Years to collect, minutes to ruin

My bedroom door

I can’t believe it was exactly 2 years ago that Hannah and I went to the U.S. It seems like it was so long ago, but at the same time, the memory of the horrible airplane ride with Hannah’s vomit all over me is as vivid as it was 2 years ago.

Here is a post from when we were over there.  My how time flies:

Okay, so it may not be most peoples hobby of choice, but as a teen, I collected stickers.  Not the kind you’re thinking….  There were no binders or folders full of neatly placed stickers on every page.  No, nothing like that.  The stickers I used to collect were far more…illegal….

I can’t remember how it started, but I used to see a funny sticker, and then i’d stealthily (or sometimes not so stealthily) peel them off their source and put them on my stomach for safe and undetectable travel home, usually under the cover of darkness.  Or to my van (which was awesome by the way).  When I got home, I’d proudly display my plunder all over my bedroom door.  I got dumpster stickers (the best one being from a horse poo dumpster and said “doo-doo only“), Honey Bucket stickers, wet floor stickers, anything that I could get really.  Yeah, yeah, I was naughty….

Some of them are just plain funny

After a couple years, my door was completely full.  No room for anything else.  I think I stopped at that point.  My collection was finished.  Plus, I went to Australia, so I couldn’t really get any more stickers anyway.  Not to mention I got too old for that sort of thing.  I mean, I could probably get away with such juvenile behaviour as a juvenile, but when I turned 18, I figured I could actually get in trouble if I were ever caught.  So, I pretty much stopped all such behaviour (gnome stealing, sticker stealing, can tipping, etc.).  I didn’t want a “record,” and I certainly didn’t want to get in trouble.  I’ve never particularly liked being in trouble.

Inedible…I can’t remember what this was from exactly, except that it was something that was CLEARLY not for eating

My bedroom door has remained the same ever since I put all those stickers up, over 10 years ago.  Every time I come back here for a visit, I can look at it and giggle at how silly I used to be.  Plus, some of them are actually quite funny, and go in the WTF, why would someone actually put a warning sticker on something for that?  Needless to say, when I arrived this time, my door was just as I left it.

tearing stickers off the door

For a few days anyway.  Then Hannah found the sticker collection.  She didn’t seem to like it.  No, she didn’t like it at all.  That, or she wanted those hilarious stickers for herself.  She wasted no time in tearing the stickers within reach right off that nostalgic door, often ripping them to pieces in the process.  Bits of sticker lay all over the floor in my room.  Each time she is hanging out near the door, (usually shutting the door before I can get in and then giggling her cute little head off ) she pulls off more bits.

My poor door is now sad looking, with vacant spaces within toddler reach, like an unfinished, or vandalised work of art, with bits of once was still hanging there by a thread. Oh well, my parents are going to move within the next few years, so I won’t ever see my door again anyway.  Maybe Hannah was just helping them get the door ready for future buyers.  I suppose someone had to do it.

*This two year anniversary post was sponsored by Signazon.com, a printing company who offers custom reusable stickers

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Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson

torn stickers litter the floor

it.

torn stickers

My poor sick girl

As I said earlier in the week, Hannah is sick.  It started with bacterial conjunctivitis, but that cleared up pretty much after the first application of eyedrops.  But then the fever and coughing set in.

Each morning, she would seem ok, playing and giggling, even eating breakfast.  I didn’t take her anywhere because I wanted her to get some rest and not exert herself too much.  She doesn’t usually have naps anymore, but she has been this week.  And when she wakes up, she looks miserable, is burning up, and doesn’t want to do anything but lay on the couch.

I have been taking her temperature every few hours, even in the mornings when she is happy and doesn’t seem sickly.  She hasn’t had a normal 36.8 degrees since Saturday, but in the mornings she is has been around 37.  Not too bad.  I can see her getting uncomfortable in her sleep and tossing around, and when she wakes up in the afternoon, her temperature has been 40 degrees.  The other day it got up to 40.5, which is so scary.

We had the night doctor out again 2 nights ago when her fever was 40.5 and Panadol and Nurofen were only taking it down to 38.  He said her chest and lungs sounded clear, but when she coughed he said she sounded like it could be an upper respiratory infection and prescribed antibiotics.

“It could still be a virus, but with her fevers and the sound of her cough, it could definitely be an infection.”

The next morning, she seemed quite well again.  I thought she was getting better.  Until the afternoon when the fever set back in and she looked miserable.

Daniel keeping his poor sick sister company on the couch whilst watching cartoons (Daniel is sporting his sleepy face)

Last night she woke up in the middle of the night to pee.  We were woken by the bathroom light and extractor fan followed by screaming.

“MOMMY, THERE’S A COCKROACH IN THE BATHROOM!” Hannah was crying hysterically whilst freaking out, her pull up around her ankles (she only wears them at night).

A quick touch of her forehead proved she was burning up yet again.  The other nights she wasn’t feverish after she fell asleep.  I even set my alarm each night to check on her.

Another 40 degree fever.  Aaron and I were both up by then.  Cough, cough.  She sounded horrible.  And then she made the noise.  The noise the precedes the vomit.  That horrible half gagging, stuff-is-coming-up-from-the-stomach noise.  Even in the middle of the night, I am lighting fast if there is vomit involved.  We all know how much I hate vomit.  I got a bowl so fast Usain Bolt would have been left in my dust.  Vomit is Aaron’s to deal with though, so he got to hold up the bowl whilst Hannah vomited in it.

I made her drink some gatorade and take some Nurofen.

“When I’m sick, I sleep on the couch,” she told me.  I suppose because when Aaron or I am sick, that’s what we do, so that we don’t infect the other one.

She didn’t want to be alone, so I slept on the couch too.  She slept on her little fold out couch on the floor, I slept on the couch couch.  I stayed up for 45 minutes to make sure her fever went down before I went back to sleep.

This morning was the best morning she’s had since Saturday.  She stayed home from pre-school with me since she had been so sick over night, but she ate 3 pancakes for breakfast, was playing, dancing, singing, jumping around, and very happy in general.  I thought she was getting better for sure.

Until this afternoon, when again her fever set in.  39.5 degrees.  I gave her some Nurofen and took her straight to my usual doctor.  He listened to her chest giving me that usual quizzical look, trying to remember if her heart murmur is known, or not.  “Yeah, she has a heart murmur.”  I already know, it’s fine.  He wasn’t my usual doctor, but my usual doctors dad, my usual doctor is on vacation.  That’s what they told me anyway.

He put the stethoscope on her back and a concerned look crossed his face.  “She has an infection at the bottom of her left lung.” He told me.  Or something to that effect.  Maybe he said chest.  I’m not sure, but she has an infection there somewhere and now has to take stronger antibiotics because the ones she was on wouldn’t do anything to the bacteria that are colonising in her lung. Or chest.  Or whatever.

We went to the chemist to get her prescription and popped into the real estate agent to get the keys to our house (OUR HOUSE!!) while we waited.  Yeah, we got the keys today.  But we didn’t get to go there because Hannah’s health is more important.  The new house is going to have to take a back seat to our poor little sick girl.

If she isn’t improving by Saturday, I have to take her for a chest x-ray, which I already have a referral for, and if she is improving, I just have to take her back to the doctor on Tuesday.

Poor Hannah, I really hope she starts getting better.  She is looking very pale and is losing weight.  It’s horrible to see, but must be even worse to feel.

Sorry if there are spelling mistakes or if any sentences don’t make sense.  I usually read back over my posts, but it’s 9:05, and I’m tired, so I’m just going to go to bed instead.

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Copyright 2013 Sheri Thomson

Conjuntivitis

Click. Whiiiiiirrrrrrr.  The bright light of the bathroom beamed across the hallway and into our bedroom, accompanied by the sound of the fan that automatically turns on with the light, waking both Aaron and me up simultaneously.

“What time is it?” Aaron asked me as he poked his head up off the pillow, still half asleep.

“4:30.”

Hannah was in the bathroom, fiddling with something.

“What’s wrong, sweetie?”

“I ran out of water, I’m just filling up my cup.”

Um, ok. As you do at 4:30 in the morning. But that’s the way things have been going around here the last couple of days.  Hannah is sick.

It started out as one little eye goober (or sleep as the Aussies call it, and then look at me like I’m from Mars when I say goober) on Saturday morning.  Sometimes people just get goobers.  Maybe an eyelash was in her eye and then a protective goober formed around it until the eyelash was removed. These things happen.  We didn’t think anything of it.

Except by 3:30, both of Hannah’s eyes looked like someone with a particularly nasty sinus infection had blown their nose straight into Hannah’s eyes.  I was wiping them with a warm damp cloth every few minutes.

She started getting testier and testier.  If she asked for something and I gave it to her, she’d scream cry saying she wanted something else, which is totally unlike her.

My googling skills told me that Hannah most likely had bacterial conjuntivitis.

Photo courtesy of WebMD. Hannah’s was a lot worse than this though, and more greenish than yellowish, but you get the idea

No doctors offices were open by that time on a Saturday afternoon, so I called the after hours GP service.  Just quietly, it is much easier using them than going to the doctor anyway.

Every time I take the kids to the doctor, Daniel runs around and around the little Hallway that connects at both ends to the main room and makes the most perfect running around like a crazy person circle.  Running around in circles would not be complete without deafeningly loud squeals of delight, drawing attention from all of the other annoyed sick people who are nicely sitting in their chairs staring at me and wondering why I can’t control my children.  Yes, children.  Because when Daniel is running around the hallway circle, Hannah doesn’t want to be left out, and she joins in too.

I could make them sit down and read, but if I take Daniel away from his delightful hallway circle, he arches his back, screams like I’m trying to murder him and then starts flailing to the point where I can’t hold on to him and just have to lay him on the floor to carry out his tantrum so I don’t end up accidentally dropping him on his head.  I would prefer hallway running in delight than everyone staring at us for tantruming on the floor like a giant fish out of water any day, thank you very much.

The after hours doctors come to your house.  And it doesn’t cost me any more than it does to visit the regular doctor (both of which are covered by medicare).

I was right, bacterial conjunctivitis.  Also known in the U.S. as pinkeye, but apparently from the confused looks I got when I said it, not here.

She didn’t even cry when I put the horrible drops in her eyes.  By morning, her goobers had subsided but she still wasn’t allowed to be around other people.  She seemed pretty good on Sunday.  A little tired, a tiny fever, but she was pretty happy and was playing.

Yesterday she looked ok in the morning and then a couple hours later, she had a fever of 40 degrees (104f) and was laying on the couch in misery.  A dose of panadol only brought it down to 37.7, but a lukewarm bath brought it down to 37.1.

We stayed home all day so Hannah could rest.  It was good for Hannah, but Daniel was going stir crazy and being particularly mischievous, drawing on the tv with crayon (FYI, it wipes right off, thank goodness), pulling Hannah’s hair and so forth.

After another dose of panadol before bedtime, Hannah went right to sleep.  I set my alarm and checked on her in the night to make sure her fever didn’t get too high.  Fevers too high in kids can cause convulsions.

I slowly opened the kids’ door, and nearly fall over when I tripped on a toy.  She didn’t feel hot, so I didn’t take her temperature.  Yesterday she felt like she was a furnace.

Hopefully she will be feeling better today. If her little water gathering episode in the bathroom is anything to go by, she will be fine.  She wasn’t hot, and seemed very cheerful and pleased with herself, despite the fact that it was 4:30 in the morning.  Did I mention I’ve been awake ever since?

Sigh.

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The suicidal pigeon

“Mommy, can I go to the plaza with Aunty Jess?” Hannah asked me as we drove down the road.

I glanced over at The Jess, awkwardly giving her my best how-do-I-explain-to-a-3-year-old-that-you’re-getting-lasered look.  “Um…I don’t think you’re allowed to go in with Aunty Jess while she gets lasered sweetie.”

“It’s ok, she can come, it only takes like 5 minutes. She can come in with me.  Then we can go play.” The Jess told me.  Our local shopping centre (which everyone calls the plaza) has an indoor play area, which is quite handy for bribing children to be quiet and not jump out of the shopping trolley whilst we shop.

“YAY!!!!!” Hannah exclaimed excitedly.

BANG!

It came out of nowhere.  I put the brakes on, but there were cars behind me, so I didn’t slam them as I would had it been a person running out in front of the car.  It was only a pigeon, not really worth getting rear ended for.  But still, I thought he’d make it if I braked a little.

I saw him coming, only he was flying above the car before he got to the road, so I didn’t think to alter my driving.  As soon as the stupid pigeon reached the area in front of my car, however, he decided it would be a grand idea to dive and fly low.

He didn’t quite make it.  The majority of him flew off to the side, but other parts, presumably from his head, since I saw his body keep going, splattered all over the front of the car.

I sat there, still driving forward, but in slight shock for a moment, my eyes wide as saucers, my hands slightly shaky, staring at the road in front of me. The Jess sat in the passengers seat, also silent for a moment.

Oh my gosh, the kids are going to be traumatised. I thought to myself.

“We’re going to have so much fun Aunty Jess! You know what they have at the plaza? McDonalds!  You can buy me some nuggets, and we can go play….”

The Jess and I looked at each other.  Clearly the kids were oblivious to the slaughter that had just occurred at the front of the car.

As I kept driving, I could see a chunk of bird sitting on the hood out of the corner of my eye.

I slowed to a stop for a red light and The Jess and I couldn’t help ourselves, we started laughing.  I’m not really sure why.  Maybe it was nervous, shameful I-just-hit-something laughter, or maybe because it was so crazy that the kids had no idea what had just happened even though the horrible thud noise was plenty loud enough to be heard from the back seat.  Maybe it was the fact that Hannah was still going on and on about going to the plaza with Aunty Jess whilst we were a bit shaky and driving down the road looking at guts.

I don’t know, but we laughed.

“Why are there yellow bits in it?” I asked rhetorically to The Jess through my ridiculous giggles. I kept driving whilst trying not to stare at the guts just below the windscreen.

We laughed some more, trying to stifle it so Hannah wouldn’t ask us why we were laughing.

“It’s on the car.” I muttered to The Jess, so Hannah couldn’t hear me.

We laughed harder.

I pulled up to a drop off zone in front of the plaza to let The Jess and Hannah out of the car.

“There is an eyeball looking at me!” The Jess said as she looked at the front of the car.  “Seriously, I think it’s an eyeball!”

I had to see for myself.

“It looks like the car hit a bowl of porridge!”  I told the Jess. “If the porridge had feathers in it.”

“This bit looks like someone threw a bit of chicken casserole on the car!” It really did.  There were yellow corn-like bits in it.  You’d never guess it came from freshly hit pigeon.

It was disgusting, but still kinda funny in a disturbing kind of way.

Before I scrubbed all the pigeon brain (I’m assuming that’s what it was) from the car, I took a couple photos, just so I could show all of you.  A picture is worth a thousand words, right?

The bit I could see out the windshield. The orangey bits looked more yellow in real life (taken with an iphone, so what do you expect). And what are all the green bits? Seriously, what sort of weird insides are these?

This bit looks like porridge with a side of feathers. At least it did in real life. I should have gotten out my good camera, but that would have been a little too weird.

Why do birds always fly low over roads?  I mean if they just stayed high in the air, they’d be fine.  Are they really that dumb?

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The Spartan race

Four friends and I signed up for the Spartan Race quite a while ago.  A few of us knew before sign ups were even open that we were going to sign up.  Needless to say, I’ve had plenty of time to train for the race.  I was going pretty well with my training – running further than ever before, doing pump class at the gym….  But then I started uni and my gym days sadly fizzled down to one day a week.  I can only go to the gym when the creche is open, and the creche is only open from 9-12 on weekdays and 8-11 on Saturdays.  Now that I have uni, the kids or I have something on every single weekday morning, leaving only Saturday for the gym.

Point being, I went to the race is less than par condition.  Plus I had the tail end of a nasty cold.  After getting our numbers and leaving our bags at the bag drop, we wandered over to the start line that was counting down until our 11:20am start time.  We’d been eating red frog lollies and chocolate hot cross buns in the car, so we were hopped up on sugar and ready to go.   A photo with Commando from The Biggest Loser Australia provided us with further race excitement.

Kristina, Romana, Lauren, Commando, The Jess, and me right before our start time

5…4…3…2…1 BEEP (airhorn)! Everyone started running.  And by running, I mean leisurely jogging.  For about 20 seconds when it turned into walking.  We all wondered why, until we got to the top of the hill and found everyone in front of us making their way down into the water, inhaling the giant cloud of dust as they went.

the first obstacle

On the other side of the creek, a giant grassy hill awaited us.  We jogged half way up and then walked.  Good golly, I should have done some hill training.  Instead, I ran on the treadmill with the elevation set at 0 the entire time and concentrated instead on eventually running 7km’s – the length of the Spartan race.

After the giant crazy hill that left a lot of us fairly winded and wishing for a drinks station, the ground levelled out and we started jogging again.

Kristina and me looking rather puffed after the very first hill

As we turned  a corner, we found a mass of people crawling on their bellies under low barbed wire. Oh, so that is what Commando meant when he told us to roll under the wire.

Unlike the masses before us, we heeded his advice rolled.  It was much easier.

Rolling under the barbed wire.

We ran/walked some more up and down hills until we came to a large wall with a rope attached to it.

Romana scaling the wall aided by a rope

We all successfully scaled the wall and continued on our way, with a  much needed drinks station within our sights.

excitedly running towards a drinks station.  Yes, I have double jointed elbows. Feel free to cringe.

When we got there though, there was a big arrow pointing us in the opposite direction.  The drinks station was actually later down track, the paths just nearly crossed at that point.  Perhaps rounding the bend towards the drinks station was later, but you know what? It was 7kms, heaps of obstacles, and a hot day, so I don’t remember exactly.

Up and down some more grassy hills with cow poop (the whole event was in a cow pasture), we came to a series of muddy hills with troughs of muddy water in between them.

sliding on my bum down a slippery mud hill into a giant mud puddle

Some people landed in the pit so hard that their head went under.  Lucky for me, I managed to keep my head above water…er…mud.  My contacts probably wouldn’t have fared so well if they were full of mud.

Me and The Jess in a mud pit

It was quite hard getting out of the muddy pits as the hills were so incredibly slippery.  Successful exit required help from team members and finding foot holds along the slippery slope.

me climbing out of the mud pit

“Romana’s butt looks like it’s crying.” The Jess told me after the mud pits.  Her shorts had big mud patches on the butt cheeks and muddy water was trickling down her leg.  “I bet we all look like that.”

“Yeah, you do.” The guy running behind us said.

“Oh, so you’ve been looking at our butts, have you?” The Jess asked him, accusingly.

“I have to look at something while I run.”

He ran past us as he we laughed.  Awkward Turtles was written across his back.  Yeah, that was a bit awkward.

Next we came to a huge row of zig zagging balance beams.  If you fell off, you had to do 30 burpees.

Me and Romana tackling the balance beams

They were a lot thinner than the standard balance beams at gymnastics centres.  Plus they wobbled since they were not so firmly stuck in the ground.  I made it almost to the end and started wobbling.  I was about to come off when Mr. Awkward Turtle ran over grabbed me until I re balanced myself, saving me from the 30 burpees.

“He owed you for looking at our butts.” The Jess said.

We ran/walked up and down some more hills before coming to some very muddy looking water.  It was swimming time.  Proper swimming time, this stuff was above our heads.  It was so refreshing as we got in, and I’m a decent swimmer, so I enjoyed our little river swim.

swimming across the river

The Jess looked like a dog fetching a stick since she carried her camera in her mouth and doggie paddled across the river.

Finally, we came to the drinks station, where we were only allowed one little cup of water.  I think I could have drunk 3 litres by that point.

I haven’t been on the monkey bars since I was a little kid, but somehow my entire team and I managed to get all the way across.

Me on the monkey bars

Next we came to a giant wall.  Since The Jess has crazy like-a-monkey (I’m trying to say that without sounding derogatory) climbing skills, she went first, scaling that wall like it was nothing.  She stayed at the top to help the rest of us not-so-good climbers get to the top.

I decided to go second.  I planned to stay at the top to help as well.

Scaling the wall with help from my team

Until I got there.  Then I realised there wasn’t much to hold on to on the back of the wall and I just wanted to get down.  I held on to the top of the wall and got my feet to the second board that was nailed to the back of the wall, providing a very small foot hold.  To get to the next one, I’d have to hold on to the first board nailed to the wall.  It wasn’t very thick, and we were quite high up.  What if I fell?

I stayed where I was, not knowing quite what to do.  I’m not sure if she scaled the wall whilst I was trying to figure out how I was going to get down without falling to my death, or is she just walked around the said of the wall to help me, but Lauren walked over and offered a hand.  I needed more than that.  My fear of falling outweighed my embarrassment and Lauren physically carried me away from the wall.  Thanks Lauren, I’m still grateful.

More running up and down hills brought us to the javelin throwing area.  I’ve never thrown a javelin in my life.

Me throwing the javelin

I missed.  Just.  My javelin even touched the straw bale, but it didn’t stick.  Neither did the other girls, which means we all had to do 30 burpees.

This is why I shouldn’t dance. I can’t even synchronise burpees for a photo

At least we got a photo of us molesting our javelins.

javelin molesting. As you do.

Not very far from the javelins, were the…um…I don’t even know what you call them, but there were a few walls with chunks of wood nailed to them that we had to get all the way across without holding on to the top of the wall, or touching the ground.  It wasn’t very high up, so I was fine with it.

Turns out, I was really good at it.

like a spider

I was not so good at the rope climb.  Neither were the rest of the girls, or anyone else who was there at the same time as us.  Except the Jess.  She climbed that thing like it had knots in it or something.

The Jess (pink top) owning the rope

The rest of us had to do 30 more burpees. Sigh.

On the side of the rope climb was a very slippery high ladder that we had to climb up to get to a couple of cargo nets that we had to get down.

Romana and me on the cargo net

At the triangle things, I ran towards them, grabbed leap frog style, and spun straight over.  The series of them took my about 3 seconds.  I’m much better at the obstacles than the actual running.

Just hold on and spin, you’ll get straight over.

Unfortunately, after the triangle things came the sandbags.  8kgs of sand which had to be carried up a giant hill and down the side.  I would be lying if I said I didn’t fall over a couple of times on the way back down.

My team going up the hill

It felt great to get the bags off of our shoulders, but the race was far from over.  There were a couple walls to go over, and one to go under.

I had a nice bruise from this one the next day

We trekked through a muddy creek, sometimes up to our waists for about a kilometre.  By then, it was really hot and the sun was beating down on us.  I desperately wanted a drink, but none was to be found.  Unless you counted the muddy creek we were walking in, but I didn’t want to get any weird diseases.  I’m sure half of the mud was actually cow poop.  We hadn’t had a drink since just before the monkey bars.

trekking through the creek

When we finally came out of the creek, scraped up from tripping on submerged rocks, we crossed back through the triangle things, this time crawling through them.  Most people had to shimmy along on their bellies, using upper body strength to pull themselves along.  Not us short people.  We got to do a proper crawl.  For us it wasn’t really an obstacle, just a fun tunnel that would could giggle through as we watched everyone else labouring so hard to get to the other side.

Being small also allowed me to turn around at the end of the tunnel so I didn’t have to go face first into the muddy cow poop water like most people.

The swim was refreshing, but then we came to another barbed wire obstacle.  This one seemed never ending and was on very muddy ground, not grass like the last one.  Everyone seemed to have realised that rolling was the way to go.  I guess it would be too hard to belly crawl under barbed wire for about 400 meters in the mud.

Look way back into the photo, see how crazy far that rolling goes for? And to the right hand side, you can see the sand bag hill

Let me just point out that I don’t do spinning well.  I can’t even go on the teacup ride at Lollipops.  Spinning makes me feel like puking, and we all know how I feel about puking (vomit phobia remember?).  By the end of that barbed wire roll, I could hardly stand up straight, and I felt like I was going to lose my breakfast.

Needless to say, it probably wasn’t the best idea to put the fire jump straight after 400 meters of rolling.  I’m just lucky I didn’t land in the fire.

We jumped that smouldering log pile. It was actually on fire and licked at our heels as we jumped, you just can’t tell from the photo

After pushing our way through some half hearted gladiators with big sticks, we were done.  We made it.  We finished the Spartan race.  We were covered head to toe in mud, scraped and bruised, parched, and tired, but we did it.

We finished the spartan race

Hannah did the kids spartan race, but that’s another post for another day.

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Birthday Surprise

Last week was my 30th birthday.  Thirtieth. It still sounds weird.  And old.  But to celebrate my membership to the over 20s club, Aaron has been conspiring with some of our friends for the better part of a year. Like 21, 30 is a birthday worth celebrating.

I had no idea where I was going on Saturday.  All I had was a list of things to pack, a time of pick up, and the knowledge that the whole thing was rather expensive.

As my friend drove, I still had no idea where I was going.  With the list of items, which included a sun hat, pants in case I got cold, a raincoat, sunscreen, and a warm jumper, amongst other things, I thought maybe we’d be on a boat.  Parasailing maybe?  I have always wanted to parasail.

We continued driving and kept going further and further away from civilisation.  We were on the same road I take to uni.  A mostly agricultural uni, that is surrounded by fields and forests.

“Ok, now I really have no idea where we’re going.”

A little while later, we pulled into a resort.

I left most of my belongings in the car as they were ploy items and completely unnecessary.  We were taken to locker room and told to change into the disposable underwear, bathrobe, and slippers.  Let me just say, I’m glad I decided to wax the night before, just in case I’d have to don my bikini.  My two friends and I spent the entire day relaxing and being pampered with various spa treatments, delicious lunch in our bathrobes, and of course, good conversation that wasn’t interrupted by kids even once.  I even fell asleep a couple of times.  I was slightly embarrassed by my disgusting runny nose that I couldn’t do anything about when I was all wrapped up like a burrito when receiving a full body algae treatment.

When we were finished, we rushed home to get ready for dinner.  Aaron told me a couple weeks ago that he was supposed to find a restaurant and book us all in.  He hadn’t done it yet.  My friends told me that the option of formal McDonalds was actually thought about.  What is formal McDonalds you ask?  Wearing formal attire and dining at McDonalds, complete with fancy crockery and candles that you bring from home.

“That would actually be pretty funny.” I told my friends.

As it was, I had no idea where we were going.  Aaron told me at the last minute that it would be in the city because he knew the restaurants there from various corporate lunches, and knew which were good and which weren’t.

We parked under the Opera House (as you do), and started walking.  Finally, we came to the beautiful building near the base of the Harbour bridge that overlooks the Opera House.  The very building that houses Quay restaurant.

The opera house as seen through the car’s windshield

“Wait, this is where Quay is.  No, there’s no way you’d be able to get a booking with only two weeks notice.”  There were other restaurants there too.

But then we got out of the lift and started walking towards the only restaurant in that direction.

“Wait, are you serious? Is this where we’re going? Are we seriously eating here?  No way, are you punking me?”

No one said a word.  We just kept walking until we got to the door.  Aaron opened the it with a big smile on his face.

“How did you get a booking only two weeks in advance?!” I asked him in wonder.

“I didn’t book it two weeks ago, I booked it like eight months ago.” He told me.  I was blown away.  I felt like the most special person on the face of the earth.  A couple of years ago, I mentioned that for my 30th, I’d like to go to a really swish restaurant, with friends paying for themselves in lieu of presents. And Aaron remembered.

Quay is only the top restaurant in Sydney.  Do you watch Masterchef Australia? You know that infamous Snow Egg?  It’s from Quay. That 8 layer chocolate cake in which the 8th layer is warm chocolate that is poured on top and then falls through the middle? Quay.

Plus, this is what we were looking at the whole time.  I apologise for the low quality photos, but they are just from Aaron’s iPhone.  I could photoshop them to make the levels and so forth better, but that would eat into my study time. And I don’t really want to fail my classes.

Me and Aaron at Quay. Yes, I know my stick on bra is showing. That’s what happens when the straps on your dress are too long.

You can choose from a 4 course menu, or a tasting menu which consists of something like 6 or 8 courses.  The first option is $175 per head, the second $225.  Yes, you read that right, I didn’t forget a decimal place or anything.

The last page of the 4 course menu

But that was the idea.  I wanted to go somewhere my cheap self would never ever set foot into on any other day.  Somewhere really special that would deliver a night I’d never forget.  That’s what I envisioned those years ago when I told Aaron that I wanted to eat at a swish restaurant for my 30th.

For my first course, I ordered fragrant poached chicken with white radish, sea scallops, smoked eggplant cream, and pea blossoms.

My chicken dish, the same one that was on Masterchef Australia the other night.

Oh. My. Gosh. It was seriously the best chicken I’ve ever eaten.  It was so magnificently tender that I had to check to make sure it wasn’t raw.  It wasn’t.  I ate every last scrumptious morsel.

My second course was  Coturnix quail with farro, hazelnuts, quinoa, steamed truffle brioche, egg yolk confit, Vin Jaune cream.

My quail dish

I’ve never had quail before, so I thought I’d give it a go.  It’s not everyday you have the opportunity to eat quail.  And truffle.

The quail was even better than the chicken.  Oh my goodness was that dish delicious.  All of the elements of the dish worked together in perfect harmony.

Aaron had the line caught iki jime Tasmanian squid with squid ink custard, society garlic, pink turnips.  Also delicious.  We figured we’d each get a different dish and try both.

For my third course, I ate the Berkshire pig jowl with maltose crackling, prunes, cauliflower cream, perfumed with prune kernel oil.  I don’t know how they did it, but that ridiculously good pork melted in my mouth. Best. Pork. Ever.

The pig jowl

I even tried Aaron’s lamb dish. I figured if I was going to like lamb ever, it would be here.

I didn’t like it. Oh well, I’m just not a lamb person.

And then came the best part.  Desert.  When we walked in the door, I knew I wanted the snow egg.  Until I saw the eight texture chocolate cake that Aaron informed me was the same one that they pour the warm chocolate over on Masterchef.  I made the impulsive decision to go with the chocolate cake.  I am a chocolate lover after all.  Aaron got the snow egg.  If I’d ordered the snow egg, Aaron would have ordered the chocolate cake.  We wanted to try both.

Don’t get me wrong, the chocolate cake was amazing.  One of the best I’ve ever had.

But the snow egg? Oh. My. Gosh. There wasn’t an ounce of chocolate on that snow egg, but it tasted divine.  It was so much better than the chocolate cake.  It was like no desert I’ve ever had before.  Somehow, all of the elements worked together so incredibly well.  Which is weird, since the bottom of the glass was filled with snowcone-esque shaved flavoured ice, and I think the egg part was meringue.

The snow egg.

It was seriously the best food I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.  Too bad it’s so expensive because I’d love to go there again and taste all the things I didn’t get to try.

I didn’t mean for this to be mostly about food, but I had such a great experience at Quay.  It made my birthday. I will never ever forget my extravagant, delicious 3oth birthday dinner.

Anzac bridge from the car as we were driving to the city

Aaron and me before we got to Quay

The grin stayed on my face all night. I probably have extra wrinkles from it.

Even my cocktail was delicious.

Me and Aaron

My imitation of Matt Preston

There were even fireworks

8 texture chocolate cake

The whole gang dining at Quay. The two with smiley faces don’t like being on the interwebs

Me, M (who doesn’t want to be on the internet), and Kristina

Aaron and me in front of the harbour bridge

Aaron and me laughing about something when we’re supposed to be posing for a photo

Our bill. A bit scary, but remember, it’s for 7 people

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Tips for picky eaters

When Hannah was little, she used to eat any puree I put on her little spoon.  She loved any and all food. I can’t pinpoint when, or how it happened, but now she is fussy.  Really fussy.  It drives me nuts.  She’s been this way for at least two years now, and instead of gradually getting better, it just gets worse.  I fear that she isn’t getting enough vitamins, minerals, and protein to sustain her and keep her healthy.  I know it’s not just Hannah though, eating is a huge problem.  According to the U.S. National Library of Medicine, 50% of toddlers aged 2-4 are picky eaters (up from 19% of under twos), which accounts for 95% of all picky eaters.

Lucky for me (and probably you too), I received some picky eater tips, and got some of my own questions answered by Kate Samela, Paediatric nutritionist, mom of two, and author of Give Peas a Chance: The Foolproof Guide to Feeding Your Picky Toddler, which was name a “mom must read” by Parents.com.

One of Kate’s tips is using kids’ favorite textures (not tastes!) to expand their eating habits. The goal is to try and identify foods that are similar in texture and consistency to foods that he already accepts and that have the same “mouth feel”.  The familiar and accepted texture can be a bridge to a new flavor or food acceptance.

If they like …

Crunchy/Salty: Instead of Cheerios or Goldfish, try Terra Stix or mini rice cakes

Sweet and Squishy: Instead of pancakes, try freeze-dried fruit cubes or sweet breads like pumpkin or zucchini

Smooth and Slippery: Instead of string cheese, try a yogurt smoothie or pudding

Soft/Mushy: Instead of mac and cheese, try sweet potato pancakes or oven-baked eggplant parmesan

• Offer the food with a safety food and as part of a meal. A safety food is one food that you are certain your toddler will accept – something familiar and likeable. For example, if you are trying to expose your toddler to meat, pair it with his favorite fruit or vegetable and a starch (i.e. watermelon and French fries).
• Allow your toddler to touch and play with that food, even if it means putting it in his mouth and then spitting it out. Playing with food is something that toddlers do and they engage in this activity because it is a key part of their development.
• Serve the same food to all at the table, so your toddler will see other people eating what he is being served.
• Offer the food in small quantities so that he does not get discouraged or overwhelmed. “Portion Distortion” begins in the toddler stage: Bags of chips, cookies, and snack crackers are bigger than ever. Often, parents feel like their toddler is eating nothing because they have piled on grown-up portion sizes, or even quantities of food that an older sibling would eat.
• If after two minutes your toddler says the dreaded “I’m done,” ignore him and attempt to engage him to talk about something he did that day. Do not try and overzealously attempt to keep him at the table, or set “rules” for what else he has to eat before he gets down. There is a biological reason for a decrease in food intake between the ages of one to three, and that is a slower rate of growth. Appetite mimics rate of growth; therefore, appetite “slows down.”
• Consider what your toddler eats over the course of a week, rather than from meal to meal. You can even pick several days if a week seems just too long. The idea that his decrease in appetite is developmentally appropriate should give you some reassurance for those days that his eating doesn’t seem to add up to nutrition perfection.  In a day, it can be normal for a toddler to eat one “good” meal.

I asked some specific questions to Kate, about things I struggle with in regards to Hannah.  Here is what she said:

Q:My daughter is 3.5, and very picky. Instead of starting to get less picky, she keeps getting pickier. She will often refuse to eat things she loved not so long ago, and say “I don’t like that anymore.” She doesn’t just not like it for a week or so. When she says that, that’s it, she won’t eat it again no matter how many times I put it on her plate. Is this normal, and what can I do about it?

KS: As frustrating as this can be, it happens with some kids. The first thing you have to do is think about how you (or anyone eating with her) are responding to her declaration of “I don’t like it”. If you feel the scenario escalates into a battle of wills more often than not (i.e. You respond: “What do you mean you don’t like this, you just ate it yesterday!”), then there are some changes to be made. Simply ignore her declaration and act like you don’t care either way. Try saying, “Well, I am sure you can find something on the table you like.”

If however, these food refusals are accompanied by weight loss, persistent stomach aches, changes in bowel habits, or constant fatigue, you need to speak with your pediatrician as her decline in food intake could signal something else.

2. Question from a reader: My 18 month old daughter eats pretty balanced meals, but sometimes she refuses to eat anything for a few days, she will drink milk though. Her doctor warned me that if she drinks more than 12oz a day she could get very ill and possibly die. My initial reaction was fear, but I’m feeling a little mislead, any input? thank you!

KS: The big concern with excessive milk intake in toddlers who have very little table food in their diets relates to iron deficiency anemia. Milk is a poor source of iron, and foods help keep iron stores within normal limits. The severity of the anemia will depend upon how long the scenario has been going on. Meaning, when a child doesn’t eat anything, and drinks more than 16 ounces of milk per day week after week, it can become a serious problem. Usually, it occurs when the child is drinking large quantities of milk (like more than 24 ounces).

Be sure that you are still going through the routine of offering regularly scheduled meals and snacks, and be sure you (or the caregiver) are sitting and eating with her. Use these days as a chance to offer something new and fun – sometimes kids just get bored of the same old stuff – especially at 18 months.

Also, pay attention to her stooling pattern during these 3 day food refusals – if she is constipated, she might not feel like eating. Give 2-4 ounces of pear juice per day to help her move things along.

And lastly, give her a daily MVI with Fe, such as a Flintstones Complete, to be on the safe side

 

3. I know you say I shouldn’t overzealously try to keep my daughter at the table and make her eat x and y before she gets down, but is it ok to make her sit at the table until dinner time is finished if she doesn’t actually have to eat anything? Usually I let her get down when she’s done if she eats all of her food, but if she doesn’t, she has to stay at the table until dinner is finished (and I emphasize the fact that she doesn’t have to eat anything). She always wants to get down though.

KS: It sounds like there are mixed messages being passed along. Your daughter would benefit from a consistent response to her request to get down from the table. Meaning, whether or not she gets down should not depend upon what she ate or didn’t eat. If your goals are to have her sit for longer with the family to enjoy the time together, then it’s fair to set the rule that no one can get up before everyone is finished. And I agree that she does not have to eat anything while she is sitting. One suggestion: quietly be mindful of how long she has been sitting, but don’t feel the need to set a timer. She should not know you are keeping track of time, otherwise she will dread coming back time and time again.

4. When I put something that Hannah “doesn’t like” (I use the term loosely because it’s not based on taste, just what she says she doesn’t like without trying it), she won’t even eat the things she does like that are in a different section of the segmented plate. Often she will even turn around in her chair because she “doesn’t want to see it.” How can I get her to try things when she won’t even touch or look at them?

KS: This is a tough one. First, I would want to know if you remove the offending food on a regular basis. If you have fallen into that habit to keep peace at mealtime (full disclosure, I have done it too!), she might be persistent with this response based on her past experiences. If you have removed it once, you will remove it again! (Note from Sheri added after questions were answered: I do not take the offending food away.)

I would suggest putting what you made for dinner on serving dishes instead, and allow her to try and serve herself instead. Most 5 year olds can do this with a tiny amount of guidance, but if she is younger, than she might need some hands on help. Kids LOVE the autonomy of putting their own food their plates, and might even be motivated after a few weeks of doing it, to put something new on the plate too. Otherwise, you can try today the website Today I ate a Rainbow, and see if the charts and rewards help – it’s a great site.

5. I recently got a rewards chart for Hannah. If she tries her dinner, she gets a sticker. If she gets stickers for a week, she gets a predetermined (by a discussion between Hannah and me) prize. She doesn’t even have to eat the food. All I want is for her to put one little bit in her mouth, just so she can taste the flavour and hopefully start to get used to putting different things in her mouth, and even coming to like the different tastes. Do you think a rewards chart is a good idea for picky eaters?

KS: I think it depends on how it is presented, and of course the personality of the child. If what she is eating (or what she is not) is a major focus of her day, every day, every meal, then I think the chart is overkill. Additionally, she might just feel like she is constantly disappointing you by not taking just a bite.  You want her to feel like she can choose to try a new food because she wants to. You can motivate her by taking some focus away from food, and take the pressure off meal time a bit and just enjoy each other’s company.

 

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The new Cinderella Alexandra

A couple of weeks ago, I introduced you to Cinderella Alexandra, Hannah’s caterpillar.  You can read about her here.

On Thursday, it was finally Hannah’s turn for show and tell at preschool.  They only get to have a turn every two weeks.  From the very first day we found Cinderella, Hannah asked when she could bring her for show and tell.  She spent an hour talking to The Jess on the phone, telling her about Cinderella over and over again, an excited smile plastered on her face the entire time.

“Are you excited to bring Cinderella for show and tell today?!” I asked Hannah last Thursday morning, glancing at the cage as I spoke.

“Hannah, look! She’s hatched! She’s a moth now!”  Yes, I know, hatched is probably not the most appropriate word, but in my excitement, I had an episode of verbal diarrhoea. I was not actually expecting to see a moth quite yet.

“WOW!” Hannah exclaimed with joy “She’s a moth! She’s so pretty!”

Daniel checking out the newly emerged moth in awe. You can see the fur and cocoon in front of the leaf.  Cinderella is pictured from her underside.

We picked a big pink flower from the tree outside and put it in Cinderella’s cage because I read that moths don’t eat at all, but drink nectar from flowers.  Later I read that this particular kind of moth is a lichen moth, and they dine on “lichens and other encrusting algae and moss.”  Oops.

“We have to cover Cinderella’s cage so no one sees her until show and tell time.” Hannah told me.  When we got to preschool, we put Hannah’s blanket (don’t worry, it’s full of decently sized holes and you can easily breathe under it) over the cage and explained to the very understanding teachers that no one was to look under the blanket until Hannah herself showed them.

When Aaron got home that night, he and Hannah put Cinderella in the big tree in front of our house.

In the morning, she was still there.  In the exact same spot.  Shoot, what if her time in captivity rendered her unable to fly somehow?

Hannah had a different explanation. “She loves me so much, she doesn’t want to leave!”  The notion made Hannah extremely happy.

By 9am, Cinderella was still sitting in the tree, in the same spot.  Except she somehow found herself a friend.

“She found her mommy!” Hannah told me, pleased that her moth was not an orphan.

I’m sure hoping it wasn’t her mommy, because by friend, I mean the little floozie was making moth whoopee within 10 hours of her release.  Is it weird that I took a photo?

Cinderella is the one on the left. Female moths are bigger than males. Maybe it’s just this pair, but the male has a bluish tinge in his black parts where as the female is black black.

When we got home from playgroup at 12ish, she was still engaged in moth loving.  Still.  And Hannah was right, Cinderella is definitely the girl.

When Aaron got home at 6:10pm, they were still attached at the nether regions.

Apparently, moths mate for like 12 hours.  Who knew?

Saturday morning, she was still perched in her tree, sans her man friend.  Then by Sunday, she was gone. Maybe she flew away, maybe she got eaten by something, I don’t know.  Either way, the whole thing was pretty amazing. How many 3.5 year olds get to see a caterpillar, a cocoon, and then the resulting moth? I’d never even seen that before!

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The big 3-0

OMGosh, I’m 30.  THIRTY! How did that happen?  It seems like I was turning 21 last year.  Somehow in that time that went by so fast, I managed to acquire stretch marks, wrinkles, and 9pm bed times.

Aaron was laughing yesterday at the fact that our car has a university parking sticker in the window, and he has L plates (to accompany his learner licence) on his motorbike.  Like we’re 18 again.

I don’t feel old. Maybe I do today, but only because I woke up with a head full of snot and a faucet for a nose. Apart from that, I feel the same as I did yesterday. And the day before. And the day before that.  In fact, I wasn’t nearly as fit in my early 20s as I am now.

When I got up, Hannah was in the kitchen making me birthday breakfast all by herself. Grapes and wilted lettuce. It was a sweet gesture at least.

My actual birthday present isn’t until Saturday.  It’s been planned for months.  Two friends have been plotting with Aaron and Saturday, they will be me up in the morning, and not return me until night time.  I have no idea what we are doing or where we are going.  I only know that I’m supposed to bring a list of things, I get to go out sans kids ALL DAY, and that it cost a lot of money.

Hannah and grandma icing my birthday cake

Hopefully my head cold will have gone away by then because at the moment, I feel like snot could very well burst out of my eye sockets.  Not the best start to my 30s, but it’s all up hill from here 🙂

Cheers to being 30.  I’m sure it’s just as good as being 20.  Just different.  I would have put a photo of me on my birthday, but I’m always the one who takes the photos, so there aren’t any. Sigh.

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The new house

Yesterday was the 28th of February.  The day our cooling off period ended, which basically means that since we didn’t reneg on our offer to buy the duplex, we are now under legal obligation to buy it, with full payment to be made by the 28th of March.

I am so excited.  The house is ours.  Er…will be, on the 28th of March, as long as the vendor (fancy real-estate speak for the current owner) doesn’t delay proceedings by two weeks as he can legally do.  We can too, but unless our loan takes that long to come through or something crazy like that, we certainly won’t be delaying things.

It’s also scary.  We’re going to have mortgage payments, and we’ll be responsible for fixing things even if they cost an arm and a leg, instead of just calling the real estate agent who sorts it out and doesn’t require any money from us to do so.  But scariest of all, do we really know what we’re getting in to?

We haven’t seen the house for 3 weeks. We saw numerous houses on the same days we saw the one we are buying, so they all kind of get mixed together in our minds.  I can’t even remember if there is a linen closet.  Or an ensuite. Or storage in the laundry room.  I don’t know what sort of storage is in the bedroom closets either. Maybe just a bar to hang the clothes on? Hopefully some drawers or something too?  That’s the problem with buying a house – if there are tenants living there, you are not allowed to violate their privacy and open up the closets or cupboards.

What if the neighbours are loud, obnoxious, all night partiers whose thumping music and loud profanities keep us up all night? Or what if they are just plain old crazy people who mow their lawn and throw the clippings over the fence into our yard, or steal our clothes off the line?  We’ve had a building inspection and a pest inspection, but we can’t really order a neighbour inspection (unfortunately).

I guess we’ll soon find out.  And in the meantime, we’ll be doing lots of packing.

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