Illumination and routine.

Yesterday I went for a walk with Hugo. As he often does, he fell asleep on me in the carrier. When this happens, I usually try and walk around for a while, making sure he gets at least 45 minutes to sleep soundly. I know that if I tried to transfer him from the carrier to anything else, he would wake up so it's only fair to him.

On my walk, I decided to pop into the Newcastle Art Gallery to catch the current exhibition before it closes on Sunday and wow, am I glad I went. Illumination the art of Phillip Wolfhagen left me breathless and awed. I only wished I was able to sit down and contemplate but I had to keep moving.

Luminous is the word that comes to mind. Wolfhagen's almost abstract landscape paintings capture a quality of light reminiscent of Turner. Low horizon lines freeing most of the canvas for luminous clouds and skies over half-lit landscapes or turbulent seas.

One of my favourite works was a series of long vertical panels with a dark mass in the bottom of the canvas and the rest taken up by the sky. The work, titled, The First Five Days of April, shows the transformation through light of a single landscape, same but different each day.

I have always felt this way about living by the sea or the ocean and figure that this is why a 'view' of the ocean is such a prized commodity. A living painting, always framed the same way but different from one moment to the next, somehow always surprising, never boring.

Maybe the work of Phillip Wolfhang resonates especially loudly at the moment because this kind of variation on a theme type of routine has also become an integral part of my life with Hugo. Every day is 'same same but different', and definitely always surprising.

Apparently babies thrive on routine, and I would extend this to adults. However, my life as a parent is to try and maintain that routine for Hugo, while he catches me off balance at every turn. One day, a nap maestro (Rose) and the next, full of beans until he hits a wall of tiredness. One day calm and smily, the next a grizzly ball of dissatisfaction.

One day, the ocean is as flat as a lake and the next, it is turbulent and gusty... It's still the same ocean and it's still beautiful. It's just really unpredictable and it is this sense of the unexpected that I must embrace to thrive.

Dreaming of a bucolic life.

Typically, I would describe myself as a city girl. I have grown up in a city and it is where I have always thought I felt most at ease. In Australia, I have even become a little militant about arguing the benefits of growing up surrounded by concrete as a suitable alternative to grass, although I will admit I remain in a definite minority, even at home...

Lately though... something is changing and I find myself day dreaming about a life in the countryside. I see myself walking in some sort of field with 3 little boys running around me, walking ahead and behind, picking up leaves and pointing at trees. I then see us holding hands as we take our gumboots off and walk back inside. We might draw the leaves we have just picked up off the ground or have a hot chocolate in our light filled kitchen.

I also imagine Chris working away in his shed, with light streaming through a side window and wood shavings flying around him, dancing in the light and getting caught in his hair. I imagine light, space and silence. Just the sounds of nature around us and fields to run across.

I imagine that Chris and I work together, and that creativity - writing, design, photography, making - is at the heart of our life together. I imagine our children working away on some tiny projects alongside us. That they are not scared of using their brains or their hands, that they embrace their mistakes and keep going, towards their own self expression.

I don't exactly know what this means but Chris has just buried two grandparents in as many weeks and if there is one thing death is good for, it's to make us think about our own lives. Chris wrote a eulogy which he read at his grandfather's funeral and it reminded me of an exercise I had heard of to help people gain some perspective on their life. The exercise is in two parts. The first one is to write one's own eulogy based on one's current life. The second part is to write one's own ideal eulogy, based on the life one would actually want to be remembered for.

This vision isn't my eulogy and as lovely as it sounds, I don't think that this will be our life either but at the core is a strong desire to be there for our children, for Chris and me to work as a team in life and work and for creativity to be at the centre of it all. Beyond that, light, space and silence would be wonderful too! 

One step forward...

(Foreword: Allow me to preface this post with the expression of my utter admiration for all the mothers doing it alone. I have no idea how you do it or where you find the strength. I know I have been whining a lot of about sleep. My excuse is that it's my first baby and in my normal life, I like to be in control. It also helps me to put my thoughts into words to get them out of my system. If you're OK with that, then read on...)

... And two steps back. Some days, that's how having a baby feels like. 

A few nights ago, Hugo had one of his best nights yet. He didn't stir from 12 to 6:30 am and neither did we. I woke up to the sweet sound of silence and saw light streaming through the blinds. Elated,  I woke Chris up to share my excitement. We had done it, we had conquered the big bad monster that lurks under every cot! No more sleepless nights for us!

It's possible that my reaction wasn't quite as measured as it should have been. Of course I knew we hadn't arrived in Slumberland but I wasn't about to let realism get in the way of this small blissful victory. It had happened once and I figured it would happen again. I guess I was hoping it would happen again that very night and the ones after that...

Fast forward a few days, a blocked milk duct and a course of antibiotics later, Hugo has had one of his worst nights yet. It didn't help that Chris was away this week-end for his grand-father's funeral. I started the week-end full of Super Mummy resolve. Patience would be my middle name and I would totally rock it, giving Chris the space and independence to be a son and a grand-son, rather than a husband and a father. Come Monday morning, I was covered in curdled milk and desperate to be the one to be rocked and patted to sleep. 

I am not sure where things went wrong on Sunday night. The week-end had become a chance to experiment with a new napping system based on a baby's natural 90 minutes cycle. It was working out brilliantly with Hugo being a breeze to get to sleep throughout the day. I was actually congratulating myself on how in control and in tune with my baby I was. Ha! If I wasn't so sleepy as I write this, I might actually laugh at myself. 

I am aware of how deluded it sounds to suggest being in control of Hugo's sleep. To expect him to sleep like I would like him to is about as realistic as expecting him to cook me dinner. Even if I am ready, he isn't. So for the time being, I'll keep enjoying the easy days and easy nights and when things don't go according to plan, I'll just put one foot in front of the other until we do reach Slumberland. We'll get there, we just can't quite see it yet...

4 months: we tried everything and then he grew out of it, or did he?

4 months family portrait

The thing I am realising about babies is that they are constantly creating new patterns. Hugo gets into some sort of rhythm of naps, feeds, play, sleep etc... for a couple of days and then gets into a brand new one. Trying to keep up with him and constantly adapting to his new routines can be challenging and frustrating as I feel constantly off balance. It is when I let go of my expectations of what he should be doing when that I can relax and enjoy the ride.

Hugo still has some bouts of distressing crying once in a while and a large part of my energy, this month, was spent figuring out what and if something was wrong with him and, of course trying to fix it. I tried antacids, wind drops, more carrying, more burping, tilting his cot, pro-biotics, nasal saline solution, cutting dairy/coffee/chocolate out amongst other things. Some days, some things worked and some days, nothing worked. Of course, since I tried everything simultaneously, I came no closer to knowing what the problem might be, or if in fact there was a problem at all. Grown ups have good days and bad days. Babies should be entitled to having them as well!

At the same time, little things are happening which seem like he might simply be growing out of his discomfort, like falling asleep in his pram again or in our arms rather than only by feeding and the bouts of intense crying are becoming less frequent. Generally, he seems to be able to wind down a little easier, whether it is at home or out and about.

He has also become very interested in his surroundings, scanning everything around him, listening and observing. He is very reactive and greets us with the brightest smiles and eyes full of laughter. He sings and coos to himself when he wakes up after long naps. He plays with toys and grabs anything which comes near his busy little hands. He is growing beautifully (he basically skipped one size of clothing) and our amazement for him is as well. He is starting to wriggle, squirm, play and laugh.

Sometimes, I squeeze him tenderly and tell him, "you're my baby!" as much for his benefit as to remind myself that this perfect little being really is mine. Sometimes, I can hardly believe how much it is possible to love. At least, that's one thing he won't outgrow...

And now, for this month's photo recap...

Hugo met his A-Caz and got plenty of cuddles,

Managed to kick Chris out of bed to cuddle with his Maman,

Continues being the cutest baby in the world. Fact.

See what I mean?

Indulged in some guilty pleasures,

Just another ridiculously cute photo with one of his bunny rabbits.

Modelled the latest fashions in monochromatic tones of grey,

Consolidated some friendships, 

Graduated to a more upright position in the pram, ready to take in the big wide world,

Another giraffe bites the dust. 

Caught some precious zzzzz,

Spent some quality time with Daddy,

And last but not least, met his hilarious GrandPa Jean and his new friend, Jeannot Lapin.