phew - what a busy time it has been and will continue to be. We are right in the middle of visitor season, with Alice's paternal grandparents' trip in full swing, as I write. I'm feeling a bit behind with the old blog, so will just update you with some photies to bring us up to the present time.


We took a day off from cleaning under the sofa and sewing labels into daycare outfits to go for a trip on the harbour on Aunty Niki and Uncle Dougie's boat. (Un)fortunately their usual vessel was not available, so we went out in some 39 ft thingie which had lots of cabins for Alice to nap/grizzle about napping in and a good size deck for us to relax, chat, sunbathe and read on while she slept. The reality involved me rocking her off to sleep in my arms and being fed olives and wine while everyone sat about whispering. My book went unopened, needless to say, although as the only non-driver/sailor, I did make some good headway into the white wine.


Still, it was a lovely day and despite some hairy moments under the harbour bridge where a bunch of hoons attempted to emulate wheel spinning their souped up utes while they were behind the wheel of large cruisers, we had a great time steaming along and then moored up at Taronga.


Alice had an early birthday present life jacket to try out and wore it with good grace.





The water is still a little too cold, so she didn't get to put her little suit to good use. However, it serves the primary purpose of covering her up against the sun and making her look cute, so we were pleased.

In the future, when Gordon Brown has locked up all bankers, Kevin Rudd is making the rest of us work a two day fortnight, I'm sure that Alice will look back on these photos and wish that she remembered the good times. I'm sure her Aunty Niki will still be living the dream, so perhaps Alice will still have a chance for some snatches of the high life!! Here she is, taking the harbour bridge for granted.

Aaah, good times!

Good day

I just thought I would note...

1. It is only 25 degrees outside
2. Alice has gone to sleep within 5 minutes for both her naps
3. At both her meals so far today, she picked up a spoon and fed both herself and her ear a few mouthfuls of food
4. I have managed to paint 3 of her drawers without getting paint on my nails/Alice/the balcony
5. Number 4 means that I am allowed to mooch around the city tomorrow going to galleries and negotiating the archaic wedding list system of Australia to attempt to buy a gift for the soon to be Mr and Mrs Lord. Hurrah.

Number 3 is obviously the real news. Am so proud of her. "Squish, squish", as Little B would say.

A Turtle at Sydney Cove

Alice has started some practice sessions at her new daycare in the city this week. I start back at work two days a week next week, rising to three days from March. I'm breaking us both in gently.

To date, Alice has completed three short days at daycare and I have completed three days of lunching with Auntie Shell, going to the gym, getting my nails done and generally trying to complete all the tasks I set myself for my maternity leave. To be fair, over the course of 2008, I did manage to drink a lot of coffee, but apart from that I don't seem to have achieved that much outside of Alice being absolutely adorable. There is still painting to be done and around 500 photos to go into albums before I can show my face on Shelley Street on Thursday.



Here I am working through my to-do list

Anyway. Alice. Dropping her off on Monday morning was really hard - Niagara Falls from both of us. I managed to get out of the door before starting up. Alice apparently stopped soon afterwards. Day 2, saw her blubber a little when I left but she had stopped before I even got to the door and was last seen reading a book, so better. I think that she is getting used to it. Day 3 was a breeze and she cried when I took her away at the end of the day. The carers seem really lovely and they write a little report for me each day so that I know if she has eaten/slept/someone else has changed a "soiled" nappy for me. Interested grandparents can see http://www.sydneycovechildren.com.au/ for more details about the centre.

On one afternoon I went to get her at around 3pm and they were all playing with playdough. Well, kind of looking at playdough and being stopped from eating it. At the end of the first two days, she loved being taken home before the other kids. Squealing delightedly at my arrival, she hung over my shoulder smugly at the other babies as we left the building. If she could have raised two fingers independently of the rest of her hand, then one can be sure that that gesture would have been made.

She is in the "Turtle" room and has a little Sydney Cove legionnaires hat and her own school bag. Friday, Day 3, was described by the carers as "awesome" - she played nicely, slept really well and ate her own weight in chicken and courgette mush. I don't have her first painting for the fridge yet, but I feel sure that her juices will soon be flowing. I intend to spend Monday at Sydney's galleries seeing exhibitions that I have been meaning to get around to seeing, so that I can pass creativity onto her through osmosis. The rest of the to do list will have to wait.

First Christmas photos

I almost let Christmas slide away from me or at least away from you, my little bloglets: the heat completely sapped all my energy and even my fingers felt too hot to type.

So here just a few notes and photos, lest the first Christmas pass unremarked in Alice's momentous first year.

Christmas started early, with family skypee-ing on Christmas morning (highlights include sound but no picture of Auntie Deborah stating firmly, "No, that's not it" to a bedroom full of tipsy Boltonians, who were no doubt punching wildly at computer keys and talking into the printer. This was followed by a connection to and a bemused observation of the Keefe household, where a rousing chorus of "Hark the Herald Angels sing" and a lively discussion about the current landlord of The Smack Inn allowed us an insight into the festive spirit flowing across Leigh-on-Sea.

Alice was detailed to open presents beforehand, so that her happy, smiling face could be seen by doting grandparents.

With her stockings



She quite liked the wrapping paper, but the presents were definitely where it was at. We had to stop opening them after a while, as she was so taken with her xylophone that there wasn't much point in labouring on (photo on previous post).

After sleeps and Alice's lunch (festive chicken pasta), we headed off to Little Friend Charlie's for a glass of bubbly and then made our way to Little Friends Amba and Jack's for lunch and festivities.




Alice made her entrance in her Santa hat and played nicely all day.

Family shot which Alice will adore in future years.

You have already heard all about Boxing Day onwards, so I believe that I am almost up to date, even if the order of my posts makes as much sense as Alice's eating habits.

Auntie 'Shell is coming to town

Christmas came and went, with toys, wrapping paper and lots to eat and drink. As is the happy fortune of the festive season in Australia, it was all over by Boxing Day, when a nation settles down to watch the cricket, sit on the beach and...um...clean the house. The mercury hit 30+ on 26th December and Alice hit the terrible twos for the day. Ever the last minute Larries, Stu frantically got on with the hoovering and bedroom clearing before Auntie Shell landed at 8pm that night and I resorted to driving Alice about the Eastern suburbs in the airconditioning of the car, since she is still scared of the hoover and just wouldn't sleep.

Boxing Day also saw the start of a rather odd phase, where Alice would literally scweam and scweam and scweam until she was sick, when put to bed at night, which thankfully seems to have passed. It was all a bit messy. Probably just recovering from the excitement of Christmas and then not wanting to miss out on all the fun when Auntie Shell was here, she soon gave up the projectile vomitting and concentrated instead, on learning to clap, continuing to wave and all her lovely new toys.

Loving the percussion table from Uncle Arnold and Auntie Cynthia

Mystified by the talking bear before putting her finger in its mouth to see if it would kiss her finger (she does this to all strangers - her own version of a freemasons handshake)

After New Year, Auntie Shell and I did the unthinkable and exitted stage left for two nights in the Hunter Valley for wine, facials, cheese and more cheese and wine. The poor wee motherless bairn and her father remained carless and probably trouser-less for much of two days, but had managed to keep themselves in two pieces for the duration, despite a 3am text deploring the lack of the car and the fact that they needed to be driving around the ^*&* ing Eastern suburbs right now. For me (as Craig Foster would say), the two days were all about the fact that someone else was having food thrown at them and I very much enjoyed my days away at the times when I knew that Alice was supposed to be eating or being put to sleep. I missed her enormously in the intervening periods and woke at 5am on the final day, too excited to sleep because we were going home. Auntie Shell was really delighted when I also woke her to see a family of kangaroos outside the window and then announced that we were leaving.


We returned to a baby who was addicted to toast and porridge (every second day only, of course) and who had learned to put balls into a funnel, without the funnel attachment to make it easier for her, so therefore into the tiny neck of the toy. This child - I am seriously expecting her to get up and run across the park one day - she will not entertain performing a new skill unless she can demonstrate mastery. I wonder if she has inherited any useful traits from either of us, rather than all our annoying ones?

Note that computer is on blog not Facebook in the background...

Alice had a lovely time getting to know her godmother and we both had withdrawal symptoms when she left. Now there is no one to play with Alice while I hose down the kitchen three times a day and she must amuse herself with suitable reading material.

"Does Our Stuart eat pasta?"...

...or This Too Shall Pass.


Over the northern hemisphere summer, I was somewhat bemused to hear the above question and equally amused when my affirmative response caused amazement. Stuart eats oysters, for goodness sakes - why would he not eat pasta?


I have, of course, heard many a tale of family holidays and evenings spent wandering around Benidorm or somesuch, desperately seeking a restaurant, where there was "something for Our Stuart". I had always taken this with a slight pinch of salt, knowing that a) Our Stuart was probably acting up for comedic value b) at least he ate fish fingers when they found an establishment where said morsels appeared on the menu c) who really cares, now that he eats almost anything (except eggs, cheese and alfalfa sprouts). Not my problem.


Or so I thought. The Yardley genes run strong and although Alice couldn't really be called a fussy eater, mealtimes are a real chore. Thankfully the three week phase of blowing her food out in huge raspberries across the kitchen has passed, but now she insists on sole feeding rights. Growing independence you say? Sure. Expecting that. The issue? Well, dear reader, she cries hysterically at the very sight of a spoon and has her own whims and ways as to what she will eat on what day of the week. It's all very unpredictable and means that we are a little housebound at mealtimes, unless I carry a full just-in-case 7 course meal about with me.


The spoon issue means that creative finger food has to be provided and the menu for the previous three days provides an example of the little lady's capricious nature:


Monday

Breakfast: Porridge*; toast soldiers with butter and marmite (refused)

Lunch: At daycare. Sandwiches and pear. Not much eaten. (Will let her off that one - more on daycare later)

Dinner: Tuna, rice and veggie mixture (refused). Pumkin puree. Rice cakes with philadelphia and tuna. Rice cakes with avocado (1 refused, 1 had avocado sucked off). Yoghurt.


Tuesday

Breakfast: Porridge, toast soldiers with butter and marmite. Blueberries (refused).

Lunch: 1 rice cake with Philadelphia (refused) Beef and herb casserole (refused). French toast (refused). Cheese on toast (refused). Lots of Baby Mum Mum vegetable flavour rusks in desperate bid to get to eat something. Yoghurt. Grapes. Melon.

Dinner: Pasta spirals with beefy sauce (eaten with hands). Fruit puree. Grapes (refused).



Wednesday

Breakfast: Porridge (refused most of), toast soldiers with butter and marmite. Blueberries (loved). Grapes (loved).

Lunch: 4 rice cakes with philly. Fruit puree.

Dinner: Pasta shapes with sauce (refused). Spinach, pea and apple puree. Cheese on toast (could not get enough of). Melon.


*Where no refusal noted, offering was chomped with relish.


This is how Alice and I both look by the end of each meal. Tired, dejected and pretty messy.



I surmise that the strongest habit she has picked up from Our Stuart is the refusal to eat something more than one day in a row. Not such an issue with a grown man where I just have to throw away leftovers from our Chinese take away or make very small lasagnas, but since he doesn't fling rice cakes at me or spit tuna across the room, I shouldn't complain. And now that I understand this with Alice, I shall plan menus accordingly. Now, if only she would look at a spoon once more...