Sunday Afternoon

We are having a great day. All four of us made it out of the house, onto a bus, and had a successful four hours OUT. It was good. Sian fed in public, we ate lunch, we shopped, it was like, NORMAL.

It exhausted everyone but me. It is quarter to five, and I'm the only one not napping.






No, I was not going to turn on any lights to get better pics.

I'm listening to podcasts and knitting socks for myself.



Bliss.

Cheerios

Several years ago my sister (the one who does not read this) and I were dissecting an ex-family member. My sister hit the nail on the head when she said, "the thing is, C doesn't get that a lot if life is just sweeping up the cheerios." It was true, and I always think of it when...



Should happen a lot these days, except we are sluts with a twice weekly cleaner. Still, I think of the sentiment a lot. Most of the time I don't mind the mundane repetition of caring for young children, not that I could do it full time, no way no how. But I'm sad to be going back to work, and just a bit jealous of the relentless feeding, wiping, changing, cuddling that will continue around here.

Grabbing what I can for now.

Birth Drama

Thomas John Williams arrived at 10:15 on Monday morning, weighing in at a respectable 7 lbs. As planned, he arrived by Caesarian section because of placenta previa. It was a drama, but everyone is doing really well now.

The best bit was hearing Thomas cry as soon as he was pulled out, and the second best bit was hearing the midwife pronounce him perfect. He really is. He came out a lovely bright pink colour, with all systems go. Because of the drama happening with Sian, I got to hold him for his first hour of life - a wonderful distraction.













He looks amazingly like Harry did. We keep calling him Harry by mistake. I think it's lovely that they will definitely look like brothers.

Anyway, here's a before shot of the patient:






Looks ok, right? Not so much. Words you don't want to hear from a surgeon, "I need more hands NOW!" Terrifying. Poor Sian, they were bashing the table about as well, trying to get a balloon in her womb to stop the bleeding. As well as placenta previa they found once in that her ute is tilted awkwardly, and that she had placenta acreta (sp?), which basically means it is well stuck into the muscle wall, hence all the bleeding. From what I could gate, they would have whipped out the womb, but another surgeon quote, "we can't, it's stuck to the bowel." anyway, in the end they stitched the womb, and stemmed the bleeding. Phew. She did need a transfusion in the end, but other than that, Sian's recovery has been unaffected. Every doctor and midwife who reads her notes seem quite amazed/baffled that she is recovering so quickly and well. HURRAH.

Here's a few more early photos.



Scrubs suit me, no?



That amazing ball sack has shrunk back into proportion now, in case you were wondering.



He's a keeper!

Rock & Roll

If you can't beat em, join em. Sian's not crafty, but she's found the next best thing. Puzzling.


It's nice listening to music instead of watching telly sometimes.

My shawl kick continues. I am totally in love with this pattern (damson, ysolda) and the yarn (noro), even though I have had to rip back twice, and the yarn is so crunchy it verges on scratchy.



I know, Rock & Roll, right?

5 more sleeps.

Dear Evenings,

I have so enjoyed our time together, all that "free" time of telly and knitting has been wonderful. Sadly, that time must be chopped down to half its original size. You see, Evenings, much as I love you, I love Sleep even more. Mornings have been waging war for some six months now, and I am defeated. Mornings, you win. Evenings and I are the losers. I am not gracious in defeat, but I have no fight left.

Evenings, I hope we can resume our lengthy affair one day, but I understand if you decide it's time to move on. I could be consumed with Mornings for several years.

Love always,
Harry's Mum

Definitely 2

Once upon a time, some 6 years ago, Sian and I decided that we would like to have children. 3 of them. I was going to have 2, Sian 1. I started a go-slow at work, and years of fertility treatment ensued. After Harry was a born, I knew I was done. 4 rounds of IVF was no picnic, I took the hint.






We we starting to think 2 would be enough, but still rather liked the chaotic mad idea of 3. Then it took an age for Sian to get her operations, and instead of a <2 year gap, we have a 3+ year gap. And we are seriously sub-fertile. 2 is enough. Plus, we are not fans of pregnancy. And children are a little tiring in middle age.

So we have been pretty set (and feel extremely lucky) on 2. Until one day in September. Sian says, "Maybe 3?" I said, "If you want to, you go for it." but inwardly I screamed ARE YOU CRAZY?

The thing is, we were here:


All of our meals were cooked for us. Our one child was looked after every morning and evening. We had nothing to do but enjoy ourselves.

About a day after we got home, Sian was emptying the dishwasher, "You know what I said about 3 children? Forget it."

Phew.

Red Letter Day

All 3 of us had a great day. I lost a couple of pounds, so I am on track with my Resolutions. Harry earned a James engine for several decent nights of sleep. Not all in a row you understand, and our goal at this point is six o'clock, but still. This morning was 6:24 and I was ecstatic.

Sian had the biggest red letter day though. It was her LAST DAY at work. Bloody marvellous. I am a little jealous. She's certainly looking and feeling done. Still cooking, thankfully:



Here's a closer look:



She still weighs less than I do :-/