Autumn #1

New-season golden delicious apples.

Apple pie.

2011 Baby #1

I'm expecting four new babies in the first half of this year. Well, not me personally, but four very dear girlfriends of mine are all due soon. Make that three. The first baby was born last week, a sweet little girl for my good friend in Hong Kong.

So I whipped up this dress and bloomers set yesterday...she said ever so casually, when in reality it took the best part of an evening and most of the next morning and then some of that afternoon, and involved ripping out at least three seams, recutting a new sleeve after the first one failed and almost throwing the whole thing across the room in the elastic-threading-in phase. Ahh, sewing, it's just so relaxing.

It's the Sweet Baby Dress pattern again, made with another vintage pillowcase, as well as Lotta's bloomers in some linen/cotton blend. Lovely.

Never Ever Give Up On Dreams

I found this lovely print at Etsy. I thought it would be perfect for a certain little corner in a certain little girl's room. Clarence and Belvedere certainly agree.

OOTDs

We turned up 90 minutes late to our little friend Luke's first birthday party today. I wrote the wrong time down on the calendar. In we swanned, ready to enjoy the festivities, and it was already over.

So we did the sensible thing and headed to Ikea. Handed Lola over to the Smaland attendees. Caught the lift with a woman and her seven-week-old twins. She looked glowy and bright and adrenaline-filled. I remember that. I hope I didn't sound too downcast when I said she had a big year ahead of her.

P and S sat contentedly in the pram. I whizzed through the obstacle course grabbing the handful of things I needed. People looked at the babies and looked at me. People always do that when you have two babies. I focused on the task at hand.

Then, tossing up between the Snalis and the Samla*, I glanced across to see an enormous oozing poo seeping out from the sides of Pearl's bloomers. Pretty little Pearl in her floral summer blouse. That's what the people were looking at. Would it have been all that difficult to tell me? I knew immediately I wasn't willing to forsake the shopping for a dash to the toilets, so I looked for a towel or something to drape over the mess. That was when I realised the poo was not only all over her bloomers and legs, but between her toes, on her hands, under her fingernails...between her eyebrows. Oh, Pearl.

So there, in the lighting section, about 20 wipes, two scented nappy disposal bags and half a bottle of instant hand sanitiser later, I cleaned up the mess. We made it to the checkout. I collected the big kid from Smaland. I loaded up the car. We drove home. 

Ikea, you have thought of just about everything when it comes to shopping with kids - breastfeeding cubicles, nappy-changing rooms, food warming devices, childminding services - but did you think of this?

*I went with the Snalis.

Hummingbird

I'd thought I might get away with a single cake for my pair's first birthday last weekend. Their big sister had other ideas. If she'd had her way, there would have been a fairy and a butterfly. At the last minute, I came up with the idea of a pair of love birds, two turtledoves, twin chickens - you decide. I thought I was a bit clever - two cakes, but only one real effort.


For the recipe, I returned to an old faithful, aptly named the hummingbird cake. It's a beautiful indulgent cake, usually done up as a triple-layer, cream-cheese-icing covered passionfruity, banana-y, pineappley decadence. I'm not sure where I got the recipe. It's handwritten in an exercise book I diligently filled out and took with me when I left home. It makes loads of batter and I've been known to divide it into two tins instead of three and make two separate, more modest cakes - one for me, one for neighbour/friend/birthday person/postman.


It's so easy to make AND it's dairy free - that is, if you stop before you get to the icing part. But why would you?


Hummingbird Cake

3 cups plain flour

2 cups caster sugar

1.5 cups vegetable oil

3 eggs

1 teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1 heaped teaspoon bicarb soda

2 mushy bananas, mashed

1 440g tin crushed pineapple (in natural juice)

Preheat oven to 190 degrees Celsius. Grease three 20-22cm tins and line the bases with baking paper. Mix all ingredients with electric beaters and distribute into tins. Bake for 30-35 minutes.

Cream Cheese Frosting

125g butter

250g cream cheese

1 teaspoon vanilla essence

500g icing sugar

several passionfruit

Microwave butter and cheese for a minute. Beat until smooth. Add the vanilla and icing sugar and beat again.

When cakes have cooled, layer them three high with cream cheese frosting between. Smooth remaining frosting all over the top and sides. Just before serving, top with passionfruit pulp. Slice and enjoy!

Summer Days

The last Sunday of the summer. Nudie paddling in our luxurious courtyard pool. Even Pearl got into the spirit...eventually.

Time

So I thought to myself, "Gosh it would be nice to have a bit more time."

Time to knit, time to cook, time to wander and to sit about doing nothing.

We went to the markets, and suddenly I have all this thyme on my hands.

Boystuff

We are a touch top-heavy with girls in this house. The boy cousins - Oscar, 6mths, and  Henry, nearly 3 - came to stay this week to even things out. Boys are good for:

:: Turning half a ball of reasonably expensive wool into a really cool art installation in the backyard;

:: Single-handedly devouring a fruit plate meant for three in less than five minutes;

:: Really awesome train tracks;

:: Dancing with girl cousins in fairy dresses;

:: Watching telly together (in fairy dresses);

:: Trips to the park right before the storm;

It's exhausting stuff.

(PS I've joined the cool gang with my new Hipstamatic. I'm a late adopter.)

1+1=1

Happy birthday, pair xx

PS

365 days ago, at about 7:30 in the morning, I popped along to my local labour ward to have my waters broken. I was 37.5 weeks pregnant and, as much as I had wanted it all to start in its own time, by that stage I was over it and needed to not be pregnant anymore. I'd told anyone who would listen that it would all be over by midday. Hey, second babies are meant to come quicker. Induced labours are meant to be shorter. Twins are meant to arrive faster. 

365 days ago, at 7:30 in the evening, my waters remained intact. A series of stuff-ups, mix-ups and balls-ups meant not a jot of progress had been made. I'd spent most of the day hooked up to various monitors and, before even the first contraction, I was exhausted. My team - two sisters, an uncle and the Garbageman - all rallied around, but I was just about ready to pack it in and go home.

365 days ago, at about 10pm, my obstetrician made an appearance and was finally able to do what two midwives and a hospital obstetrician had failed to do - break my waters. At the point of giving up and trying another day, I had to dig in and muster the strength for labour. A very young anaesthetist stuck a long needle in my spine to set in place an epidural line - it was my doctor's concession to my desire for a drug-free labour. Having the line in meant the drugs could be administered in a hurry should there be any problems with Twin B. Of course, having that line in also meant I couldn't be in water for any of my labour, something I'd found indispensable with my first baby. And it also meant that having already gotten through the worst bit, ie, the needle, it might be harder to resist the drugs when it came to the crunch.

365 days ago, just before midnight, realising my two little Aquarians would be Pisceans (and obviously were meant to be all along), I was hooked up to a syntocinon drip and the contractions finally began. There may have been screaming. There may have been swearing. Someone may even have demanded the drugs and been talked down by a very calm and intuitive midwife who insisted I was so close I should just hang in a bit longer.

Cut to six hours later when,  in the dim light of the labour ward room, with many, many, many hospital staff looking on, my little Pearl arrived, as naturally as I had hoped. And 40 minutes after that, under the bright and sterile lights of the operating theatre, with even more people present, Stella was delivered by emergency caesarean. Little trixie trixter thought she'd stick her shoulder down rather than her head, and all the prodding and pulling and pushing and poking in the world couldn't turn her.

365 days. My, how the year has flown.