Taking stock: November 2015.

The countdown is on until we fly out. In roughly four days' time my boy and I will no doubt be discussing what we still need to do/pack, probably in a rather heated manner. Thankfully, Little Red will be in daycare, so we can argue in peace without her hanging off our legs demanding bubbles or tea, or bubbles in her tea (the struggle is real).

A couple of weeks ago, my folks came to visit for their Little Red fix, and she delighted them with her large vocabulary, drawing ability and often violent tantrums. No seriously, my parents think it's hysterical, probably because I treated them to the same delights as a child. We also spent a lovely weekend away with my boy's family in Sorrento, where his parents lovingly called Little Red a Wild Child and told us she was very independent and feisty, and has endless energy. Yes, no question there. She also stared Santa down good and proper yesterday (I'm told she has inherited my 'look') and has developed the uncanny ability to wake from her nap the moment I finish my housework and make a cup of tea. Sometimes I doubt my parenting skills (until she demands tea, chocolate and a coaster for her bottle, that is).

It's been a full few weeks, with pre-Christmas festivities, work, harvesting the bounty from our garden, last minute travel bookings, and organising the house and garden for the house sitters (who we get to meet tomorrow). I've whipped the garden into shape (on the surface, anyway) and almost finished the dusting. I just have to convince my boy to clean the fridge and freezer now. Here's what else I've been up to.

• Making: Lists. Lots of lists.
• Cooking: Salad (it’s too hot to cook at the moment). A slow cooker version of a kale and lentil dhal without tomato or capsicum for my boy (it was cold last week). These two rather moreish slices for a pre-Christmas Christmas lunch with the in-laws – healthy peanut butter chocolate fudge and peanut butter rough. (They were delicious. I ate about four-fifths of them. Seriously.)
• Drinking: Spicy chocolate rooibos tea, lemon myrtle-flavoured black tea, fizzy water, detox tea. I’ve run out of chai.
• Reading: Not much. I’m the epitome of a working mum: time-poor and tired. But I have been flicking through the Lonely Planet’s Hong Kong guide book (at work, shhhh) and skimming the odd page of Buddhism for mothers of young children when I crawl into bed some nights (it’s actually an easier read than the first one). On the sidelines, waiting for the overseas trip, are The tea chest, Big magic and The lightkeeper’s wife. I’m pretty excited about these books and have high hopes that Little Red will sleep the entirety of each and every flight so I can read to my heart's content.
• Wanting: More tea and chocolate. More down time. More interesting things to write here, but my wants are simple. 
• Looking: Forward to a white Christmas (and Gluhwein).
• Playing: Bubbles (still) and Talking Tom (iPhone ap that keeps Little Red entertained for minutes). As a side, did you know that in Aldi you can buy a Talking Tom soft toy that talks to you? They’re $50! I had to drag Little Red away from that aisle quick smart.
• Deciding: What really needs to be done before we leave (and what can wait – like repainting the fire guard).
• Wishing: I (and my boy) had more patience.
• Enjoying: Spicy chocolate rooibos tea. Some peace and quiet.
• Waiting: To see what my job will look like when I get back from overseas (if I have one). Still.
• Liking: How much Little Red wants to help me.
• Wondering: Whether or not I’ll ever finish a blog post in one go. It usually takes three or four sittings to complete one.
• Loving: Our new family Christmas photos with Santa.
• Pondering: A good daily routine that includes specific writing (and meditation and exercise) time.
• Considering: Upgrading just my plane tickets to Business Class.
• Buying: The bare minimum of Christmas presents for colleagues and neighbours (our family can wait until we get back for their exotic gifts from overseas (read: cheesy touristy airport souvenirs)). Lots of things to keep Little Red entertained on the planes. Herbs aplenty to keep everyone healthy while we’re away (my least favourite travel experiences have mostly related to travelling with my boy when he had man flu). 
• Watching:
 Limitless and Quantico (not so taken with them anymore); Blindspot (I LOVE a show where girls kick butt); Home Fires (started watching it last night – it might grow on me). Can’t wait to watch Downton Abbey season 6. I will have to cram it all before the Downton Christmas Day special, which will be watched in front of the fire at my brother’s house, wine, whisky and chocolate in hand. (This makes it sound like I watch a lot of TV. I actually don’t.)
• Hoping: There’s still snow when we get to England for Christmas (it’s snowed early this year) and that my garden is still alive when we get back.
• Marvelling: At Little Red’s endless and speedy development. She’s one smart cookie. (I know, I know, every parent thinks that about their kid.)
• Cringing: At my early attempts at literary genius.
• Needing: To remember how to spell genius without spell checker.
• Smelling: Pretty bad probably. I'm pretty sure I gave myself heat stroke weeding and pruning at lunchtime (hot tip: between 11 and 3, sit under a tree – don’t stand under the blazing sun pruning one).
• Wearing: Short shorts, baggy singlet. It’s pretty toasty outside.
• Following: I’m trying not to follow so much stuff online at the moment. It’s such a time and energy sucker.
• Questioning: The value of a detox. I did one for three days the other week. I didn't prepare properly for it but seemed to manage ok. Apart from the lack of chai and chocolate.
• Noticing: That Little Red is rather stubborn. (She gets that from her father.)
• Knowing: I’m a good parent for not taking phenergen to drug Little Red on the plane.
• Thinking: I’ll probably regret not taking phenergen to drug Little Red on the plane.
• Admiring: My boy for working so hard to get his new job.
• Sorting: Out the ever-increasing pile of recipes that I keep printing and have the best intentions of making in my quest to become The Perfect Housewife and Mother. They mostly just sit on the kitchen table and at each mealtime, I have to convince Little Red they’re not scrap paper for her to draw on while I feed her another piece of toast.
• Getting: Equal parts excited and anxious about our trip (mainly anxious about the flying with a 20-month-old bit of it – the rest I’m super excited about).
• Bookmarking: The aforementioned peanut butter-related slices, and this recipe for five-ingredient muffins 15 different ways. I’m clearly going through a peanut butter phase.
• Coveting: A child who sleeps through the night. Every. Single. Night. That and patience.
• Disliking: All the violence and gore on TV – real and fictional. 
• Opening: Christmas cards.
• Giggling: At the girls who went out of their way to make Little Red smile for our family Santa snap (well, they got her to stop crying at least).
• Feeling: Tired. Little Red has more teeth on the move, which means she wakes up randomly during the night and it’s pot luck whether or not she (and the rest of us) goes back to sleep. 
• Snacking: Chocolate Yogi frothy toffee and caramel chocolate bars. Actually, many, many different types of chocolate thanks to an early birthday present from my brother and his family. The aforementioned peanut butter-related slices. Smoothies. Rye fruit toast.
• Helping: My boy prep for his job interview last week. Well, kind of. In the ad breaks of Limitless.
• Hearing: Silence (almost). Little Red has been at daycare all day and I’ve been home actually getting stuff done. It’s been very quiet. Bliss.

Born to be wild.

After my puff piece on my Bella, in the interest of fairness, I should tell you a little about our other cat, Indi.

A little over seven years ago, after a relaxing weekend away in Daylesford, my boy and I stopped by a little 1970s blonde brick home in Broadmeadows (or what we affectionately refer to as Broady). Its garden was overgrown, the lawn was long and weedy, and there were broken bikes, scrap metal and hotted-up cars (probably Commodores) out the front. Now, Broadmeadows is not known for its gentry or curbside appeal, but more for its gang-related drug trade and occasional drive-by shootings and stabbings. (Or so the news tells us.)

My boy and I hadn’t decided to take up any illicit activities, but were there to take home a nine-week-old tortoiseshell kitten that one of my colleagues had told me about. The runt of the litter, we’d fallen for her feisty charms when she was just one-week-old, when she’d protested at us picking her up by pawing at us and trying to release a huge, open-jawed yowl that had only yielded a very, very, very faint squeak. We called her Indiana, after Indiana Jones, the great adventurer (and his family dog).

In the car on the way home, Indi clawed up my chest and stared out of the windows at the cars we passed, much to the amusement of the other drivers. At our little unit in Hawthorn, it wasn’t long before she disappeared. We found her fast asleep in her basket – she clearly already felt right at home.

Indi, somewhat like a dog (but more aloof), comes when my boy whistles. When she was little, she’d chase and carry foil balls around, playing soccer with them up and down our hallway. Sometimes we still find them under the couch and behind the TV cabinet.

Indi also thinks she’s our equal (but is more aloof). She’ll eat ice cream from a cone, takes up half the bed, and once I even saw her stand on her hind legs and, holding a twig of cat thyme in her front paws, walk across our courtyard. She (not I) was totally high on the stuff.

Indi is charming and friendly. When she chooses to be. In Hawthorn, she quickly made friends with our neighbours and their huge, grey fluffy cat, Winston. Each morning, Indi would run across our courtyard, jump the fence and bang on their back door until they let her in to see Winston (until then, an indoor-only cat). She would eat his gourmet food, race up and down their hall, then ask for them to both go out. She kept him out all hours, play fighting in our courtyard, chasing mice in the vacant lot behind our unit, and wandering along the rooftops, following birds and possums. She also introduced Winston to cat thyme, and the two of them would lie in the sun, staring at each other for hours, high as kites. It was a little like being back at uni, watching the stoners.

Here in our new home, she befriended a very old tabby, KC, who lived two doors down. He’d call her with the most agonizing, painful and extremely loud yowl, and she’d meet him in our neighbours’ garden, where they’d loll about in the long grass, watching the pigeons and parrots in the gum trees.

What Indi lacks in weight and size, she makes up for in spirit and courage. In Hawthorn, she fiercely battled the ginger cat who lived near us, unperturbed by the fact he was about four times her size. When my boy ended their first tussle with a quick squirt of the hose, she ran inside with the ginger’s claw sticking out of her head. Here, she patrols our garden each morning she goes out, doing a lap of the fence line before settling down in the sun for a nap or chasing geckos and mice. At night, she patrols our home, going from window to window to make sure it's all in order. And when the cats from across the street have the gall to sneak across her deck under the cloak of night, she fights them through the glass to let them know who's boss.

However, this courage doesn’t extend to birds, of which she has a particularly unfeline-like fear. We can usually pinpoint her location in the garden based on avarian activity. Birds gang up on her, squawking loudly and chasing her across the garden and in through the back door. She looks at us with confused embarrassment, as she slinks through the kitchen and downstairs to her domain. 

Nowhere near as openly affectionate or needy as Bella, Indi shows us she cares in her own way. Usually by sitting quietly beside my boy of an evening, back to him, letting him pat her. And while she’s clearly ‘his’ cat, if he’s away, she’ll sometimes show me the same courtesy.

An only child for several years, it took 10 months and Indi’s first head cold before she accepted Bella, who showed Indi such care and concern when she was sick that Indi couldn’t help but warm to her. Now they kiss and smooch and sniff each other with what seems to be genuine affection.

And as for Little Red? Well, Indi is curious and has sniffed her once or twice too, but we’re still waiting for the day she doesn’t flee when Little Red approaches her with a hearty “Hello”, arms flailing above her head in a wave.

Indi is not quite as feisty or adventurous as she once was (although her independence remains intact). In truth, she’s become a little quiet and nervy (I think it’s a tortoiseshell quirk, or perhaps it's just old age). She spends a lot of time indoors asleep these days, although she still demands to go out every day and will disappear for hours. She tires of the red dot game quickly, but sometimes I hear her secretly hitting one of Little Red’s balls around the dining room floor and I'm reminded of the tiny, wild ball of multicoloured fluff that we adopted seven years ago.

I don't know where the time goes. It doesn’t seem so long ago that we were driving to Broady to collect the runt of the litter, and laughing at her trying to jump up on the couch or from the couch to the coffee table when we got her home. The seven years since then have flown by, with so many changes (mostly good). And in that time, that runt has become ingrained within our family – naturally at the head of it.

Taking stock: October 2015.

I don't know about you, but the later in the year it is, the faster the time seems to go. (Unless you're 10 years old and waiting for the jolly old man in the red suit to visit and drink all of your dad's whisky in exchange for a new bike/Playstation/guitar/my little pony/whatever 10-year-old kids are into these days.)

So, with this in mind, my grand plans to regularly write here have taken second (or seventh) fiddle behind Little Red, work around the house and garden, work at work, and family and friends' functions, and the finite amount of time we all have in each day. But I'm getting there slowly, along with:

• Making: New Year’s Eve plans for Hong Kong.
• Cooking: Organic apples from the market to freeze for Little Red’s breakfast. Frittata for dinner. Beetroot from the garden to pickle for my boy.
• Drinking: A big, big mug of strong, proper caffeinated chai to stave off my inclination for a nap. White tea. Green tea. Cider (it’s getting a wee bit warm for whisky).
• Reading: Buddhism for mothers of young children (I bit the bullet and started reading this after I’d finished Don’t you forget about me, a pretty good trashy chick lit novel). I fell asleep two pages in. Not because it was boring, but because I am so very, very tired and couldn’t keep my eyes open.
• Wanting: More sleep. More tea. More writing and reading time. Someone to pay me to sit on my deck and drink tea, write, read and garden.
• Looking: Forward, ever so much, to hanging with my UK family. My cousin has set up this chat thing on Facebook for us all to update each other on important things like whisky drinking, what's for breakfast and tea, party plans, what we’re watching and so forth. It’s pretty fun (and pointless). My uncle and aunty have learnt to send pictures, videos and emoticons, and they’ve all ganged up against me not wanting to watch the new Star Wars movie. My brother also told me he’s all over making our Christmas booze (homemade bramble whisky, raspberry vodka and sloe gin). And we’ve planned to eat takeaway for Christmas lunch and dinner (a traditional Christmas feast at his place). I think I’ll need a good dose of St Mary’s Thistle (a liver tonic) when I get home.
• Playing: Bubbles. Endless bubbles. Little Red’s fave thing to do right now.
• Deciding: What posh hotel to book for New Year’s Eve.
• Wishing: We were billionaires and could stay in the super posh hotels with stunning suites and harbor views that I’ve found online. (Not really. But they do look amazing.)
• Enjoying: Little Red’s sleep time. She’s full of beans at the moment. My boy and I are completely exhausted.
• Waiting: For the storm that’s due today, so I don’t have to water the garden.
• Liking: Sitting here quietly on the deck, not too hot, not too cold, slight breeze in the trees, birds chatting, a hazy light over the treetops and across the land. It’s rather pleasant. Quiet and peaceful.
• Wondering: Whether I’ll still be in my job at the end of the year (they still haven’t finalised or publicised restructuring plans). Ah well, it reminds me of this song I love.
• Loving: 99 monkey’s hazelnut cacao spread. Nutella-like heaven and chocolatey nutty bliss in a convenient jar!
• Pondering: Whether or not to refinance our home loan. All the experts say you should review it at least every five years, but it seems like rather hard work.
• Considering: Whether or not to bite the bullet and start freelancing and clinical work.
• Buying: All sorts of goodies from the market, including a big bag of apples and lemons, broccoli, eggs, 99 monkey’s peanut butter and hazelnut cacao spread, Lebanese and long cucumber seedlings to grow for Little Red, and a large soy chai latte for me. (That’s what happens when my boy leaves me to solo parent on market day!)
• Watching:
 An array of trashy new US crime- and spy-related shows, like Limitless and Quantico. Also still loving 800 words and HYBPA. Actually, the latter are still my current favourites. Wanting to watch Indian summers and Home fires. They look right up my alley.
• Hoping: Little Red has a big, big, big nap.
• Marvelling: At my good friend’s new baby. She’s three and a bit weeks old, and so tiny and beautiful. I don’t remember Little Red being that small and fragile.
• Needing: Motivation to do stuff (other than drink tea, eat chocolate and nap).
• Questioning: Whether or not I need to fill in ALL of the points in this Taking stock template (I think the answer I’m looking for is: no).
• Smelling: Like rosemary still, I'm sure (I whipped the hedges into shape).
• Wearing: Happy pants and a singlet top (seriously, it’s almost summer – this is my standard uniform on any given day I’m not at work. And some days I am at work).
• Following: A new Deepak meditation series starting in November. I was in the middle of one when I had Little Red, didn’t finish it, and haven’t done one since (they are a bit time consuming). Wish me luck!
• Noticing: I can actually function relatively well if I go to bed before 10pm. Duh.
• Knowing: I should go to bed before 10pm.
• Thinking: It’s not long til our trip and I need to get a million things done beforehand. (See Needing above…)
• Admiring: People who have the willpower to not eat everything in sight. 
• Sorting: Out my tax return (finally).
• Getting: Excited about the long weekend (in Melbourne). We’re spending it with my folks in Wodonga, which means I get to forget the mess here for a few days (see Disliking below).
• Bookmarking: This four ingredient no bake banana bread blondie recipe and tourist guides on what to do while we’re in Hong Kong on the homeward leg of our trip.
• Coveting: Child-free people’s spare time.
• Disliking: All the weeds in the garden and how untidy the house is. I remember the glorious (pre-child) days of spotlessness, cleanliness, organisation, structure and spare time. Sigh.
• Giggling: At the randomness of stuff Little Red does every day.
• Feeling: Grateful. And hayfevery.
• Snacking: On 99 monkey’s hazelnut cacao spread by the (multiple table)spoonful.
• Hearing: A lot of birds out here. And people revving cars. It’s like I’m in a zoo or bird park or something at Phillip Island.

Taking stock: September 2015.

So, I'm going to try to get some structure and consistency happening here. My goal is to 'take stock' at the end of each month. Unless I forget. Then it'll be when I remember and have time. 

It's been a quiet month or so really. We've had several bouts of sicknesses, nothing serious. And many sleepless nights, which I consider to be very serious. 

My lovely parents came and visited us last week (even though it's really my turn to visit them – I couldn't face a three-hour car trip each way with a screaming toddler). They timed it perfectly to give us the love needed to help me and Little Red get over our respective bugs and sleeplessness. Parenting definitely gives you a new appreciation and love for your own parents.

We also spent some nice time with my boy's family, and his folks babysat while we had a hot date night. Hot date nights are fine in theory, but Little Red always seems to know... and decided to stay up most of the night crying, then wake early to start her day. 

I've also been:

• Making: The most of quiet time while Little Red naps.
• Cooking: Banana and coconut cake. 
• Drinking: Peppermint tea. Green tea. White tea. My favourite dandy chai. The odd whisky... (In other news, I have evidence that proves Little Red is related to me. She can now say 'tea', and loves drinking it. I think it makes her feel grown up and special. I think tea makes us all feel a little that way, actually. She is also obsessed with visiting the veggie garden each morning and eating snow peas straight off the vine. Case closed.)
• Reading: This Charming Man (I don’t rate it so far. Most sentences in the first part lack several things that my keen Editor’s eye considers to be vital, like subjects and objects. It grates. Even worse, I find the narrative in my head taking on the same literary 'quirk'. Annoying. I’ll have to visit my local library for another book this week in my continued attempt to avoid reading Buddhism for mothers of young children. Any excuse to visit the library, really).
• Wanting: Someone else to do all of the work around the house that the cleaner doesn't. I would love a holiday from being a mum/home owner/home occupier. Being a grown up is tiring!
• Looking: At the leaves sprouting on bare branches around the garden – nature amazes me.
• Playing: On swings at the park. Little Red is obsessed with swings. It takes me back to when I was a little girl and spent hours after school and on weekends on the swings. There is something quite therapeutic about swinging back and forth, staring at the sky.
• Deciding: Where to stay on our Christmas holiday… still.
• Wishing: I didn’t have to go to work tomorrow.
• Enjoying: The lovely sunny spring day.
• Waiting: For our Christmas holiday. Two and a half months and counting – yay!
• Liking: That I’ll be in the city for the next two weeks for work. I’m predicting it’ll be a massive pain organising us to get out the door earlier, but I’ll be sharing an office with a good friend of mine (I’m usually on my lonesome) and can indulge in healthyish vegan raw treats in schmancy city cafes (you don’t get those out in the sticks where my usual workday occurs). I might even hit my boy up for a lunch date or two now he's city based.
• Wondering: How my gorgeous friend copes with three little kidlets – twin boys (six months old) and a girl (almost 2.5 years old). We had a lovely play date in a nearby park this morning. She’s a (very patient and loving) star. So is her husband.
• Loving: That Little Red has slept through the past few nights. Recently it's been like having a newborn baby again, with her – and me – up all hours. Actually, it’s been worse than when she was newborn. Add to that various sicknesses and possible teething. Remind me why people have kids again?
• Pondering: Whether or not to buy a new fridge, and how much longer our old fridge will last (it's got to be at least 20 years old now, and like most ladies of a certain age, is starting to leak). 
• Considering: My career options/desires. Whether or not to have more cake. (The important things in life.) 
• Buying: New bathers. Basic black to hide a multitude of (usually chocolate-related) sins.
• Watching:
 800 words. A quirky new Australian drama. It’s nice and light-hearted. Have you been paying attention? is still also getting serious air time. I just watched The Age of Adeline. It's a nice girly film, although the ending was a little weak.
• Hoping: Little Red warms to eating more solid ‘solid’ food soon. 
• Marvelling: At how just a year and a bit ago, Little Red was a mini, immobile blob, and now she's literally running around the house by herself, constantly carrying, doing, wanting and saying (that is, yelling) things. The poor cats.
• Cringing: At The Bachelor/Bachelorette. My boy loves those shows. They make me want to throw something very heavy and sharp at the television. 
• Needing: A massage. 
• Questioning: Our ‘need’ for so much stuff.
• Smelling: Jasmine and wisteria.
• Wearing: Purple and white happy pants featuring elephants, a black singlet top and light orange cardi. Fashion 101 starts here.
• Following: This ex-serviceman/Afghanistan veteran and his dog Trigger's big walk around Australia to raise awareness and money for post traumatic stress disorder. Go him! 
• Noticing: How quickly time is passing. 
• Knowing: How very, very, very lucky we are. We have safety, security, abundant food, clean running water, electricity, gas, warmth, cooling, beds, gardens, jobs, good free healthcare, travel, friends, family, love. The veritable works. There are so many other people who aren’t as blessed. Especially those fleeing Syria, who are putting it all on the line.
• Thinking: I need to start ticking more things off my 'To do' list. 
• Admiring: The lovely gardens in my area at the moment (especially mine). There are so many gorgeous flowers out, the grass is lush green, the bushes and trees are thickening, the bees are buzzing, the air is full of different floral perfumes. It's like a Monet painting, but sharper and more fragrant.
• Sorting: Out my tax. Better late than never.
• Getting: More sleep – yay! 
• Bookmarking: This awesome interview Marie Forleo did with Elizabeth Gilbert (of Eat, pray, love fame).
• Coveting: Nil.
• Disliking: Yappy dogs.
• Opening: Little Red’s first passport – it’s pretty adorable. As a side, she just pipped me at the post for how old she was when she got her first passport. I was almost a year older than her when I got my first passport, or technically joined mum on hers. Red also beat her dad by about 20 years.
• Giggling: At the two big, fat ducks that just landed most unceremoniously on the deck roof. The roof is clear, so I can see the shape of their big webbed feet waddling along above me. They’re moving to the edge, surveying the landscape, wondering where to go for their next snack. Hopefully it’s into my veggie patch and they sort the snails out.
• Feeling: A bit sore – I’ve hurt my back. Woe is me!
• Snacking: See 'Cooking' above – Banana and coconut cake. It's totally addictive. Especially with almond butter and (sugar-free) cherry jam. I may be responsible for eating no less than half of it to date.
• Helping: My work colleague interview people to fill a vacancy in his team. No matter which side of the fence you're on in an interview, it's always a bit icky. But more so for the person being interviewed, of course. I sit there for the half hour sending the interviewee peace and love, hoping it telepathically takes some of the edge off.   
• Hearing: The next door neighbours’ inlaws’ dog yapping. Non. Stop. (Peace and love. Peace and love. Peace and love.)

Same same, but different (or how having a kid is like getting another cat).

Lots of people without kids have pets, who they lovingly refer to as their fur babies. I have two fur babies and one relatively furless baby (well, toddler now). And I’ve come to the conclusion that there really isn’t that much difference between them.

When we were contemplating getting pregnant, my boy and I talked endlessly about the pros and cons of it, and whether or not it was for us. (Of course, at that stage, we had NO IDEA what was really involved in being parents.)

To try to get me to think more favourably about pushing an infant the size of a watermelon out of my vagina and essentially having it hanging off me and my boobs for a year (or more in my case), vomit, snot, sleepless nights and dirty nappies (and pants and tops and bibs), he’d say that babies were just like cats, but with less fur. I thought about this for a little while and figured if that were true, I could probably manage one.

When I was pregnant about two seconds later (and freaking out a little about what lay ahead), I talked with my mum about it. Now, my mum had four kids. Three were born very close together, and I was born quite some years later. She also had very little support – or interest in parenting at the start (her priorities were more aligned with travel, gardening and work, like mine). Being in her mid 70s today, she’s probably seen (and/or done) it all. I think this makes her a bit of an expert.

Mum listened patiently to me trying to rationalize parenthood, as I talked myself in and out of it. Then in an attempt to reassure myself, I said, “Well, really, when you think about it, babies are just like cats, but with less fur. That and you just have to feed them more often.”

Mum went quiet for a few seconds. (I could tell she was thinking about how to reply without upsetting me – me, full of new pregnancy hormones and panic.) Then she said bluntly, “Well, not really darling.”

I’ve been thinking about this again recently. And as much as I hate to admit it, mum was mostly right (again). Mainly because of the sheer amount of work involved in looking after a baby (and all the extra work around the house and family and friend commitments they bring) versus a cat (or two).

But… I’ve also found some pretty convincing similarities between having cats and kids. Here are my top five.

1.     Sleep deprivation.

We like sleeping with our cats, but soon learned the only way to try to get a night of unbroken sleep was to ban them from the bedroom.

Bella is a bed hog. She snuggles right up to you, then pushes you out of the way so she has more room (she is very, very strong). You’re left balancing precariously on the edge of the bed with no doona. That or she sleeps on your face.

Indi keeps to her corner of the bed, but will randomly come up to pat you on the face to check if you’re still asleep. Then once she wakes you up, she’ll jump up onto the sink in the ensuite and wait for you to turn the tap on so she can have a drink of water. (She has access to two full water bowls in the kitchen at all times.)

Of course, closing the door on them doesn’t guarantee they won’t wake us up by running around the house, fighting with each other or the neighbours’ cats through the window, or banging on or trying to open our bedroom door. When all of this fails to stir us, they sometimes sit outside our bedroom and meow pitifully for what seems like hours.

When Little Red isn’t sick or teething, she usually sleeps through the night, occasionally half waking us up with a grizzle or groan, or a few minutes of crying before putting herself back to sleep. If all is well, I get up maybe once or twice a week to resettle her when she’s standing up crying because she’s too sleepily confused to lie back down herself.

However, to get to this point, we had to bring in the big guns – a sleep consultant. Until then, I was sometimes up with Little Red several times a night, for anywhere from one to five hour stretches. And when it all got too much, I’d pop her into bed with me and feed her to sleep (it’s hard to cry with a boob in your mouth). I’d wake to her taking up two-thirds of the bed, me huddled on the edge, my legs and arms aching or numb from not moving as they formed a U around her, and a milk-and drool-soaked sheet beneath me. Happy times.

2. What goes in, must come out (part 1).

Nappies and kitty litter. Without too much detail, they’re both pretty gross.

The main difference is you need to change nappies more often. And thankfully, our cats very rarely ‘leak’.

(PS What they say is true – you do talk about poo A LOT when you’re a parent. Especially when you’re a new parent.)

3. What goes in, must come out (part 2).   

Little Red isn’t such a big spewer these days. In fact, the last time she kind of vomited was from crying too much on the way up to visit my parents a couple of months ago (that car ride was a joy). But when she was tiny, it was spew city in our house (and out of it). The couches, cushions, carpet, car seat, stroller, bedding, and us and our clothes all featured regurgitated milk highlights. What I could throw into the washing machine, went into the washing machine. What I couldn’t, got one of two treatments: a proper clean with soapy water/stain remover, or a quick rub with a cloth (or in the case of the carpet, my socked foot). The extent of cleaning usually depended on volume, shade, surface affected and the amount of sleep I’d had the night before (see point 1).

Cat vomit is so much harder to clean up. It usually consists of fur, the last thing they ate, and something unidentifiable, often green, likely from the garden. Bella has the most delicate stomach of our two cats, regurgitating God knows what a couple of times a week on average, usually on the couch or carpet (90% of the time), in Indi’s bowl (5% of the time), or tiles or wooden floor (5% of the time). This is where I tell you that carpet accounts for about 10% of our total floor covering. Thank goodness for Scotchguard, because no quick rub with any sock will fix cat vomit (not that I’ve tried).

4. The red dot.

You can give yourself cats and kids hours of fun with a laser pointer. As long as you don’t shine it in their eyes, I’m sure it’s perfectly legal (just don’t let Customs inspectors find one in your suitcase or I hear they’ll confiscate it, even when you assure them it's for your cats).

Our cats are generally pretty lazy, but whip out a laser pointer and they’ll happily chase it until they’re puffed (which is in about five minutes). It didn’t take Bella too long to realise that I was in control of the red dot, but she still succumbs to its elusiveness.

Purely by accident (well, kind of), we discovered that Little Red is also quite partial to chasing the red dot across the floor. She hasn’t quite worked out why she can’t pick it up, but like Bella, knows that its source is the little pen in my hand.

  

5. Kisses and cuddles (AKA Love hurts).

There’s a lot of love in our house. It’s quite nice, really. While Indi tends to be a little restrained with her affections, Bella is without doubt THE MOST affectionate, loving and clingy cat I have lived with. She demands to be on you (or at the very least, leaning on you), and snuggles right in and doesn’t stop until she gets your undivided attention. She is very liberal with her kisses and will give them on demand. Some people might refer to them as Liverpool or Glasgow kisses. They leave bruises if you’re not careful.

Bella isn’t too fearful of Little Red, and sometimes gives her ‘kisses’ too (although is intuitively much more gentle with her than with us). Little Red also likes ‘kissing’ Bella, and will do so on demand. It’s pretty cute to see them butt heads.

Little Red is just as affectionate with us. The problem being that most of the time she kisses us in the same way that she kisses Bella. With her forehead. Hard. 

Raised by cats? Maybe in part. (Don't tell social services.)

The long overdue apology.

Over the past month or so, Channel 7 here in Melbourne has been heartily promoting its upcoming Peter Allen biopic. I’m actually quite looking forward to it, being a bit of a long-time, closet Peter Allen fan. There’s something about his music that gives me goose bumps. Whether it’s the sentimental, soft side of me during ‘I still call Australia home’ or a peppier me during ‘When my baby goes to Rio’*, I just can’t help it getting all emotional when I hear him sing. And you have to admit, his music is oh so very catchy.

Mum told me that when I was a wee kid and he was on the television, I would sit in front of it, transfixed, singing and jigging along. And with good reason. He was a very talented and engaging performer, whom few can mimic.

And here’s where the long overdue apology comes in. Because I tried to mimic him – and I failed abysmally.

I don’t remember exactly what year it was, but I think I was around 10 years old. Mum and I were flying back to Australia after spending a few weeks overseas, visiting family. I’d like to say we were on a Qantas flight, so I could claim some influence over Qantas' brilliant choice of his song in their marketing. But it was more likely we were flying with Singapore Airlines, because they were our airline of choice.

The pilot announced we had only an hour or so before landing. I was extremely excited about going home, for reasons long forgotten now. This news and my excitement took me to a whole new level of annoying. With little else to do to pass that final hour, I started listening to the inflight radio.** Lo and behold, ‘I still call Australia home’ started playing through my wonky airline headphones.

Being a kid, I didn’t really have much consideration for the comfort of my fellow passengers, or any insight into my absolute lack of vocal talent. But this didn’t stop me from belting out the couple of lines of the song I could remember. Loudly. Over and over. For the remainder of the flight.

And for this, I give my most sincere and heartfelt apologies to those passengers on that flight, whomever you were and wherever you may be now. Because I think that at the end of a 10ish-hour journey (or longer if that was just the final leg of your trip), the last thing you wanted to be subjected to was an amplified version of what surely sounded like a helium-affected cat being strangled. Especially when you had no avenue of escape from the relatively small confined space in which it was occurring.

To their credit, and that of the air hosts/hostesses, no one complained (to me or mum anyway). I somehow doubt the same would happen today...

So, to make amends, I would like to share with you the original, tuneful and gifted Peter Allen singing one of his greatest hits. Enjoy! 

*Actually, to be honest, these two songs and ‘Tenterfield saddler’ are the only Peter Allen songs I know. But they are arguably his best and most noteworthy.

** Yes, a strange choice for a child. However, for those of you old enough to remember, this was back in the good old days when you had to share a TV screen with the 100 other people in your section, and the airline only played one or two movies the entire way – which you had to watch through a haze of cigarette smoke. There were no inflight movies or TV on demand (or apparently much care for health and wellbeing) waaaay back then. Thank goodness for progress!

Taking stock: August 2015.

Who knew that time really does fly when you're the epitome of "a busy working mum"? It's been a hectic two months balancing being back in my office and keeping up appearances at home. It was unsettlingly easy to slide right back into my job. Those 15 months I spent at home in my happy pants, eating chocolate, cookies and cake and drinking tea, now seem like just one or two weeks away. Crazy.

It often feels like I'm leading a double life now: old neat, well-presented, professional working me and new slightly dishevelled, disorganised, trackie-wearing mum me. But little things at work remind me of who I really am. Usually slightly disgusting little things, like snot streaks on my work skirts and food smears on my shoulders that I hide with scarves.

Outside work (and sometimes at work), I've been planning our Christmas holiday in Europe and Hong Kong, avoiding making any decisions about what to do now I've finished my herbal medicine degree, and unsuccessfully trying to convince Little Red she can eat food other than fruit, pureed vegetables and rice crackers. 

I've also been daydreaming about how I can convince my boy to head back to Port Douglas. I unexpectedly fell in love with the place during our week there in June (possibly something to do with the divine tropical fruits Little Red and I gorged on).

In other taking stock news, I've been...

• Making: Excuses for not getting off my butt and sorting out my career (or much of anything else to be fair). 
• Cooking: Lots of stews and soups and stoups (my hearty stew and soup combo), and hommus, frittata, bean burgers, rice balls and zucchini fritters for Little Red (unlikely she’ll eat any of it other than the hommus, though). 
• Drinking: Green tea, dandy chai, mimosa chai, and lots of water with vitamin C powder (I’m trapped in a house of sickies). 
• Reading: Song of songs – I'm not really convinced so far. I finally finished Buddhism for mothers a couple of weeks ago. It may just be a coincidence, but I was very, very irritable while reading it. I clearly need to work on this enlightened, peace, love and mung bean business. Next up is Buddhism for mothers of young children. Wish me (and my boy) luck! 
• Wanting: Chocolate. Tea. And world peace... In no particular order. Although, perhaps with more tea and chocolate, there would be more peace in the world? It’s certainly helps to keep the peace in my house. (I feel like I’ve made this joke before, but it’s clearly still highly relevant.) 
• Looking: At a gorgeous green and red parrot that’s visiting me on the deck, chirping away. I think it’s a King parrot. 
• Playing: Tunnels. Little Red happily runs around the house using a walker. She likes to run through your legs, like going through a tunnel. And she rams into you (hard) if you don’t let her through. 
• Deciding: Where to stay in Stuttgart and Hong Kong. 
• Wishing: I had more money to indulge my love for travel and renovations. 
• Enjoying: A dandy chai. 
• Waiting: For the repairman to come to fix our wall heater. It’s been playing up for a couple of weeks and finally went to God last Thursday. 
• Liking: The hint of spring we’ve had the past few days. Although I’m a confirmed winter girl, a bit of sunshine does wonders for the soul. 
• Wondering: How I’ll fare on my first interstate adventure without Little Red this week. (I’m off to Brisvegas for the Australasian Medical Writers’ conference.) 
• Loving: The new raw vegan chocolate I found at the Eltham Art and Craft market. It’s called Raw Integrity and I’m addicted to the cinnamon/chai flavour. 
• Pondering: How it is that marriage and/or kids are often the breaking points for couples. This week I heard that a couple who married around the same time that we did have called it quits. 
• Considering: Lots of different options for lots of different things. (Including going back inside so my fingers can thaw out.) 
• Buying: A plastic guard to stop Little Red gnawing the side of her cot. When we get her out of bed these days, she’s often sporting a very fetching black paint chip mo. I’m sure it’s completely sanitary and not at all toxic. 
• Watching:
 The TV show Have you been paying attention? I also just finished watching all 16 episodes of Outlander series one. I am totally addicted to that show. If only we could squeeze in a Highlands tour on our European Christmas soujourn, I’d be in heaven. Pity it’d be about minus 100 and my boy wouldn’t stop complaining about the cold the entire time, which would kind of take the joy out of it (no matter how many hot toddies I had drunk). 
• Hoping: It snows at Christmas in England – it’d be the first White Christmas for my boy and Little Red. 
• Marvelling: At people who know what they want to do, have always known what they want to do, and do it. That and people who manage to regularly post blogs and have a life. 
• Cringing: At old high school photos of me and students in my year 12 level that keep getting posted on a Facebook group I’m in. Wow. It’s safe to say I was no fashionista back then (or now, truth be told). To be fair though, none of us looked like we were. 
• Needing: Gloves and another cup of tea to keep me warm out here. 
• Questioning: What’s more important to me (us) at the moment: financial stability and income, or doing something that makes my heart sing and mind excited (and whether or not these things are exclusive). 
• Smelling: dandy chai (or the dregs of it). 
• Wearing: black jeans smeared with hommus, snot and chocolate (only the chocolate was mine), my Hooter’s t-shirt from our honeymoon stopover in LA, a grey hoodie and a big, soft, green blanket from Nepal. Please see ‘Cringing’ above – I am no fashionista. 
• Following: The trail of ants permanently in my kitchen. I’m not sure where they’re coming from or going to, but they just keep on going. (I don’t have the heart to commit mass murder and they don’t eat all that much.) 
• Noticing: How much happier everyone is when the sun is out. 
• Knowing: What I really should be doing with my time, but not actually doing it. 
• Thinking: I probably should start getting organized for the conference this week. I'm actually really excited about going to it. 
• Admiring: Mums (and dads) with more than one child. Especially twins. Or triplets. How do they do it… and stay sane? They deserve a medal. 
• Sorting: Out some kind of savings and investment plan for us. Not really my forte (or my boy’s) but I’m working on it. My boy would argue the first step is no more overseas holidays, but where's the fun in that? 
• Getting: Excited about spending Christmas with my brother and his family in the middle of nowhere in England, seeing my mum’s side of the family over there and introducing them to Little Red, indulging in glühwein and other Weinachtmarkt delights in Stuttgart, and exploring Hong Kong and watching the fireworks over the harbour there on New Years’ Eve (if I’m still awake). Travel keeps me sane and so very, very, very happy. 
• Bookmarking: A lovely new meditation from Ian White (Australian Bush Flower essences). 
• Coveting: Early morning walks/jogs. I used to go every morning before Little Red and I miss it. It’s a great way to start the day. Sometimes when I open the curtains in the morning, through the window I see the people I used to chat with, still up and out at 6.30am on their regular strolls. How I long to be out there again. 
• Disliking: That I don’t know more about investing. 
• Opening: The letter from our new sponsor child, Puja. Turns out Laxmi and her family left the region, so we couldn’t sponsor them anymore. Puja has taken her place and we’re more than happy to have her. 
• Giggling: See ‘Watching’. Have you been paying attention? I laugh so hard I cry and my belly hurts – and that never normally happens to me. It’s awesome. We all need more of that. 
• Feeling: A bit blah. It’s tough with a house full of sickies, with lots to do and plan and organise, plus working again. The large glass and a half of red wine I had last night didn’t help (but tasted divine). 
• Snacking: Did I mention chocolate? And these delicious chocolately slicey and biscuity treats from Edes & Bibi. I tell my boy I buy them for Little Red, but I really buy them for me (and sometime share them with her). 
• Helping: Little Red walk – it’s pretty fun holding her hand while she totters along beside me. She hasn’t quite mastered tottering along by herself yet, but isn’t far off it. 
• Hearing: Birds chirping and cooing. Traffic in the distance. The wind rustling the leaves on the trees, and the dried onion stems from the garden on the deck beside me (I really need to tidy up).