Charity begins at home

One of the joys for me of not working is being able to trawl charity shops in search of bargains. At the moment I am mainly drawn to crockery, fabric and children's clothing. And of course the odd brightly coloured 70s polyester garment for me. My charity shopping fetish began when I was 15 and living in north Queensland with very little money but a great desire to stand out from the crowd. Oh the things I found - a beautiful handmade maroon velvet coat with tartan lining for 50 cents - which I still have - not to mention a range of fantastic 60s frocks and other delights. The joys of country town charity shopping. On Monday I was a bit sick with a cold (not swine flu) and I had lost my voice but needed to get out of the house. So, Chet and I rugged up and set off for the local Salvos. Here we are - Chet in the pikkolo with his hoody on and me resplendent with bad hair and a pimple.

At the charity shop I found a blue hand knitted children's jumper and some fantastic 60s/70s Japanese soup bowls. One matches the K-man's coffee cup and the other two have the words soup and crackers written all over them. And, only 50cents each. My heart soared - I was very excited indeed and almost forgot I was incredibly sleep deprived and couldn't speak. The jumper was sent to a friend for her baby as I had bought something similar last week and the soup bowls came home with me. Here they are, and also a pic with the K-man's coffee cup. Now I just have to get the bamix out and make lots of lovely thick wintery soup.

Another musical Chet

I saw the fabulous Lucinda Williams last night, and whilst trying to stay awake and not annoy my friends with my yawning I discovered that a member of her backing band is called Chet. Apparently he is guitarist and keyboard player Jeff "Chet" Lyster, ex Eels. I am collecting musical Chets now - it seems they are multiplying. I was discussing this with the K-man tonight - what comes first - the name or the musical ability? Can you name a child to be musical? I would think not, probably says more about the interests etc of the parents. Oh and Lucinda was fantastic, and her rendition of 'It's a long way to the top' a fine way to end the night. I didn't get a sausage roll though.

What do you do all day?

A friend, who doesn't have children, asked me the other day how I spent my days and I have to say I was at a bit of a loss for an answer. And, it is not as though I do nothing, it is just that what I do do is so prosaic that it is hard to put into words. And it is funny, most people don't ask you what you do all day when you have a job and that can be just as hard to articulate. I guess for me, having a baby means that your work is now spread out (not necessarily evenly) over a twenty-four hour period whereas if you are working your work is 9 to 5 and you might fit in a bit of housework on the weekend. I think that the K-man thinks I don't do much at work as I tend to work at a desk and a computer whereas his work is more physical and tangible. I know, however, that he is a bit more aware that being at home with a baby is work. He certainly hasn't dared to ask me what I do all day, or demand I get on with the housework etc.

So, what do I do all day? Well in any 24 hour period there can be between 6 to 10 breastfeeds. That takes some time. Then there is the settling and the putting to bed. Certainly in the early days I felt as though I was always putting Chet to bed and it is definitely one of the things that I find a bit tedious - it happens at least three times a day and doesn't always work on the first go so a fair amount of time is spent rocking and wrapping and replacing the dummy. And now Chet is on solids (stupid word really, it certainly doesn't mean the food which is mush, perhaps it is referring to the output which is certainly more 'solid') there are two meals a day, working up to three. Plus there is the making of the food, freezing mushy leftovers into ice cube trays and putting it in little plastic containers. I quite like doing this, but it also takes time.

Then, there seems to be quite a lot of buckling - not to mention buckling under the strain at times. Buckling him into his chair so he doesn't rock himself out of it and do himself a damage, buckling him into his car seat and then unbuckling him at the other end. Buckling him into his pram or his stroller and unbuckling him several times during that particular expedition ... and on it goes.

And of course, the perennial nappy changes which I don't actually mind but they can take up some time, especially if he decides to wee on you while you are in the middle of it. Hmm, then there seems to be a lot of rubbish to take out and endless loads of washing (and I don't even have a chucker) and other bits of housework. And because you are home all day there is plenty of time to notice how dirty the house is and to dirty it some more. The K-man likes to leave crumbs about the place, the Minx leaves cat fur everywhere and don't get me started on the dust.

In between these chores I like to play with my baby, take him for walks, talk to him and read to him. Oh and sleep needs to be slotted in somehow as well.

Not that I am complaining mind, I quite like being at home and being able to potter about and go shopping during the day when it isn't crowded and to walk slowly and look at other people's gardens. And getting out and about with a baby is fun - people stop and talk to Chet and he grins madly at them. A couple of weeks ago an old man gave me some wild flowers he had picked down by the old freight train line and stood and admired Chet for a while. I feel more engaged with my local neighbourhood and life feels as though it is progressing at a more leisurely pace. It is like a brief time out from the world of work and catching trains and rushing about. In fact, I would have to say I am quite enjoying it.

Furry paws

Mamma Mogantosh got me thinking about the way families develop their own language or shorthand. I always felt that perhaps my family had more of this than a lot of families, but perhaps I am mistaken. It also seems as though the K-man's family is big on having a private language. Now that I think about it, in my family, it was a particularly private language, which excluded others and could at times be quite claustrophobic. Perhaps it was cemented by the process of immigration, I'm not sure. And, I am never sure if the sayings that my father has are things he has made up or things that were common in Zimbabwe from the 30s to the 80s or sayings he acquired from his Scottish father. What this means is that the K-man and I are now busily inventing our own language, perhaps as a form of family creation. So, no doubt when Chet starts school he will be well versed in the language of MacLean-James which will prepare him for, well, nothing at all, apart from being able to communicate with his family. Hopefully.

Our language is not as developed as the Mogantosh's but I am sure, that given time, it will blossom into a veritable bed of thorny roses. At the moment, babies are referred to as leapys, Chet has paws and footskas and furs (although not furry paws at this stage) and he has just grown two tooffles and likes to suck on his dum dum. He wears clothses and he communes daily with the pusskin who in turn is a rooster girl. Whenever Chet is hungry he is a hungry hungry hippo and whenever he rolls over he is doing a roly poly. And he seems to have quite a collection of funts (elephants) in all shapes and sizes. I can see looking at this selection that some of the phrases are from my family, some from the K-man's and some are our own creation - just like Chet I guess.

Morning tea

One of the nice things about being at home is having a break for morning tea. I had a coffee ritual at work as well, which was more about leaving my desk for a while to go off on a coffee run. At home it is about sitting down and reflecting on the night before and the day ahead. I do this most mornings, at any time between 9 and 11, depending on when Chet is feeding and when he is sleeping. I like the ritual of tea in a tea pot and I love little plates and tea cups. Here is one of my morning teas - coffee and chocolate biscuits.

And, another nice thing about being home seems to be an increased desire to bake. I have been baking some polenta, cheese and corn muffins of late and here they are, with a pot of earl grey tea and beautiful crockery.

Toowoomba city here we come ...

Chet and I went to Toowoomba for a week to visit my parents. Anyone who knows me will know that I tend to find any extended time spent with my parents slightly stressful and this trip was no exception. The main difference was that I had a small baby who needed my attention I wasn't so caught up in the drama that is my parents. That said, there was plenty to keep us entertained - my Dad checking the stock market every hour and getting upset every time it went down, which was every time he checked it; my mother worrying about the price of cat food - a worry that had previously been purely my father's domain; and I got into trouble for not putting the car into 5th gear when I took it 10ks down the road - apparently this wastes petrol. Still, Chet was adored by all and had a wonderful time. He mostly rolled around on a picnic blanket on the floor and played with his squeaky pirate, book and monkey and looked at Snout the cat with interest. He got to put his feet on grass for the first time and was only really upset when I left him with my mother for half an hour to get a facial. He seemed to cope pretty well with flying - he was asleep for take-off both times and he slept in a family cot that apparently my mother and her siblings had slept in as well as my brother.

After spending time with my family I always need to debrief and no one truly understands what I am talking about more than my brother. This was reiterated for me by Judith Lucy, who's The Lucy Family Alphabet I read while I was away. In amongst the tales of bad behaviour and amusing anecdotes she makes an interesting point about siblings: "No-one understands your parents or your childhood experience like a fellow sibling." It got me thinking about families and wondering how Chet is going to experience our family. And if he doesn't have a sibling (and it is quite likely he won't) who is going to understand what he is talking about? Hopefully my brother will be there for him in the same way my aunt was there for me when I needed to talk about my family experiences and hopefully he won't need to debrief too much after spending time with us. Time will only tell I guess.

Deep in a dream ...

I am currently reading Deep in a dream: the long night of Chet Baker, a bio of Chet Baker which I like to think is baby related as we partly got Chet from Chet Baker. Chet Baker's Chet is from Chesney however, whereas our Chet is from Chetwin. I hope there are other differences as well - Chet Baker was a junkie and lived quite a sad life, dying in suspicious circumstances in Amsterdam in 1988. Coincidentally, he had a daughter called Melissa and was apparently a beautiful square jawed blond man - and of course I hope that Chet will be similarly attractive.

And of course we both hope that Chet will be musically talented like Chet Baker. If he is it wouldn't be from my side of the family - we are musically challenged although my mother told me recently that a great great uncle was a music academic in Scotland. That, however, is the only musical relative I know of. The K-man's family however is musically gifted - he plays bass, his brother plays guitar, his sister sings and plays sax, his grandmother played the piano in church, his nephew plays drums ... and so on it goes.

Chet Atkins is another musician called Chet - his Chet comes from Chester. And the K-man has a friend in Perth called Chet who is also a musician - in a band called the Early Hours. Seems as though Chet is a musical name - let's hope Chet can live up to his musical heritage ...

Look mum no hands ...

Chet has discovered his feet, which is not surprising, given the size of them! They are miniature versions of my father's feet and are not small at all. Dad has a size 11 foot which was massive in his generation, so I am guessing that Chet's feet will be at least that large if not larger, given that kids seem to be getting bigger with each subsequent generation. Chet is constantly playing with his clodhoppers which can make nappy changes difficult, but seems to amuse him more than a lot of his toys do. He can also put his big toe in his mouth, just.

Other new found skills include reaching out for things, helping you pick him up by lifting his bum in the air (sometimes this isn't so helpful) and occasionally sleeping through the night. He also doesn't seem to collect fluff between his fingers and toes (an early skill) and he generally doesn't vomit which is good. That said he had a little cough-up this morning, I believe these are called 'possets' - one of those words that isn't onomatopoeic at all - it sounds a bit twee for what is essentially a little vomit. Chet can also put his dummy back in his mouth and occasionally chuck it on the floor. And, he can on occasion, roll, although he isn't too sure of this one and seems very surprised when he does it. We are also treated to many smiles and sometimes laughter. He seems to think most things are very amusing, especially anything the K-man does and bursts into smiles and giggles any time the K-man even says the word 'Daddy'.

Seems we have a happy little chappy on our hands which is nice, although it does come as a bit of a shock if he isn't happy for whatever reason. We have had a couple of quite long screaming episodes where I can't quite work out what the problem is after I have fed and changed him - all I can come up with is that it is either teeth or tummy which I suppose it is but it is hard when he can't tell me what is wrong. Fortunately we don't have too many of these episodes.

We all breathe a sigh of relief

The holiday break is now well and truly over and we have all breathed a sigh of relief. The K-man went back to work today, the Minx is lounging on the outdoor table under the umbrella, Chet is happily playing with his feet in his chair and I feel that I can finally think clearly. The house is not resonating with the sound of the Family Guy on high rotation and the computer is all mine again. The Christmas/New Year period was good but pretty full on - lots of lunches and bbqs with Chet in tow - he was pretty good about being carted around here there and everywhere and didn't disgrace himself ... much. We had high-tea at the Sheraton, lunch at the Drummoyne Sailing Club, bbqs and drinks at friends places as well as a couple of overnight trips away from home. Here is Chet, asleep in his capsule on a friend's kitchen table surrounded by bottles of wine and corn chips - a sign of things to come perhaps?

In retrospect we probably took on too much over the break and the planned 4 days at Mollymook turned into three when we found ourselves in a house with 9 adults, 4 kids and 4 dogs, a highly overstimulated Chet, not much sleep for us or him - it was a recipe for disaster really. Still you don't know until you try and it could all be different next time we take him away. I got in some lovely swims at the beach though. We did try and take Chet swimming in a pool on boxing day but the water was quite cold and as soon as we put his feet in the water he screamed and held his feet as close to his body as he could! So, not wanting to traumatise him I didn't put him in the pool any further. We also tried giving him a cold bath in the backyard on one of the very hot days we had last week - he screamed blue murder and was very upset, even when we put warm water in. He might have inherited his father's dislike of cold water.

The K-man and I even managed a couple of meals out sans Chet. The K-man took me to dinner at Aria as a 'giving birth' treat and what a delightful meal it was. We got the summer tasting menu - K-man with wine, me without - and the sommelier gave me a couple of sneaky glasses of wine anyway. It was all wonderfully light and summery. Chet was looked after by his girlfriends in Surry Hills - they love looking after him and when we dropped him off he was asleep - although not for long as they poked and prodded him until he woke up! He also had some 'pants off' time during which Assy took photos of his nether regions until her mother told her to stop and she went off upstairs to sulk. We also had an anniversary lunch at the Bentley Restaurant and Bar - a very different venue to the one I used to frequent when I first came to Sydney in the mid-90s - then it was pretty grungy and feral, full of hippies, dreadlocks, dogs, flannel shirts and always joints being passed around the pool table. Now it is casual but elegant, with a wide range of wines and tapas on hand. No pool table and no joints either! We had the tasting menu and asked the sommelier to recommend appropriate wines for us; I had a lovely pinot noir which lasted me through the entire meal, the K-man had the pinot and a heavier Spanish red as well as a cognac to finish. All in all very pleasant. Chet was looked by after by friends at home this time and apparently he managed to hold his bottle all by himself - which is a first, although I never seem him drink from a bottle as that always happens when I am out or away from him for some reason.

I managed to get a few things down around the house - re-potting plants, endless washing, sorting out Chet's corner, getting rid of maternity clothes and winter baby clothes and generally enjoying the warm weather. I hung some curtains in the kitchen that I have been meaning to get to for well over a year and enjoyed a gin and tonic most evenings - just after a feed of course. I even read a novel - note just the one. Most summer holidays ever since I can remember I sit down and plough though a novel a day for a couple of weeks - this time I managed only, Vertigo by Amanda Lohrey. And it is a novella. Very good though, beautifully written and sad in parts as well. I also managed a story by David Foster Wallace - I felt the need to look into his writing after his untimely death last year. His story, A supposedly fun thing I'll never do again about a week long all-expenses paid trip on a luxury cruise, funded by Harper's Magazine was laugh out loud funny (I doubt Foster Wallace would have approved of acronyms such as LOL, neither does Hank Moody in Californication but I digress) - very droll and dry and serious at the same time. I hope to finish a few more of his stories this year and perhaps even tackle Infinite Jest - I realise that may be a little ambitious with a small baby but who knows?

Now we can look forward to settling into a routine of sorts - mothers group, walking, yoga, lunches and trips to the library - I think a quiet life for a little while will be good for all of us.