9 M O N T H S of Dash

I am terrible and I haven't written down a single thing noting Dash's development in MONTHS. So now I am back to writing about my clever baby! Are you so excited!? I will go back in time and publish months 6, 7 and 8 too but with a sprinkle of creativity because I can't even remember last week. 

Dash at nine months old is still a ham. He loves attention, he loves being silly, he loves getting scared and tickled and sung to and wrestled with and chased. He'll scream bloody murder in his cot and then I'll pick him up and he'll start laughing. 

When he's sad or hurting or particularly cranky he will cry and he cries mmuuummm.. Maaammmaaaa! but get him to say Mama on the regular? not a chance. Dada however... It's his favourite word. 

Dash crawls. He crawls fast and hard and for as long as he can. My Dad came over the other day (Poppy is still favourite) and he was standing at the door putting his shoes on ready to leave. Dash was playing on the floor in my office and decided to investigate Poppy. He saw that open door and his Poppy walking away and he ran as fast as he could. And by ran I mean crawled but really, really fast. 

Dash inherited some crappy genes, its true. But he also inherited the European genes I have been cursed with. We love food. and by love I mean we will eat and eat and eat and then go to be with no regrets, just dreams of more food. His Doctors can't believe the amount and variety of the food he eats. 

We started feeding him with the philosophy that we would give him whatever we ate. No specially made baby food and as little cutlery as possible. Dash has accepted everything I have put in front of him, he has an exceptional gag reflex and a determined spirit. So much so that he will now happily eat an entire sausage for lunch, with some tomatoes and scrambled eggs on the side. 

I think I will write a whole separate post about food cause I could talk baby diets all dang day. 

Dash's fave toys are the singing bear/puppy thing, the singing/flashing/moving tonka trucks, the talking/singing/light up controller, the songs on the activity centre.... do you detect a theme? I'm considering ear plugs. 

We've recently started watching ABC kids in the morning. His face when he hears the Thomas the Tank engine song. I can't even. We went to Westmead yesterday (again another post for another day) and he tried his nebuliser for the first time. The nurses warned me that we wouldn't be able to get the strap over his head because he would scream. We went to put it on him and he made no complaints. He made it through the entire ten minute treatment quite calmly, even smiling! It's not because we have a super baby, it's because Nick played the Thomas the Tank engine theme song on Youtube for him. 8 times in a row. 

Dashie cruises furniture, interacts with strangers (because surely, the world revolves around him!) aaaaaalmost weighs 10kg, is very into giving kisses (with teeth), usually has avocado somewhere on his face or head (see above) and obviously has taken over our lives. In the best most wonderful way you could imagine. 

Monthly baby brag over. 

That one girl who made a scene at the Santa photos...

I'll tell you, life has been rough for a couple of weeks.  I have the tendency to get anxiety and depression, it's in my veins. I've had panic attacks and severe anxiety and so many yuck thoughts. But I haven't felt them in a looooong time! Until two weeks ago! It hit me like a freight train and consumed me and I was in a hole and couldn't see out!

I decided we had to go and get santa photos one day, right in the thick of it. I put my face on and curled my hair and threw on a skirt and adopted the mantra fake it til you make it! And then we went to the mall. And we saw the big man, such a friendly Santa by the way. Dashiell pulled his beard and lost all of his smiles and Nick and I sat beside him, while he sat on Santa's lap and made all of the faces and fart noises we could. We looked at the photos after and I got all sweaty! And not because we got suckered in to paying $50 for them. I looked terrible! I freaked out and couldn't cope and made Nick deal with. I saw people standing in line looking at me strangely so I turned my attention to Dash and tried to act normal.

We went to get lunch after that. Nick was talking about something or other and I then I couldn't breathe. I had rocks in my belly and weight on my shoulders and lumps in my throat and tears in my eyes for days. My lips were shut tight and my eyes vacant. I curled up in a ball on the floor and just cried for a whole night one Friday.

You're probably thinking what on earth is wrong with you girl!? I'd tell you it's probably a mix of post natal depression and post traumatic stress from Dash's diagnosis. Which actually sounds a little bit dramatic... but I do feel traumatised so whatever. For the most part I get along fine and think nothing of it and I talk to my Mum friends and pretend Dash is just like the other babes. And then I talk to a CF Mum about all the things I could be doing that I'm not and I get calls from the hospital saying, yes Dash has a cold virus but also he has two different bacterial infections and he needs a different course of antibiotics for two weeks and then I just want to ccrrryyyy.

So many things has happened in these two weeks though. We are looking into switching Dash's care arrangements. The Santa photo really isn't that bad... We're putting up gyprock in the houses we're building! I got my brows done at browlab today. I'm joining the damn gym! I've already been to two classes and I am feeeeeeeeling it. I went out to dinner last night. Alone. I met with a wonderful CF Mum and I didn't have the slightest hint of butterflies. Not even caterpillars, I was a picture of confidence. I'm making tracks with my design work. I've made TWO weaves AND finished the Christmas shopping. We've put up our tree, and a mini one in Dash's room too. We've strung up Christmas lights and we're trying to reflect and feel peaceful and jolly at the same time.

I'm still a sensitive soul today but life is looking up. I making progress in looking after myself. I am going to feel okay about it all one day and I am going to give my Son the happiest life I can.

He's seven months old all of a sudden. Sitting up and crawling away from me and things. I'm fine with it, I swear.

Also these teeth.

Making things all cozy and merry and bright. I need to put our names on these stockings!

That Christmas photo. Dash looks like someone slapped him with a fish. He was happy, I swear. 

I really do love my day job. 

I will blog a seven month update soon! And a five and six month update too... and then some Christmas decorating!

Happy weekend!

S I X T E E N weeks of Dash

In keeping with the spirit of this blog, Dash is actually 17 weeks and 5 days old today. But we aren't counting like that anymore! We're onto the 'how old is your baby?' "Oh he's four months old" "oh really? What a big boy!" "thank you kindly" responses now. 

I feel as though I am wearing these fantastic Mum goggles recently. Not to be confused with my actual new glasses I have been sporting due to pregnancy induced poor vision. The Mum goggles make you look at your baby and think dear Lord! I have created perfection! I must submit my baby to every modelling agency there is! But then no I shouldn't cause surely the world can't handle this amount of angelic cuteness. 

Seriously. But I'm sure every other Mum in the history of Mums feels the same so it's fine.

At sixteen weeks we're into swimming lessons. Wearing the most adorbs speedos with crabs and sharks on his butt. Basically the parents have to swim around awkwardly while holding their pride and joy above water while they kick and splash and then sing silly songs to make things more awkward. But it's really worth it when everyone holds their baby in the centre of the circle and they all look around like it's the best thing ever.

He thinks its hilarious when you smoosh your face into his neck and make noises. His preferred way of drifting off to sleep is to make all of the noises he can, as loud as he can for as long as he can. Even at 3am. I can't even be mad because it is so. dang. cute.  

So yes, I love my baby, I am that mother I never thought I would be and we have our four month injections in the morning. pray for me. 

How to prepare for your baby's blood test

A how-to post! This is actually not a how-to post because nothing on earth can prepare you for your baby getting a blood test. Babies should not have their blood tested. Ever. 

Last Thursday we had to take Dashiell in to get his second blood test. His first blood test was done when he was three weeks old by the most capable nurse I ever did see. She was calm and steady and used the tiniest of butterfly needles to swiftly jab our little baby. 

His second blood test was the most horrendous thing I've ever seen and I will never forget the experience for as long as I live. When we arrived at pathology we met with a few nurses. Within three seconds I secretly wished that there were more nurses behind the counter because these people just didn't seem capable. They told us we could only get it done when two nurses were available, one to hold baby down, one to take blood. We were also told that 'a fair amount of blood' was needed and that I should 'feed him really well' beforehand. 

Alarm bells. 

The blood test went a little something like - nurse pins down baby, baby screams, Mum tries frantically to distract baby, second nurse jabs baby with larger needle, needle misses vein, baby screams louder, nurse fishes around under baby's skin to try and find vein, baby thrashes around and screams a scream no mother ever wants to hear, Mum sees vein about to collapse, yells at Nurse to stop, ten minutes pass by, only half the amount of blood is collected, baby takes 30 minutes to calm down, Mum is never the same. 

SO!

If your baby needs a blood test, first of all, I am sorry. There's no way it will be a pleasant experience. Second of all, now that I have been through this horror; here are a few tips. 

• Trust your Mum instinct. If you don't feel like you're in capable hands, turn around and go home. Find another pathology lab, a different nurse and make sure you feel comfortable with the people taking your baby's blood. 
• Dress your baby really warm and cozy. Apparently it's easier to take blood when baby is super warm. 
• Feed them right before hand but have some milk/your boobies ready to go for after because this might be one of those times when only milk can calm them.
• Stay calm. Which, you know, is ridiculous for me to say seeing as though I shook like a leaf for hours after but it is important that baby knows the world isn't ending. The bigger picture is that the blood test is needed and they won't remember a thing an hour later. 
• Be confident and feel comfortable telling the nurse it's time to stop. If it isn't going to plan and you feel like something is off, don't be afraid to call it off. I'm one of those people who listens to doctors and nurses and mostly does whatever they recommend. However! If they're pushing you to keep going but you know your baby has had enough, just call it how it is and hightail it out of there. 
• Don't make any other plans for the day and get it done in the morning. We made the mistake of getting it done in the afternoon after a morning of shopping. Don't make that mistake! Make sure you and baby are as relaxed and well rested as possible and then go ahead and spend the rest of the day cuddling and smooching and nursing and watching netflix. 

I don't think I have any more wisdom to offer... Except maybe to just be the best parent you can be. If you can't stand to hold your baby down and have to step out of the room, don't feel guilty. If you can't stand to watch the needle, don't feel guilty about that either. Just do your best and your baby will love you anyway. 

Good luck! smooch your babies! Pictures of Dash in a sink cause I can!

Fat CF babies are the best CF babies

We had clinic on Monday. 

The three monthly event where we spend 5 hours+ in the paeds department, in a lovely little room with DD on the door for baby Dash Dew. We catch up with seven different doctors and specialists and review progress, adjust medications, ask questions, order tests etc. etc. 

I sit with my note pad and enormous folder that contains Dash's story. A collection of medical history, referrals, test results, likes and dislikes to name a few. I ask all the questions I've written down over the past few weeks, sip my coffee and scoff down a sandwich between sessions. I bounce the baby, get him weighed and measured, let the doctors listen to his chest and put him to sleep when he's had enough. 

The first time we went through this Dash was two weeks and four days old. Nick and I were slammed with information and saw so many different people, all claiming to help our son and us in different ways. 

I don't remember everything from that day, it was so overwhelming. I do however remember one little comment made by our paediatrician in the most light hearted way. 

He said fat CF babies are the best CF babies. 

I took that to heart.

I'm that Mum who congratulates their baby when they plop on the scales. I'm the Mum who whips their boobs out anywhere, in front of anyone, at any time. I'm the Mum who really, actually seriously, likes getting up at 2 or 3 or 4am to feed the baby. I'm the Mum with 5,000 photos of the baby, taken in the armchair where we feed. I'm the Mum who wants to fist bump other Mums for feeding their babies, whatever way they can. 

Feeding baby Dash and fattening him up is my number one priority in life. On Monday, every single doctor and specialist was impressed with Dash's weight and growth and I couldn't be prouder. He's growing fat rolls and he's sitting just under the 85th percentile for weight and height and it's all thanks to a bit of medicine and my boobies. 

We're winning over here and it feels so dang good!

That escalated quickly.

Because I was teaching myself how to correct the white balance in photoshop.

And then because Molly Jacques was an angel from heaven and gave the people a wicked brush font for free.

And just now because of this.

His very first bath.

Nick only filled it up half way because we were so scared he would some how slip out of our grasp and drown. Then I undressed him and plopped him in while he screamed his loudest and proudest in protest of the cold.

He was three days old.

He had a rash on his chin from sucking too ferociously every two hours. He was still wearing a bandaid on his heel from the newborn screening test he had done that day. The midwives confirmed my suspicions of slight jaundice, nothing a little sunlight couldn't heal though. He was washed with all natural soaps and a tiny little washcloth as big as he was, right on the kitchen bench next to the fruit bowl. His two dogs were standing guard beneath him making sure his parents weren't torturing him.

We treated him like he was made of glass. We got him out, wrapped him up tight and dried him off. I gave him a baby massage with oil and dressed him in a 00000 sized singlet and the fluffiest, tiniest, white jumpsuit I could find.

We took 104 photos and two videos of his first bath and thank goodness because I don't remember anywhere near enough of life with a three day old baby Dash. I just remember feeling like it was my birthday/christmas eve/that time Nick Dewey smooched me all in one and times one billion.

I planned on just posting a photo of my baby ham in the big bath because he's nearly outgrown the baby bath and now look, I'm near sobbing. I need to stop wasting hours looking at newborn photos.

Naht.

The Fourth Annual Santa Speedo Shuffle

Disclaimer: this post contains photos that may or may not be offensive... I don't mind looking at my Husband and our mates in speedos one little bit but you might so I suggest doing the old quick scroll. 

The Fourth Annual Santa Speedo Shuffle was a roaring success. We raised over $105,000 as a community for the Cystic Fibrosis Association ACT and Nick's team raised over $14,500. Which won them second place and lit a fire in all of our bellies to come up with the goods next year. 

As the santas took to the start line, sleet started falling from the sky, hitting their bare red skin like needles. The wind was ridiculously rude whipping them from all sides and the sun was a bitch showing up for a second here and there but mostly staying put behind clouds. Apparently it was the first time the event had seen bad weather... 

Dash was so impressed he started crying uncontrollably, so badly in fact that the only thing that would calm him was a feed. So there we were, at the start line, facing 70+ santas and I had to whip my nipples out. Guess it's only fair considering every one else's attire. Anyway that explains the unimpressed look on my face up there.

You might ask what on earth I was doing with a 10 week old baby in the freezing cold. Well, people with Cystic Fibrosis can't mingle. To me that is one of the most devastating things about the illness because it can be so isolating. Being outdoors around other people with the illness reduces the risk of cross contamination so outside we stayed and no colds or bugs were caught. Thank goodness.

This year the number of Dash supporters was outrageous. He had three teams representing him full of 20 friends and family. He had the above turkeys working the start and finish line water station in his honour. He had his grandparents, uncle, our friends parents, nicks work colleagues and even his uncle's dog cheering on the Santa's on his behalf. He was also represented by Spongebob Squarepants and a lone Minion. 

To say Nick and I were overwhelmed by the amount of love and support we were shown is an understatement. We are so incredibly thankful to everyone who showed up for us and for the association, to everyone who donated and to everyone that wished us well. 

Yes we are running again next year. Yes there will be more of us. Yes we will have matching team Dash shirts. I even plan on running with Dash in the pram! Maybe actually shuffling/walking...

Tales from Thursday

All the best things in life happen on Thursdays. Or perhaps Thursdays are just the most interesting day of the week, every week in my world. They're even more exciting now that Husband has them off work. Usually we do boring things like adventure to the bank or the hospital or centrelink. Without a doubt we always end up at the mall which I really hate but we always have something we're desperate for. This Thursday was no different. We ventured to the dreaded mall scouting for shoes and a sleep positioner. 

Why would a tiny baby need a sleep positioner you ask? Oh, thats because our twelve week old baby has outgrown his moses basket. You heard me. You didn't hear me sobbing about it, but you best believe I did. 

Anyway. With new shoes on Nicks feet and a baby bundled up in blankets, we went to visit the house we're building! The kitchen installation had started so it was a very exciting day at the job site. Dash was all whatever Mum, I'm hungry but Nick was loving my choice in joinery. Fifteen minutes of walking around the house later, we were off home again to feed starving baby who promptly fell asleep in the car. 

Usually I would be happy said baby was sleeping. Sleeping babies are wonderful! But it was 4pm. Nick and I had arranged to get out of the house with OUT sleeping baby at 4.45pm. That meant leaving my baby for the first time EVER without saying goodbye. 

I understand this isn't as dramatic as I am making it out to be. But last night cemented the inkling I had that I am suffering from separation anxiety. I was going to get a massage and eat a burger and drink a beer. There was even the promise of hot chocolate afterwards! And still Nick had to literally drag me out the door. A fan of leaving my baby I am not. I don't plan on making a habit out of it. 

Despite the rock in my stomach and lump in my throat, I did have a wonderful time with my Husband. I can't remember the last time we actually went on a date! I only facetimed my Mum and sister who were minding Dash once. We relaxed and ate and went to Target to stroll around because, Target. I found a book for baby while we were there and we also found a ride on digger... I know what Dash is getting for Christmas now.

Here is a selfie we took

If we ever go on another Dash-less date maybe I will even get dressed and put my face on! MAYBE I will even take the scrunchie out of my hair!

Maybe.

We got home at 7.30pm thinking it was midnight and raving about how successful we were. Baby was asleep in his nanny's arms making the most adorable little snoring noises. When he woke up I was so excited to nurse him, missing one feed felt like ten so we soaked it up that Dash and I. After that we shared his physio while watching the footy show (I have no idea why). We put him in his baby sleeping bag, read him his new book - Pig the Pug -  snap chatted all our friends (priorities) and plopped him in his new enormous bed. 

I'm so not ready to leave my baby. I'm also not ready for him to be sleeping in a portacot instead of a moses basket. Call me Smother, I deserve it and I also care not. 

But I am working on it. 

The medication routine

First of all! Look at this kid. What a ham. 

I bought this impossibly cute jumpsuit in Paris, on a day when I chose to stroll around the shops of St Germain instead of going to the catacombs. Obviously shopping beats bones but also morning sickness and caves full of stinky of bones? No thank you. 

Second of all! I've decided to document our medication routine because I know that in a year or two or ten or when at some stage this routine looks so super easy, I will appreciate it. 

Every morning Dash and I hop out of bed and head to the kitchen. I plop him on this makeshift mat on the kitchen bench and listen to him cooing while I make a coffee and some breakfast cause lord knows I need it. I bribe the dogs out of bed with promises of breakfast and Dash's coos might start sounding like 'heeeyyyy' a funny little cry he reserves only for when he is getting hungry and thinking his mother is ignoring him. 

Once the dogs are fed and the coffee is made, I start pulling out his medications from the fridge, his spoon and container and syringes off the boon grass drying rack (hallelujah emoji) and the creon and salt from his lunch box. 

First we have the pentavite. Just .45ml of this multivitamin makes an enormous difference to our boy. Then we have .5ml of liquid vitamin E which is impossible to buy in any shops and therefore is a massive pain in the ass to find. But thank goodness for online supplement stores. Then we finish with 1.5ml of a preventative antibiotic which is a sickly sweet and crazy sticky pink liquid. I give him the antibiotic last because unlike with the supplements, he doesn't scrunch up his little face when I give it to him so I assume he thinks it tastes the best. 

By this point little Dash's 'Heeeyyyy' cries are getting more serious so I start the routine we do before every single feed. A little spoonful of pureed apple (on the smallest spoon I can find - for babies aged 4 months+), half a spoonful of creon (the spoons that come with the medication are about half the size of your pinky fingernail) and a sprinkle of salt. I mix it all up and spoon feed little Dash. Once it's all gone I can finally breastfeed and enjoy my now cold coffee... hahaha. 

The creon is a pancreatic enzyme that helps Dash's digestion. Without it, the fats and nutrients in the milk Dash gets goes straight through him. It's a tricky process to do before every feed but two week old Dash took to the apple straight away and we haven't looked back since. We're all so excited for him to start solids, he's going to be offered anything and everything.

At night, after his bubble bath and before his bedtime feed, Dash gets another 1.5ml of antibiotics and of course another dose of apple and Creon. 

People sometimes politely enquire about his routine. Does he sleep through the night? When is his morning nap? The usual new baby questions... My answer is always we don't have a routine yet, I still feed on demand during the day and he's worked out his own night time routine. We do however have to tick off a few things at certain times every day and his medication is just one part of that. 

I'll blog about the other things we do to combat his CF soon, I want to make a video of some of it cause daaaaang he's cute and again, future me will love it.  

Dash lives here

There's progress in the nursery!

It's not often that we follow through with my big dreams and grand schemes, especially when they involve home improvements. It goes something like 'Carly! NO power tools! Stop spray painting in the house! You're going to lose a finger! There's no stud there!' etc. etc. etc.

I try to remind the Husband that I am a licensed builder but he isn't fooled.

Anywho... We actually painted the wall! obviously cause my photoshop skills aren't that mad yet. And we decided on yellow!

It was either yellow, mint green or blue. We slapped them all up on the wall and could not decide for the longest time but clearly yellow was the winner. Green and blue jazzed up the house shelves instead.

So this little Dash the brave banner. Isn't it the most wonderful banner you've ever seen? The wonderful Amy of daydreams and dandelions contacted me recently about little Dash and offered to make him something for his bedroom. I was absolutely blown away by her kindness and then when the banner arrived, I was so impressed by the quality! Girls got skills! I tried to make a banner like this myself last year and it did not go as planned... a wonkier banner you've never seen. Anyway if you're in the market for some beautiful children's decor go and check out her store! Go now.

The other side of Dash the brave's room got some love too. A lightening bolt hook from The Hook Co to hang his fancy dummy clip and a photo of his parents who love him dearly. Also not new, but that elephant mobile there is Dash's favourite thing in the world.

Still have a few more things I want to do and you know I'll do them and then start another list but c'est la vie.

E I G H T weeks of Dash

I feel like the biggest goose ever, I have the foggiest brain. I was chopping up sweet potato to go in a soup I was making as a snack the other day (first sign there's a problem) and instead of plopping the pieces into the bowl I had out, I was plopping them into the bin next to it. I only realised this when I got to the end of the chopping sesh and realised there was no sweet potato in the bowl. Blogger should have emoji's cause insert a few here. Honestly breast feeding baby brain is way worse than pregnancy baby brain. Also more entertaining for family and friends. 

Whatever, babies don't really care if you have a foggy brain! Look at this kid, what a beautiful little potato with eyes. He is E I G H T weeks old now, can you even believe it.

Side note: Nick just made me run across the house to watch him say hello to the boy a few thousand times over. Dash giggled and kicked and made gurgly noises that sounded like hello back so, you know, he's a superstar. 

Anyway anyway! Some facts about little boy Dash at eight weeks old for you:

At eight weeks old baby Dash still has furry ears. He is becoming a champion fat roll producer but is falling behind in the hair growing department, save for the 5 or 6 strands on top of his head - imagine Homer Simpson. He is discovering his hands just like the wonder week app suggested he would, so clever that app. He's also discovered his elephant mobile above his change table! He saves all of his best smiles for that elephant with bells, his mother pretends not to be offended. The wonderful little soul has outgrown his baby, baby clothes. The 4 and 5 zero sized clothes are in a sad little pile in his room waiting to be sorted into keep and donate and trash (hello poo stains) bags. I'm missing opportunities to dress him in some pieces! I'm devastated and thrilled at the same time.

Since baby Buddha is growing out of his baby bath, he's been floating around in baths with us every night. One of us has a bath and supports Dashy boys head while he floats on his back and splashes to his hearts content. What a life. 

Basically Dash has taken over our lives completely (obviously) and I am now that Mum that goes out to brunch with friends and insists that they look at photos of the baby when he was just born, even though they're already looking at the actual baby. Don't worry I'm rolling my eyes at myself but I actually cannot resist. 

Smothers unite. 

that one half painted wall

I have bought approximately 40% of the things that fill Dash's nursery. Everything else has been moved from other parts of he house, repainted, repurposed. The art and decor is either handmade or I've bought it intending to do little makeovers.

Basically I haven't done a lot because I wanted to get to know our baby before I decided on their space.

Now that I know our boy Dash, I want to slowly create a space for him thats happy and peaceful and full of fun and love. I want lots of handmade bits and pieces and happy colours and really the point of this post is that I've decided what to do with the wall behind his cot...

At first I was all which decal! Spots or crosses or lightening bolts or.... whatever too hard. Then I was all but whhhyyyy is this amazing celestial ralph lauren wall paper so expensive!? and then I dove right in to stick on wall paper but dear lord which one. And then I was like but what on earth do I put on his picture rail to make up for the boring blank wall??? And just last weekend I was asking this shop owner how on earth I can recreate this kickass life sized skeleton they had painted on their wall. Shall I call the artist now or wait until you turn it into a poster?

But this week while scrolling pinterest it hit me in the face.

Just paint a damn feature wall and call her done. Or rather half paint it.

And now begins the battle of which colour. I'm all for a yellow! a bright and happy but also a little on the mustardy side yellow. Nick is waaaaay on the bluer side of life and I've asked every person I've seen since Monday and people are mostly yellow but wouldn't you be if some Mother with a crazy look in her eye was making you choose?

Thought so.

Stay tuned for thrilling nursery updates.

life according to my camera roll

If it weren't for time stamps on the photos stored on my phone, I would have absolutely no idea when things happened. To be honest I probably wouldn't remember most of the things happening in the first place. I have this constant fear that I'm not documenting enough lately and also this constant debate of should I snap my camera and journal every three seconds or just live in the moment?

So while my mother in law and sister in law kindly cook, clean and watch our baby (actual angels) I will write some things down to go with these high quality iphone photos with many filters thrown on them.

Clockwise: Dash Dew playing on his mat at five weeks old. I was actually just trying to take some snaps of the nursery and him in it cause I know it will look different in a minute or two. I'm getting real itchy to craft and decorate and make our house real purdy again. If you look closely you will see him protesting the impromptu photoshoot.

Sending photos to friends and family all day every day. We have a daily ritual of snapping everyone we know. We may not have a routine but I'll be damned if we can't snapchat funny shit.

Dash the brave fits into the bear suit his parents bought him while on a birthday holiday in Melbourne earlier this year. Tear face cause he's growing out of it a week later...

Some of my fav Dash things. Pop Ya Tot dummy clip (I wish I could own one of each, they're all so dang cute), little baby ugg boots that have had some serious good use. They're all scuffed up and looking very worn and I couldn't love it any more. And a country road blanket from Grandma. Bless you country road. Also bless you Grandma.

Squirt started smiling! I've never seen anything more glorious. His Dad has a pretty wicked real proper smile he reserves just for me but this little baby smiling for the first time sorta beats it. Just by a little.

I've had a fringe for as long as I have had hair. I didn't have proper hair until I was about 4 so this  statement isn't too dramatic but the hair around my face has always been shorter so I said Maria! Let's just cut it all! Make it all the same length! And so now, here I am with my Mama lob just feeling all fabulous. I actually seriously contemplated taking a selfie for three days before I made it happen. 

Dash has three sets of Grandparents right? In all of those families, he is the first Grandbaby. Dash is adored. Now I am sure all Grandbabies are loved and adored and I am sure our next baby will be loved and adored but there is something spesh about the first. His Pop (my dad) is so obsessed he has even started ordering his coffee in Dash's name. 

Hanging at Grandma's on Sunday, being all cute and stuff. 

The Dewberries be 25 going on 65. We bought a La-Z-Boy (but did not buy scotch guard yet hence the blanket protection) and I'll be damned if it isn't the most comfortable seat on earth. We were going to get one of those plastic leather nursing glider chairs... and then we saw the rocking recliners... and then we SAT in the rocking recliner... and then we threw our wallets at the shop and demanded same day delivery. 

The things you learn once babies have arrived. Pre baby I was all we don't need no sleeping bags! Post baby you see how squirmy they are and how easy it is for the blankets to find their way over baby's face and then you say give me all of the sleeping bags right now. Also who needs a pillow when you have those cheeks.

Celebrating like there's no tomorrow. Girlfriend bought a wedding dress!! The most perfect dress for her banging body and I got to see it on her! Almost died dead on the spot. Then we celebrated with prosecco! The girls did anyway, I stole one sip and looked at the bottle with sad eyes (because delicious) while wondering what the devil I was doing taking my baby to a pub on a Thursday night. To be fair it was a restaurant/pub. There was table service!

Post baby body and pre wedding wardrobe do not mix. My ass and thighs laugh at the size ten jeans scattered all over the floor. Whatever, I hate my old wardrobe anyway! Since I no longer need a corporate wardrobe I am going all out with the purging. If I were a millionaire I would burn everything and start from scratch. Since I am not, I have a plan! I have specific items I want for this winter and I've been buying them slowly like a sensible girl. I shall blog about it, mark my words. 

Still reading? Was this post too long? I could have written entire posts about each individual photo so count yourself lucky. 

I miss blogging and my office so terribly so I will be back soon! Once Dash is in a routine and I find my marbles. 

The tale of the poops

Warning! This post makes no sense, it doesn't flow, there's no point to it, it's just a collection of thoughts that have popped into my head over the course of three breastfeeds. I was supposed to post this last Friday and here we are 6 days later... Enjoy!

Three weeks ago at 9.46am, Nick and I welcomed a little baby BOY! What a surprise for this convinced baby was a girl mama. I WILL write down his birth story soon. And then I will write down what happened in the first two weeks of his life but right now, some thoughts from this week/yesterday/right now when baby Dash is three weeks old, struggling to fill out his super snugly 0000 sized bonds wondersuit and having a little wriggle on my lap (occasionally smacking noodle on the head with one of his mittened giant baby hands).

Husbands going back to work after two weeks of family bliss with a new baby is hard. Sucks, the worst. So scary! Nick went back on Monday afternoon and as his mum came over to help I wasn't really alone until Tuesday and then! Deep breathing. Positive thinking. No showering. No panicking! I hastily decided to get out of the house at 9am, completely solo just to get it over with and... it was amazing.

I took the two dogs and the pram filled with our baby wearing seven layers and five thousand blankets for a walk. I popped on a beanie and sunglasses and the tracksuit pants I'd worn for the last four days and bounded out the door. 

I felt like supermum! Forget about the laundry that piles up in an hour, the dishes that multiply before your eyes, the dust bunnies that are bigger than Muggsy despite weekly vacuuming and my obviously disheveled appearance cause in my world, I did it.

You know what's crazy? When you get to the hospital, in labour, slightly panicking, getting ready to give birth, they make you step on the scales. Honestly aren't we in enough pain already?! Full disclosure, I gained 20kg. Pre baby I would be flipping out right now. Post baby, I actually adore my squishy belly. My larger than normal thighs, my new found cellulite and my clearly not toned arms are all my friends. I'm being kind to myself and I'm so proud of that. I'm already 10kgs down but not worried about the other 10 just yet. But really, another post for another day.

Things that are amazing (in no particular order): 

- my Husband.

- solly baby wraps

- NBA playoffs

- chocolate up and go

- target jeans that are two sizes up to save your soul when all the jeans in the house won't button up

- Thursday's

- mothers 

- friends who cook you dinner fifteen million times

- our friends in general

- our city select baby jogger pram

- hand knitted baby things

- boon grass drying racks and medela breast pumps 

- newborns

- snifffing a newborns head

- Asop soap and hand cream

Things that stink:

- newborns on medication (actually seriously stinky poops)

- Australian Netflix

- terrible new mum diets

- Wednesday's 

- no floor heating

So in the interest of preserving memories, and clearing out brains, let me tell you a story. 

My cousin came to visit Dash and I the other day. He was having a bit of a grumbly day, very unsettled, nap to feed ratio way off, etc etc. Anyway Booey was over (what a nickname) and we were chatting and Dash was grumbling and so I thought hey mate, you only grumble when you're hungry or dirty or tired so lemme change you and eliminate one cause.

I started changing grumbly baby when all of a sudden I hear some rumbling. Then I see some pooping so I grab a wipe and catch it. No big deal. Then the rumbling starts up again and I catch another. 

Then as I am cleaning up and thinking surely no more poops could be had! One of them shoots out at me (litterally like a rocket), gets my cardigan, gets my top, runs down my pants, lands on my ugg boots, sprays the carpet... I just stood there and screamed for help. Lucky Booey and my Mum were over and helped me clean up the mess. 

Anyway. Grumbly baby was much happier after that. Sometimes you just need to clear out all the shit in your life in order to feel better. 

Moral of the story,

I feel like I too am clearing out all the shit in my life and feeling better. Mentally/spiritually I am a new woman and I feel so fantastic and so in love with my outlook on life. This new role and the new challenges we are facing have forced me to become the person I have always dreamed of being. The Mama I longed to be and particularly, the type of Mama I always dreamed of being. The one who is patient and kind and understanding and giving, at least thats what I'm shooting for.

So thank you baby Dash, for pooping on me, for making me a Mama and for making all of my wildest dreams come true.  

All photos from that fateful Tuesday when I had to be a real Mama and take care of shit all on my own. Hence the frowny faces...

I'ma blog again real soon! I miss you! I know you miss me too.