On being a good mother.

In Australia, we celebrated Mother's Day yesterday.

It was so nice waking up to hear and smell the distant sounds and delicious aromas of breakfast being made. I lazed around in bed for a while until Chris and Hugo came in to check if I was waking up. Chris gave me a handmade card on which he had drawn the outline of both of their hands. It was complimenting me on what a good mother I am and was signed from Hugo and Daddy.

I certainly enjoyed the attention and the compliments (and the voucher for a massage!).

Hugo is healthy, well-fed, dressed nicely, happy and adventurous. We go out most days, usually a couple of times. We have a nice social life, we go to the beach and the park. We look at little rocks and pull out tufts of grass. We point at birds and go up and down the slide, up and down, up and down... We kiss and hug and cuddle. We tickle and chase. We laugh and play silly games.

Yep, I am doing a pretty good job but I am not doing it in a vacuum.

I am not sure what makes a good mother but I suspect that being patient, affectionate, attentive, calm, silly and confident would all help steer the ship in the right direction. And if I am able to be all of these things (most of the time), it's thanks to the incredible man I have by my side, day after day.

I can be patient because I have the luxury of time. Chris works hard so that I don't have to rush back into full-time paid work. I can focus on taking care of Hugo during the day and catch up on my own paid work at night. It requires some discipline but it means that during the day, if the most important thing I have to do with Hugo is pull leaves off a bush at the park one by one, then I can without feeling pressure or guilt.

I can be silly because Chris never makes me feel self-conscious. I can dance or sing or make funny faces. He doesn't seem to notice my complete lack of rhythm, the false notes, the off-key melodies, the unflattering grimaces. Or maybe he does but it doesn't seem to matter.

I can be confident because Chris trusts me. I do most of the reading about baby "stuff": Growth spurts, sleeping patterns, nutrition, milestones etc... For every topic, there are a thousand opposing theories so when I find something that resonates, I usually try to stick with it. I am not always right and I often second-guess myself but however I end up doing things, I know that Chris is never triple-guessing me.

I can feel calm because Chris helps me, both around the house and with Hugo. On week-ends, we both cook and clean, change nappies and feed Hugo. And we both get time off to do whatever we want and refuel. I can go to yoga or spend a rainy sunday sewing. Having a few hours to myself once in a while allows me to restore a sense of calm and balance which I can draw from throughout the week.

It's not always easy or fun being a mother. It's hard work trying to be a good one and once in a while I don't manage but, to know, without a doubt, that at home, I am loved, supported and trusted is an invaluable source of comfort and energy.

So when I get a delicious breakfast in bed, a lovely little card and a fabulous massage, it makes me feel both really lucky and really worthy. Like I couldn't have bought it but I also earned it.

My knitting adventures.

The first thing I ever knitted was a cowl scarf, basically a tube, which I still like to wear every winter. My mother-in-law taught me the basics: how to cast on, purl and stitch. With the help of a couple of books and youtube videos, I took it from there.

I really enjoy it. I love how transportable and quiet it is compared to a sewing machine. I love being able to do it while watching TV. But mostly, I love that I can transform a piece of string, a one-dimensional object, into a two-dimensional surface, and eventually into a three-dimensional form. I find that a little bit magical.

I am a tiny little bit past being a complete beginner. I can start to follow patterns and I have a few stitches up my sleeves. I can't really undo mistakes though so when they happen, I just hope that if I keep knitting, it will just sort of blend in.

My biggest problem is deciding what to knit next. Here are some past projects which all have their very own story.

Hugo's booties were too small before I even finished them. He only wore them long enough to take this photo.

The Cup-Of-Tea Blanket: I started making this blanket when I was pregnant but only finished it once Hugo was already born. One day, I went to a friend's place for a cup of tea and brought my blanket along to make progress. We were chatting away and several rows of knitting later, I realised that my stitches were misaligned. As a result, the blanket has a big mistake running all through it.

This bunny is the first toy I knitted and it was a present for the birth of Archie, our friends Mick & Jess' baby boy. They have been working tirelessly on their garden, inspired by the principles of permaculture. I thought a bunny would fit in well amongst the carrots and cabbages. 

A punk cockatoo for the birth of my friend Paula's baby boy Otis. Throughout her pregnancy, Paula had strange encounters with birds. Some were joyful and some were sad and in any case, they were a recurrent theme so I knew I had to knit a bird.

This zebra was for my friend Lian who is expecting a baby in June. We sometimes tease Lian because it seems that the only "colours" she wears are black and white. She wear grey to mix it up a bit and is a fellow stripe afficionado. I thought this zebra would blend in perfectly with Kris and Lian's growing monochromatic family.

I have an obsession with giant knitting so I was pretty happy when I received a massive skein of merino wool for Christmas as a present from Chris. Armed with super fat needles, I knitted little bits of this blanket over the course of our stay in Nice. The memory of making it in the freshly renovated apartment in Nice will always be embodied into it.

Ah Le Corbusier! This one certainly made me laugh. I met my friend Rosa while studying Architecture in Paris. We became friends quickly but we especially bonded over our shared love of a photo of Le Corbusier leaning against the door frame of his little cabin wearing nothing except some ill-fitting black underwear and his famous round glasses. When I heard that Rosa was pregnant, it was obvious that I had to knit this. 

My last project so far completed a couple of weeks ago is NOT a strange mitten but in fact a little jumper/sweater for a tiny penguin. The Penguin Foundation uses these jumpers to stop penguins from trying to clean their feathers with their beaks after oil spills as the oil can never be completely removed and it is toxic for them to inhale or swallow it. 

To be continued...

Heading South for Easter 2014.

This year, Easter and Anzac Day were only a few days apart so by only taking three days out of his annual leave, Chris scored a 10 day holiday. 

With plenty of time to make the journey, we decided to spend Easter and the few following days visiting Chris' family in Albury.

We broke up the trip by stopping in Camden to visit our friends Mick, Jess and their adorable baby boy Archie. We love catching up with those guys and getting a chance to see little Archie grow up. Last time we saw him, he was only 10 days old. 

I love thinking about what our reunions will be like in a few years when our little boys can play together. There should be a few more by then too and it's funny to think that Hugo will be the oldest of the lot. We'll have to wait and see what kind of group leader he will be... 

Hugo did so well in the car. He slept most of the way and we just had to stop once to stretch our legs, refuel the car and our stomachs, before hitting the road again. Once he was awake though, he did become somewhat of a full time entertaining job. Chris sat in the back waving toys at him while I drove the rest of the way.

Once in Albury, we quickly fell into a nice baby-friendly and relaxing routine. Hugo made himself quite at home, quickly gaining confidence with his cousins, grand-parents and even the dog. We spent most of the time exploring the garden, playing in the giant sandpit and the swings, discovering the cubby house, the plants, the bonsais... We even attempted some arts and crafts, taking advantage of having an outdoor space, but without much success. 

Overall, I think Raja, a big but gentle dog, was the winner of Hugo's little heart. At first, he was fairly hesitant, happy to watch from a distance and retreating whenever Raja got closer. After a few days, Hugo would calmly get closer, still cautious but not scared, and "pat" Raja on the back, grabbing big handfuls of hair as he did it. 

While Harry wasn't terribly interested in Hugo, Jinty certainly was. She is older than Hugo by a few months but they are more or less the same size. After some initial poking and pulling, they happily played side by side and passed objects around. 

It never stops being fascinating to watch Hugo as he negotiates all these interactions with humans and animals, big or small.  

I am embarassed.

Today I missed an occasion to keep my mouth shut... or at least, think a little bit longer about what comes tumbling out of it.

Hugo and I were at the park playing on the slide. A woman was chasing a little boy around, he was giggling happily and she was too. It was lovely until I spoke...

"Is that your grand-child?" I asked... In that moment, as she registered what I had said, I knew it was too late to take it back.

"No... he's my son," she replied. I almost physically felt her deflating in front of me and I felt like such an idiot.

I apologised but the damage was done. Coincidentally, as I was mumbling uselessly, Hugo threatened to fall off the slide so I moved away and caught him. By the time I was done, the lady was back to playing with her son.

As I looked at her again, I realised that she didn't even look like a grand-mother. She did look older than me but not by a whole generation.

I don't know what happened. I think it was because her style and general appearance were so far removed from the Yummy Mummy style I have come to expect at the park I visit.

Half the mothers who come are dressed in stretchy running / yoga outfits, sipping lattes and pushing fancy prams. She wasn't doing any of those things.

And there have been a few times when most children were in fact being minded by their grand-parents, while their latte sipping yummy mummies were most likely at work.

Since my lady at the park didn't fit into the first category, my silly mind didn't think long enough not to chuck her into the latter category...

I didn't want to leave it like that so I reignited the conversation starting by asking how old her son was. We made small talk. I'm pretty sure she asked me how old my little girl was (Apparently red pants are for girls). Her mistake about my baby's gender rectified the balance at tiny bit but of course, it wasn't the same.

I think we left it on good terms but still, I hope my comment doesn't come back to sting her as she is falling asleep tonight.

If it is any consolation, my embarrassment will be stinging me.

Next time, I'll simply ask, "and how old is your little one?" No grand-mas, no boy or girl.

Keeping it simple.