Motherhood moments: the second son

second sonWe have called him Hugo Bear since he was a baby, but he’s lately started to retort ‘I’m a boy’ when he hears it with a two-year old attitude and precociousness that astounds me most days.

He’s taken to telling me to ‘go away’ as his bottom lip drops to indicate displeasure that is gone as quickly as it came and he is soon tugging at my hand once more to lead me onto his next adventure, of which I must be a participant (willing, or otherwise). ‘Come’ he cries as he pulls me towards the sandpit, where he instructs to me to sit forcing a miniature garden fork into my hand. The Hugo-getter was my other nickname for him as a baby, as his happy-go-lucky nature belied a hefty determination to reach his next milestone as soon as he possibly could.

He is still like that now, a cuddly, strong, bull-at-a-gate with a mop of blonde hair that is getting darker just like his brother’s, cherubic cheeks and a cheeky smile that charms everyone. He sings a lot, mastering words to nursery rhymes and if he hears music he particularly likes, he’ll grab the small electric guitar in the corner and rock out.

I can already feel the closeness between him and his brother and love to watch them playing and chatting to each other, especially when they don’t know I’m there. They are both fiercely protective of each other and I feel my heart expand in my chest every time they hug and kiss each other goodbye and goodnight. I hope they continue to be the closest of friends as they grow.

On the weekends when his father is home, I can’t even do up his seat belt without him yelling ‘No! Daddy Do it!’ … like he relishes the time with his dad so much that he wants to milk every moment, but then by Monday it’s back to ‘Mummy do it’ and I’m secretly pleased to still be needed by this independent little guy.

Mondays and Tuesdays are Hugo and Mummy days after we drop Jarvis at kindy and he loves this one-on-one attention and as the weeks go by I realise how quickly he’s growing up. When we talk about J going to school next year, he pipes up ‘me too’ and I can half imagine him in his toddler bravado walking through the gates and wanting to stay. I have to whisper to him, don’t grow up too quickly my son, and he just smiles and laughs and it feels like in that moment that if I blink my eyes, he’ll have grown too big for my arms.

And so, I linger a little longer when he’s fallen asleep with his chubby hand up to his face, his breath deep and slow. These days, though long, are short. He is growing right before my eyes, so I try and go slow and enjoy each crazy toddler moment with this precious second son of mine.

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My baby boy turns one

Just over a week ago my baby boy celebrated his first birthday. It was a bright and sunny morning, just like the boy himself, and we had a lovely little garden party surrounded by family and close friends.

Usually gatherings of this nature stress me out, but this time, knowing my natural inclination to take on too much, I unashamedly outsourced the cake to my sister-in-law who is a bit of a cake decorating pro and shared the food efforts with my parents and a good friend. Mr P also did the pre-party grocery shop. It might not seem like much, but the small act of accepting help really made a difference to how I felt in the lead up to the day. And it all went off perfectly, there were yard games, relaxed chatting, mingling of friends new and old and some happy, sugared up kids at the end!

Here are a few of my favourite photos of the day (all taken by my lovely friend Leonie Clark):

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{Grateful post} My Hugo baby at almost 5 months

As I ease myself back into blogging more regularly, it occurs to me I haven’t yet shared much about my littlest person. My Hugo baby.

He’s out of that newborn snuggliness now, a phase that passed by like a blink of the eye. He turns five months next week and already he seems in a rush to get out into the world and try everything. This evening when I went to prop him up against the cushion on the couch, he leaned himself forward and stayed there sitting up strong and tall. He’s been rolling both directions for the last month and is showing alot of interest in eating, grabbing a stray crust off his brother yesterday morning.

While being so grateful for the easy ride we’ve had with this second child of ours, it occurs to me how quickly he is growing up and how soon I’ll have two boisterous boys running through this house. So I stop and reflect on this second and last baby of mine, and what makes him so special. Continue reading

The first 10 weeks, second time round

Ah, my little blog home I’ve been neglecting you lately. Usually I’d feel guilt over such neglect, but there is no time for guilt trips when you’ve got a newborn to snuggle and a toddler to keep up with.

My baby boy is now 10 weeks old, this time whizzing by like a blink of a heavy-lidded eye. He is doing so well and so am I, which I’ve decided is just as important. I’ve been going easier on myself, this time around. Taking time out when I need it, checking in with any anxious feelings to find out what was causing them and turning any negative chatter around with positive self-talk.

It hasn’t been as zen as all that though. I’ve struggled with balancing the needs of both my boys – diffusing toddler tanties, while trying to soothe a catnapping newborn. Leaving the house has been an exercise in patience, with J boy now refusing to get in a pram and insisting on walking, which would be fine if he didn’t decide he was tired and start lying down on footpaths. Continue reading

The arrival of Hugo

This time last week it was finally beginning, after 10 days of waiting the contractions were starting for real. And in just over 4 hours I was holding my baby boy in my arms – all 4.35kg or 9 pound 9 ounce of him.

It was definitely one of those ‘worth the wait’ moments as the overdue angst of the past almost 2 weeks were washed away, along with the fears I carrried about this labour and my unborn child.

I think birth stories are either a ‘love them or hate them’ type thing, sometimes diminishing into ‘this happened’ and then ‘that happened’ type affair that does nothing to capture the specialness of the process and the moment, so I won’t go into the ins and outs of the whole labour and birth. Continue reading