Car-free at last!

It has been a while since I've blogged. Many apologies to my discerning readers... while I doubt many (any?) of you have been waiting with bated breath for my next installment, I do have lots to tell you.

The beautiful bride, Pickle's
Aunty Catherine & his new Uncle

In the interim not only have I been studying, but Pickle and I travelled across the country to see my Outlaws, for a family wedding and so BoyWonder could visit with Pickle too. Pickle was obviously a hit, they were very welcoming, it was good for that side of the family to get to know Pickle more, and was relatively angst free. Sure, there were some *ahem* challenging moments, but considering the situation (divorce, annual visitation etc.), it could have been a lot worse.

I've given up trying to find paid work in the Mental Health industry - the jobs I have applied for have each had 135+ applicants. As a Student Placement is required to do the next few subjects and in order to complete my counselling degree, I decided it would be pertinent to offer myself up as a volunteer. Now, being a hard-working, enthusiastic, engaged advocate for all areas of mental health, with a Distinction average for my subjects, you think I'd be snapped up, right?

There was lots of opportunity
to try out Pickle's "muddy puddle
boots" (I blame Peppa Pig)

Apparently not in Hervey Bay. I've called upward of SIXTY organisations, with no luck so far. Some have seemed promising, then the return phone calls dry up. Frustrating only begins to describe it. I'm pondering whether there is any point even trying to finish my degree.

On a brighter note, I now have my cargo bike. Pickle and I are car-free! Avid readers and my Twitter followers (those I mentioned earlier, hanging on with bated breath, no doubt) will recall my moaning about the disastrous saga that started almost a year ago with the first cargo bike company I dealt with. The Dutch company based in Melbourne was a complete customer service fail. Firstly an incorrect stock count meant none of my first four colour preferences were available, then shipping delays (admittedly out of the distributor's control)...

So the bike that I had hoped to receive in early December, then promised pre-Christmas 2012, eventually arrived on 12th January 2013. Except it wasn't the e-bike I had ordered and paid for. And that's when the somewhat patchy customer service to this point, took an absolute nose-dive; I was talked-over, condescended to and insulted. So it was arranged that this bike would be sent back and I would get the new bike in two to three weeks.  I was promised - in three separate written messages - that the bike would arrive fully assembled, and I would only need to put four bolts in to attach the box to the bike.

And then the bike arrived on 4th February 2013. Not only was it not assembled, it was missing not only the lights, but the entire braking system... a somewhat key element to safe riding, don't you think?

Our first ride on our
Christiania cargobike!

Needless to say, the bike was returned and I went back to the drawing board... and via Twitter, I was recommended the lovely Peter at PSbikes.

You can fit a surprising amount
in the cargobike!

While there was a delay in getting the bike, it was more than made up for by the charming customer service I received with door-to-door delivery, fully assembled and customised! The Christiania bike is made in Denmark, and I believe the Scandinavian engineering is slightly superior. Both Pickle and I love the bike and it's been getting lots of attention on our outings.

Pickle "drumming" with BigTed

On an even brighter note, things are going really well with BigTed, but
more on that later...

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Introspection (Tough Times)

I'm very good at keeping myself busy. Busy enough that I don't have time for self-reflection. Not blogging much in February - not even my Project 365 photos - is another way to avoid this, as I find blogging carthartic.

However yesterday, my work day, I sat down to answer a number of emails and also do some blog work that had me writing openly and honestly. And last night I had a proper cry.

The past year has been tough.

This time in 2012, I was midway through a two month trip from the UK to Australia. Sounds idyllic, right? But travelling on my own with a baby was nerve racking. The idea of it was far worse than the reality, though I didn't get much sleep in the 36-hours of door-to-door travel.

We visited Sydney, Hervey Bay, Sydney again, then Perth. All in all, there were seven flights. Pickle is a well-travelled munchkin. The last week in Perth with the Outlaws, was some of the most relaxing. Though I was still paranoid about my Mother-in-law judging me, not least when a newly mobile Pickle bumped his head on the coffee table. True to form (from my experience, not the stereotype), my MiL was über supportive and basically told me there would be lots more bumps and bruises and to let him get on with it.

So two days after arriving back in London, my then husband BoyWonder, announced that he no longer wanted to be married. This in it's own right was stressful as I'm sure you'd understand. But I still hoped we'd work things out. It wasn't to be, and our relationship counselling turned into divorce counselling on the second visit. Those fortnightly appointments were stressful too.

Meanwhile, remember I'm still raising an active and demanding baby.

So divorce proceedings with the ensuing paperwork, resigning from my job and explaining why, planning a relocation across the world... All while living in the same house as my ex; all stressful events right?

Don't get me wrong, BoyWonder and I have had the most amicable divorce of anyone I know - with the possible exception of my brother and his wife, who still run a business together. They were certainly our inspiration, but I doubt anyone wants to compete for that award.

I'm thankful every time I hear another divorce drama story. And there have been quite a few of those.

Leaving my adorable friends was certainly stressful. I miss them regularly. I've luckily made a few good friends already in Hervey Bay, but they can't replace the ones, in my heart, that I left behind.

Arriving to a "fresh start" (and remembering the 36-hours of travel with a now-toddler) wasn't quite what I'd anticipated.

I've struggled how to address the difficulties I've encountered, as it's not necessarily my story to tell. So I will cut to the chase and just say that, after an immense amount of additional and extremely unexpected stress, Pickle and I ended up living in emergency accommodation a week before Christmas. I'm lucky it was a house and not share accommodation - I'm really not sure how I would have coped with that (SilverLining anyone?!).

Trying to find rental accommodation was far more difficult than I'd imagined. It was just the wrong time of year and very few places were listed. It came down to the wire, as the emergency accommodation was only for ten weeks - I moved out the day before expiration.

I'd ordered a cargo bike as a car replacement. There were months worth of dramas there, which deserves it's own post and will arrive in due course. I'm starting from scratch on that front.

My shipping from the UK has been in the country since 5th January, but still hasn't been delivered. After chasing yet again, I found out yesterday that it's now "probably" due Monday. Which means I've had to reschedule appointments and don't have any childcare for Pickle.

Oh and I've got a frozen shoulder - an increasing interference and a painful one at that. Chiropractic treatment and one cortisone injection later (I've had to reschedule the second injection due to the imminent shipping delivery), I'm still in pain and I sometimes feel like I'm haemorrhaging money.

So that, in a nutshell, has been the past eleven months.

Yet, I'm still - relatively - positive. I'm enjoying a simplified life. I'm actioning my career change. Pickle has started day-care one day a week (hence my work day). I'm ready for him to be in day-care, which I certainly wasn't six months ago.

Sure, it's hard work being a single Mummy. I often don't get a break until an hour or so after he's gone to bed. But after washing up, folding laundry, putting his toys away, etc., I can have quality me-time. Or - most likely - quality vegging time.

And quite frankly, Pickle is frigging amazing.

So enough self indulgent rambling from me. Time to finger paint...

Cheers, KangaRue

Dating Dramas

Back in the days BBW (before BoyWonder aka Pickle's Daddy), I enjoyed dating.  Get your mind out of the gutter, I mean actual dating:  meeting for drinks or dinner or something more adventurous (again, mind out of the gutter - my first date with Pickle's Daddy was indoor rock-climbing, after we'd met at a mixed pole-dancing class that is!).

Yes, that is BoyWonder on the right!

I had my fair share of amusing horror-stories, and they all had nicknames so my friends could keep up (yes, that is how and when BoyWonder came to be named as such).

There was the guy who sat down with my pre-dinner glass of wine, and said "so what do you think my name is?". Seems the night we'd met at a book launch he'd given me his working pseudonym - but in the three weeks since then, and our almost daily emails, he hadn't thought to inform me of his actual name!  All of a sudden I wasn't on a date with a Rick*, and instead was dating Adrian*... he then proceeded to split the bill exactly down the middle, and our after-dinner drink was at my expense as he'd paid for the pre-dinner drink.  I would usually have offered to get the latter drinks, but thought him a bit miserly since he'd asked me out, picked venues etc, and it wasn't what I was used to.

But I decided to give him the benefit of the doubt and agreed to a second date - making it a weekday lunch, he came to Canary Wharf to meet me during my break from the world of international finance (well, working as a Personal Assistant to a high-flier anyhow).  It was a bitterly cold day in the depths of a London winter.  I booked a table and said I'd meet him at one of the local bar-restaurants.  I had got caught up in the office, and had phoned to tell him I was running a bit late, so I was surprised Adrian* was standing outside.  Thought that was a bit weird considering the weather, but he was "admiring the view" as he'd never been to the area before.  And then he proceeded to tell me he'd left his wallet at home, but our next date would be on him.  Now I wasn't even sure I wanted this date, let alone another.  So I made my excuses about it being frantic in the office (which was true) and could we take a rain-check (perhaps not so truthful).  I walked him part-way to the station - more to make sure he wouldn't see me double back, phone my friend who worked nearby and ask if she's had lunch already as I had a table booked.  She wondered why I had a table booked and I told her for that answer, I'd need a glass of wine...

I'm not sure if I should be dreading the potential dating dramas of the future, or relishing them as blog fodder?

Care to share any of your dating dramas?

* names have been changed to protect the innocent... or perhaps because I've forgotten them

 Cheers, KangaRue :)

Head in the Sand

So the removalists have gone.  Accounts are being closed.  I'm almost packed. There is definitely an air of finality.

BoyWonder doesn't understand how I didn't realise things were bad before.

Perhaps my head was in the sand.  He neither came to my initial gynaecologist appointment, when I found out I was pregnant with Pickle, nor the 12-week scan, which was truly amazing, especially when Pickle did a somersault in-utero. 

Glaringly obvious signs in hindsight, though I know that some men just don't get "it". (Whatever "it" is, but I expect that's a whole other blog post.)

So right now, while we've metaphorically battered heads on occasion, but still generally get on well, it's just time to be a little sad.  I just need to remind myself that there are new beginnings and exciting adventures ahead for Pickle & I.

Divorce Solicitor & 4th Wedding Anniversary

If you'd asked me on my wedding day, what I thought I would be doing for my fourth wedding anniversary, it wouldn't have been "initiating a divorce".  And yet, that is how I spent the morning.

I didn't expect to feel physically ill as I prepared to leave home to head to the appointment.  Though once there, I was more worried about entertaining Pickle and providing the correct documentation.

I did spare a thought to the recent Divorce Counselling session, where our counsellor asked us how we'd be celebrating.  WTF?!  I know we want to stay friendly, but you don't celebrate a marriage when you're getting divorced.  At least BoyWonder thought the comment was as bonkers as I did.

And my SilverLining as my darling friends have reminded me, is a "new beginning".

Am I being harsh? Should I be cooking something special for dinner!

Somewhere Over the Rainbow

Quite frankly, I'm hoping my SilverLining is somewhere very close over the rainbow... but for now I'm having some crappy days.  Wednesday was a good day, and hopefully tomorrow will be a good day too.  I've been quiet on the blogging front, so hopefully this post will explain why, on top of the usual being a Mummy, study and life in general excuses.

A couple of days after Pickle and I returned from Oz, BoyWonder* said he wanted a divorce.  (Nothing like burying the lead, hey).  I've been trying to work things out, but he's adamant that he's felt like this for some time and can't move beyond how he feels.  We tried two sessions of couples counselling, and while my goal is to work through our problems, build on our friendship and reconcile, his goal is for an amicable divorce, so there's not a lot for the counsellor to work with.

I'm pissed at him.  I think he's a numpty and will regret it down the track.  And that's being kind.  I'm angry, but most of all I'm sad.  I've been dealing with a good dose of denial as well - it's actually been months since this happened, and I guess I was hoping he'd change his mind, see the error of his ways or whatever.  I'm doing a good job of working my way through Kubler-Ross' stages of grief.

I had depression about four years ago.  It was my second time.  Most people who get depression will get it more than once.  BoyWonder* blames my depression for the downturn in our relationship and his subsequent depression.  It's an illness, you have to have a predisposition to it, a bit like diabetes say.  Believe me, I've argued 'til I'm blue in the face that I can't be blamed.  And I'll be the first to put my hand up to say I didn't pull my weight around the house when I was depressed.  But when he's running through a list of any and all of my failings from the past seven years of our relationship, it's no wonder it's not worked.

His inability to communicate is a major factor - he has one friend who he's been completely honest with, but talking to me a couple of years ago might have helped.  He admits he hasn't been successful either in opening up or when he has, not doing it successfully.  My lack of realisation just goes to show there's a reason people don't counsel those they know.

When we first started going out, within the first three months in fact, I pointed out our age difference (he's 9 years younger than me) and how I really wanted kids and eventually wanted to move back to Australia.  We agreed on the fundamentals.  Since then, BoyWonder* has changed his mind, or was previously only telling me what I wanted to hear.  I was naive enough to believe it.

And while I am trying to have a balanced, non-snarky post here (not least because my lovely in-laws might read this), he's starting to sound a bit like Mother-bloody-Teresa.  He's made some really horrible comments recently... mind you, I've stropped back with "you'll be rid of me soon enough" as well, so not my finest moment.  Thankfully they've been the exception to the rule, and I believe I've (generally) dealt with them in a calm and adult way.  But FFS, he's leaving me.  A little snark is surely allowed?

He wants to stay friends, and I think that will be possible, if we can get through the crappy stuff quickly.  We're trying to do the divorce bit as amicably as possible.  It would be good to stay friends in the long term, as he's still Pickle's Daddy, and we both want what is best for Pickle.

For now, that will mean Pickle, the cats and I move back to Australia in the near future; to be closer to our families, and at least in the same country as the friends I consider close enough to be family.  It will unfortunately mean leaving a few of my really close friends here who I love dearly, and who have been a great support.  I'm crying while I'm typing this now.  In the library.  Nice.

It will of course mean leaving BoyWonder* in the UK too.  We will set up regular Skype times for Pickle, but it won't be the same.  Down the track there will be visits.  We'll sort it out.  It won't be easy, but hopefully there will be a SilverLining.  Cross your fingers for me, OK?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

* well that pseudonym is going to have to change isn't it!  Alternate suggestions welcome, but Pickle's Daddy (PD) might have to suffice for now.

PS.  If you are family or friends reading this post, and this is how you found out, I hope you can forgive the mode of communication - quite frankly, it's exhausting to talk about.

78/366 - Mummies Day!

Today is Mother's Day in the UK.  I am in Australia.  It is my first Mother's Day.  So I do feel I've missed out a little bit being away from BoyWonder, and with Pickle a little too small to make a fuss!  So I was delighted when this was delivered...

78/366 - 18 Mar 2012

Some of my favourite flowers - scented lilies, orange roses, irises and lisianthus!  Along with a card that read:

Dear Mummy,

Look what I organised while you were sleeping...

Lots of Love, 

Pickle

(PS the cats say "hi, we miss you too")  

*melt*  So Happy Mother's Day to me and all the Mummies out there, and big hugs to those of you who are no longer able to give your Mummy or babies hugs anymore.

PS.  Since Mother's Day in Australia isn't until May, and I'll be back in London by then, don't you think I should get spoiled then too?  (Take Note: BoyWonder!)

Cheers, KangaRue :)

56/366 - Sleepy Time? I don't think so!

We had a nice routine going for Pickle's sleep time back home, and while we've continued with the routine on holiday, some days have been a bit hit and miss.  Today was one of those days.  We've bathed, had a story, been sung to "sleep", but it didn't work.  Daddy's secret touch is obviously missing.

56/366 - 25 Feb 2012

Sleep isn't one of Pickle's strong points - he fights it every step of the way.  I have it on good word from my Mother=in-Law that BoyWonder was far worse, so at least I know where he gets it from!  The Baby Whisperer refers to Ethan's style as Spirited, meaning that he's a tricky one that doesn't respond to many of the other techniques that work for the other styles... so any hints and tips are appreciated!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Doing a Demi

I've been meaning to write for a while about the incredible experience I had doing both Bump and Baby photography sessions with Harriet of Buckingham Photography.  A few of the photos are already posted around the blog, but I've done a collage of them here.  Harriet and I both had an absolute blast and a lot of giggles.  She's produced some really fabulous (and flattering) shots.  Even BoyWonder, who hates having his photo taken, admitted that our family shoot "wasn't that bad" - and believe me, that is high praise indeed.

I was enthusiastic about doing a Demi-style shoot - you know the one Annie Lebowitz did of her naked for the cover of Time Magazine.  I've always loved that photo, and I honestly felt beautiful while I was pregnant - I was doing what my body was made for.  Harriet had never done a nude shoot before, so it was a first for both of us, but was in no way awkward.  I was initially hesitant about whether I should share it or not, but figure it's on the Buckingham Photography website, so is already out there in the interwebs... so here goes:

You can win your own sitting and one 10x8 photo with Harriet in her Orpington studio (or give it as a Mother's Day present!), just use the form below to enter.

44/366 - Perfect Present

I found the perfect Valentine's present for BoyWonder.  We had to celebrate a day early this year, as I spent the day packing and organising before jumping on the plane on the actual day.

44/366 - 13 Feb 2012

Cheers, KangaRue :)

42/366 - Mini-Him

Today we went to the Christening of my friend Juliet's younger daughter, Anna.  Pickle was suitably attired in shirt, tie and waistcoat.  You can see where he gets his sartorial influence...

42/366 - 11 Feb 2012

He certainly dresses like his Daddy, but will Pickle get any his hair?!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

36/366 - Silly Snowballs

A raft of photos from our walk today, but I couldn't go past this one of BoyWonder.  He's made an enormous snowball and is throwing it in the air waiting for it to explode when it lands.  Between work, house renovations, the allotment, study and being a husband and Daddy, he doesn't get enough time to be silly - this was one of those rare occasions, and it was a delight to watch

36/366 - 5 Feb 2012

I'm a strong believer that silliness is a good thing, and extremely important for mental health.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

26/366 - Mussels

BoyWonder and I had a lovely meal out at the Tudor Barn.  My foie gras parfait was light and fluffy, and BoyWonder's mussels were a success unlike the last couple of times he'd eaten them.  For mains, we had steaks which were perfectly cooked.  Pickle enjoyed some of the onion bread that came with the mussels, as well as some of the broccoli that we had as a side with our mains!

26/366

As a member of their VIP club, I received a bottle of bubbles to celebrate my birthday, but the glass each of South African Riebeek Shiraz Reserve was a full-flavoured delight when paired with our steaks.  Wines are available in three sizes of glasses as well as by the bottle, and are priced as a percentage of the bottle, with no additional mark-up, which was a pleasant surprise. Unfortunately - and surprisingly for me - none of the desserts particularly appealed.  Service was relaxed, and the Tudor Barn exceeded our expectations, especially being a local restaurant.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

21/366 - Stacked Up

My photo of the day has got to be the sweetcorn fritters I had at An Aussie Brunch.  Not only because I like the composition and colours of the food, and also the out of focus plate in the distance... but most of all, because I was there with some of my favourite people in the world: BoyWonder and Pickle*, my friend and fellow yummy-mummy Caroline, her husband Dave, and their lovely daughter Lulah*.

21/366

*not their real names... these are their online pseudonyms - I'm asked if I really named my son Pickle at least once a week.  Well, I suppose Gwenyth Paltrow did name her son Apple, but I'm not an international star!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

An Aussie Brunch

Bill Granger's restaurants are a Sydney institution, so I was excited to learn he was opening a restaurant in London.  Particularly well-known for brunch, it wasn't hard to decide what time of day to visit Granger & Co.  We arrived around 9:30am on Saturday, to a crowded, yet airy room.  I think we timed it well, as a six-seated table had just become available - I was brunching with BoyWonder, my darling friend Caroline and her husband Dave, and our babies Pickle & Lulah; it was popular venue for other parents as well, as there were a large number of other prams and carriers in sight.

We started with juices - a freshly squeezed orange juice, an elderflower cordial and a homemade lemonade were well received.  While delicious, BoyWonder's sunrise smoothie was a little on the small side, and at £3.50, I would have expected it to be at least twice its size.

I struggled to decide between two dishes for my meal, but eventually, I couldn't go past Bill's famous sweetcorn fritters.  Served with fresh baby spinach, a lightly cooked tomato and a slice of bacon, it was well-seasoned and delicious.  This dish could be improved by a bit more generosity of bacon, as it only comes with one slice.

An unfortunate theme, as the boys discovered with their Full Aussie breakfasts. An enormous portion of creamy scrambled eggs is accompanied by delicious sourdough toast, mushrooms and tomato, but only three chipolata sausages and another single slice of bacon.  A third less egg with one extra slice of bacon and two more teeny sausages would have seen them far happier.  Unfortunately, BoyWonder discovered a bone-shard in one of his chipolatas.  The first waiter he brought this to the attention of was, quite frankly, useless - he said "oh, OK" and wandered off.  The service up to this point had been relaxed, if a little slow - but it was a weekend brunch, so we weren't in a rush.  But that was a little too relaxed.  So he requested to see the manager. She apologised, spoke to the chef and returned saying they'd bring it to their supplier's attention.  He was then offered a complimentary coffee in apology.  We suggested dessert would be more appropriate (but more on that in a bit, as it was our SilverLining).

The soft boiled eggs with sour dough toast was enjoyed, but as it does what it says on the box, there's not much more I can say here.

BoyWonder decided to get a coffee.  Now in past posts, I've detailed that he is, shall we say, particular about his coffee.  He wasn't disappointed with his long black - it was rich, intense and full of flavour.  None of the dreaded burn.  Aussies know how to make coffee.

For dessert, we agreed to indulge (sensibly by sharing) the ricotta pancakes with honeycomb butter, banana and maple syrup.  And, oh my!  They were delicious - definitely the hit of the day.  The ricotta lends a creaminess that balances the sweetness brilliantly; the honeycomb butter is a delight.  I would definitely order this as my main dish next time, with a side of bacon (hopefully more than one slice!).  So yes, why there were some issues, I will be back, and would recommend popping over to Notting Hill for breakfast or brunch soon.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

14/366 - On the Allotment

BoyWonder and I recently took over a neglected allotment plot.  While I was studying, BoyWonder has been slowly clearing it, though there is still a lot to do.

I found a convenient place to hang my lovely new baby bag when we went over today.  I'm baby-wearing Pickle in the shadow of this shot and we're warmly wrapped in a cloak - while it was lovely and sunny, it was cold today (when I left the house at 7:30am it was -2'C!)

14/366

I am looking forward to the day Pickle can dig about in the dirt and find wonder and fascination in planting something, then watching it grow.  And don't forget the worms; wonderful, squiggly worms... after all, that's what little boys are made of!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

Opening the Pickle Jar or Out Through the Sun-Roof

There is so much negativity surrounding the birthing process - all forms of media cite the pain of childbirth and mothers try to out-do each other with the horror stories of their labour.  HypnoBirthing endeavors to act as a counterpart reaction to this; with deep relaxation, breathing and meditation techniques the birthing process doesn't need to filled with screams and writhing in pain.

Months of reading Marie Mongan's HypnoBirthing and listening to her CD, and attending HypnoBirthing classes with Dany at Tums2Mums, and listening to her mp3s, had me looking forward to a calm, natural birth.  The techniques I'd learned had already helped with the SPD pain I was experiencing, so I was confident they would also be useful during the birthing process.

My due date came and went.  I always thought the date was wrong, and my hunch was that Pickle would arrive two weeks early.  Hastily I booked my bump photo shoot for week 37 with Harriet of Buckingham Photography (future blog to follow on both this and the baby shoot, though you can see some pics already here and here) and BoyWonder and I also did a bump casting at home.  Then I waited, but was surprisingly not terribly impatient, despite my growing enormity.  I figured (thanks to the HypnoBirthing teachings) that Pickle would arrive when Pickle was good and ready.

I "grew" for another
6-weeks after this!

Then, the Thursday during week 42 (i.e. 2 weeks after my "due date"), a nurse suggested induction.  On the spot.  BoyWonder was at work, so I declined, and said I'd come back on the Sunday if necessary.  With BoyWonder's birthday on the Saturday, I thought we'd wait to see how things progressed naturally.  I had a feeling things would start happening any day now, so after chatting to Dany that evening, I went to bed as usual.

1:28am I awoke with a start.  That was not a Braxton Hicks (practice birthing sensations).  I waited to see if it happened again.  Sure enough it came pretty quickly, so I woke BoyWonder up, and received a "oh, ok... can I go back to sleep now?".  Umm, no, we have to time them.  My surges (contractions in HypnoBirthing-speak) were coming five to five-and-a-half minutes apart.  Another request to go back to sleep from BoyWonder, and he lobbed his phone at me to time my surges.  Now, I was trying to use HypnoBirthing techniques and listen to Dany's calming voice on my laptop, so coming out of a relaxed state to press a freaking button on a phone was not particularly helpful.  But I was calm enough, and soon got fed up laying in bed.  So I got up to get a top out of the dryer* that I wanted to wear to hospital, and decided to phone my Mum in Australia at the same time.  By now my surges were about four minutes apart, and I chatted away to my Mum after telling her I was having her grand-baby.  I did get quiet every now and again during our half-hour or so call, and was doing pregnancy yoga moves along with my Hypno breathing.  Eventually, when my surges were coming between two-and-a-half and three minutes apart, I told Mum I should call the hospital and she hastily despatched me!

I woke BoyWonder up again, he phoned the hospital and they told us to come in.  Not before I had a shower, as I had no idea how long it would be until I got the next one.  So we both showered and dressed and drove the few minutes up the road at around 3:30am.

My birth plan detailed an active birth (using the pregnancy yoga moves I had learnt) followed by a relaxed and calm water birth using deep relaxation.  But first an examination was required to monitor Pickle and see how dilated I was.  Apparently I was only around 2cm (10cm is when the baby is ready to emerge), however the midwives were concerned with Pickle's heartbeat.  While it's natural for a baby's heartbeat to slow during a surge (or contraction), Pickle's was taking a while to recover after each, which could indicate that he was getting distressed.  A doctor was called.  To say she was abrupt would be the understatement of the century.  I wasn't allowed to sit on the yoga ball, stand, squat or lie on my side.  Instead I had to lay flat on my back - the most unnatural way for a woman giving birth, and one that increases discomfort considerably.  Not once did the doctor ever look me or BoyWonder in the face - she sort of just gazed in the middle of us while telling us what was going to happen.

During all of this, the surges were coming every two minutes or so, and I kept with the Hypno techniques and breathing.  I registered with amusement, one of the midwives saying "she's so quiet".  They would ask me "are you having another one" and I would nod.

BoyWonder - despite his initial reserve at having his sleep interrupted - came through wonderfully and questioned the doctor about changing my position, and then about what would happen if we waited ten or fifteen minutes before the sweep; then the breaking my waters.  I said it was OK to go ahead, and he checked I was sure - this is all part of the HypnoBirthing training, and it meant I felt in control of the process, and didn't feel pressured (mind you, the doctor wasn't best pleased).  And let me assure you, neither procedure is one I'd choose unnecessarily!  When neither procedure produced the results the doctor was looking for, she suggested an emergency Cesarean-section.  Now this really wasn't on the birth plan!  BoyWonder asked again what would happen if we waited even ten minutes, but I could hear Pickle's heartbeat and said it was OK, we needed to do what was best for the baby.  As long as I didn't have to have a general anesthetic.  I'd previously had an anesthetic consultation and the anesthetist at the time had insisted that is what I would need due to my previous back issues.  However, the lovely anesthetist that was present on the day said an epidural would suffice.

So off I was wheeled to be prepped for surgery.  BoyWonder was gowned.  I was tilted on a bed so the weight was on my left side to avoid the main vein that links to the placenta and also so my feet were raised which I think is supposed to help my blood pressure.  BoyWonder was seated on my right, so I really had to twist to see him.  I could feel tugging and pulling, but nothing else.  I kept using the breathing and visualisation exercises throughout.  And chatted to BoyWonder and the anesthetist when I felt like it.  The other medical professionals discussed music downloads amongst themselves.

Finally Pickle was out - it was 6:28am on Friday 19th August 2011, a mere five hours since I'd first awoken.  Though I still couldn't see past the sheet that had been placed in front of me, BoyWonder had a peek and discovered Pickle was a him!  Next on my birth plan was immediate skin-to-skin and breastfeeding.  But Pickle had been distressed and was covered in meconium (basically he'd pooed a little on the way out).  So BoyWonder got to hold him briefly while I caught a glimpse of his adorable little face out of the corner of my eye, but I loved him instantly.  I wasn't quite prepared for the depth or intensity.  And then they whisked him away as his breathing was a little fast (inhaling meconium can cause respiratory issues) to place him under a heat lamp and monitor him for a while.

I headed to recovery, and must have drifted off briefly, as the time seemed to whiz by - I was taken to the ward, what seemed like minutes later, but was almost two hours.  My little boy was brought to me about 15 minutes later, but it seemed like much longer; I finally got skin-to-skin contact with him just before 8:30am.  He was closely monitored, and at 2am that first night, he was whisked away as his breathing was still a little too quick.  His blood gases were checked, and I think it was something about not enough CO2 that required him to be taken to the Special (Intensive) Care unit.  I felt like I'd been punched in the stomach when they took him away from me; when the bought him back at 5am, I had the same physical reaction, but because I was so glad he was back with me - I can't even begin to comprehend how families cope with babies in there long term.

BoyWonder wasn't aware I was taking
this shot at the time  (in fact, I'm not
sure he's even seen this photo!) , he
was  completely entranced with Pickle,
which was lovely 

So while my birth plan - for all intents and purposes - was shredded and thrown to the wind, both the HypnoBirthing techniques and pregnancy yoga moves I learned, were invaluable and I'd highly recommend it to any Mums-to-be.  I'm not going to say that there wasn't discomfort, but my experience of the surges that were coming every two minutes while intense, were manageable.

I really wanted to breastfeed, and it was tricky at first - I had to express colostrum (the thick yellow liquid that comes before the milk) into a syringe a millilitre at a time.  Pickle latched on really well, but he didn't know he had to suckle.  It took us a couple of days (and one very long night), but with two fantastic breastfeeding support workers at the hospital (thankfully one on the day shift and one on the night), who were able to show me different holds and provide practical and supportive help, I persevered and Pickle finally "got it" the second night.  And that was another long night as all he wanted to do was catch up on the food he'd been missing!

As for the C-section... I've no idea why anyone would want to do one electively.  I understand if there are medical reasons behind it, but jeez, it's major surgery and has a much longer recovery period.  I was bed-bound with a catheter for the first 24 hours.  The SilverLining of this is that I got to avoid the meconium poos, and BoyWonder or the nurses changed those!  But the act of sitting up and then turning to pick Pickle up from the bassinet next to the bed was difficult and painful - I had to call the nurses if he was crying to be fed the first couple of days, or if they weren't quick enough, would struggle to do it myself.  Of course, BoyWonder helped me when we got home.  And this goes on for weeks.  Neither of us was prepared for how little sleep you get with a newborn!  But somehow your body just adjusts to cope.  It helps that Pickle is so darn cute the rest of the time!

Cheers, KangaRue :)

PS. For the record, though I thought Pickle was a boy from the day I found out I was pregnant, we never actually knew... think I must have inherited my Mum's white witch abilities.

*my friend Caroline had a dream that night that I was doing laundry and went into labour... perhaps she's got a bit of white witch in her too?

The Pickling Process

Photo used with permission.

I feel like I had an easy pregnancy with Pickle, though with hindsight, it did have its tricky moments.

I came off the contraceptive pill in August 2010.  And then... nothing.  I wee'd on a stick a couple of months later, but it came up negative, so I went to the doctor to say that my periods hadn't returned and was told to be patient.  In my late 30s, and with patience never my strong suit, this was difficult to say the least.  So off to Australia on a planned holiday BoyWonder and I  went (along with my brother Wayne).  It was a surprise for my Mum and this, along with my parents wedding vow renewal, TV cameras in tow, deserves a blog post of its own.  One day, while walking on the beach, my Mum asked if I was sure I wasn't pregnant and I'm pretty sure I snapped back at her in frustration (sorry Mum!).  Back to London, and back to the doctors; it was now 11 weeks since I came off the pill and I still hadn't had a period.  A different doctor tried to put me off by telling me to come back at the three month mark... which would have been the following week, so having private health insurance, I pushed for a referral on spot.

The following week, I went to see the loveliest doctor.  He planned to do three investigations that day, but after the internal exam (not the most comfortable experience!), he switched the process around to do the internal ultrasound.  "I can see why you're not having your period" he said.  I held my breath imaging him saying polyps, cysts etc.  "You're about 7 weeks pregnant".  How I sat up from the position I was in I don't know, but I was thrilled and more than a little stunned - I really had imagined the worst.  And I do consider myself lucky to have become pregnant so quickly, as I've had a number of friends struggle with various difficulties.

The next thing was to keep quiet... probably my next greatest failing after patience!!  We held out until Christmas to tell our parents and a few close friends.  And just made it to the 12-week mark before telling work.  While I felt really tired to start with, I barely had any morning sickness, just the occasional day of nausea.  Again, I count myself lucky; one of my close friends threw up every morning of her first pregnancy, except for a week right in the middle.

So on I pottered, getting bigger.  I actually lost weight the first trimester, which I'm sure was due to not only being more conscious of what I was eating, but cutting out alcohol.

Then one day, at around the half-way mark, I was walking through Soho when I slipped on a grape that had been dropped to the pavement.  I went flying, but the worst of my injuries appeared to be a badly scrapped knee.  I still bear a large scar.  My lower back hurt, but I didn't think much of it.

Unfortunately, the lower back pain got worse.  I have a great Osteopath, so went to see him.  After a few treatments, when I realised that the pain wasn't so much in my back, as in my hips and across my pelvic bone, he diagnosed Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction (SPD).  Pregnancy hormones help loosen the ligaments and joints in order to gain room for the baby to grow and for the actual birth.  In some cases, the loosening can happen too soon and/or too much - in my case it was both, likely brought on by my slip and aggravating a prior injury.  The ligament that joins the pelvic bone at the front was over-stretching and tearing.  SPD isn't common, and isn't particularly well known.  It probably helped that my Osteo is married to a midwife, and he suggested a Maternity Support Belt - not exactly the sexiest thing alive, but it helped.  My GP had been fairly unhelpful up to this point, just putting it down to regular pregnancy heaviness, though he did later refer me to the hospital physiotherapist; my appointment was lost twice and the third appointment was eventually scheduled for after Pickle's due date.

I was - quite frankly - in agony.  I only realise how bad it was now that I'm no longer in constant pain.  I struggled to walk, and stairs were extremely difficult.  Getting up out of a chair was a struggle - and this was before the third trimester "I've swallowed a watermelon" ensued.  Living in a Victorian Terrace, which was also undergoing renovations, was less than a joy.  If I left something upstairs it generally stayed there, or I'd ask BoyWonder to go and get it.  While he was understanding, he couldn't really comprehend the extent of the pain, and eventually got fed-up with my constant requests.  Now that I will happily go and grab something from upstairs he has realised I wasn't 'putting it on'.

While Transport for London kindly supply "Baby on Board" badges, there is a certain person - generally young, male and wearing a suit - who will spot the badge and proceed to avoid eye contact at all cost.  I'm aware this is a sweeping generalisation, and was indeed offered seats by young men wearing suits during my pregnancy, but the number that fit the stereotype was laughable.  Early on in my pregnancy, I stood right in front of one of these guys, who was also sitting in a priority seat.  While I felt able to stand most days at this point in my pregnancy, I was getting a hot flash; it was -2 degrees Celsius outside, but I started stripping hat, gloves and scarf off and was fanning myself.  Eventually I had to ask to sit down (there was a little old lady sitting next to him and I wasn't going to oust her from her seat!).  He got up, but would it have killed him to offer?  I gulped down my bottle of water I'd thankfully brought from home - I think I would have fainted if I hadn't sat down at that point.  Standing on public transport with SPD though was ridiculous - I went three stops on the tube one day, and the act of balancing aggravated my pelvis so badly I was bed-ridden the following day.  Out of necessity, I would be the one saying "excuse me would you mind if I sat down?" to someone youngish and healthy looking.  I only had one person say no - well actually, the middle aged guy shouted "what, what!" in my face, and the chavvy looking guy sitting next to him that I thought would be unreceptive, hastily offered me his seat.

Years ago, my friend Joe studied hypnotherapy in London before returning to Australia.  At the time he mentioned that one day when I was pregnant, I would have to look into hypnotherapy for giving birth.  When telling him about Pickle, I asked him about it again.  He gave me a few questions to ask, which freaked out the first consultant I contact whose response was, shall we say, less than positive.  Luckily, I discovered Dany from Tums2Mums on Twitter, who was happy to answer my questions, and offered to meet BoyWonder and I prior to signing up for a HypnoBirthing course (which we started the following week).  The techniques and mp3s Dany provided not only helped me to remain calm and focused during the birthing process (more on that in a later post), but also for the remainder of my pregnancy AND helped with pain control for the SPD.  I was doing Pilates and yoga prior to becoming pregnant, and continued these for the duration of my pregnancy, which I'm sure helped with focus and calm... the latter not necessarily being one of my most natural states.

Photo used with permission.

I did end up on crutches for the last month of my pregnancy, but regardless of this, and other than the pins and needles that appeared in my hand, and the day I partially lost my eyesight for a couple of hours with subsequent headaches, and the cankles I was lumbered with towards the end, I still consider myself lucky to have had a relatively easy pregnancy, with my SilverLining no doubt being the gorgeous little boy that I am very thankful for.

Cheers, KangaRue :)

One of the best meals ever!

Last year for my birthday, BoyWonder surprised me with a trip to Kent for lunch at fabulous The Sportsman restaurant in Seasalter, Kent.  While our meals was gorgeous, I didn't blog it at the time - I'm sure out of spite, as I was newly pregnant with Pickle, and BoyWonder was the one who got to try all the culinary delights that were banned for me: caviar, oysters, soft and smelly cheeses, and the complimentary wines we were he was lucky enough to be treated to. I think this deserves a renewed acquaintance with The Sportsman, don't you think?

So I was intrigued where BoyWonder would take me this year.  I fathomed we were going to Royal Tunbridge Wells from the postcode on the invite that arrived on my phone, but managed not to snoop investigate further.  When we strolled up to Thackeray's, I was intrigued.  Was this restaurant dedicated to Jake Thackeray, the singer I used to torment my Mum with?  (She has never heard one of his songs through, as she bursts into laughter well before the third bar starts... and my Mum has a very unique laugh.  Go on Mum, click on the link, I dare you!)  Indeed not, the restaurant was named after William Makepeace Thackeray, author of Vanity Fair, who once stayed on the premises.  And a book I've been meaning to read for some time.

It turns out, Thackeray's is the restaurant Richard Phillips started when he branched out for himself after working for the likes of the Roux brothers and Marco Pierre White. It looks quaint from the outside, but has elegant and theatrical interiors which remain sympathetic to the character of the building.  We were a little early, so chose a glass of Mercier Brut champagne, which was biscuity and refreshing, and I managed to nurse it through the first four of our courses - we were having the Chef's Tasting Menu!

The amuse bouche of the day was a crayfish terrine, served with caviar and a watercress foam.  Absolutely delicious, perfectly seasoned and beautiful presentation.

Next was a ballontine of Landes foie gras, with caramelised spiced white peach, brioche pan perdu and white peach jelly.  This was divine, but it is pretty hard to screw up foie gras!  The jelly was a perfect accompaniment to the foie gras and brioche, though we weren't as thrilled with the taste of the caramelised peach which was a little bland, but did lend a complimentary texture.



We had a choice to make for the next course, and decided to go for one of each option and share.  As it was, we only got a brief taste of each others as we were happy to stick with our preferred option.  I went for the Roast Fillet of South Coast Brill, served with haddock brandade, roast cucumber, and cockle and cucumber ketchup.  The "ketchup" led a fresh tanginess to the dish that lifted it to a delightful level, allowing the freshness of the sweet flesh to shine through without being fussy.  BoyWonder went for the Pan Fried Diver Caught Sea Scallops which came with a pumpkin and caper puree,
smoked eel, pickled Kentish apple and smoked hollandaise.  The small morsel I got to taste was delicious and perfectly cooked.  Both dishes were beautifully presented yet again.

To refresh our palette, a clementine sorbet was then served.  Oh my, it was delicious; though more a granita than a sorbet, the fervent flavour was refreshingly tart, and we could have quite happily consumed a bowl of the stuff!

While we again had a choice for the next course, we both decided to go with the Roast Fillet of 28 Day Hung Herefordshire Beef.  Rosemary scented layered

potatoes, a Kentish blue cheese beignet, creamed celeriac and a red wine and bone marrow jus accompanied.  The potatoes were delicious, the jus had an amazing depth of flavour and I loved the beignet, which was basically a posh cheese popper! The d'Arenberg The Stump Jump Shiraz 2008, was a perfect match, with deep plum, earthy and spicy flavours and scent.

Rather than go for a typical dessert wine, BoyWonder made the inspired choice of the Domaine Schlumberger 'Fleur', an Alsace Gewurztraminer which went brilliantly well with both the cheese and dessert courses, where a sticky would likely have been too cloying.  The Brillat Savrin a la Truffe was a soft cheese from Burgundy layered with sliced black truffle.  While it sounded impressive, in truth this was the least inspiring dish of the day.  Perhaps they should have checked closer to home, as the Tunworth I bought from Neal's Yard Dairy as part of our Chrismukkah cheeses on Essex Eating's recommendation, was far more impressive.

A choice for our desserts again, and we decided to split and "share", though we were both so enrapture with our individual choices that it was a mere smidgen of the other's dish that we got to try! BoyWonder went for the Kentish Raspberry Souffle with cherry sorbet and raspberry soup.  The "soup" was ceremoniously poured into the souffle at the table.  Hats off to the pastry chef on my Assiette of Chocolate, as I believe this was the most visually impressive dish of the day, and that really is saying something. It tasted sensational too with macerated
cherries (and I don't normally like booze and fruit combined), the red cherry sorbet made an appearance again, along with a chocolate tuille and a white chocolate and pistachio ganache.  I'm drooling just remembering it.

Now BoyWonder is extremely fussy meticulous about coffee.  The most infamous being the dining-disaster of Alain Ducasse at The Dorchester.  Miraculously he was extremely happy with the coffee.  My fresh mint tea was also well received - more restaurants should take note, as it's not hard to impress with a well-considered caffeine-free option.

There's nothing worse than a disappointing sweet end to the meal. Luckily our Petits Four continued the impressive standard.  While one was covered in marzipan - evil stuff - the sponge inside was light, the chocolate one was rich and balanced with cocoa, the jelly-gum was bursting with berry juiciness, but my favourite was the home-made marshmallow.

The Chef's Menu was £69 per person and there is also the option of ordering a glass of wine per course for a very reasonable £30pp extra.  We chose to order just a few wines by the glass, and there is quite a wide selection of wines that have this option.  The staff were lovely: knowledgeable and helpful without being intrusive.  We believe that this was one of the best meals we've ever had and I'd highly recommend making a beeline to Thackeray's.


So some questions for you:

• How will BoyWonder top this next year?  (Suggestions welcome!)
• Will Vanity Fair make it off my bookshelf soon?
• And most importantly, if my Mum opens the Jake Thackeray link, will I hear her all the way from Australia?

Cheers, KangaRue :)

This is not a sponsored post.

7/366 - Sensory Box & 8/366 - Birthday Brunch

7/366

It's been a fun weekend.  I've started a sensory box for Pickle, which I believe is a Montessori idea.  It is all about engaging his kinesthetic sense - through my counselling studies, I came to learn that most people have one or two preferences for learning through their visual, audio or kinesthetic (touch) sense.  As someone who is a visual-kinesthetic, it is apparent to me that most teaching ignores learning though touch, so the idea of a sensory box greatly appealed.  Different textures are employed; his favourites so far are the wooden peg (he's having a good old chew in this photo, so it has a double effect of helping with teething!), the metal whisk, the cardboard tube, and one of BoyWonder's old silk ties.  Watching him explore each piece with utter fascination is absolutely delightful.

Would you be interested in discovering your own preferred sense?  I'd be happy to help with a future blog post if there is interest.

Sunday was kick-started with my birthday brunch.  We went to Chapters in Blackheath.  And while the service and food had lost a bit of it's shine from previous occasions, I expect this was due to our large group size.  My Eggs Benedict with the addition of creamed spinach was delicious (though one of the poached eggs was no longer soft), and while on any normal day it would have likely featured as my photo for the day, with such a fabulous group of friends to help me celebrate, I had to share a group pic.

8/366
Back row: Rowan, Pickle, BoyWonder, Liam, Glenn,
Gerry, Elisa, Julian, Shaherah, Caroline, Livvy
Front row: Veleta, Grant, Brett, Me, Dave

I consider myself lucky to have met this great bunch.  How I met BoyWonder deserves a blog of its own, and there is an imminent one due on meeting Pickle.  As for the others (in order of appearance in my life):

I met Rowan through one of my best friends, many years ago; while my friend Joe has since returned to Australia, I'm thankful for him introducing us, though I dread to wonder how many years it's been!  Through Rowan I met Liam, Brett and Glenn.

Caroline and Dave picked me up in a bar!  I was at the opening of the Parlour Bar in Canary Wharf one night, flicking away at my phone, being Billy-no-mates while I awaited BoyWonder's (late) arrival.  Complimentary food and drinks were flowing.  I was passed a prawn shish kebab, when one of the prawns promptly fell off the skewer.  I thought I'd managed to style it out, when Dave lent over and said "saw that!".  He introduced me to his lovely new-bride, and they have now been joined by the gorgeous Livvy.

Around the same time, I met Shaherah at the Dove VisibleCare photo shoot - front row in this pic, I'm 2nd from the left, and Shaherah is the third in.  We got to chatting, discovered we were both living in Sarf-East London, literally just minutes from each other.  Though I thought her husband Julian was a figment of her imagination for quite some time, I finally got to meet him last year.

Elisa also came to me via a close friend in Oz, Sue, who visited a while back - Sue suggested we meet up when Elisa and Gerry moved over to London.

While the majority of this motley crew tweet, Veleta is the only one here who I met through Twitter.  We got to chatting and I met her, along with Grant, early last year.  I feel very fortunate to have discovered such a lovely person in a fairly unusual way.

So, to my lovely friends who helped me celebrate today, even singing me Happy Birthday, I would like to raise my glass and toast them with: "Let's not age - let's just marinate"*.

*quote from my birthday card from Veleta!

Cheers, KangaRue :)