Ari's 4th birthday

Ari's 4th birthday party

The Big Four

Today was Ari's fourth birthday party - his actual birthday was yesterday.
It was an exhausting day, but one full of great excitement. We had a party at home - themed "old school". Translation = Mum and Dad don't really do the hired party entertainment thing.
So we had pass the parcel, sack races and a pinata for party games, and lots and lots of cupcakes with yellow icing (Ari's current favourite colour).
Pics to come...

Ari update

Age: 3 years, 10 months.
Weight: 17kg
Favourite song: Never Really There by Ryan Sterling
Likes: Queen guitar solos, trains, lawnmowing, banana smoothies.
Dislikes: Anything he's never tried before, the noise from the blender.
Personality: Becoming so much more social, has a friend at school, talks to people more, loves jokes, very affectionate.
Favourite books: Mr Men, especially Mr Tickle, Mr Happy and Mr Strong.

Emotions takin' me over

It's been an emotional week. I'm not ashamed to say I drove down the freeway to Geelong on Wednesday listening to Barack Obama's acceptance speech on the radio quietly weeping tears of joy. When Ari chimed in from the back seat wanting to know "why the people were singing Yes We Can", I started up again.
But I got to thinking about emotions and how they take over you when you have a child.
I've mused from time to time on this blog about the vast gulf BC (before child) and AC (after child). I thought I knew what having a child would be like. I was wrong, like nearly all new parents are. You can't possibly know how much work it will be, how much effort it takes and how much it will change your life. But above all, you can't ever imagine what it feels like. And it's the feeling part of it all that matters most. When your child cries, it actually hurts inside. It feels terrible. When they are upset, you feel distraught. When they are ill, your whole world stops.
A friend recently told me how much she finally got this when she had her own son. She recalled a time she was walking with me with Ari in his pram when he was a small baby. He was crying and I kept stopping the pram, trying everything I could to make him stop. At the time, she thought I was trying to stop him cry so it didn't disturb her. Now, after having her own child, she realises I was trying to make him stop because it was upsetting me so much.

Farewell, Antilop

This week we farewelled an old friend.
Our tried and true workhorse high chair, the Ikea Antilop, was retired in favour of a nifty (Ikea again) stool/chair for Ari (I can't remember its Swedish name).
If ever there was proof that the most expensive baby product is not always the best, it has been in the track record of our $39 Antilop - three years of solid service, only one replacement tray (at a bargain $10) and literally thousands of wipe-downs.

Googreev

Much to our delight, Ari has been enjoying the Wallace and Gromit short movies.
If you're going to watch something a lot, at least it's something clever and funny. Ari's favourite one is A Grand Day Out, but he also loves The Wrong Trousers (my personal fave).
Recently Ari and I were walking hand in hand to the local library when we were discussing The Wrong Trousers. He had just been playing with Rob's Feathers McGraw (pictured) figurine in the car (Feathers is the villainous penguin from The Wrong Trousers) and he said: "He's called Googreev."
I corrected him: "No, darling, he's called Feathers McGraw". But Ari was insistent. "No, he's Googreev!"
Then it dawned on me. There is a scene in The Wrong Trousers when Feathers takes off his "disguise" (amusingly, it's a rubber glove on his head to make him look like a chicken). He takes off the glove and Wallace exclaims: "Good Grief! It's you!"
Googreev = Good Grief!

It never ceases to amaze me how clever little children are.

Beautiful boy

 

My boy lollipop

 

gold panning

 

Train to Sovereign Hill

 

More farm action

 

At Uncle Murdoch's farm

 

At Uncle Murdoch's farm

 

Top bunk joy

 

On the farm

 

In the truck

 

New puppies!

 

Ole goo eye

A quick update: Ari has conjunctivitis and a cold.
We are dealing with this with thanks to the wonders of Bleph10, Dr Flood and a steady diet of Rage - yesterday we watched Tricky program Rage and it was ace.

Scene from a Saturday morning...

Me: Come and listen to this Ari (Ramones' Blitzkrieg Bop on 3RRR).
Ari: (Pauses). That sounds like the Clash, Mama.

We couldn't have been any more proud if we tried.

What we're...

Ari

Reading: "Dog Biscuit's House" book, I Wish That I Had Duck Feet.

Watching: Poko, Wallace and Gromit's The Wrong Trousers.

Listening to: Amy Winehouse, MGMT.

Carla

Reading: When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris.

Watching: The West Wing - almost through season one. Project Runway Australia - as hard as I try, it just aint as good as Heidi, Tim and co.

Listening to: Black Francis.

A political rant

I don't normally get political on this blog. But something I read in The Age in the past couple of days has set my blood boiling.
It concerns the State Government's decision to order public hospitals to stop admitting mums and babies with breastfeeding or settling problems.
This story highlights an alarming trend - government encourages people to have more babies + gloats about its baby boom - but fails to deliver on any kind of new services to support said new babies.
While family reporter at the Herald Sun, I wrote a story on the blowout of waiting lists for sleep schools - back then it took MONTHS for desperate, sleep-deprived parents to even get near a public sleep clinic in Melbourne. If that's not depressing enough, the recent breastfeeding help debacle is enough to make me want to storm parliament.
It's small things that can make a huge difference in the early stages of parenting. Just a couple of hours spent with a lactation consultant can lead to a "hallelujah" moment when what only hours ago was painful and impossible is now possible.
A week in a sleep school can change the entire livelihood of a family.
I don't want to appear to be whingeing, but it seems this government is struggling under the weight of a crush for services. And as a person who uses the metropolitan train system, I honestly do mean crush.

Scene from a dinner table

Rob: Every time I blew my nose today I filled a hanky. Honestly, I really don't know where all that stuff comes from...
Ari: I think it would come from your nose, Dadda.

Scene from a Subaru

Ari: Mama, I thought you were going to drive off and leave me!
Me: Darling, I would never, ever leave you.
Ari: But one day I might leave you. Then Dadda will look after you.