What I've learned

Babies can projectile poo as well as projectile vomit.
Baby clothes generally suck. Finding cool clothes is a challenge.
"Should" is a dirty word (eg: "your baby should be doing this by now")
You don't instantly become one of those parents who only talks about their kids when you have a kid (thank god).
You don't have to stop doing everything you loved doing before you had a kid (just some of them, for a little while).
Bassinets and baby baths are a waste of money.
Babies have personalities. They are all different.
The notion of going "back to work" is hilarious. I'd happily trade my 12-15 hour, 7 day a week job for working 8-9 hours a day with weekends off. It'd be bloody marvellous.
You have to get to know your baby. This can take months.
Dummies are not a bad thing.
Not everyone is suited to staying at home with a baby - you have to be patient, patient, patient (and I'm really not!).
Having a baby opens you up to your community - neighbours suddenly say hello.
We are lucky, lucky, lucky to live in Australia - there's a lot of help available if you have a baby, from mothers' groups to free injections.
There's nothing more beautiful than the sight of your sleeping baby.
There's no better feeling than when your baby smiles at you.

Magic moments

I've had lots of Magic Concert Moments in my life.
Like the time I saw Radiohead in 42 degree heat at Festival Hall in 1998 and wondered if I'd ever see anything that good again. I never have.
Or the time I saw Cold Chisel and sang Flame Trees with VB in hand and screamed the "1,2,3,4" bit in Merry Go Round really really loud.
Then there was John Cale singing Hallelujah at the Melbourne Concert Hall - just him and a piano.
I could go on...
It's only 6 months into 2005 and I've already had 2 such moments.
Recently I saw Nick Cave at Festival Hall and there were a few magic moments - Cave belting out the Mercy Seat with 2 drummers going nuts behind him, his gospel choir in full voice singing "there is a war coming!" on Hiding All Away and just the man and his piano singing God Is In The House. God, it was a good concert.
On Monday night, Rob and I went to see the Finn brothers and Mercury Rev at Hamer Hall. There were so many highlights (Mercury Rev singing Holes, the brothers singing I Got You with the whole crowd on its feet), but there was one truly special moment.
Neil mused on the recent suicide of former bandmate Paul Hester before launching into Four Seasons In One Day, unaided by microphones or backing band. He invited the crowd to join in and everyone sang softly, as if at a funeral.
It was a solemn, sad moment and you could see the pain on Finn's face. He was close to tears and I'm sure many in the crowd were as well.

Happy Half-Birthday!

Ari is 6 months old. Here's some things you may not know about the day he was born.

• It was a hot day in Melbourne. The Australian Open was on.
  
• I remember watching the view across the city from Frances Perry House, Carlton, while an anaesthetist injected a catether into my spine and two people held me still. A nice lady from the cord blood bank held my hand and squeezed it.
• Ari came into the world crying, while I sobbed with joy and said "it's a boy, we've got a boy" over and over and then moved onto "is he alright, is he alright?"
• The cast of thousands (so it seemed) in the operating theatre commented on a) the neat stitching job on my tummy and b) Ari's unusual name.
• He had awful bruises on his head from forceps, which eventually faded.
• He sneezed on me the first moment I saw him. The first thing I noticed was his gingery hair.
• It was so wonderful. I still get teary thinking about the sheer and utter joy of it all. Nothing in the world could ever top it.
  

Mums vs Mums

Today I read an article that, quite frankly, pissed me off royally.
It was about how mothers who work are battling it out against mothers who don't (haha - bet you can't find one of those!).
Apparently, we're all judging each other. Mothers who have gone back to work are bitching about the stay-at-home mums (who are apparently living a life of luxury with lovely afternoon teas and playgroups). And the stay-at-home mums are all bitching about the (paid) working mums, who apparently don't spend enough time with their kids and should be volunteering more at school canteens, etc.
And it seems both camps hate the mums who put their kids in childcare so they can have a few days off to themselves.
God, we're a sorry lot. We're all lining up to judge each other, when we should be supporting each other.
The way I see it, there's no one right way to raise kids. There's no magical "work/family balance". Whatever is right for you is the right choice.
It was the same when I was pregnant with Ari. Women (like me) who opt for a caesarean bear the brunt of judgment for "copping out" of a natural birth.
While I realise some women feel strongly about wanting to have a natural birth, that doesn't mean all women feel that way. I would never judge a woman for, say, wanting a water birth, or a home birth, so why should I be judged for wanting a caesar?
Why on earth can't women just lay off each other and be a bit more supportive of each other's choices and decisions?

Poor, poor cynical me

I think I'm supposed to be a Generation Y-er.
And by god we're a cynical bunch.
I was always adamant that Ari would never be allowed to listen to the Wiggles. Correction - if he found the Wiggles on his own and loved them, fine. But I wouldn't be shoving Dorothy the Dinosaur down his throat in a bid to provide him with some conveniently merchandisable entertainment.
Then I read an article in the Weekend Australian magazine about the Wiggles. And it totally changed my mind. Those guys are geniuses. They deserve their millions.
They are mindful of early childhood development, aren't arseholes, love their jobs and don't treat kids like adorable little idiots.
I'm still not sold on the songs. But I understand where they're coming from now.
Kids love songs about stuff that's exciting to them - driving in cars, eating food. They love doing easy dances they can master.
Try as I might to find a hidden agenda of brainwashing a generation of children into worshipping primary colours, it just isn't there.
I still have my doubts about another kiddie product, though - Baby Einstein.
A friend kindly gave us a load of Baby Einstein DVDs for Ari, and he is mesmerised by the colourful images and music on screen. Similarly, he seems entranced by another set of DVDs called Baby Can Read, which introduce babies to basic words and sounds.
But my cynical self still rises up. So much so that I've taken to calling these DVDs "Mugatu" after the crazed fashion designer played by Will Ferrell (pictured above) in Zoolander. For the uninitiated (and if you haven't seen Zoolander, go hire it NOW!), supermodel dope Derek Zoolander (Ben Stiller) is forced to watch an instructive brainwashing video by Mugatu to try and subliminally trigger him into assassinating the Malaysian Prime Minister.
But I'm sure these DVDs are all properly researched, with loads of data proving that they'll turn babies into little geniuses. But I can't help feeling they're just a way of keeping kids quiet for 20 minutes while Mums go and have a shower.
And hey, there's nothing wrong with that.

From baby to boy

Yesterday I saw Ari in a completely new light.
He was happily sitting on a friend's lap in a cafe and I realised that I hardly ever saw him from a distance. And he looked so different.
Not the little baby that I once cradled in my arms, but a real little boy.
I got the first glimpse of what our little boy is going to look like as a bigger boy, if that makes any sense.
I know he'll probably change again lots of times - who knows, he may end up with dark hair like me - but for now he's a little ginge with big brown eyes and the widest grin in the world (see right).

On the brink

It seems like Ari is just about to do lots of things.
He can roll over onto his side...but can't roll over yet.
He can bring his little knees up as if he wants to crawl...but can't crawl yet.
He is drooling a bucketload of spit, has rosy cheeks and chews on everything he can get his hands on...but he has no teeth yet.
One thing he can do really well is eat. We started him on solids early (against the general flow of advice these days) and he has scoffed down everything we've given him so far - pumpkin, potato, broccoli, sweet potato, pears, apples, banana and yoghurt.

Two worlds

Until I was pregnant, I didn't notice pregnant women. Until I had a child, I never imagined what life would be like with one.
But having a baby has been like stepping through some kind of stargate into an alternate dimension.
I now realise there are 2 kinds of people in this world: Those who have children, and those who don't. The ones who don't are the people who stare at supermarkets when the toddler in the queue chucks a tanty. Or the people who invite you to join them for breakfast at 11am (you try being up since 6am and eating brekky at 11).
They are the people who roll their eyes when a cranky tot's parents say "she's tired". I used to be one of those people. Believe me, it's not an excuse. Kids really do get tired a lot. And being cranky is the way they show you. Makes sense, huh?
They are the ones who constantly ask "when are you going back to work" when there's more chance of finding buried treasure in Hoddle St than getting a childcare place in inner Melbourne.
Recently I had to take a mountain of medical bills into Medicare in the city. Ari decided to whinge and cry right smack in the middle of a complicated explanation as to why I couldn't claim one of them.
Trying desperately to listen to the woman, placate the child and ignore the 30 or so disapproving heads looking in my direction from the Medicare queue, a hand from somewhere at my right reached out and grabbed the pram. At first alarmed, I realised it was the guy seated next to me - he gently shook the pram and Ari stopped crying. In a lilting Irish accent he told me had a one year old girl.
At Ari's first swimming lesson on the weekend, one little baby decided to whinge and cry a bit in the pool. A mum standing on the pool's edge suddenly stopped cooing over her own baby in the pool and spent the next five minutes making funny faces to the crying bub trying to calm him down.
Parenthood is hard. Really, really hard. While there are rewards and it can be incredible, it can also be frustrating, scary, tiring and just plain hard work.
If you have a child, you'll know exactly what I mean.
If you don't, you just won't believe me.

But you're a mother!

It's easy to shock people these days. No, I'm not talking about dangly bits on Big Brother Uncut, but ... wait for it ... a New Mother Who Went Out Two Nights In A Row! OUTRAGE!
Now that Ari is going to bed at a reasonable hour, Rob and I have been getting out and about a bit, albeit separately.
Friday night I went to my friend Mike's farewell drinks (sob - he and his lovely fiance are moving to Prague) and onto a city bar to see an ace local band called The Grates.
On Saturday it was off to see British band Doves (thanks Danielle!).
When I mentioned that I was doing this, most people said "But Carla, you're a mother!" (including my own mother).
Most people said it in jest. But I'm sure some didn't.
And that made me wonder - what do people think mothers do?
Just because you're a music fan before you have kids, does that mean you're suddenly not up for going to gigs post-partum? Hell, there are about 5 bands in town next week I'd love to see (anyone going to see Interpol - I hate you!).
Needless to say, Doves were brilliant (they opened with my favourite song, Pounding).
But there was one big thing missing - Rob. We always see gigs together and it just wasn't the same without him.

If you were ever in doubt who Ari takes after...

Little Swimmer

Today Ari had his first swimming lesson and he LOVED it!
Rob joined the group of 6 or 7 other daddies to splash around the kiddie pool for half an hour.
Basically, a teacher leads the group through different water activities, including playing with toys, dunking the babies' heads underwater and kicking a ball.
I joined 2 other mummies on the water's edge watching on proudly and taking loads of photos.
For Ari it was a total sensory overload - there were screaming kids, splashing kids, lots of people, warm water to splash in, other babies floating around him, all the lights on the roof. He really was struggling to take it all in.

Hard to let go

I never understood why women wouldn't want to give up breastfeeding. Or why they suddenly felt all emotional when their little baby could suddenly crawl or walk on their own. These are occasions to be celebrated, not mourned - it's all part of moving on with life.
But today I had a little pang of baby yearning of my own.
I clean out Ari's clothes cupboard fairly regularly, for a couple of reasons - because space is pretty limited in there and because I'm a total neat freak.
Doing my usual thing of ferreting out the stuff that doesn't fit him anymore, I came across his little t-shirt pile and noticed a pale blue Bonds t-shirt sized 000.
It was the first thing I ever bought for Ari when I was pregnant and to this day it's still my favourite. It's just a little cotton t-shirt with a navy blue donkey. It's very cool.
What I realised was the t-shirt had survived at least 3 clothing chuck-outs, despite being way too small for him.
I couldn't bring myself to throw it out again today.
My little baby is growing into a big boy. But that t-shirt brings so many happy memories flooding back - of a time when I was pregnant and wondered whether a little boy or girl would be wearing it. And when Ari was only a week or so old and he wore it for the first time.

Advice - the good, the bad and the ugly

I heard it again the other day. A new Mum saying "why didn't anyone tell me it was going to be like this?"
You get loads of advice before you have a baby, but it seems not much that gives you any indication of what life is really going to be like.
I know it's hard to do that, because nothing can ever totally prepare you for it.
Most people told us things like "get all the sleep you can now", "see all the movies you can now", "the first six weeks are hell" (ahem, try the first 3 months!).
But there wasn't much in the way of really constructive advice.
Here's what I tell first-time parents I meet now (only because I wish someone had've told me!):
1. Have your partner at home for as long as possible. A few days just doesn't cut it. Try for a month at least, but even longer is better.
2. Cook loads of meals and freeze them. This was the single smartest thing we did. For the first month, we wouldn't have eaten a lot of nights if it wasn't for the stacks of frozen lasagnes stashed in our freezer.
3. Get everything unpacked and ready in the baby's room. I mean everything - nappies out and stacked, cot with sheets on it, everything!
4. Read books if you want to - but not too many. Read 3 books and you'll get three different sets of advice that will just tie you up in knots. If you must buy one or two, I suggest Baby Love and Kidwrangling.
5. Go with your instinct. If the Maternal Health Nurse is telling you to wake your baby every 3 hours for feeds but you know it doesn't feel right, then don't do it. Midwives and health nurses just tell you the standard rules that supposedly fit every baby. Not all babies are the same.
6. Have at least one other newish mum you can talk to on a regular basis. Just knowing that someone is going through what you're going through and that it's normal is a lifesaver.
7. You will feel confused, frustrated, angry, tired, lost. You will cry. This is all normal.
8. We're all just muddling through. That's basically the bottom line of parenting. No one is an expert. We're all just doing our best to get through the day. Don't think the other women in your mothers' group, or the mums in your supermarket are breezing through it all. They're not.
9. Bad days will always end, eventually.
10. SPEND SOME TIME WITH A BABY. I can't stress this enough. And don't just visit your friend with a baby for an hour. Ask them if you can spend a whole day. I'm not kidding. This is the only way you'll get any idea what life will be like. I can't believe so much emphasis is placed on parents-to-be attending prenatal classes about childbirth and labour, yet virtually nothing is taught about basic baby care.

The things you can buy...

I've said it before and I'll say it again. There's no end to the stuff you can buy for a baby.
We've been quite restrained in our baby shopping, I must say, compared to most parents.
On a baby forum I frequent, my jaw dropped once when a mum-to-be listed all the things she'd bought for her nursery - there was stuff on there I didn't even know existed.
Ari starts swimming lessons on Saturday and I was hunting around on the web for a pair of swimmers when I came across these little blighters (see right).
Can you believe someone makes little wetsuits for babies?
They actually make good sense, because I'm a bit worried about Ari being cold in the water (even though it's a heated pool, it is the middle of winter). Apparently they also make it easier to hang onto your baby in the water, as they can be slippery little buggers.
Still not sure if we'll buy one - Ari is growing at such a cracking pace he'll be out of it again in no time, I'm sure. But it is tempting - how cute are they?

Travellin' baby

This weekend Ari went to Bendigo to visit his Grandma and Grandpa, to Geelong to visit his Nanny Trish, Gez and Nanny Eileen and to Werribee for his cousin Elizabeth's 3rd birthday.
Then tonight we had a visit from Aunties Lauren and Louise, JD and Tracey, who's popped over for a visit from New Zealand.
By the end of it all we were all exhausted, especially after 2 nights of terrible sleep.
While it was a hard slog and Ari was in unfamiliar territory, it's amazing how adaptable babies can be. He slept 2 nights in 2 different beds and had lots of different people cooing over him and still took it all in his stride. He even rode the magic waves of Nanny's water bed this morning.
Now a very tired Mummy has to drag herself to bed....

What's he saying?

Ari can't talk...yet.
But in the past week he's developed the cutest little habit - he tells off everything around him.
Mostly he's a smiling, happy boy who makes gorgeous little squeaks and squeals. But a couple of times a day he furrows his little eyebrows and he lets fly with a barrage of baby gurgle.
So far I've seen him tell off:
1. His green rhino toy hanging over his change table.
2. His rattle
3. His dummy
4. His hand
5. My hand.

God knows what he's saying to them.

Operation Go Out With Baby

Yesterday Rob and I decided spontaneously to take Ari into the city - Rob's jeans situation had reached a critical point (the only ones he likes to wear were almost worn through the crotch).
The plan was simple - zip into the CBD, pick up a couple of pairs of jeans from Jeans West (one of the few mainstream retailers to cater for Darth Vader-sized men like Rob) and come back home.
And it worked. In fact it was easy.
A couple of months ago, a trip into the city required military-like planning and loads of anxiety (mostly from me, I admit). Will Ari start crying in his pram? Will people stare at us if he does? What if, what if, what if?
Nowadays, we're pros at it. Just chuck the kid in the car, toss in a few nappies and a dummy and we're off.
What people (who don't have kids) don't seem to understand is that it takes time to get yourself into a routine with a baby and, more importantly, get to know him.
Now we know Ari well enough to know when he'll be hungry, when he'll be getting tired and when he's getting sick of his pram and it's time to go.
But these things take time - it doesn't happen straight away.
I would always feel terrible in the early days when people asked "When will he need a feed?" or "what time will he have a sleep?", because the answer was always "I have no bloody idea!"
What was even worse was the "why don't you go out more" people? They always meant well, but never seem to understand how difficult it is in the early months.
Believe me - being able to take your kid anywhere is NOT the norm in the first few months. A totally frazzled, terrified mother too scared to go anywhere past the corner shop IS the norm.

Live8

Ari witnessed music history on the weekend. He danced around the lounge room with me to Robbie Williams singing Let Me Entertain You at Live8.
And as great as it was to see a reunited Pink Floyd sing Wish You Were Here, Stevie Wonder funk it up, Madonna strut her stuff in that gorgeous white suit and Gwyneth Paltrow's daughter Apple wearing her cute headphones, the highlights were few and far between.
It was no Live Aid, which lives on as an iconic event in my mind - Queen's Freddie Mercury in front of a mammoth Wembley crowd, Bono with his great mullet.
Live8 had too much Paul McCartney, not enough U2. Too much Craig David, not enough George Michael. Then again, I only saw snippets on Fox8 and what little decent acts Ch9 would show us.
But it is all for a great cause and I love the fact that Bob Geldof still gets off his backside and does something about world poverty. He's a man of passion, and thank goodness for people like him.
One big difference this time around was the images of starving and homeless children on screen - they affected me in a way I didn't expect. I still well up when I think of the image of a little girl in India rolling out a mat to sleep on the street. Or a child sleeping in a gutter in Africa while cars drive by.
And to think I actually toss up whether to give Ari breastmilk or solid food first when it's time for his dinner...

Wedding wear

We've been invited to a friend's wedding in August and I'm already busy planning what to wear ... and not just for myself.
While I'm eyeing off gorgeous wintry frocks and mentally teaming them with Mary Jane heels and chunky necklaces, I've also had to think about what Ari will wear.
I have reservations about kids at weddings - we didn't invite children to our own wedding. But Ari's name came on the invite, so he's going ... as long as he doesn't drink too much!
But what do babies wear to weddings?
If he was an older toddler, I'd be thinking about a little suit or at least a neat little shirt and trousers.
But a 5 month old baby? His usual ensemble of stripey Bonds jumpsuit and jacket/cardigan just doesn't seem dressy enough.
After scouring the Internet, it appears that (as usual) there's not much around. And of course, what I did find was just hilariously awful (see pictured).
I would love to be able to dress Ari in a little shirt with a skinny rockstar tie a la Interpol or Franz Ferdinand (see pictured), but I think I'm aiming waaay too high.

Rolling...almost

We interrupt this blog for an important developmental announcement.
While doing his usual pre-bath nappy-off kick tonight, Ari very nearly rolled over. He brought his little legs up to his chest and rolled onto his side for the first time.

Our Little Hitch

Besides his Daddy, we reckon Ari looks like legendary director Alfred Hitchcock. It's those chubby cheeks and aloof little nose.
I'm sure he'll hate us for this in years to come, but see what you think ...

We're out!

Last night Rob and I went out together for the first time since Ari was born.
That's just over 5 months ... yeesh!
For the last few months we've been tag-teaming to go to movies, gigs and functions, but last night we headed out to the bright lights of High St Northcote for Aunty Lauren's birthday.
Lovely Aunty Shelley looked after Ari for the night.
But Operation Go Out Together was not without its hitches.
Ari was a bit weird all day yesterday - our normally deliriously happy baby was a whingey little fella and just didn't seem himself.
And after weeks and weeks of smooth 7.30pm bedtimes, he would not go to sleep until after 9.30pm.
Maybe he's teething and unsettled, maybe he wasn't quite tired enough. But Rob and I are going with the rather crazy theory that he just knew we were going out for the first time and didn't want us to go!
So in the end we had about 3 blissful hours of just being our normal, baby-free selves again. We dressed up, drank beer and chatted to our friends.
Everyone asked us if we felt weird leaving Ari. Absolutely not. In fact, I reckon staying home with a baby all the damn time is weird. As a married couple, we have to have time out to ourselves.
We can't wait to do it again. Next stop, Finn Brothers and Mercury Rev later this month.

Ice Planet of Hoth

There are a few items in Ari's wardrobe that have already become firm favourites. Like his fleecy smurf boots. Or his trucks-and-buses op-shop windcheater.
Ari has also been given a few hats, each with their own distinct nickname. There's Ski Lodge (a lovely white beanie) and Gonk Hat (a red stripey Bonds beanie), but none attracts more attention than a little woolly hat we've dubbed Ice Planet of Hoth.
Ice Planet was a gift from Ari's "Godfather" (hard to know what to call him when you don't believe in God) Dean and his partner Andrea, bought from Salamanca market in Hobart.
To say it's been a hit would be an understatement. Put the hat on Ari and watch a room of people go "awwwww". Take him out walking in his pram wearing it and people always comment on it.
It's a great hat. And for those of you who haven't yet twigged, its name derives from the opening scenes of The Empire Strikes Back, when Luke, Han and co are all on the ice planet of Hoth (bottom pic) and are rugged up accordingly.
In hindsight, we actually should have called it Ewok Planet of Endor, because it more resembles what they wore on Endor in Return of the Jedi (centre pic).
But that would be way too nerdy.

Bonny Baby