Easy as 1-2-3

We're really enjoying these early weeks with our fifth family member. Far more than I predicted. Not that I was anticipating a world of pain, but I like to keep those expectations low!

And it's not all down to my little lass being a dream-baby or anything. She's a fairly typical baby I suspect. Some sleeping, some not-sleeping, some gooing, some crying. She's not quite five weeks, so I'm not planning to pigeon-hole her just yet! All I can say is that we're really enjoying her and the sense of cohesion I feel like she's brought to our little gang. Watching my firstborn, William, delighting in his little sister is truly gratifying.

When I say 'we', perhaps I shouldn't try to speak for all of us. Quite predictably, I can feel Charlie, my now-middle child, struggling. He's two and half and has just been usurped as the baby, so it's completely natural. I don't think it helps that the eldest and youngest share so many similarities as newborns, and that we probably keep drawing comparisons to their physique, alertness, and distinctive mannerisms within earshot of our not-quite-cookie-cut kid. 

Charlie, we adore you no less now than before - you're the perfect middle kid for our family!

So here we are, five weeks in, finding our new rhythm as a family.
 Funnily enough, it looks largely like the old rhythm, apart from one thing:

There's a lot more PINK.

She arrived.

That's right - she!

Susannah came into the world three and a half weeks ago. Chez clutterpunk is besotted.

Our family has been enjoying a quiet 'babymoon' with the help of my wonderful parents and sister. Justin has been home, the boys have been eased into the new reality, and we've been well fed and rested!

I've enjoyed a great gift - the space to sit around drinking cups of tea, cuddling my delicious newborn girl and working with her on the breastfeeding (which was a bit bumpy to start with but is now well-established).

Tomorrow, we are heading into our first week alone as a family of five. And although I'll miss all the adult company and spare hands, I'm more excited than nervous.

But first, S and I are enjoying our first 'girly day' alone. Sensibly, she's spent most of it sleeping so far. As for me, I've finally cracked out the craft... wheeeeeee!

Life has resumed. It feels good.

Something in the oven.

Almost 3 months ago, the double glazed door of our two-year-old, just-out-of-warranty Whirlpool oven decided to explode. 

From what I could see, the oven just needed some new front glass, or at most a new door, which I figured would not be an impossible ask of the manufacturer. Our oven was two years old, only just out of warranty, and in perfect working order, apart from the old lack-of-door issue. 

Ha. 

Apparently, ovens are a disposable item these days. I get it, I really do. I mean, it's been two years, and that oven technology, whoah, it's moved on people - who wants to be caught dead with a slow-moving two year old oven? Plus, it looked so 2008. Of course there would be no replacement glass or door for our (clearly defunct) model available in Australia. Of course we would most likely prefer to just 'upgrade' to the next model, the newer, sexier, shinier version. Almost the same cost really, because if we did want to take the distasteful approach of repairing our oven, then we'd have to wait ten years for the parts to arrive by goat from Uzbekistan, and then scalp a kidney to pay for installation.  

Anyway, {insert rant about the state of the world today and why I think free-market economies are stupid here}. As of last week, we have a functioning oven again. Unfortunately, it is a new one, but it comes with a five-year warranty, accessible parts and servicing, and is definitely NOT Whirlpool.

Which means I can BAKE!

Bread. 

Pizza.

Cake.

Pizza.

Did I mention pizza?

Going almost three months without our Sunday night neighbourly pizza-fest has been a killer. Last night, with much celebration, we resumed. Multiple delicious homemade pizzas followed by a lemon and rhubarb cake (thanks Lauren for the recipe!).

But now I have a confession.

If our oven DID have to explode and be out of action for a few months, then these few have been the time to do it. Because until just about yesterday, I had absolutely no stomach, energy or enthusiasm for baking anything. 

Because, well... I have *something in the oven*. 

I may have mentioned on this post back in July being in two minds about having more children. Dating suggests that I pretty much made up my mind as I pressed 'publish post'. Anyway, we are happy and grateful to be carrying a little one, and look forward to meeting him or her in early autumn next year. 

Meanwhile, I'm just thrilled to have a baking stomach back. And a baby to hide all that pizza behind.

The Slow Project: monotasking

{Credit where it is due - I'm hijacking Ellie of petalplum and her Slow Project here}

When I wrote about my attraction to the Slow Food movement a few weeks ago, I came away with a sense of cognitive dissonance.  


I pay plenty of lip service to the slow life -  slow food, slow cloth,  slow fashion,  slow transport. I have chosen to be 'slow' at this stage of life by refusing to juggle multiple roles and responsibilities with the main gig - parenting.

But I'm still an adrenaline junkie, and I love to multitask.

I guess the adrenaline habit is hard to kick. Particularly because our mainstream culture is all about thriving on adrenaline. We're addicted to:

 efficiency

productivity

streamlining

multitasking

 instant gratification

 convenience

I feel that I ought to be 'using my time well' (which means doing more than one thing at a time). I parent, cook, craft, ride the bike, have 'me time', socialise and blog with a sense of urgency, as though I'm lagging behind somehow or going to miss a deadline. I try to do them all simultaneously. I'm always looking for ways to get a bit of blog-post-reading done whilst paying bills via iPhone whilst pushing the boys on the swings whilst chatting to my mother whilst jotting down the shopping list and designing the next quilt. WHY?

There is. No. Deadline.

Furthermore, it seems that multitasking may well be a flawed concept altogether. I like this quote from Carl Honore, author of In Praise Of Slow:

"The latest neuro-scientific research suggests what most of us already suspect: that the human brain is not very good at multitasking. Sure there are a few simple or routine tasks we can perform at the same time, but as soon as you have to engage the brain, you really need to focus on one activity at a time. Much of what passes for multitasking is nothing of the sort: it is sequential toggling between activities.  

Changing attitudes is hard because our culture is marinated in the notion that doing more things at once is somehow deeply modern, efficient and fulfilling. But change is possible."

Anyway, I'm taking action. Well, inaction, more precisely. For the past few weeks I've been monotasking. 

I've stopped checking the phone incessantly. I've stopped switching the TV on for the kids so I can 'get something done', and trying to either get them involved or accept the fact that it is just not going to get done right now (and does it really matter?). I've opted to either read, OR blog, OR sew of an evening, instead of trying to do all three in front of the telly. In fact, it has taken ten days to write this blog post, because I've let myself be interrupted and let go of the artificial, self-imposed deadlines. Does anyone care? No. I'm attempting to redefine my ideas of a successful day... did we get some sun and air? Get appropriately fed and watered? Do something creative? Hang out with some other people? Have a good cuddle? Relate well or at least give it a red-hot go?

That might all sound a bit sickly-sweet and like I should go and polish my earth-mother halo (in a mindful, meditative, living-in-the-present, enjoying-the-journey kind of way).

And frankly, I'm feeling so darned good right now, I just might.

(Insert gratuitous shots of kidlets in 'Hudson', wearing their Dillpickle Beanies)

Beating the backyard blues.

We don't have a backyard. And I'm beginning to notice.

Now, first I need to qualify a few things. This is NOT a 'poor me' post. My family and I choose to live where we do, in a flat in an inner-city suburb. There are other potential scenarios and options available to us, but when we examined our priorities after the birth of our first son a few years ago, we opted for proximity to support networks, friends, work and facilities over 'space'. It's absolutely been the best decision. And in worldwide terms, it's quite normal not to have your own backyard, let alone more than one or two rooms to your dwelling. 

Because I know this to be true, part of me really wants to stick at this two-bedroom, no-backyard thing forever, just to prove that it's possible, even preferable, and of course the most sustainable option. Kids growing bigger? Stunt their growth! Another baby? It can sleep in the bath! Visitors? They can have our bed, we'll sleep on the dining table. Oh that's right... we don't have a dining table. Top-and-tail, anyone?

But reality has a way of interrupting my idealism with plenty of 'yeah buts', mostly in the form of two rambunctious children. My kids don't know what they are missing...  but I can see that they thrive in the great outdoors. We have so many parks and facilities nearby... but it would be great if sometimes I could chuck them out of the house and let them play free-range in the dirt without constant supervision. We can buy lovely fresh local produce just up the street... but perhaps my food-phobic William would try something new if he helped to grow it himself. 

Revving up the Christiania on a sunny Winter's day

Anyway, while these issues are up for debate at chez clutterpunk, we're getting on with the business of  having a Claytons* backyard. I have a loose deal with myself that we have to get out at least twice a day, rain or shine. 

Mostly, we visit local parks, walk to the fruit shop or post office, or head to the train station (and sometimes even catch a train for fun!). When it's cold and rainy this requires some preparation:

The $15 waterproof overalls from Aussie Disposals, while outside my ethical clothing pledge, have been a real hit this winter.

We also spend a fair bit of time befriending unsuspecting people with backyards and taking them over. On Monday and Wednesday mornings we often drop in on friends in the area, and in the late afternoon, we have a bit of a rhythm going with a new family nearby, in which we come and tear up their turf in exchange for, um, company? 

And late afternoon on Tuesdays and Thursdays, you can find us giving the next-door-neighbours' trampoline a workout. I've recently struck a little deal with the lovely, intrepid single-mother-of-three-primary-schoolers next door. She heads out for a run while I let my kids fight hers for the best trampoline-related injuries.

In all of this, one thing is for certain. If I'd never gone without a backyard, I know I wouldn't know how to appreciate one. If and when we do have the privilege, I promise you, it will be cherished.

And now I'm curious. Do YOU have a backyard? Is it big or small? Do you wish you had more or less? Do you use it or neglect it? Do you think owning or renting makes a difference to how you use your outdoor space? 


And most importantly... do you have a trampoline and are you home on Friday?


*Aussie slang for a poor substitute or imitation