November - Love @ 2 years 3 months

One thing we've both noticed since moving to this new town is how much we miss the sea and the salty breeze from the east. As the last, humid days of spring rolled around, the days gradually grew longer and the impending summer heat could be felt radiating from the earth in blurry waves. In the evenings, tall storm clouds drifted up from the south, floating low and dark over this riverside town.

The temperature tends to soar before the storm breaks, reaching the high 30s (that's in the mid to high 90s for you delightful northern visitors). The bonus for the brief half hour or so following the rain (providing there was no hail) is that puddles rapidly form, making the best wet playground for Love to slosh, skip and splash in the potholes of our quiet cul-de-sac. Most days I need to hide her bright orange gumboots when she naps, otherwise she'll insist on wearing them, and only them in all her birthday suit glory (cute bum, though).

This month Love taught me that yoghurt makes for a sweet moisturiser, if you don't mind the stickiness. Which, unfortunately I do. There's always a risk leaving her unattended with a small tub of yoghurt for even a second as it will usually end up smeared in creamy patches across the table, oozing down her arms in gloopy drips. On the plus-side, she smells amazing and usually enjoys a shower afterwards. Downside? She usually picks the most inopportune time to up-end her tub, like when we're getting ready to leave the house and she rarely wants to dress post-shower so I often find myself dripping naked chasing a dripping naked toddler as she runs, screaming hysterically from room to room.

We managed to visit the coast every weekend, staying in our old beach house. We attended a relaxed beach wedding together, which was a treat for me as I'm usually the photographer, rather than a guest. After the ceremony, I drove Love to a nearby headland and she fell asleep in my arms as the sun was setting over the mountains. Sunset is my favourite time of day in the spring time; a celebration of nature and light, warm air and hopes for the summer. I especially love the Christmas colours. Deep hues of red with the natural greens one can find on any coastal headland or beachside forest on the Mid North Coast.

I spent one night apart from Love this month when I travelled to Brisbane for a live show (Kooza by Cirque du Soleil). Though I felt the beginnings of a cold, I rested in every available moment, enjoyed Korean barbecue with my company, drank tea and allowed myself to sink into my seat, absorbing every colour, light, stunt and musical note from the live performance and band. I'm grateful I went and the reunion on my return? Well it was the perfect way to begin summer.

What are your traditions at this time of year? Are you ready for Christmas?

Bella x

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Life Lately

The dreaded flu | bird watching | double chocolate cake | pirate ship | rare family days together

When we returned from Malaysia, one of our neighbours greeted us in the street. I was still in my pyjamas mid-morning, feeling a little tired and sore from the cramped plane seat, but otherwise happy to have slept in my own bed. Mike asked me about our trip and how the baby coped. He stopped talking to cough and sniff and tell me how he and his wife had been sick with the flu for two weeks, missing work and generally feeling awful. I was relieved that we had missed the nasty virus going around our neighbourhood.

Over the course of the next week, we planned Love's first birthday party. Here and there, neighbours dropped in to welcome us home and tell us how sick they had been. Again, I felt relieved that we had chased summer to tropical Borneo and avoided the dreaded sickness that is so common every winter. You can see where I'm going with this...

At her party (which was a raging success and totally worth the week-long preparation; but that's for another post), neighbours arrived, bringing their children and smiles. We laughed and watched on as Love interacted with other small children, feeling pride and disbelief that a whole year had passed by since we welcomed our baby girl. Most guests were healthy or had recently recovered from the flu, except for a handful, who were very obviously still sick.

I scurried about after one particular child, wiping everything he touched, encouraging him to play outside and to wait for me to bring him some watermelon or strawberries. He touched everything in his path, coughing without covering his mouth and could barely talk through rosy, flushed cheeks. Even his little curls seemed to hang flatter against his feverish little head.

Within two days I was on my back, unable to move with a high fever and terrible aches throughout my body. I'm not certain it was the little boy but he did seem to be very sick when we came in contact. I felt sorry for him, with the fresh understanding of how uncomfortable and generally unwell he must have felt but at the same time I wondered why on earth his parents thought it wise to bring him to a first birthday party.

I was fearful of Love catching it, especially following her twelve month vaccinations, which she had the same day my fever spiked.

How she managed to stay healthy for the first week has got me stumped. All I can think is that breastmilk is the nectar of the gods, a miracle potion of sorts and something I don't think scientists will ever properly understand the mechanics of, but I digress. After the first week, Love did fall ill with fevers over 40 degrees (nearly 105 F). We took her to our wonderful doctor and then later the same day to Emergency when her fever wouldn't break with medication and a tepid bath. After several worrisome hours, we drove home with a sleeping baby.

If the first picture could tell a story, this would be it. Love's fevers peaked and waned every few hours for over a week. Her little nose ran constantly and she detested having it dabbed at or wiped. She was so sick that she could barely move and she woke constantly with heart wrenching whimpers. Breastfeeding, constant temperature checks, round the clock care and mama cuddles were all I could offer to comfort my sweet girl as her little body fought the virus. I worried for her and wished I could take her discomfort away as she fell asleep against my chest in the shower. Skin-to-skin. My exhausted little cherub.

I empathise with those families who must go through their own personal hell with seriously ill children and send out silent prayers for their babies to find peace and comfort, health and love with their supportive families by their side.

As Love's health gradually improved, we visited a visiting 'pirate' ship, the replica caravel, Notorious. This was a day spent together as a family, one of those rare days where we could all venture outdoors together with no particular place to be. Those kinds of days are liberating.

Love was captivated by the ropes and darkened timber below deck. I have a few photos to share from that day, which I will try to post soon, once I finish editing some portraits from a recent family session (their preview can be viewed here on our other website).

So the last couple of crummy weeks have turned around with our good health returning, excursions to pirate ships, the unfaltering care from my sweet husband (the superhuman, who avoided the flu altogether and who incidentally baked the most delicious organic double chocolate cake I ever did taste) and finally, the beginning of spring.

Have you managed to avoid illness this winter? What were your remedies whilst you waited out the virus-immunity cycle?

My best tips were rest, hot soup, hot camomile tea, more rest, warm showers, spare boxes of tissues and hand sanitation gel on the bedside table, clean sheets and unmedicated saltwater nasal spray to clear the nasal passage (suitable for breastfeeding mamas). I also took some ibuprofen to manage my fever but you should consult your healthcare professional for any medication advice.

Welcome spring, your longer sunshine and warm afternoon breezes have been missed.

Bella xx

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Christmas tree branch // assorted presents

Byron dragged home a dead tree branch, with panting puppy in tow following their afternoon run on Wednesday. I hosed the sand from the bare, lifeless wood as twigs snapped away under the water pressure. I needn't have bothered as the afternoon storm brought a brief, heavy downpour in the early evening.

On Thursday B lugged the branch up the stairs and set about arranging large white stones about the base to secure the 'tree' vertically. With one arm snug around our babe, I began to hang the strings of homemade decorations, which I had crafted over the years from colourful glass beads and collected seashells carefully threaded together with fishing line.

B wound strings of coloured LED lights arounds the thicker limbs and after an hour we stood back, our little family of three to marvel at Love's first seaside Christmas tree.

+++

I've gradually been collecting items for the children next door. Gifts to stimulate learning, encourage outdoor play and respect for nature. For Master Three: a (wrapped) box of interactive flashcards with sliding picture panels to assist with speech and reading; for Master Six: a frisbee (call me enthusiastic, but I hope to introduce him to the fun of Ultimate Frisbee) and a Where's Wally picture and puzzle book. I decided on the puzzle book after a recent visit where I cut my walk short due to the ominous dark storm clouds approaching from the west. I watched him circle letters in a find-a-word, his short, lean body tummy-side-down on the carpet, knees bent with wriggly-toed feet bobbing in the air, his tongue poking out, smearing saliva across his lower lip and chin. I don't think he would have noticed we were there had I not asked him what he was doing... For Miss Six: a beautiful green succulent with the prettiest purple flowers in a glazed cobalt blue terracotta pot. Somewhere, deep in the darkest corners of my wardrobe lies a small array of colourful gemstones to add to her growing collection for crystal healing.

Finally, there are thrifted clothes and handmade presents yet to be wrapped, including neatly framed hand and footprints taken of Love when she was 29 days old. These prints are reserved for our nearest and dearest who, we hope, will treasure the tiny black splotches on stiff, white paper torn from my art book. These prints will be accompanied by the story of how Byron and I found ourselves covered in smears of sticky black paint as we attempted and failed time and time again to make accurate impressions of our newborn's tiny hands and feet. I recall how she curled her tiny hands into a fist and scrunched her tiny toes as we pressed the paper against her skin, silently rejoicing, mouths agape, with each toe print we managed to transfer. Three toes this time! Getting closer! We smiled at each other before applying a lick or two of more paint to her feet in deft brush strokes.

Anyone who may view our earlier attempts could be forgiven for thinking we had birthed a mutant single-toed baby...

So that has been our life lately. How about you? Any fun stories? Do you celebrate Christmas? Do you have a strange or more traditional tree? Any stories about attempting artworks with babies? I'd love to read about it in the comments below.

Happy Summer, folks.

Oceans of love,

Bella xx

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