A holiday unlike any other

Coolum is beautiful. A coastal community with gorgeous beaches and a headland to explore. We were so looking forward to spending six days by the beach on our second ever camping holiday. Wandering, relaxing, swimming, fishing. Thus, it was with great frustration that we called short our trip when first Dave, then myself, came down with the dreaded tummy bug the children had had. He on the first night, myself on the second. We were home again on the third day after slowly and painfully packing up camp. We were torn as to whether to stay or go. Thank goodness we chose home. There is no place like it generally, but particularly when you are sick sick sick.

Thankfully there were some saving graces that made all the effort worthwhile, like dinner at Noosa with friends before the bug struck, flying the kite on the beach with an excited Cohen, chatting with our fellow campers about their travels and adventures. One instance brought tears to my eyes though. As we gingerly packed our belongings a Grandmother from a tent behind us took a tired and fussing Emerson from me and rocked her to sleep. She sat with her until we were ready to leave. That single act made a difficult time that much easier for us. Though I felt miserable the kindness of strangers gave me something positive to focus on.

It may be some time before we attempt camping again however...

It's a sickness...

I  decided to have a 'sick day' yesterday, after waking up with a child either side of me and a blanket of tissues covering all of us. A leisurely day of doing nothing. Yes, that was just what we needed. Everything can wait, we need a day of rest to fight off these snuffles. I'll just ignore everything that isn't restful.

When Dave came home I was sitting on the floor of Emerson's room with the entire contents of her wardrobe in piles around me, Spring cleaning her closet.

"I thought you were sick?" he commented.

"I am."

Emerson's blanket

Emerson came down with something on Friday and she has been miserable ever since. Seven week old babies with stuffy, runny noses, chesty coughs and watery eyes are heart breaking for their Mama's to behold. Neither she nor I have had much sleep the last few nights. We are awaiting the results of some tests. The Doctor thinks it is likely a virus, which means there isn't much we can do except keep up the feeds and cuddles.

So while Dada had cuddles with his baby girl Sunday night, I finished off her blanket for some extra Mama-made comfort.

PS. The Doctor called. The three results, one of which was for whooping cough, came back negative. Such a relief. So we are to stick to cuddle therapy unless she gets worse.

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Ravelry.

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The little one has not been well of late. We've been spending quiet days around the house, trying to keep him occupied. Thankfully blue glass pebbles can distract one from illness and provide endless possibilities with a little imagination.

I'm hoping for a relaxing weekend and a return to health. I think I'll give myself a little break and be back again on Monday.

Wishing you all a lovely weekend.

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Cohen and I have a cold and are feeling fairly miserable. I want nothing more than to snuggle beneath the blankets until the worst is over. But exciting things are in the works, so bed rest is sadly not an option today. Will let you in on the secret soon.

In the meantime, here are some things that are cheering me up.

snow pea seedlings flowering

garden companions

cushion swap's received

mismatched cutlery

thrifted abacus, 

What's making you smile today?

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To add insult to injury I was struck down with a throat infection on the weekend. A temperature, exhaustion and no voice do not make for the best mothering in the world. Much more television watching than usual this past week. Do your thing antibiotics.

The packing up of our possessions has begun, as we ready the house to be listed*. On the upside, Cohen has been helping us pack. On the down side, his idea of packing is randomly grabbing any item to hand and throwing it in a box. We laughed as he added a book to the box of books about to be sealed up. Only later did I realise it was the book I was reading.

*Posting may be a little sporadic in the coming weeks.

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Gastro spares no one, except my husband it seems.

He, with the cast iron stomach. He, who never gets sick. He, with the irritating ability to never appear hung over the next day. (He who snores while watching movies, then protests that he wasn't even asleep.*) He, who has managed to walk away unscathed while a plague of gastro descended upon our house. Hell hath no fury like gastro.

Really, I wish him no harm, but is there no justice? This is a man who can fall asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. A man who has such a handle on numbers he can not only remember the product codes at his work, he can also remember all our past phone numbers and probably add them up and find their square root in under a minute. A man who has an inbuilt navigation system and never gets lost.

While I'm the one who is always tossing and turning, looking for the phone number and relying on a map.

But still, in not getting sick he has left himself open to making dinner, bathing and feeding the toddler and sprucing up the garden as we prepare to put our house on the market.

Ahh... I think I'll go have a little lie down and maybe read a little.

(I headed Mama Mogantosh's example and removed my glasses.)

* He is standing by his claim that he wasn't asleep.

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I have been just so overwhelmed lately. You know how it can be.

Overwhelmed by chasing after an enthusiastic toddler and breaking up toddler antics, keeping a house clean, food cooked, clothes washed, animals fed, bins empty, nappies changed, petrol in the car, food in the trolley, emails to phone companies, phone calls to pay tolls, high chairs clean, cupboards child proofed, books back to the library, everyone happy.

Wondering constantly. Am I doing everything right? Why does my child do that and theirs doesn't? How will we afford that? What did she mean when she said that?

I have been so overwhelmed that I just need to leave friends and come home, so that the smallest things bring a lump to my throat and a tear to my eyes, so that I am just waiting for my little boy to have a nap so I can take refuge in some alone time, some quite time, some time to think time. And I think, this parenting thing is so hard. How do women have two, three, four babies and cope? Is it just me?

And then a friend of a friend says something to me and I chat to my Dr, and I find out.

It's not just being a mother. It's not lack of sleep. It's not nursing. It's not just trying to find balance, stay in control, clean during naps, hang clothes out and it rains. It's not just that. It's me, but it's my body. It's my thyroid.

It, like everything else in my life, seems to have sped up since becoming a parent.

But, unlike everything else, it can be diagnosed with blood tests and ultrasounds. Can be put on paper, can be discussed rationally, can wait wait wait to see a specialist and be treated.

I do get overwhelmed and yet I am so very happy. I am so very in love with my boys, my family, my life. I cherish being able to be such a huge part of my sons life.

And today friends visited, toddlers slept, the sun was out, the house was clean, the pantry is full and I am feeling optimistic, I know I can handle it if I feel overwhelmed again.

And I have a specialist appointment next month.