A little while ago we borrowed a book from the library- 'Apple Cake: A Recipe For Love'. It is the charming story of Idea and Alfonso and his quest to win his love's heart, through baking.

The book is remarkably specific in terms of his recipe, so we decided to try it out.

We choose three apples, one green and two red. Chopped them up and set them in water while we made the batter. 

 

We beat two tablespoons of butter with a cup of sugar.  Added two eggs (with a touch of shell, thanks Eli!), a cup of flour, a teaspoon of baking powder and a pinch of salt (from the mundane salt shaker, not harvested from the ocean like Alfonso's).

We added some bitters (three wishes- one bitter, two sweet) and blew kisses, then sprinkled cinnamon and sugar on top. 

The smell permeated our kitchen, just as it lured Ida away from her book. Before long we were tucking into warm and crumbly apple cake. It was delicious! Who would have thought a children's book could yield such a delectable cake.

Despite the magical book having been returned, we have now made the cake three more times, including with the addition of jelly. At least if I have a memory blank, we can now refer to this post for future cooking reference. Thanks Alfonso!

Almost 50 years ago, a young Croatian man set off on a journey to Australia. He found a job as an electrician, and sent for his young Serbian wife and two children to follow him into the unknown. Reluctantly and somewhat against her will, the young woman eventually obeyed. Bitterness, isolation, disappointment, fear, awkwardness, the feeling of being out of place in a foreign land, having to abandon two young children to work long hours in a factory for 17 years, sacrifice, loss of family and familiarity, loss of companionship and hope. The two boys grew up quickly, having to fend for themselves and get themselves to school and back every day.

The eldest boy was determined, driven and resilient. Despite his father criticising his every decision, refusing to visit his soccer games because he didn't get into the first division, he made his own way, becoming an electrical engineer and finding faith at university (another decision harshly condemned by his family). He then met my mother on a snow trip and they had a whirlwind romance and soon were married. Two years later, I was born.

We went to visit Baba and Deda this week in Sydney. It was Hudson's first plane trip and Eli's first that he will remember. The travel was exhausting but not beyond expectation, and the kids did pretty well considering the 3:30am start. The exhausting part was, ironically, the relationships and interactions when we arrived. 

I always steel myself going there, knowing it will be difficult, but I was again taken by surprise. Baba hands out well-meaning, but emphatic advice that usually is repeated until accepted. Deda tends to ignore you until he had something critical to say. 

It didn't take long for the first shot to be fired. The topic: Hudson's failure to walk. Apparently I am picking him up too much and not forcing him to stand enough. Never thought I would be accused of being a doting mother, the kid weighs a ton and is only picked up when absolutely necessary for this reason! But Deda's version of reality is hard to argue against when it is derived predominantly from Everybody Loves Raymond, The Golden Girls and the Spaghetti Western- Bonanza. Nevertheless, I hot headedly took the bait and was rewarded by being promptly talked over.

The next day we were informed that we are lax parents with Eli and he never listens to us. It's not just us, though, we were reassured, kids these days are all the same. In their day, their children never thought to disobey or talk back, or need toys for stimulation. They just sat like robots and only spoke politely when spoken to. In fact, when 8 year old Barney and 5 year old Drago escaped one weekend and broke into the school library to read books, the police caught them and  Deda yelled at them and they never did that again. Point proven.

Looking back now I'm not even sure why these illogical criticisms hit close to home. Apart from the fact that I am a people pleaser and it is absolutely impossible to please them, that being a mum is my only job now, and I'm used to only getting positive feedback with my work; and maybe that all sense of reality is completely warped when you are there. 

I also realized that I am actually a lot like Deda, and my flaws, carried out to the extreme, look like his life: bitter, isolated, defensive, angry and unhappy. Guess it never feels comfortable looking in an unflattering looking glass.

In other news, we did have a good family time in Cabramatta, and a reunion with my uncle and cousins. Eli loved playing soccer and with the sprinkler and the Mercedes remote control car there. And, despite my firm resolve not to go on a plane with kids again unless absolutely necessary, the travel part actually went pretty smoothly.

Now, to have a holiday to recover from that holiday.

I realized today that I have not yet posted a blog from our new house! Dave asked me what this meant and I replied that it either means I'm doing awesome or gravely lacking introspection. 

The last few weeks have been a whirlwind. We have moved in, set up the Christmas tree, experienced the craziness of Christmas with two toddlers, packed away the Christmas tree, installed a shelf, put up curtain rods, hemmed curtains, built a letter box, painted tables and chairs, affixed a clothesline to the house and gravely given kids multiple warnings as to marks on walls... We are officially homeowners!

Every morning when we wake up, every time we get home, and every time we re-enter our kitchen, we are filled with awe as to how absolutely blessed we are to have our own home. Despite all that has happened recently, we keenly feel the amazing opportunity that has come our way. 

Hudson has been incredible since his surgery. Happy, talkative and inquisitive, he now responds enthusiastically when you ask him if he wants more food with 'muh, muh!' It is so refreshing to experience Hudson as a kid interested with and enthused by life. A few times now Dave and I have remarked that he is the easy kid now!

Our ninth anniversary mostly went off without a hitch, with a family dinner at TGI Fridays for happy hour. I struggled as usual with unrealised expectations, thinking naively that the kids should somehow understand it was our special day and decide not to whinge, whine or crack it. That didn't happen!

The biggest issues since being here have been a shower flooding on the first night, an awful feeling that the rash, conjunctivitis and runny nose of Eli was the measles (it's not), and a random incident where the soil delivery truck damaged the guttering of our neighbor's house. 

Otherwise, our occupancy has been residential bliss, with Dave fully rising to the occasion as handy man and equipping himself with a complete set of power tools. Rarely a day goes by without a trip to Bunnings! It's pretty cool watching him transform into the homeowner role actually.

The sentence that most goes through my mind these days is 'we are blessed'. With family, with crazy kids, with great friends, with meaningful experiences, and with a house to finally call our own. 

"If you go down in the woods today, you're sure of a big surprise..."

For pretty much the entirety of Hudson's short existence I have wanted to throw him a Teddy Bears' Picnic. Mum has a beautifully illustrated book that captures all the wonder and magic of this occasion, and all the amazing molded jellies and cream cakes absolutely inspired me!

Due to the move and Christmas, however, all the usual planning was left until the last minute. Despite this setback and the weather meaning we had to host at our house, there was more than enough party food, peach iced tea in cocktail glasses, teddy shaped birthday cake, 1930s jingles and teddies hiding in (christmas) trees for everyone to have a merry time.

Despite Hudson being only a couple of weeks post surgery, he revelled in being the centre of attention and inhaled more than his fair share of birthday cake! 

Pictures tell the story with much more eloquence than I can muster, so here are a few of the best.

I'm sitting in the hospital cafeteria, waiting. The buzzer is next to my phone and I keep glancing at it just in case it goes off and I miss it. Hudson is in surgery.

It has been a crazy, emotional, exhausting, enriching, inspiring week. More than ever we have realised the importance of having a community entangled in our lives, not just to share the good stuff but the hard times too. We have had meals delivered, gardens landscaped, boxes packed, kids taken care of, house cleaned and hands held by a community that has really pulled together for us at this difficult time.

Tuesday was the curette for me. Amazingly, my recovery has been very smooth with almost no pain, so the packing for Saturday has been able to continue. Emotionally, we feel more adjusted to the reality that our family numbers four, for now. Physically, I am reveling in not feeling pregnant for no reason anymore and being able to get up easily in the morning and not struggle to keep food down. Our time will come again, but a little break will be well appreciated!

Hudson has had an epic week. On Sunday he finally learnt how to crawl, he is now pulling up to standing and rolling over in his bed. He has learnt to use the potty for number twos, is having his first operation and will move into our new house tomorrow! He has been a different person, so determined, focused and happy. More and more I realise he is very similar to me and I gain a greater empathy for him.

This morning was hard. Holding onto a screaming baby who hasn't eaten or drunk anything for over 12 hours sucks at the best of times, but a kid who loves his food as much as Hudson (!), nightmare. I held him in my arms as they put him to sleep and barely managed to hold it together. The feeling as you say goodbye and leave your baby lying on a surgical table with strangers, very tough. That and the combination of being in the exact same place with the same smells as Tuesday also made things difficult.

Even though this week has been intense, I feel as if we are feeling life more keenly, the pain and the joy, and turning less to distractions to numb ourselves. Faith is becoming more crucial, less theoretical. Friends are becoming closer and relationships deepening. We are blessed.

There goes that buzzer.

In a previous post I alluded to the fact that we were pregnant with our third child.

On Monday I went along to a scheduled dating ultrasound, nine weeks along. I had never been to one of these before, having simply waited for the 12 week scan. Having felt pretty fatigued and sick for the past 7 weeks, I assured Dave that he didn't have to come as it was his peak busy time of year at school.

I could see pretty quickly from the technician's face that something wasn't right. She informed me that she could see a pregnancy sac but no baby. She would need to do an internal ultrasound. I went to get dressed in the navy hospital gown, trying very hard not to panic. There must be some mistake, I thought, she will surely find the baby soon.

I lay back down on the table but there was no good news to be shared. Apparently, I have a blighted ovum, so my body still (even now) thinks I'm pregnant. The lady kept asking if I was OK, and I kept numbly replying that I was. I managed to hold in my tears until I was hidden in the bathroom to change back into my clothes. Back in the waiting room I checked my messages with a tear stained face. Dave had left a few excited texts asking how it was going. I responded with the outcome and waited to see the doctor.

As soon as I was back in the car I called Dave but he hadn't seen the message. When he found out the story he left school immediately to come home. We wept and sat there numbly. As the kids were at Pat's house I decided that I would try and get my mind off the news by crossing some things off my to do list.

I kissed Dave goodbye and headed to the shops. It was pouring with rain. After dropping off some letters in the post box I got back in the car. The next thing I remember is wondering why two lines of cars were turning right in front of me. Too late I realised that I was running a red light. I swerved and braked but it was pointless. The impact came and I felt the tire blow. I skidded to a halt and shakily got out into the rain. The car I hit pulled up behind me. The inhabitants were pretty angry.

I apologised over and over and affirmed it was all my fault. I shared that I had just heard bad news and her demeanor changed. She told me to hop into the back seat so we could exchange details. The next little while was a blur of phone calls, talking to the police, standing in the rain and cursing to myself about my stupidity. The Senior Constable was very kind and didn't even give me a lecture, despite the clear infringement.

Ironically, I've paid for comprehensive car insurance for the past ten years, but two months ago we changed it to third party to save some money. So now, we are stuck with a useless car wreck two weeks before we are set to move.

Last night Dave and I opened an expensive bottle of wine to commemorate the short life that has impacted us so much. We don't know whether the baby lived for hours, weeks or minutes, but in our minds they had already become part of our future. Goodbye Frankie, we will remember you forever.

Gotta love those times in life when you get squeezed so hard that your true colors show. Unfortunately, my colors were less Van Gogh, more Picasso.

After Thursday night I was already struggling, having battled through a tough day with Hudson and a mammoth hernia related sleep stand off until 1:30am. (And by battled I mean I fumed in bed while Dave did all the hard work!) Hudson has these times, about once a week for the past month now, where he screams hysterically up to 2 hours, then vomits. I took him to the doctors and was redirected to Monash emergency department. Pat was amazing, meeting me at the doctors and taking Eli off my hands for the anticipated long wait at the hospital. We met with the doctor and now have an appointment for Wednesday to meet with the surgeons.

I don't deal well with the unexpected. And realising more and more I have almost zero ability to control my son's grumpiness is throwing me big time. I have some hope that this grumpy patch is related to pain, but if it is just personality I'm going to have to adjust to that.

I had a sleepover at Mum and Dad's last night that was organised by Dave. It is safe to say that my emotional energy had hit an all time low! Dave shipped me off and manned the fort alone, even whipped up some pancakes for the boys in the morning.

During the escape I had a few realisations. Firstly, I have 'Emotional Amnesia'. If anything has been going on for a while, like this grumpiness, I literally cannot recall a time when it wasn't like that. Now, if things are going well, the condition is amazing! But, like recently, when things are tough, my outlook becomes catastrophic.

Secondly, when I woke to a peaceful sun filled morning and a hot Milo in bed brought by mum, I leisurely checked Facebook and saw an article '13 things mentally strong people don't do'. Well, it turns out that I had been doing at least half the things on that list! Things like not stewing over the realities that you can't control, not making the same mistakes over and over...That threw me because I consider myself at least somewhat mentally strong.

Needless to say, the combination of realisations has helped me get back on track a little. That, and the ever present blessing of family having your back at every step.