ROAD TRIP MELBOURNE TO FRASER ISLAND (DAY 1)

We are headed for Fraser island and I am so excited. It has been 6 years since we have been here last. We are on the road for 1 month, camping the whole way except for a little bit of work in Brisbane. We are going with our 2 kiddies of course, a 3.5 year old and 5 month old. I will document the whole trip.

All loaded up

DAY 1

Melbourne > Shepparton > Narrandera > Forbes

Sunrise at Shepparton

At our breakfast stop at Nerrandera we found a great playground. The highlight was the flying fox but it had other great play structures as well.

Great playground at Narrandera

Typical Australian country side

At Forbes we found a great free camp in the town by the river. It is run by the lions club and had a maximum stay of 48 hours. There are no facilities at the camp but a short walk to the day use area which has toilets, an undercover barbecue area with power and water. Just over the bridge is a super IGA which boasts prices that rival the large chains, and next door to the super market is a discount store (called Dave's Discounts I think) which stocks a large variety of camping, electrical, automotive, toys and other bits you would expect at a $2 shop. We like to support local small business where possible.

Brotherly love at Forbes

JIREH'S BIRTH STORY

It has taken me a while to write Jireh's birth story, mainly due to a lack of time. But here is our story.

My last midwife visit we had determined that bubba was posterior, I had booked an appointment with my osteopath that afternoon to try and shift bubba. That was on the 6th of November.

On the 13th of November I had another osteopath appointment and a much looked forward to massage but at around 1:30 am I woke up with a few mild contractions. I brushed them off as braxton hicks and pre labour which in my last labour started two weeks before Israel was born. I thought while I was up I would go to the bathroom to save another middle of the night trip and wake up. When I got there my waters broke on the toilet (thank-goodness) and labour was starting.

I called my midwife as I was considered high risk attempting a VBAC (vaginal birth after cesarean). She said to wait it out at home (which was contrary to what I had been told all throughout my pregnancy). My contractions had stopped and I was trying to get them started again on the fit ball. At about 2 am the midwife called back and said that after she thought about our conversation she thought it was best that I head on into hospital for observation. We started to gather a few last minute things and pack Israel's bag so he could head off to his grandparents house for the night and the remainder of the labour and few days after birth.

We arrive at hospital and my contractions had all but finished. I climb the stairs to the maternity ward and I feel things pick up again. After I lie of the bed and am hooked up to the monitor things stop AGAIN. I'm waiting in this room the size of a bathroom for 11 hours, it was dark and had no windows and I could barley move. I made hubby have a nap so he could regain some energy, after a full day of work and only a couple of hours of sleep, I knew it was going to be a long night for both of us. After a few hours on my feet rocking to music my contractions were becoming regular and intense. I called the midwife back and she determined I was in labour - FINALLY.

Here is my only complain with the hospital. I was in the know you midwife program, which is a small and sought after program offered by my hospital. It's where you see the same midwife for you whole labour and then she is there for the birth. She had appointments that afternoon with some more of her clients so I was left there to labour by myself, the contractions became so intense that I needed to call for a midwife - but it was a busy day at the hospital and they could not spare one. I was alone and in pain. This was much worse than my previous sons labour which was drug free until the very end where the midwife suggested pethadine to help my body stop bearing down, as this was causing swelling and ultimately an emergency cesarean. A midwife must have felt sorry for me because she kept popping in, she was amazing! So basically I was lost in the system for a couple of hours. Not fun when your in need of help.

My back up midwife finally arrived and I instantly disliked her (I then warmed up to her after things calmed down a bit). She was strongly opinionated and so was I to how I wanted my birth to go. I was eventually in tears and physically ill as I worked through the pain. I was continually told that a posterior labour was incredibly painful. I didn't believe them, I thought it would be a little bit worse, but as my labour with Israel was more than bearable I never prepared myself for what was to come. It was intense and there was not a break between contractions, but body was bearing down and bubbas head was pressing down into my tail bone. Through each contraction I would scream in pain. I felt bad for any other birthing mummas, if they had planned a quiet peaceful birth they were not getting it.

After a couple of hours I couldn't deal with it anymore and as each wave contraction ended (I only had a few seconds between each one) I would tell my husband that I couldn't do it anymore that I needed pain relief. He would always say it was up to me, that if I needed it he would organize it. An obstetrician was called to check on my progress, and she could see my body was bearing down. She said because of the outcome of my last birth she would advise that I have an epidural, as I was only at 5 cm, I couldn't agree more. She thought that with pain relief my body to rest and release some of the pressure on my cervix so it wouldn't swell again.

The anesthetist  was called and she couldn't come soon enough 20 minutes felt like 2 hours. It took her several goes to get the needle in my spine. Each time she would apologize and asks if it hurt, no was my answer, the contractions were more that making up for the lack of sensation as the needle hit my bone. The overall process of numbing the lower half of my body took well over an hour. And once the drugs had been inserted, the pain was not diminishing like I thought it would. I thought these things were supposed to give relief of pain. The pain I felt was still worse that the worst of Israel's labour. I was out of my groove, there was no rhythm as I tried to breath through and concentrate my way out of the pain, a method I found most effective in my previous labour. Add to that the fact that I couldn't move around but was stuck in a sitting position didn't help the matter of pain of position of baby.

The numbness was moving up my body, yet I could still move my right leg, and was still feeling all my contractions. I was still using gas to try and make my way through each contraction. If you had asked me after my son's labour if I would do it again, I would happily answer yes, even an hour after I had experienced it. I had a great experience. Yes it hurt but it wasn't hell. Through this labour, I would see my husbands hand and have the urge to bite his fingers off, the urge to throw things across the room and the urge to yell F@#$ as loud as I could. Nothing like Israel's. I had to wait an hour until the anesthetic wore off enough to give me a top up. It finally worked but I was high as a kite (which was apparently quite humerus to those around me).

Over then next four hours I was able to dilate to 9 cm. It was past midnight. My waters had broken nearly 24 hours previously and the staff were getting antsy. They don't like high risk women to go over 24 hours with broken waters. I was given 1 more hour to progress, for baby to rotate before an emergency cesarean section was booked. That hour came and went and I was hesitant for them to book in the cesarean, knowing what it would mean for future pregnancies and labours. (I will write more about my feelings on my body failing yet again in the near future). What convinced me that we needed to move was that baby's heart beat had been slowing down. I finally agreed that a cesarean was the best way to move forward in this labour, knowing that I did everything that I could do.

The cesarean went smoothly, I was anxious, not in a bad way but because I was about to meet my much awaited baby. I was crying for most of the procedure.

Jireh (God will provide) Samuel (I asked God for him) was born at 2:37 am weighing 2980 grams (6 pounds 9 ounces) and 49.5 centimeters long.

FATHER'S DAY

We had a great time on fathers day. After church we headed down to a reserve not far from home in the Dandenong Ranges for a family picnic. I have driven along this road a few times over the years but have never spotted this park. Grants Reserve is a lovely area, with rosellas and cockatoos friendly enough to eat out of your hand. Of course on this day the park was very busy and the birds very full, but we plan to head back there in the coming weeks when things quiet down and hopefully we will have a little more luck feeding the birds.

After about 20 minutes of patiently waiting a flock of hungry cockatoos (cockies) came in and started picking through the seeds to find their favourite sunflowers.

DETRIMENTAL

I love throwing parties; they are so much fun to create. From the initial inspiration, planning out the menu, conjuring up ideas for a cake, gathering friends and enjoying their company! But after throwing my son his third birthday party I came to a realisation. When is our perfectionism detrimental?

I arrived at our venue early to set up. Not as early as I would have like but early enough I thought that I could get prime position, that being under the only undercover area that there was. I was wrong. There were already two parties set up, one that looked like it walked out of a styling magazine on how to throw the most wowstopping party around or maybe a typical blogger, you know the ones with the perfect lives, everything in it’s a place, perfect marriage, perfect kids, gorgeous house with all the bells and whistles etc etc. She had obviously been there for hours, and like my husband put it even if I got there an hour earlier I still would have been too late. I was upset, upset that my plans had not come to pass, so much effort had gone in yet it wasn't good enough, or so it seemed to me, I wanted to cry but didn't want to ruin my make-up.

Now let me set the scene; there were pretty tablecloths on top of with little suitcase’s, cute little vintage suitcase’s on which tiers of cupcakes, cake pops, and other baked goodies stood tall and proud, beautiful vessels holding the liquids in which were to be consumed, pretty platters, meter upon meter of trestle tables fully laden with matching decorations, tasty little morsels, and an urn bubbling away waiting to warm the guests tummies. Handmade buntings surrounded the gazebo brought from home which stood next to a huge undercover area, matching perfectly with her blue and red and little vintage train theme, oh and the dining chairs, she brought her dining chairs, how thoughtful, somewhere for her guests to sit. The hours upon hours it took her to pack up, and then unpack at home. But where was the kid? I saw a cake, but never heard a happy birthday, never saw him, he wasn’t there when she was setting up or packing up presumably being looked after while she was working away. And though I cannot judge her, as I do not know her or her circumstance, I am using her picture perfect party as the example.

And then here I am on my two wobbly roll out (yes roll out) 90cm x 90cm camping tables covered in a disposable plastic tablecloth feebly trying to set up with my very well behaved 3 year old, who hung around me desperate to go on a train ride, but only asking once and accepting my answer of mummy can’t take you yet because I am setting up for your party and daddy’s not here to help at the moment, for over an hour amusing himself with the train track I had brought along to wind around the food, slipping his hand in the bowl and helping himself to strawberries, and climbing the nearby tree, while I desperately stabbed what seemed like hundreds of pieces of fruit onto skewers. Hubby had to leave, he needed to find more tables so all this food that had been prepared could be laid out for my guests to devour in a couple of hours. He arrived with 20 minutes to spare, with my parents and some early party goers helping me quickly lay out the food on plastic disposable platters and decorate the beautiful yet naked weeping tree that we were celebrating under.

So when is our perfectionism detrimental? When our desire to showcase our lives as being picture perfect taking over our lives. Hours and hours, days upon days would have gone into her creating the scene that was laid out before you.  But when is that detrimental to our families, to our children, the ones we are doing this for in the first place. Where was her child as she was making everything seem, well perfect. Where was he while she was baking, crafting, preparing? With someone else? At day care? In front of the TV? Where was the quality time, the nurturing time spent with him, to make him feel loved, make him feel special. This is probably what he needed not some fancy pants party. Now something I have learned in my very short three years of parenting. Well only over the last year or so really, is that when I do not give my child the attention he craves, that special time, that he starts to act up, making my day turn to some horror scene. There are tantrums, refusing to listen to direction, and just general naughtiness. I am not saying he is perfect all of the time, we defiantly have our moments. He is a toddler, one who is desperate to find out where the boundaries are, where the line is and how far it is that he can push me. But on the days in which I am preoccupied, too caught up in my own desires, those are the days when the feral comes out. Why because that’s how he can get my attention. Is that what is happening to children now-a-days. That we desire to give them everything they desire, the perfect house, the perfect life, that that consumes us, not the desire to spend quality time with the ones we love as we are constantly busy. Is that what is causing young children to act up, seeking attention, for the elders of our generation to ask, what is happening to the youth of our society?

So for once I kept it simple. There are three large parties that we are in the process of throwing this year, my husband’s 30^th, my son’s third and a BaByQ to celebrate this baby that we so desperately wanted, but took us so long to conceive, I don’t think I would have had a baby shower otherwise, but I just want to celebrate this life, this life that is due only a few days out from my birthday. All the organising and preparing is a lot of time that I could be spending with my son, cherishing him and these precious moments, which are being consumed elsewhere. Hours in which I could be making him feel loved and valued, instead of putting on a front for life. Now don’t get me wrong a lot of time still went into this party 10 hours alone for the cake. And while that seems like a lot my son and I spent just about all that time together, playing with the fondant icing like it was play dough, slipping in sugary treats and general train inspired conversation. Yes there were moments of don’t you even think about touching that fondant train involved. But it was a good 10 hours (spent over two days).  

So this is my less than perfect blog, sharing my less than perfect life. There will be no stylised food, fancy photos with arrows and cutesy quotes, no perfectly co-ordinated parties, with matching bits and bobs. This is life and sometimes it is less than perfect, and I live that life. I have a renovation in the works, and chaos surrounding us as we struggle to complete some of it before bubba comes. There are less than perfect meals, tasty meals (and sometimes not) I don’t have hours to spend on taking it’s photo, making it look like it walked out of a restaurants kitchen, I want to eat it while it’s hot and celebrate what food is and something that should be, a coming together.  I love to craft, yet there will be no glamorous photos and sometimes not so glamorous results, time is precious and I do not have the time to stylise. I garden, a love, an outlet, yet there are no pretty flowers in my yard. Food is it. That is what I grow. I am a wife, less than perfect; there are many ways in which I can improve on this important role. I am a mother, less than perfect yet again, I am continually stretching and growing and recognising my faults, willing to improve on them, to shape my son into a young man, a young man that can deal with life’s situations responsibly and maturely, so that he can make wise decisions. The way I parent now impacts the man he is to become, a citizen, a friend, an employee/er, husband and father. If I can parent out of love with patients, kindness, and loving discipline, be one that is slow to anger and judge that will reflect in who he is to become. I have a long way to come to be that mother, with many mistakes made along the way.

So let me share my less than perfect yet totally perfect and enjoyable train party that I threw for my son.

The cake! so much fun to prepare!

My train inspired party food, we had coal run (less) balls, steam engine fairy bread, railway crossing cookies, railway spike rocky road, railway sleeper chocolate cake, water tower jelly cups and diesel fuel jelly cups along with fruit skewers, chips and dips. 

More cakey goodness.

The darn fruit skewers!

Blowing out the candles

This is the same recipe I used for my hubby's 30th birthday cake but without adding the cocoa powder to the second layer -  sensational chocolate mud cake

Riding the train and fishing for boogers

Too cute! And very excited to be riding the trains.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY

I can't believe my little man has turned three, it feels like a lifetime ago that he was welcomed into this world yet I don't know where the time has slipped away! We had two full days celebrating with him, one on the weekend so daddy could join in the fun and then one on his actual birthday too!

MORNINGTON TOURIST RAILWAY

We headed down to the mornington peninsular so we could hop on the historic steam train that took us from Moorooduc to Mornington and then back again. The train was ridiculously slow, we had a giggle that if we missed the return trip we could probably walk back to the station faster. But the heritage train was gorgeous, and made you feel like you were stepping back in time.

After the train ride we set up Squiz's birthday present, A TRAMP-AMP-OLINE! By the time we had half set it up it was dark so we had a night jump :D

MYUNA FARM

On Squiz's birthday we headed down to Myuna Farm and I have to say this is the best farm for children that we have visited (and I think we have visited all of the ones in our area!) It was incredibly well priced and very hands on. I think I had just as much fun if not more than Squiz! We arrived just after opening and stayed nearly to the end, there is so much to see and do. There is no cafe so BYO lunch and snacks, although there is provisions for hot pies and sausage rolls, which are microwaved and then placed in the oven to crisp up on demand which make for an edible lunch if worse comes to worse. Entry is $6 per person and rides including a 'train' ride around the farm and a very short pony ride are $2.50 per person. Upon entry you are given a loaf of bread which can be fed to the paddock animals not including the horses, ponies, donkey and kangaroos and nursery animals. Because of this all the animals are incredibly friendly and come up to you at the fence reaching out to try and get a bite of food! The Water Buffalo was my favourite, although Squiz was scared of him and kept dragging me away, because he had a big mouth and might eat him. The nursery was Squiz's (and my) highlight, where you can enter the pens and handle the animals. The baby goats were adorable and kept nibbling on our clothes - I could have stayed in there forever having a cuddle! They were Squiz's favourite and my equal with Buffy the Buffalo!

Feeding the deer

Nom Nom Nom, the baby goats having a nibble!

I want to eat you!

The gorgeous birthday boy!

My friend buffy!

Telling the deer off!

Donkey

The animals were so friendly that this goat let me plait her goatee!

Pony Rides!

Trying to show Squiz that the animals won't hurt him if he feeds them

A hungry piggy!

The train

SLAMMED

One of my posts describing my difficulty with a fussy child was recently slammed on here. Of course this is fine, a blog is about opinion, firstly mine and then the responses (which I love to get). It was more so that I was being harshly told what I was doing wrong without gathering any of the facts first. It was even off topic, instead how to get my child to eat the dinners presented in front of him, I was getting what to feed him, what I shouldn't be feeding him, what I should be getting rid of from the pantry that doesn't even exist in there, I don't even know if the post was actually read? Assumptions were made, judgments handed out, without trying to get to know me first even though there is a sidebar to the left with would have eliminated more than half of what I was being scolded about. Are we too quick to hand out judgements, to make (m)others feel like they have failed?

There are a lot of opinions out there (I of course have a plethora), many ways to do things, some that suit your family and way of life and others that just do not fit. I have been incredibly lucky and joined a mothers group with supportive women. A lot of groups are not like this. I have heard some terrible stories. And quite frankly it can be hard sticking a bunch of women who don't know each other together and expecting them all to get on, with the only bond holding them together is the fact that the first child was born in the same month, give or take. Why is ours successful in meeting up weekly 3 years on? We can come together knowing that in all our differences we can support each other and offer each other an alternative way to do things. The fact is we are all first time mums (no matter how many children you have no child is alike so really you need to start learning again, once a new addition is made, and then adjust to life with one more). None of us have done this before and are continually learning and evolving the way we do things as we and our children grow.

I had so many positive response to my post battlefield on other forms of social media (google plus namely) and received so much constructive advice, something I loved and had many many suggestions that I have tried (and have worked). THANK-YOU! People didn't assume the worst of me and assume that all I fed my child was junk food, now in utter desperation trying to seek a healthier alternative. There has always been healthy meals offered with barely any processed food in the house (I say barley as there are some scerics from my morning sickness days where all I wanted to eat was processed crap). There are no ready meals, packets of this or that, if we want biscuits we make them together, they are offered after he has had a decent meal - oh why oh why am I sitting here typing my defense?

I am happy to say mealtimes have been a breeze over the last couple of days, with sickness lifting and an appetite that has returned. At one dinner time I served him something he's not a huge fan of steamed veggies and steak (he loves the steak bit), that only required one warning (where usually it would take over half an hour for him to eat his broccoli alone - something he ate easily a few months ago). The second time was with grilled chicken and steamed veggie which he ate without us as hubby was working late, he ate without a fuss and as we sat down for dinner while he was having his bedtime milk, he asked for more broccoli. The other was hidden veggie burgers (build your own) that he scoffed down without me even asking him to eat, he came over when I placed dinner down (we had a picnic that night) and started digging in! The last was a fail, a big big fail, he was over tired as we sat down to dinner later than usual, and I served shepherd's pie, nothing new in it, it was actually something he had eaten and enjoyed before, but he refused to eat it, absolutely hands down no way in hell refused. So we sent him to bed straight away with nothing else (the next day had no issues, other than him turning his nose up to leftovers for lunch, but I had made a salad that we shared).  So I am hoping that the success continue and that all this hard work is finally paying off!

To the good old days before taste buds changed, where he would eat what we would eat (in this case dumplings and a noodle dish from a trip to one of the asian food hubs in Melbourne). This was exactly one year ago where there was no defiance of the boundaries or figuring out of oneself and what one likes.  

BATTLEFIELD

There is a battlefield in our house. It happens three times a day sometimes more if I am lucky. Two hours of torturous patients testing run your nails along the blackboard hell. So please if you have suggestions or have been there before I would love to hear about it. There is no secret that I love food, but my son is having one of those stages. You know the stages where they refuse to do anything you ask, no matter the discipline put in place, the consequences the confiscations, the rewards the praise. I have done it all, from ignoring to rewarding.

I got sick of hearing 'me no like it' and refusing to eat when he wouldn't even taste it. I got sick of finding something else for him to eat. So I flipped. I flipped. No more! I've had enough. I can't do this anymore. You are going to sit there and you are not going to move until you have finished it kind of flipped. 

So it worked and it didn't, there was some gagging, some vomiting (he was also sick at the time so think it was a combination of not liking and not feeling well - these days he got away with not eating anymore dinner), counting, lot's of time out (this was mainly when we knew he liked something and had eaten a small portion of his dinner and then started stuffing around), taking away rewards, eating or drinking those rewards in front of him so he could see the consequence being taken aways from him (this was done slowly so he had a chance to rectify his behaviour, - which he often did). There was lots of trying news foods, lots of praise, lots of rewards. 

So where are we at? There are days where he will try and eat new foods, these are mainly foods with a lot of spice and flavour. There are days where he has sat at the table for hours, I really do mean hours. The main reason for this and what triggered it is that we do not like waste, especially when a food was asked for. When a food has been asked for this is when I am most strict. You cannot ask me to eat a banana or peanut butter sandwich and then refuse to take a bite out of it. We go through ebbs and flows where he will eat everything on his plate with not much effort on our behalf, and there are days like today where you just want to yell and scream  and do a little eat the freakin food dance.

Is this just an attention thing? A stubborn and controlling thing? Something I need to stick with? Because I am getting exhausted! Exhausted of wasting 6 hours of my day coaxing, coaching, encouraging, bribing, begging, pleading and disciplining around food, something that has is should be an enjoyable moment. 

Honestly today I had enough and just let him go hungry, why because he didn't want to eat his lunch and when I told him he needed to and handed out a warning, he asked me in the sweetest voice to go to timeout. WHAT?????? I figured he could go hungry, and when he asked me to eat he could have another go at his uneaten lunch, no exceptions. And if he refuses to eat all day then he can go to bed hungry and we would start again.

So what is your strategy. I don't want to cook two meals, I want him to eat family meals. I don't have time and energy to run a cafe with a menu that is changed daily, if I did I would have set one up that caters to paying customers.