Moments

2012 has been an enormous year, as far as years go. In February we welcomed our baby Charlie, in the back of the car by the side of the road no less, and then we spent the next few months adjusting to life as a family of four. We were also trying to adjust to life with a child with complicated needs. As if that wasn't enough on our plates, we finally got around to renovating the house we call home.

I've never felt more challenged than I did this year, but our boys handled every hurdle we threw at them and then some. There were days of newborn anxiety and sleepless fog where we wondered what on Earth we had done. Days of desperation when we battled to understand Joshie's eye condition and searched for answers on how to help him. Days, and weeks, mid-renovation when all I wanted to do was go home. Days when we moved back in when I wanted to be anywhere but home. But, without sounding like a cliche, it has been one of the best years of my life. Being a family of four has opened the door to some incredible experiences, and some truly precious, often unexpected, moments of bliss. My boys make me smile every single day, no matter what chaos or heartache presents itself. I know that sounds trite to some, but I'm a "stay-at-home mum," and if I've learned anything this year, it's that I need to find the joy in the simplest things to get through all that comes with the gig. There are days when all I do is, literally, stay at home and be a mum. I'm grateful that it's something I had the luxury of choosing to do but there are days, at least once a week, when it does my head in. Days when I want out. Sometimes there are weeks when I feel that way every day, several times a day. And on those days when I wonder what the hell happened to my life and the plans and the person I wanted to be (who in no way resembles who I currently am), it's the moments - sometimes huge milestones, and at others tiny, fleeting, blink-of-an-eye type moments - that make me realise I wouldn't want to be anywhere else in the world.

These last few weeks when I haven't been writing I've been desperately composing posts in my mind, wanting to write about so many things. I wanted to write about Christmas and Josh turning three and all the moments in between, but I've been writing for a living this year, and to be perfectly honest, I'm a bit worded out. I'm a little bit stunned by how fast the year has gone, and how much we managed to pack into it, and I don't know if any "year in review" type post would really do it all justice. In 2012 our boys have grown in so many ways, and so have we, and we've kicked some pretty big goals. We spent Christmas, just the four of us, at home with a turkey dinner so big that we're still eating leftovers, and we felt truly lucky to be doing so. I never imagined I'd get to spend every day with three people that I love so much, and in years to come when I think about 2012, I won't remember the madness and the stress and the tears and tantrums (and yes, the typhoons), I'll just remember the moments, like the one in the photo above - the million little ways each day that my boys give my heart a squeeze and make it all worth it.

So, to you and yours, Happy New Year (or Happy New Ear as Josh would say). May 2013 be filled with beautiful moments.



(Photo courtesy of Suzanne Goodwin Photography, and no, I didn't have time to blow-dry my hair that day, I was too busy enjoying the moments)

An Anniversary

Five years, two countries, one home, countless adventures, many wonderful friends, two beautiful little boys, some wins, some losses, much laughter, learning, and love, have all lead us here to one amazing life. Happy Anniversary D, may there be many more x

Enter the Dragon

It's January, it's below 10 degrees outside and there are 30 minute queues at the supermarket, which can only mean one thing: it must be Chinese New Year. Kung Hei Fat Choy everyone! I wrote about Chinese New Year last year and I can't believe all that has happened since then. I never imagined that we would be expecting a baby (and soon) the next time CNY rolled around, but given that it was the year of the rabbit, I really shouldn't have been so surprised! Our J was born in the the Year of the Ox, and at the time we read a little bit about what that meant, just for fun. But our little BITO is a different story - he/she will be a dragon, and I've learned that this is a very big deal around here.

Once again, just for fun, I started reading up on what kind of personality my little one would have, based on the Chinese zodiac. I learned that dragon babies are incredibly auspicious, and are destined to be intelligent, powerful, successful and wealthy (Bruce Lee was a famous dragon)- which inspires many parents to do some creative family planning. The dragon is the only mythical creature of the zodiac and that has a lot to do with its desirability apparently. It's considered to be a blessing to have a baby, especially a boy, in a dragon year. Reading about the lengths some people go to to have a dragon baby, I feel a teensy bit guilty that we did it with very little effort and no consideration whatsoever, but also strangely proud - whether we intended to or not, we've done our child a great favour, or so it would seem.  We've been hearing a lot about how lucky we are, and then I read this article... I haven't really blogged yet about the insane competition for school places here, or fight for beds in maternity wards, but trust me when I say it's fierce at the best of times. It seems crazy to me that the quest for a baby with certain qualities would place such an extraordinary burden on an already overwhelmed system, but after 4 years here I'm not surprised, and I have my elbows out, ready to fight with all the other parents of dragon babies out there. I never imagined I would be that parent, but I have the application form for our desired school already printed out ready to be filled in as soon as BITO enters the world. I'm hoping that the fact that he/she will arrive fairly early in the year will work to our advantage but I'm still struggling to believe that this is something we even have to think about!

While I'm prepared to do battle with anyone standing between me and a private hospital bed, or between BITO and a place in a good school, I won't be forming too many preconceived ideas about the kind of child we're about to welcome. Whatever they will be when they grow up, they are still babies that eat, poop, throw food and deprive their parents of a great deal of sleep, and they will also bring us great joy, future world leader or not. At the end of the day I'm more concerned with the health and happiness of my kids, but if someone finds any evidence that dragon babies sleep more in their first year than others, I'd be very interested indeed. Whether or not my dragon is destined for greatness remains to be seen but I do find it quite funny when I picture a dragon arriving in a home that already houses a goat, a rabbit and an ox - if there's any truth to it all, life will certainly be interesting!

Despite my scepticism, one of the quotes from the BBC article that really resonated with me was, "When the dragon wants to do something, there will be no stopping him." Our little one has already proven that he/she is determined to be here, and I have no doubt that, regardless of how he/she turns out or how many dragon qualities we see, that determination is set to continue. Here's hoping for an auspicious year for all of us, it's already off to the best start imaginable.

A New Chapter

Happy New Year lovely readers! I hope that wherever you are in the world, and however you chose to celebrate it (or not) that 2012 will be kind to you all. We watched the Sydney fireworks on the Australia Network at 9pm and quietly slipped into bed while Hong Kong waited for midnight. It was the perfect start to the year.

2011 was hectic for us, but then again, aren't most years hectic these days? Last year took us to Bali, Manila, London, Edinburgh, Manila again and Sydney. I had 2 new jobs, D got an upgrade (promotion) and we watched J grow into a pretty cool little boy. There were a few surprises, not the least of which was finding ourselves in the family way again - a most unexpected but exciting turn of events. We decided to sell the house, and then we decided to stay, and now we're a few weeks away from renovating. We had visits from family, and time with old friends and new. It was a big, bold year and we feel like we've achieved a lot, but we've had to work really hard to do it. Sitting down with a cup of tea and a chocolate biscuit felt like the most appropriate way of seeing in a new year; as if we wanted to show 2012 how we roll, before it thunders down upon us with more of the same chaos as last year.

In so many ways, this year will bring us new beginnings. An old home made new, a beautiful new baby, a few new adventures with any luck, and a set of brand new challenges. In the last few weeks we've found ourselves headed down a very different path to the one we thought we were on, and no GPS or sat-nav can help us navigate our way through this one. Do any of you remember the "Sunscreen Song" from the late 90's? I was reminded of one line from this song recently - "The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday." And so it was, on some idle Tuesday (at 12pm for the record), 5 days before Christmas, that we were blindsided. The song was right. Please don't worry, I'll fill you in on all that next time. For today I want to wish you all the very best for the year. And to 2012, and the road ahead, I say bring it on.

A Birth Day

I started this post a while ago for very different reasons to why I'm finally putting it out there now. I have been known to get on the natural birth bandwagon from time to time, and I get quite distressed when I encounter women who are absolutely terrified of giving birth naturally, to the point of choosing to have an elective caesarean instead. I was pretty terrified at one point (and I'm sure I will be again second time round), but if you go in with the right mindset and know everything you can know, it's really not that scary. Trust me, I had such a good experience I'm going to do it again! Before I go off on a tangent, let me explain that I'm telling you my story today because my amazing little man just turned 2. He went from being a helpless, floppy, completely dependent (but adorable) newborn, to a very independent, confident and talkative little boy in such a short time that I cannot believe two years have passed since the night we drove to the hospital in the pouring rain and came home with a baby. It was the most incredible night of my life, and I really feel blessed to have brought such a special little person into the world. I cannot wait to do it again (and maybe again after that :-) Here's how it all went down...

Three weeks before my son was born I got a fright in the middle of the night. Something shifted and I went into what they call "pre-labour." I was quietly dilating and contracting while going about my business, and was totally oblivious to the fact until my next doctor's appointment. I saw my obstetrician three times in those three weeks, and the first two times she examined me and swore that we would have a baby within the next 48 hours. My husband extended his leave to ensure he was by my side, ready to leap into action any time I so much as whimpered (crying out in pain one night from a leg cramp had him halfway to the car before I calmly informed him it was not "go time."), I packed my bag and together we anxiously awaited our fate. In the meantime we did everything the books tell you to do if you're trying to bring on labour, although not always at the same time; for the record, vindaloo is not conducive to romance. On the third and final visit Dr G threw her hands in the air and refused to make any promises, "he'll come when he's ready," she said. Now that I know my son better, I've accepted that as part of who he is, and I love him for it, but at the time I was so desperate to meet him that I grew increasingly frustrated. It wasn't until I gave up and realised he had to come out eventually, that he finally made an appearance.

While we waited that week, we watched a documentary on zoo animals (during a break from eating curry, doing yoga and drinking raspberry leaf tea and pineapple juice), where we learned the interesting little fact that wild animals often go into labour at night, in bad weather, when there are fewer predators around, and we joked that maybe that was what the little guy was waiting for. And so it was, on a wet, windy and cold December night, just after getting into bed, my waters broke. Since the hospital was an hour away we had been advised to leave home when my contractions were 10 minutes apart - they started at 5 minutes apart. By the time we got to the hospital at midnight I could barely walk. I was also one of those annoying women who wanted to give birth without pain relief. Trust me when I tell you that it had nothing to do with being a martyr, I just hated the idea of someone sticking a needle in my spine. So I endured three solid hours of almost back-to-back contractions, all the while dealing with a really unhelpful midwife who kept coming in and telling me that yet another "hypnobirther" in the ward had caved in and asked for an epidural. She'd follow this with "so you want drugs yet?" I had my brilliant husband and my amazing sister-in-law in the room with me and they kept me going.

I had done a lot of research before I went into labour because I wanted to be prepared for what I could expect to happen. I also had an awful lot of time on my hands while I waited. By far the most helpful thing I read was from a book called "Birth Skills" by Juju Sundin (find more info here). She talked about fear leading to tension, and tension leading to pain, or at least increasing it. She also reminds pregnant mums that the pain of childbirth is very different to the pain caused by disease or injury: it's a positive pain caused by your muscles working to help you deliver your baby. It's also a temporary pain. It all made perfect sense to me, and armed with the faith that my body knew what it was doing, I was able to relax and just go with it. You'll be pleased to know that throughout it all I stayed very calm, and only yelled at my husband once. I wasn't a complete hero I have to admit. At around 2.30am I had had just about as much as I could take. My labour had been mercifully short (if you don't count the first three weeks!) but really intense. I was ready to take whatever they could give me to make the pain go away but when the midwife had a little look-see downstairs she was surprised to find that I was ready to push. It was too late for the drugs. I made do with gas and air (a godsend, that made me feel a million bucks) and got ready to meet my son. The doctor arrived, wearing scrubs and gumboots, which I found a little alarming. She told me I'd have a baby by 5am, which seemed like an awfully long time away to me, but I didn't have to wait that long. JWC was born at 3.14 am weighing a very robust 4kgs. The relief was instant, and apart from the overwhelming love and adoration, I also felt kind of proud. I had done it, I had survived childbirth. The pain didn't kill me, I didn't give up, and my trust in my own ability proved worthwhile. Anytime after that when I was sleep deprived and miserable, days when I felt completely helpless because I had no idea what I was doing, I thought back on that night and it gave me the motivation I needed to keep going. It was such a boost - "I gave birth to an enormous (but adorable) baby without drugs, I can do anything."

Giving birth to a baby of that size, in that space of time, isn't without its drawbacks, and I have the scars to prove what I went through. But, without sounding blase or trite, I'd do it all again now that I know what I got in the end.

Those first 24 hours, in fact the first weeks and months have all been blurred in my mind, but the memory of holding my little guy for the first time will stay vividly in my memory forever. I felt like I already knew him, we'd waited so long to meet him, and he'd been with me all that time, but I knew there was still so much we had to learn about each other. We spent the first 12 months of his life focused on the basics that would keep him (and us) alive - food and sleep. Then we relaxed a little and got to know him for the person that he is, and it's been a blast. He's so much like me at times, then so much like his dad at others. Then there are the times when he's a completely unique individual and we look at each other and wonder where he came from. He loves cars, trucks, buses, planes and Thomas the Tank Engine. He adores his daddy, but only mummy's company will do last thing at night and first thing in the morning. He dances around the living room and sings us songs in Mandarin. He loves being outdoors and has been known to wear our shoes, and often looks like a very short version of my father. He eats like a sparrow, has the energy of 10 men, and likes to pretend he is a cat. And we think he is simply awesome. It's been fascinating and fantastic and very, very funny at times, and we can't wait to see what the next 12 months have in store. Happy Birthday my little J bird x

A Blue Christmas

Anyone reading last year's posts from around this time would know I'm a Christmas-a-holic (yes, it's a word!). I love all of it, and now that we have our own little growing family, it's become all the more special. My husband was a bit of a Scrooge when we met, never really keen to make a fuss, but it didn't take long for me to wear him down infect him with the Christmas spirit. I'm a bit of a purist when it comes to the rituals of the season - pudding Sunday a month before, a fresh tree going up no earlier than the 1st of December, nothing but Christmas carols in the week leading to the day etc, etc. I've adapted a few old traditions and adopted a few new ones since I left home, but the one thing I found really hard to embrace was Christmas in Hong Kong.

Our first year here, we hadn't been here that long when Christmas came around, so spending it here made sense. We had good friends staying with us, and copious quantities of alcohol, but it just wasn't the same. We headed back home in 2008 for an Aussie Christmas, but in 2009 we had a 3 week old baby and another HK festive season was our only option. Last year we spent most of December in Australia but with D having to work Boxing Day we decided to fly back to Hong Kong on the 22nd for Christmas here once again. With an Aussie Christmas so tantalisingly close last year, it was very hard to get on that plane, but being in our own home just the 3 of us, around the tree, doing our own thing, it strangely felt right. In previous years I complained about being "stuck" in Hong Kong, and tried to make the best of what I felt was a bad situation by celebrating the fact that it was cold, baking every hot Christmas treat I could find a recipe for. The mulled wine and mince pies worked their magic and this year, now that I have my Aussie Christmas locked in (at the beach! With my family!) I've realised what I'm going to miss.

Every year that we've had Christmas in Hong Kong we've ordered a tree from our local supermarket. The year J was born it arrived the last weekend in November so it was half dead by the time Christmas arrived, but that has now become a treasured part of our family Christmas - guessing how early the tree will arrive and taking bets on whether or not it will go the distance! I mentioned to D last week that I saw the order forms for the tree when I was shopping, and he said "we'll have to get one." I was shocked but proud that my once anti-Christmas man of the house had made such a drastic turnaround that he was willing, insisting, that we have a tree, all dolled up, despite the fact that no one will be here in December but our helper and the dog.

The reason for his need for a tree, and for my melancholy, is that we're not entirely sure the house will be empty at Christmas... D and I, in our 8 years together, have never spent a Christmas apart. There have been years when he's worked Christmas Eve or Boxing Day, but never Christmas Day. This year he's been told he has 0% chance of getting the day off, but we find out for sure tomorrow night when the December roster comes out. Knowing that we'd likely be apart, I made plans this year, booking a holiday house on the south coast of NSW so that, if D should end up somewhere other than home, J and I would at least be able to celebrate with family, in a place that makes me very happy. We're crossing our fingers and toes that D will be able to join us, but it's highly unlikely, and the thought of a Christmas without him makes me very sad. Don't get me wrong, I'm thrilled that we will be spending Christmas in Australia, and I can't wait for J to spend that time with "Nan and Pop", who he just adores, but something will be missing. Wandering around the shops yesterday looking at all the decorations that are out already, I was almost in tears as I imagined my husband sitting up at home by himself in front of the tree, eating cereal for Christmas lunch before heading off to Taipei or Colombo or somewhere else that isn't very Christmassy at all.

It could be worse, I know. There are families who are separated for long periods, and for more serious reasons. Dads miss birthdays and holidays all over the world, all the time. Given the nature of his job we're really lucky that D hasn't missed more, but this is the first time my little boy's dad will miss Christmas with his family, and that's breaking my heart. It took me a long time living in Hong Kong and fighting it to realise the true meaning of "home is where the heart is." I think this year I've learned that the spirit of Christmas lives there too...

The Lost Posts

As regular readers will have noticed, A Mummy in a Strange Land has had an overhaul recently. I'm still not 100% content with the new look but, as that seems to be the story of my life, it's somehow appropriate. The overhaul has extended to all the "behind-the-scenes" bits of the blog as well, and I've tidied up my drafts folder a little. I've found a lot of posts that I've started and have never finished, for one reason or another. Some of them needed tweaking a little, some were a bit too short to be a complete post on their own, while others were about a specific moment in time and the moment passed before I had a chance to get them out there. I put a lot of thought and time into everything I write and it seems a waste just to delete the drafts that never made it to the publishing stage, so I'm dedicating this week to the posts that missed their day in the sun. For each one I'm going to include the date that they were originally written and links to the posts around them, so you can put them into context if you have far too much time on your hands this week. First up is this one, from the 18th of December:

The Kindness (or not) of Strangers


Firstly, I have to refer to my last post The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Our missing bag was found, left behind by baggage handlers in Sydney for reasons unknown. I was so relieved to have it all back that I didn't ask questions. I felt guilty for assuming the worst but my husband assures me that bags do get stolen all the time, especially at this time of year, especially in Sydney.

It's also not uncommon for people to assume the worst in big cities. One of the things we both noticed about Sydney was how angry people were. It feels as if the whole city is simmering away quietly and at any moment anyone could snap. People aren't helpful generally and they don't smile at each other in the street. This came as a shock to me when I first moved there as I grew up in a town where everyone smiled at each other or said hello. In the city, if you do show any signs of friendliness it's instantly assumed that you are a loon and to be avoided at all costs. There were quite a few times where I was struggling with the stroller and trying to open a door and no one offered to help. One man went so far as to pretend he was on the phone and shot through the door behind me. Others avoided my eye and chose to linger behind until someone else helped or I managed to get the door open on my own. I wondered if these people were afraid to help in case I took it as a sign that I could engage with them on some level, or if they were worried I'd get upset if they tried to help, perhaps I might snap "I can do it myself!" Whatever the cause, it bothered me and made me realise how helpful and friendly people are here in HK in comparison.

We spent one afternoon at Coogee beach, catching up with friends over fish and chips. It was a gorgeous summer afternoon and we were enjoying ourselves immensely until I was hit across the back of the head by a drunken idiot stumbling around. We were all instantly on the defensive ready for a fight, too quick to adopt the local mentality. We brushed the guy off but noticed several police officers wandering around and the riot squad vehicles parked outside the local pub; all prepared for an evening of violence and people generally making a nuisance of themselves. I don't remember it being that bad when I first moved there 10 years ago and I had to ask myself why people were so aggressive and angry. It is such a beautiful place and Australians are so very lucky, so why isn't anyone happy? Our friends were complaining that many of their friends with kids had moved away, either to the outer suburbs or out of Sydney altogether. They attributed exorbitant property prices and the high cost of living to this exodus, with many others wanting to be closer to family. I wondered if people in the city are so on edge because it's a city of migrants? So many people move to Sydney from overseas or from smaller towns to study, to work or to play, leaving behind loved ones and support networks. I've mentioned in previous posts (Like this one) how difficult it was for me to make friends there and I think this is true for so many others.

I mentioned in my post Now You're One that J and I were sick in Sydney while we were on our own. We had D's parents helping us out but it was still very tough. I can't imagine living there, without the friends or help that I have here, and having to do it all on my own. I'd be pretty angry and on edge too and I think it'd be too easy to take it all for granted and forget how great a country it is. Being ripped off at the supermarket every day and having no one open doors for you would certainly wear anyone down after a while.

Despite all that I did have a lovely time, and it was very, very hard for me to leave. We left Sydney after a week and went to see my family in a little town called Cooma. There has been drought-breaking rain this summer and the landscape was green and gorgeous, the rivers were overflowing and the grass was waist high. It reminded me of my childhood when it was always like that. It was one of the best visits home I've had in years. I stayed with my Nanna and she showed me old photos and filled me in on the family tree. My parents spoiled us rotten and loaded us up with so many Christmas presents I had to take an extra bag. The sky was so so blue and the air was fresh, it made me homesick in a way I never thought possible. I miss being able to look out in any direction and see nothing but land and sky, I miss the horizon! I could so easily have rented a house for the summer and stayed put for a few months, but I took the advice of a good friend who grew up in the same town. He always says; it's better to leave when you feel like you could stay, rather than wait until you feel like you've stayed too long.

So we trekked back to Sydney with far too many bags in tow, and I had a minor panic attack at the airport when I realised that arriving in Sydney felt like coming home. Everywhere I went it was easy and familiar. Even negotiating the ridiculous traffic didn't bother me. In the end I found some really helpful and friendly people, all too willing to lend me a hand with my bags or the baby and restore my faith in the kindness of strangers. We spent 24 hours in glorious Bondi and caught up with a few people before I had to accept that it was time to leave. If it wasn't for the texts from my husband pleading with me to get on the plane, and the fact that we were flying back to Hong Kong in business class, I might still be there.

This Week We've Been...

I am terribly late with this week's post and I have no one to blame but myself. I could've written about a million different things but once again I'm going to cheat and give you a summary of everything that's happened in my little world since you saw me last. This week we've been:

Recovering after the 7's: A full three days of Rugby Sevens is a massive effort for anyone, and we had to do it just once while we're living here. The Friday is a short day just to whet your appetite. The Saturday is the biggest day and it's obligatory to dress up and drink all day in the south stand of the stadium. I decided to forgo the drinking (as my body is a temple these days) but I did dress up. I was not so keen when I learned that this year our group would be going as Playboy bunnies in honour of the Year of the Rabbit but I went with it...

I left early; there's only so much debauchery a sober girl can cope with, and regretted leaving my coat behind as the further I got from the stadium the less I looked like a rugby-goer, and the more people started to look at me like I'd just finished work in a bar in Wan Chai... I came home covered in beer and with no idea who played or what the day's results were, but it was a lot of fun. On Sunday we mustered the energy to go back and actually watch some rugby. We were more appropriately dressed for the 10 degree day and sat in the family stand with coffees and meat pies, and we paid attention to what was happening on the field. The highlight of the day was seeing the entire crowd on their feet cheering as Japan beat the USA in one of the semi-finals. I'm glad I can now say I've been to the 7's but think I'll be a Sunday supporter in future years.

Feeling better then feeling worse: I'm not sure if it's the placebo effect or the fact that I've generally been taking better care of myself but until Thursday I felt great. I had more energy, less numbness and a definite sense that something was going right. Then I went to work and spent an entire day running around town, forgot to take my potions and have been feeling like crap ever since. I'm pinning all my hopes (pun intended) on this Chinese medicine and acupuncture business but after this week's session had no positive results I'm starting to have my doubts. I felt ok yesterday and went to my first yoga class. It was a great workout but it left me aching and shaking all over, not what I was hoping for.

Battling a toddler who refuses to eat: My mantra this week is "it will pass" and I've been taking a lot of deep breaths and counting to ten. J has been on a hunger strike and refusing to eat his dinner. I've tried all sorts of things like giving him lunch early and no snacks in the afternoon, less milk and more finger food at dinner, but none of it has convinced him to eat. I don't know if it's a toddler power struggle or if he's just not hungry, but my husband put a stop to our battle the other night and skipped dinner altogether. I was beside myself, feeling like the worst mother in the world for letting my son go to bed without dinner, but apart from waking up really hungry, he didn't seem any worse off for it. 

Sleeping: The planets must have been aligned this week because all of a sudden J started sleeping through. Really sleeping through, like going to bed at 7pm and waking around 6.30, with no crying out or fussing during the night. The last few nights he's woken once or twice but several consecutive nights of uninterrupted sleep has been amazing! 

Celebrating Spring: The last few months have been cold and miserable and I've hated it. There have been tantalising glimpses of finer weather but the greyness has always returned. The leaves have returned to the trees, the flowers are in bloom, the birds are waking us up ridiculously early, we've had three days of warm temperatures, and the sky is blue, so I'm thinking it's time to declare that it is finally spring. I'll be complaining in a few weeks that it's too hot but for now I'm enjoying this fabulous season by...

Creating our own little piece of paradise: I grew up in the country and I like my wide open spaces. Hong Kong isn't exactly renowned for that so we live in the most rural part of it. We don't have a backyard though, and the closest thing to outdoor space we have is our rooftop. Until now this has been an ugly disused space but we recently got stuck in and created something a little more inviting. The BBQ has had it's first run for the season and the vegies should be ready to harvest in a couple of months. For now the roof is just an awesome place to chill out with my boys and enjoy our pretty special view. There is something so soul-soothing about getting your hands dirty and working with plants. I have always wanted a proper vegie garden, I just never imagined I'd be attempting it on a rooftop. I can't wait to see what grows. 

 

Working: I know, it's a shock right? I got a call from the school I was working in (before I decided staying at home was much more fun) and they asked me to invigilate an exam. It was a half day, no classroom work, and I had no valid reason to say no. I was shattered by the end of the day but it was nice to be doing something else. Unfortunately I'm not going to have a choice pretty soon and will need to do a fair bit of work as we are...

Renovating the kitchen: It's been a long time coming and the current kitchen has been the subject of many complaints on my part. We could've made do for a while longer but the sink needed to be repaired recently and my husband decided to do it himself. The tap has leaked since we moved in and D told me that to fix it he'd need to take the sink out. Taking the sink out involved lifting the countertop and when he did that he found that the whole cabinet was rotten and mouldy. This is what I came home to the day my handyman was "fixing the tap"...

  

So we now have a temporary bench from IKEA, and an urgent need to re-do the whole kitchen. After arguing about what we wanted we decided that it's not worth arguing over, and D left me in charge of kitchen design. We went to Wan Chai this week and got a quote and were surprised by how easy it was to choose what we wanted. Now we just need to finance it...

It's been a busy week, and another one of those weeks where I wonder aloud on Friday afternoon where it all went. There have also been playdates and trips into town and walks with the dog, and a million other little things that make life sweet.

So there you have it. A lazy post but a post nonetheless. Have a great week everyone.

Kung Hei Fat Choy

I've struggled this week with a form of writer's block. I've actually been working on a few posts but I haven't managed to finish any of them, at least not in a way I was happy with. We've got a lot going on and my head is full of the things happening out there in the big world as well as in our little world. The last few months have been great and we've had a lot of time together as a family, but it hasn't all been fun and games. Looking at the bigger picture there are many who have had a worse time of it; there has been political unrest, war, tragedy and heartbreak. Not to mention the natural disasters that recently had us glued to the TV, the flooding and cyclone that hammered Queensland weighed heavily on our minds as we worried about family and friends.

Foremost in my mind this week is my sister-in-law in hospital in Melbourne. She has been waging her own private war for two years now and we're flying to Manila on Monday to entertain her 2 year old daughter. It's always lovely to spend time with family but it stinks that it's not under different circumstances. I wouldn't want to be anywhere else at the moment but I know we'll have our work cut out for us. If I'm a little distracted and a bit slack with the blogging in the next few weeks it's because I'm suddenly in charge of two toddlers, in a foreign country, and my capacity to form sentences is compromised.

I can't complain, like I said, we've had a great start to the year but I can't help feeling like we need a do-over. Chinese New Year is the perfect opportunity to start again, again. If you've had a crappy January or you've already failed at your New Year's resolutions you can just put it all behind you and have another go at it in February. I have to admit that after three years in Hong Kong I'm still fairly ignorant when it comes to the traditions surrounding CNY, and I felt like I was missing out by not knowing more about it.  So I've spent a lot of time this week with my friend Wikipedia, researching this huge cultural festival, and I'm definitely going to embrace the holiday wholeheartedly from now on. The timing of the start of the new year is based on solar and lunar cycles and coincides with the beginning of spring; in China it's called the Spring Festival. It's steeped in tradition and superstition and there are rules and rituals for every day of the 15-day festival. The lead-up to the end of the year is a time for cleaning your home and removing all the 'bad luck' that's accumulated, literally and metaphorically. It's mostly about family and getting together to eat and give gifts - much like Christmas but on a larger scale, if you can imagine that. And instead of turkey there are lots of dumplings! There's something so organic and hopeful about the new year and the celebration of spring tying together like that; it really does feel like a clean slate, and a chance for something new to blossom.

This year, being the Year of the Rabbit, has a good vibe to it too. The Year of the Ox was about hard work, and the Year of the Tiger was a constant battle. But the Rabbit inspires fun and romance and is apparently a "placid and indulgent" year, a time to sit back and let the good times roll. The sun has been shining in Hong Kong this week, and it's warm again after the coldest January in 35 years. That fact alone is enough to make you feel positive and hopeful, given that it's normally so damn cold over the CNY weekend. Clever marketers are also cashing on the cuteness of the bunny and the abundance of chocolates in the stores and connecting CNY and Valentine's Day. It's all very sweet and romantic and, with all the love in the air, it really does feel like there are good times ahead.

So while the Chinese families around us are sitting down together and wishing for good health and prosperity, I'm thinking of the families who are now homeless after Cyclone Yasi, the parents of the young Aussie soldier killed in Afghanistan this week, the people fighting in Egypt for a better life, and all those who have experienced tragedy or hardship recently, including those in my little world, and I'm sending my share of the new year's blessings their way. I have hope that this year will be better, and I think that's a really good start. Kung Hei Fat Choi, or Happy New Year everyone!

For Auld Lang Syne

Happy New Year everyone! On New Year's Eve I always like to reflect on where I was exactly 12 months ago and where I hope to be this time next year. We celebrated NYE last year with friends, but we were home by 11pm and I was in bed feeding my 3 week old baby at midnight. J has changed and grown so much in that time and I honestly cannot believe how quickly the year has passed. This time next year we'll have a two year old running around, and who knows where we'll be?

The end of the year has made me a bit nostalgic but to be honest, much of the year went by in a blur. I can barely remember the first 6 months, as I was wandering around in a fog of sleep deprivation, hormones, confusion and overwhelming love and adoration. June was a turning point, when I quit breastfeeding, lost 7kgs and we bid farewell to our old nemesis, reflux. Since then our little guy has flourished and we've enjoyed every minute. 2010 was a year that changed us in a lot of ways. We watched our son grow with wonder, anticipation and complete bewilderment, and we gradually grew into our new roles as parents. Parenthood brought us immeasurable joy and happiness, along with new fears and heartbreak. I'm typing with tears in my eyes and struggling to express just how my heart has been opened, by joy and sadness in equal measure over the last 12 months. I wrote about this feeling in my post An Open Heart but I'm only now coming to grips with just how profoundly this has changed me. I've grown up a lot myself and I never really expected that.

It may seem strange that at almost 32 years of age I'm only just now feeling like a proper adult. I guess it's because I've never had responsibilities before, but it also has a lot to do with wanting to be a good parent. I'm far from perfect and still have a long way to go but I feel very strongly that I need to lead by example; I can't encourage my son to be the best person he can be, if I'm not fulfilling my own potential. I want him to be kind and compassionate, strong and independent but also thoughtful and selfless, and I know that if I have any hope of teaching him those values, I have to possess them myself. Seeing myself through my son's eyes has made me realise how flawed I am. I know for a few more years at least he'll see the world as we introduce him to it and his interactions with everyone and everything around him will be based on ours. J is a little mimic and picks up on things we say and do so quickly already, the good and the bad. He's also so much like both of us, and there's nothing like seeing yourself in a small person to motivate you to be a more positive role model. I'm sure most parents start out with the best of intentions on this front, and I may be underestimating the amount of work involved in such self-improvement, but I've already made some big changes and feel like a better person for it. If I were the kind of person who makes New Year's resolutions, I'd resolve to continue what I've started this year.

There is more to it, and as always I have more to say, but I've just welcomed in 2011 by watching the Sydney fireworks on TV and now I have a date with a soft pillow. Good night, and happy new year again x

All I want For Christmas

Christmas has never really been about presents for me. It's nice to give and receive great gifts, and I do put a lot of thought into what I buy for people, but I'd be perfectly happy if the day was simply about getting together. When I was growing up it was the one day of the year we all put aside what we were doing and got together to celebrate. My dad's family is so busy all year that even though they live within a 2 kilometre radius of each other, they never get together, except at Christmas. I would much rather just be with the people I love than have them worrying about what to buy me. We're hoping to instil this value in J as well, and have not bought him much at all. The tree is surrounded by gifts from grandparents, aunties and uncles and we're happy to let others spoil him this year. We figure it'll be the only year we can get away with it!

Until J was born I took responsibility for buying birthday and Christmas presents for our friends and families, and sending out cards. Last year I went out early, knowing our baby was due in December, and bought cards and presents for everyone. Wandering around Stanley Markets, 8 months pregnant, I vowed never again! To top it off, my husband disapproved of a number of my selections for his family, and promised to go out and buy more gifts later. Needless to say he didn't and his mother and step-mother received, in February, the gifts I had bought for them. So this year I bought a few small things for my family, sent out an e-card and left the rest up to D. As yet there is not a single gift under the tree for anyone on his side of the family, and I'm trying really hard not to care or nag, but it is Christmas Eve and I know I'm going to feel really guilty opening presents from people who have not received anything in return. I also know if I have any hope of teaching my son that Christmas is about more than presents, I'm going to have let it go.

My husband and I are pretty practical people we try to buy each other things that we either need or have specifically asked for. This year I wanted pearl earrings and a luxurious facial. As I sit here looking at our beautifully decorated half-dead tree, surrounded by beautifully wrapped presents, I've started thinking about what it is I really want (or need), but I'm struggling. Apart from the usual global-sized wishes like world peace, that everyone wishes for, I can't really wish for anything more. It sounds cliched, and I don't generally like to admit out loud that I'm perfectly content with all that I have, just in case the universe hears me and takes something away. But I have a husband who has put up with my pre-Christmas madness all month; eating all my baking attempts, even the burnt ones, listening to endless carols and watching tacky holiday movies with me each night. Today he drove us around Central and Kowloon all day trying to find a car park, all because I insisted on leaving the grocery shopping to the last minute. He even went to IKEA and spent the evening putting together a table so we wouldn't have to eat our dinner on the sofa tomorrow. He did all this without complaint, expecting nothing in return. My gorgeous son was also dragged around the shops all day, fed fried rice for lunch, and denied his afternoon nap, and not only did he not complain, he entertained us and other shoppers the whole day. He makes me smile every day, and the way his face lights up when he sees me is a gift in itself. I feel very blessed this year and my wish list is surprisingly blank. 

In the end what I want this Christmas is for my friends and family to receive what they wish for, and all the love, happiness, success and peace that they deserve. And, just so we're clear, I might be happy with what I have, but I won't knock back a present or two if they appear under the tree tonight!

Merry Christmas everyone, and thanks for reading xx

Letting Go

I'm sitting in my living room at 10am, still in my pyjamas, surrounded by toys and debris, there are dirty dishes in the sink and the laundry basket is overflowing. But I've decided not to care. My Christmas present to myself this year is permission to let go. Granted, it's only been a week that I've had to do all the work myself, but while my helper's away I've been killing myself trying to maintain the standards of cleanliness that we're used to, forgetting that our helper's sole purpose is to keep the place clean. I have several purposes at the moment and I've had to admit that I can't do it all. So I'm going to stop trying to. 

I have friends in places other than Hong Kong, who don't have helpers, some don't even have family close by, and yet they manage to look after their kids and keep the house running while their husbands are away, sometimes for 10 days at a time. I've marvelled at how they manage to keep it all together and maintain their sanity. Most of the mums I've spoken to about this say that the only way to cope is to give up something. One mum, a friend of a friend, always looks immaculate, but her boys are little terrors. She's decided that discipline and behaviour aren't a big deal, preferring instead to spend a little time on herself. Others aren't too fussed about the housework, putting that way down on the priority list. Socialising and quality time with your husband are also put on the shelf at times. I've realised this week, that I could do without a helper but something would definitely have to give. I worked my butt off on Tuesday to make sure the house was tidy when my husband came home that night. I know for sure that if I didn't have a helper, I would not make this effort every week. I'd probably leave the house in a state deliberately so D could see what it's like most of the time he's away. The dog would end up completely neglected, and there's no way I'd ever iron anything. I probably wouldn't be able to work either, but that would be a sacrifice I'd be willing to make. 

The best part about the last week has been the amount of time I've spent with my amazing little guy. We have had so much fun together and I've absolutely loved every minute of it. Despite being ridiculously busy, I've had more time to sit on the carpet and play. And rather than leaving J at home while I go to the shops, I've been taking him everywhere with me. He's fabulous company and I'm so grateful that we've been able to spend this time together. I've learned that, until now, I've been occupying myself with a lot of stuff that's just not important, and that's what I'm letting go of. I've been putting a lot of pressure on myself to try and keep everything running smoothly and make everyone around me happy. I want to be liked and respected and keep up with the mums around me who always look good and have beautiful homes and great hair, and still have time to go to work and look after the kids and bake cookies on the weekend. Now I know that they've probably made a lot of sacrifices to maintain that lifestyle, I don't feel so bad.

If I've learned anything this year, it's to value what's important and make the most of it, you just have to work out what that is. I can keep trying to 'do it all' but if I really think about it I think I'll find that I really don't care if the floor's clean or the washing's folded. So I'm going to spend the next couple of days tidying, baking, shopping, wrapping presents, and preparing an amazing Christmas dinner. Not because I have to, but because I want to. If I can spend the day with my gorgeous son and collapse on the sofa at the end of it with my husband, mince pies, mulled wine and tacky Christmas movies, I'll be very happy indeed. 

Candy Canes, Silver Bells and Other Hazards

Firstly, I have to refer to my last post The Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Our missing bag was found, left behind by baggage handlers in Sydney for reasons unknown. I was so relieved to have it all back that I didn't ask questions. I felt guilty for assuming the worst but my husband assures me that bags do get stolen all the time, especially at this time of year, especially in Sydney. And I also have to apologise to those of you who may have noticed that I haven't been posting very regularly lately, despite having the best of intentions. We arrived home late last Wednesday night and only had one day at home with my husband before he left for New York. Our helper is on holidays so it has just been J and I once again and my "spare" time is filled with laundry, dishwashing, bed making and cooking. I have been lucky enough to have a bit of help with dog walking etc, but otherwise I have been flat out. It's actually been really good for me and I have hardly noticed the crushing homesickness that enveloped me as I left Sydney. I also have a new appreciation for mums and dads who do this all the time. 

I started this particular post a while ago and thought that, since it will only be relevant for a few more days, I'd better get it out there...

It's beginning to look a lot like Christmas. I love Christmas, or at least the build-up to it. Christmas Day itself is always a bit of an anticlimax but the shopping, decorating, carols and cooking always put me in a good mood. To me Christmas is all about family, and in the absence of family, it revolves around food. Pudding Sunday, the last Sunday in November, (aka Stir-Up Sunday in some homes) is right up there on my list of favourite days of the year, and it marks the start of the festive season for me.

My grandmother used to make a proper Christmas pudding every year, even though very few of us actually ate it, but when she gave up making them I decided to take over the reins. That was about 6 years ago and I've done it every year since. The pudding has to be made at least a month before Christmas to give it time to age and soak up all the lovely alcohol you "feed" it over the month. My pudding is an adaptation of a Nigella Lawson recipe, and it's without a doubt the most perfect pudding you can imagine, if I do say so myself (I'm worried I'd be in breach of copyright if I posted the recipe and I'm afraid I can't find a link on the web, so it will have to remain my secret recipe!). Looking at the recipe it seems quite complicated and you would imagine that something that requires storage and "feeding" for a month, followed by 6 hours of steaming, would be quite delicate and sensitive to temperature and humidity and that sort of thing. But they're really very robust. One year I made one here in Hong Kong and took it all the way back to Australia. It spent 10 hours in a suitcase on a plane to Melbourne where we stayed in three different places. Then we took it to my parent's house, a 2 hour flight and an hour's drive away. I was worried it wouldn't be any good, but it was just as tasty and Christmassy as it always is.

This year I decided to make two, and may have finally found the one thing that the recipe can't handle. The first one was far too wet, even after 5 hours of steaming. I added more flour to the mix and the second one was better, so it was the one I took home for my in-laws. I felt bad that once again we wouldn't be spending Christmas with them, and they were really pleased to have a little reminder of us, to share on the day. The pudding I kept for us is sitting on my kitchen bench, a gooey, rummy mess, but it's too late to make another one. On Christmas Day I'll just have to cover it with cream and custard and hope for the best. Other seasonal treats I've taken to making since we moved to HK are mince pies, gingerbread biscuits and mulled wine. As much as I love a hot Aussie Christmas, I have been absolutely thrilled to be able to partake in some of the northern hemisphere's traditional cold-weather foods. We will have to forego the turkey this year as our oven isn't big enough but I will be baking a chicken, with stuffing and gravy, and loads of roast vegies. The forecast for Christmas Day is cooler temperatures so I'm very excited and plan to eat all day!

J is far too young to understand what all the fuss is about but he is very curious about all the presents and the decorations on the tree. My parents loaded us up with so many presents I had to borrow an extra bag to bring them all home. Despite the effort involved they do look lovely under the tree and we will have lots of fun opening them, even if J just wants to play with the wrapping paper! Having a real tree is another of our traditions and it goes a long way back for me. When I was little we always had a real tree and it was generally cut down by Dad, just on dusk, a few days before Christmas. When I left home he tried to leave the tree cutting for when I got back and it became a bit of a ritual every year, just the two of us. One year, when D and I were staying in Sydney for Christmas, Dad went out and found a small but perfectly formed tree and wrapped it up, took it to the airport, and sent it up to us on the Sydney flight. It was magical, and was the best present I've ever received. Going down to Wellcome (the local supermarket) and buying a tree isn't quite the same. But they're real, and they look beautiful. I can't imagine having a plastic tree, it just wouldn't be Christmas. Unfortunately Wellcome receive their trees in late November, so for the last two years our trees have been practically dead by Christmas Day. As I write this, our tree is a very definite shade of brown, and I went out today and bought more decorations to try and hide the fact that the poor thing is well past its prime.

It has been a constant battle this week to keep J away from the tree and stop him from pulling the baubles off and sticking them in his mouth. Despite my vigilance I found him chewing on a candy cane today, with half the plastic wrapping stuck to his tongue. Earlier in the week he pulled off some tinsel and wrapped it around his neck! I never knew a Christmas tree could be such a deathtrap! Even though it's a joy to see his little face when we turn on the lights on the tree, I'll be relieved when we can pack it all away. I'm hoping next year he'll be old enough to understand that he can look but not touch...

I do also want to write about presents and what I learned about travelling with a toddler but that will have to wait: it's 4pm and I still have no idea what we're having for dinner. I wonder if J likes panettone...?

Now You're One...

I had this fear that if I didn't keep blogging while I was away that people would stop reading. That hasn't turned out to be the case fortunately but I did feel it was important, today of all days, to check in. Our time in Sydney has been a rollercoaster ride of loving then hating the place we used to call home, but I'll write more about that later.

Today I have to write to acknowledge that it is my beautiful boy's first birthday! I looked at him last night smiling up at me and was overwhelmed with love and pride. He's by far the best thing I've ever done and I'm amazed every day by how much he has grown and developed without any input from us. His personality has bits of both of us but he is a unique and special individual, and I never expected that from a 1 year old. Every day he gets better and better and I really feel blessed to have him in my life, and to have the opportunity to spend so much time getting to know him. We have been attached at the hip this week, on our own in a studio apartment in Sydney. He has been a bit unsettled by the trip and hasn't let me out of his sight. It's nice to be so needed but at the same time I'd really like a bit of peace to go to the loo and have a shower! I'm afraid it's not going to be a pleasant birthday for him but it will certainly be memorable. We're both sick with different bugs and have spent most of the day so far asleep. It's a far cry from the fun day with friends that I had planned but I figure, since he's too young to know any different, we can always celebrate another time.

I realised earlier today, with just a hint of irony, that I spent the 9th of December last year in pain and doped up as well, just in a different way. Despite that, it's still a very significant day. I'm sure it probably has a lot to do with hormones but I have nothing but fond memories of the day our son came into our lives, and his birthday will always have meaning for me, more so than my own ever has. I'd love to share the story of his birth with you all but I am about to collapse with exhaustion so it will have to wait for another day. I do, however, want to say how thrilled I am to be celebrating this milestone. I thought I'd be a bit sad at having to admit that my baby was not a baby anymore, but the opposite is true. He's such a sweet, good-natured little boy that I couldn't ask for more. Except maybe more time. Waiting for J to arrive was the longest wait of my life and as soon as he was here it was like life went into fast-forward. I cannot believe it's been a year since our lives changed so dramatically, for the better, forever. I want time to slow down but at the same time I can't wait to see what the next year holds. Happy Birthday my lovely boy.

Birthday Parties and other Frivolities

A warning for those who are pressed for time: This is going to be one of those posts that isn't about much at all and ends with me waxing lyrical about how gorgeous my son is.

Tomorrow we're hosting a pre-birthday birthday party for J. We'll be in Sydney for his actual birthday and we wanted to celebrate with our friends here in some way. I read somewhere, in a party planning guide, that you should invite one guest for every year of the child's age. Well, one person just didn't seem like a proper party, and my son's best friends are triplets so that piece of advice was promptly ignored. I did however, want to keep things fairly quiet and low key so I only invited a handful of our closest friends and neighbours. My husband was disappointed by my list and went on to invite just about everyone we've ever met in Hong Kong. This lead to a fairly significant argument over invitation etiquette; my husband being of the belief that it's best to invite everyone to avoid offending someone. He was sure many of our single friends would have better things to do on a Saturday afternoon than come to a kids birthday party, and would politely decline. I'm not a fan of the token invite, preferring not to take that chance and risk ending up with 40 people at my son's first birthday, but the invites had already been sent. So we didn't get off to a great start but in the end we are expecting about 20 people, parents and kids, which I think is perfect.

I worked for a few days this week and my husband and I were both struck down (at different times) by a nasty stomach bug so the week was a little stressful. It was also the week the December roster came out so we were busy dealing with several sets of parents and trying to coordinate our upcoming trip to Sydney. As it turned out we simply ended up disappointing everyone (a separate blog post on this topic is coming), so the week was unpleasant as well as stressful. In amongst all that I did do a lot of planning for my boy's big day but very little preparation. I spent today running around buying groceries and trying to find party supplies (impossible on Lantau and in Elements), the whole time worrying that J was going to be tired and cranky and that the whole thing had gotten to be too big a deal. I pressed on and finally tracked down balloons and party bags at the toy shop in Mui Wo (thanks Bizzie Lizzie). Despite being ever so helpful, the lady that runs the shop mentioned prizes for games and I smacked my head in disbelief: yet another thing to worry about that I hadn't even thought of! I wanted to write tonight about the unnecessary pressure I've put on myself this week to be supermum and to put on a great party for my little one. I remembered all the parties I've been to and the little things that other parents have done to make them special; I wanted my party to be in that same league somehow. I spent the drive home worrying about pass-the-parcel and age-appropriate music and walked in the door swearing that J's first birthday party would be the last.

Then I started thinking about why it is we were so keen to celebrate this milestone. It's because it's his first birthday, his first ever. My little boy was born (almost) a year ago and he's a fantastic human being who deserves to be celebrated, whether he knows it or not. When I was getting J ready for bed tonight he started playing with the ipod that we keep in his room for his sleepytime music, and despite the fact that there wasn't anything coming out of it he started bouncing up and down, his idea of dancing. I turned it on and his little face lit up and he did his best Stevie Wonder impersonation, swaying from side to side. At that moment he was so cute and sweet that I thought my heart would burst! This whole week he's kept me smiling, no matter how stressful things have been. And that's why I'm throwing him a party tomorrow.

While I'm at it, I think we deserve to celebrate for ourselves too. We survived a year of colic, reflux, sleep deprivation, baby flu (worse than man flu), pureed vegies on the carpet, porridge in our hair, and everyone who is biologically related to us feeling as though they have a right to be a part of our son's life (when it's actually more like a privilege that has to be earned).  The best part is that we survived all that and we couldn't be happier.

I realised that my son is too young to remember that he even had a first birthday. And I also realised that all of the children coming tomorrow are under the age of three and most of them will just be happy to be outside playing with their friends. So, there'll be cake but it'll come out of a packet. There'll be food, but it'll be healthy, tasty stuff for the grown-ups. There won't be games, but we've hired an expensive beach-side patch of grass for the kids to play on. There will be party bags, but there isn't much in them. And if my son is tired and cranky we'll bring him home and put him to bed, and years from now we'll tell him that his first birthday was awesome. I'm already planning next year's...