family | Little Lou Lou Handmade

moment to moment.

December 17, 2012 By Lou Lou Leave a Comment

Hello baby,

I’ve only known you were here for three days, already it feels like a life time. There is barely a moment when you are not in my thoughts. Last night I told your Daddy about you, a day early! One day I hope that we will get one of those cutesy reveal stories to look back on with joy. It makes me sad that it is now ‘normal’ for me to say ‘I think we are pregnant, but..’ Pregnancy shouldn’t come with a disclaimer. He was happy, from a safe distance. He knows all too well that those two pink lines are the first two steps of a huge mountain ahead. We try to keep our hearts prepared for endurance, lest we burn out to soon.

You scared me yesterday, or more likely I scared me. I had a tiny bit of spotting and I freaked the heck out. Looking back I completely overreacted. It almost feels foolish but I’m trying to be gentle and not judge myself. Straight away I thought you were leaving me. It was difficult for me to conceive of any other outcome. I peed on things and sent depressing text messages to the only two people that know about you. All of a sudden I became an expert of shades of pink! Was today’s test 1/100th lighter than yesterdays? etc. The foolish scramble of a human being desperate to feel in control.

And then as the day went on I realised that the spotting had stopped and when I woke up today there was still nothing. I felt a resurgence of hope, the pull of hope is so strong! I try to hide from it but it always finds it’s way in, even in the darkest hours. We are far from out of the water but I felt like it was a small victory. We needed that!

Yesterday I prayed out loud to a god that I don’t even know if I believe in. Conventional, organised religion does nothing for me. I can’t stand dogma & hypocrisy and the general stance towards homosexuality is a deal breaker for me. I find immense comfort from Buddhist teachings, acceptance, mindfulness, kindness – these things I value. But since I was very young I have felt a very personal relationship with what/who I perceive to be ‘god’. It’s not guided by the bible or any particular faith, it’s just conversations I have had in the quiet hours where I feel like someone is listening. It’s where I direct all of my gratitude for our blessings, it’s who or what I pray to & plead with when I don’t know what else to do.

And yesterday I pleaded with my voice and all of my heart to keep my baby. To give me strength and faith where mine is lacking. To hold me up in moments of weakness. To heal my fragile heart & mind and make things ok. Today I felt comfort. Not because I’m any more certain or any less afraid of the journey ahead because I am not. But I was reading the blog of another baby loss mama who had described how alone she had felt in her time of need and how the experience had tested her own very strong faith. And then she felt a message that said

“I’m still here, I’ve been here all along.”

and somehow reading that at that precise moment, it felt like it was a message meant for me too. And I wondered whether in my anger & distress if there was someone or something watching over me too. Knowing that I would make it through and that things would be ok. And that even if I had lost faith and turned away my heart in anger at the universe for making me go through it all again, that something was standing by me like a calm and loving parent watching a child have a petulant tantrum. That it pained them to watch me struggle but they knew it was not right to intervene. That maybe I felt their love through the others that were there to love me during that time. That I wasn’t abandoned. That they were there all along.

And somehow that gives me clarity and comfort.

In the meantime I go on living moment to moment.

Your mummy

Filed Under: family, Life, Love

What to expect, when you’re not expecting.

September 1, 2012 By Lou Lou 8 Comments

It’s been so long since I’ve written, too long.

I’ve always said that I would rather not write at all than write dishonestly, and I guess that is what has kept me away. It seems every time I post there is something that someone out there can relate to (I guess that’s half the point of blogging, isn’t it?), but the flipside is that someone out there inevitably makes it all about them, and it’s not. Ultimately, ‘it’, this blog, is about me. I usually try and minimise the fall out by self editing, clarifying, apologising.. but right now I simply don’t have the energy. I apologise in advance, this is me, unedited. I’m writing because I need to, I don’t even particularly want to lay myself out bare on the interwebs open to ridicule & judgement, but I think right now I am heavy-duty high maintenance on those that love & support me and I need some other outlet.

Ironically, the last draft I have is entitled the ‘Infertility Chronicles’. I’ve wanted to blog about that for a while, but it seems in the meantime we’ve come full circle. Most people don’t know this, even those closest to us, but we first started trying for another child back in May 2008. We had our first miscarriage in February 2009. I’ve written about it before, but for me it was heartbreaking.

After my first birth in 2004, I swore that I would never go through it again. In fact, my father in law reminds me frequently that that is one of the first things I said to him the day after our daughter was born. Our precious baby was born grey & not breathing. Unbeknownst to us she had the cord tightly around her neck and she had inhaled Meconium. Unlike the exuberant excitement that usually fills a birth suite after a baby is born, our room was frantic, eerily quiet & filled with people trying to save our bubba. While I watched as a whole team of people worked on her tiny body all I could think was ‘please don’t make me leave here without my baby’. I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone. I didn’t want to see my own fear reflected in anyone elses face. Somehow as they resuscitated her tiny lungs in order to save her they injured them, and as soon as she was breathing on her own she was whisked away without me so much as getting a good look at her. I think I heard one gaspy little squawk and that is all I remember of meeting my baby for the first time. I didn’t get to see or touch her for hours after. I didn’t get to breastfeed her for even longer.

These experiences are the ones you look forward to your whole pregnancy, the ones you take for granted that you will get, the ones that were taken from me. Fortunately for us we were blessed and after a short stay in NICU then special care, our baby was absolutely fine. Today she is one of the most healthy, intelligent, funny little girls that you would ever meet. But I’m not sure my heart has ever fully recovered from that experience. Not long after she was born I experienced crippling anxiety attacks. To the point where one day I called an ambulance because I was convinced I was dying. So ashamed of the way I was not coping I didn’t even tell anyone that I was in the hospital. When I was released later that day with the simple diagnosis of ‘stress’ I simply took a taxi home, tidied up the little mess the ambulance officers had left when they attached the heart monitors to my chest, and climbed into bed without telling a soul. A week later I started seeing a psychologist. Not long after I first heard the term ‘birth trauma’.

So it took me years of processing my birthing experience before I could even contemplate trying again. And when I was finally ready you can imagine my surprise when baby number two was not immediately forthcoming. Our daughter was conceived completely by accident, in the most unlikely of circumstances (seriously) so I naively assumed that our next pregnancy would be the same. Boy was I wrong. In the interim I had started to experience a host of gynaecological issues that I ignored and hoped would go away. When we finally had our first positive test in 2009 I was ecstatic but cautious as I had already started experiencing symptoms that suggested all was not right with this pregnancy. And it wasn’t, I was already in the process of an early miscarriage.

For the woman who took 4 years to work up the courage to try for another baby and then another 10 months to conceive this was a devstating blow. What little remaining faith I had in my body was shattered. We tried again for a while after but I really wasn’t emotionally ready. I would be forced awake in the wee hours of the morning and lie in the dark crippled by fear. I became convinced that I wasn’t meant to have another child, convinced that I was incapable physically and ill equipped emotionally. I doubted my abilities as a woman and a mother. I became convinced that I didn’t even want another child after all, that I was happy with our family just the way we were. And as time went on I truly did start to believe it. I love our family and love our life. The dynamic of our little triad just works.

It’s only when my friends and family started to pop out babies at a rapid rate that I started to question myself. My reactions were ungracious & irrational. At times I was inconsolable, sometimes uncontrollably angry. I resented the ease with which everyone else around me seemed to be able to conceive. This somehow confirmed to me that my own body was faulty, broken. At any given time I knew at least 5 females that were expecting & every announcement, bump pic, scan etc, felt like a neon sign blinking “YOU ARE NOT PREGNANT!” I wanted so much to be able to share their joy, not only was I dealing with infertility but I was faced with the fact that I was a selfish bitch too. Good times!

I will always regret my reaction (s, oh yes, it was plural) when my own beloved sister shared with me her pregnancy news. I know she will read this, and I know that I can never take it back, so I want her to know that I will carry that burden for the rest of my life. I don’t have a lot of regrets, I live and love fully but this I regret with every fiber of my being. I even got a second chance, and I effed that up too. This is where unconditional love comes in, I know that she knows I love her, despite my bad behaviour and I know that she loves me in return, warts and all. But if I could, I would take it back. I would shower her with love, excitement, cupcakes and balloons because that is what she deserves. She is unquestionably the very best mother I know & her children bring me endless joy.

I guess in a roundabout way this brings me to the last 12 months. This quiet longing lingered until the sound of my biological clock (or perhaps just my heart?) became deafening. My gynaecological symptoms persisted & I started to worry about more than just my fertility. Still on shaky uncertain ground I toddled off to the Drs for all kinds of testing. I figured we could sort out my health and I would inquire about my fertility as kind of an afterthought. Fortunately for me all testing came out clear & my Dr gave me the green light on my baby making abilities. She could see no real reason why I couldn’t conceive and even suggested that conceiving would probably help my symptoms. To which I burst into embarrassing tears right there in her office. At that point she gently reminded me to take my time & if I wasn’t ready the pill might also help.

And that’s exactly what I did! I still needed time to prepare myself for the road ahead. I was cautiously optimistic, I started to allow the baby day dreams to creep in. After the positive test results I felt a little more at ease within my own body,and I started to develop trust that it wouldn’t let me down again. So I went off the pill and started popping preconception pills again. Within two cycles post pill, on the 25th of July 2012, I found out that I was pregnant! I believed it was a miracle! All of our dreams had come true and I was absolutely on cloud nine. I’m a pretty happy person generally, I really do enjoy my life but I can’t begin to describe the joy and utter contentment I had while I was pregnant. It was the first thing I thought of when I woke and the last thing I remembered before I drifted off to sleep. All of the things that usually annoy me just drifted away into the inconsequential. After a lifetime of insomnia I enjoyed drifting off to sleep on the couch at 7pm. I relished the frequent loo breaks, I was thoroughly entertained by my swollen, sore boobs and I was comforted by the beginnings of morning sickness and gagging. It was all part of the premium pregnancy package and I could barely wait to unwrap each layer.

Sadly, on the 22nd of August I began to lose my precious little one at what would have been almost 8 weeks. Our scan showed that the pregnancy stopped progressing at almost 6 weeks. My hormones were high but not rising properly, my progesterone was too low to support a viable pregnancy. It’s been just over a week & the worst of it is over physically, my body feels like my own again, but my heart.. oh my heart. People ask me how I am going and I so want to give them the ‘right’ answer. I don’t want to disappoint them. I fear that empathy has a definite expiry date & I am terrified that my grief will outlast it & I will be left alone. I was tempted to say lonely but even surrounded by love I feel exceptionally lonely every day.

For a second I felt foolish having told people about our pregnancy before that magical 12 week mark. For having the audacity to hope and expect smooth sailing. I’m like the lady who cried ‘pregnant’! But the love & support that was offered to us during the short pregnancy and in the after has been amazing. The first time this happened I was too ashamed to talk about it for a long time. I felt like our loss only mattered to me & it broke my heart that no one else had any attachment to our little one. They were kind to me, but for the most part they suggested that it was for the best. Please don’t stand there when my heart is broken and tell me it is for the best. My husband and I created life, out of love, and we lost it. I can never reconcile that this was the best outcome, regardless of the logic or science you offer me.

But this time those closest to us knew and they were thrilled for us. My mother in law and father in law were in tears of joy. My dad told me that it was the best news he had heard in ages. My friends were like our own personal cheer squad. Our baby was wanted and loved beyond measure and that gives me immense comfort. That our loss is felt by others in small but significant ways, this means the world to me. It means that I do not have to face this on my own, it means I have strength to lean on when my own is lacking and a soft place to fall when it all gets too much. And it has done at times. It’s getting better but I am emotionally fragile and vulnerable. Look at me the wrong way and I will cry. Yesterday I did cry, over spilled milk, literally. I am not yet able to do the things that I would normally do, I have a physical reaction when I walk into my studio and see the perfect little baby clothes hanging on the rack. Somehow I can’t bring myself to create for other people’s precious babies when I am mourning the loss of my own.

So I have created myself a safe little bubble. I’ve lowered my expectations and allowed myself a break from work/the world. I’m only allowing into my bubble what I can manage, and I am hoping that those who need from me right now what I am unable to give, will allow me some grace. I am spring cleaning like a mofo! It makes me feel normal and productive. But every now and again I struggle to breathe. I took my daughter father’s day shopping on Thursday and I am ashamed to say for the first time in a long time I felt like I was going to have a panic attack. I hadn’t been ‘out’ in a while apart from blood tests, scans and Dr’s appointments and the pressure to appear normal felt overwhelming. People would smile and make small talk & I would feel hot and awkward. My daughter kept wandering away from me, I felt the tension and anxiety rise and I wanted to scream. But I pasted a fake smile on my face and got shit done, because that’s what a mother does.

My husband picked us up and saved the day with a donut. He has been my rock. This experience has both pushed us apart and yet pulled us back together. I have irrationally, unreasonably resented him for not grieving in exactly the same way I am. At one point I yelled at him and implied that he didn’t care enough, and in his hurt and anger he yelled back angry things at me that bruised my already tender heart. And the next morning we dusted ourselves off, each a little wounded by the other, yet still holding hands. He has the patience of a saint and his tenderness with me during this whole mess has made me somehow love him even more. I am severely high maintenance right now & yet he still strives to give me what I need even when his own needs are not being met. I could not have chosen a better man to face this with.

I’m not sure what lies ahead for us but I do know that we are committed to trying again. What I felt for the painfully short time that I was pregnant is worth chasing again. I guess we are in it for the long haul, no matter what happens & I guess by writing this I invite you to be with us as we face the journey.

For the record, I’m not writing as Little Lou Lou- handmade. So please do not judge me. This is probably wildly unprofessional, but luckily I’ve never claimed to be anything other than a mama who has an embarrassing passion for cupcakes, sewing and pretty.

I’m writing as a mama, who aches for her bubba.

Filed Under: family, Life, Loss, Love, Things that suck

I like to eat it, eat it!

April 15, 2012 By Lou Lou Leave a Comment

I was looking at my Instagram feed this afternoon when I realised that the majority of my pics were of shoes & food. Thinking about it many of my Facebook & Twitter posts are the same. It seems I spend a lot of time eating, and if I am not eating, I am thinking about eating. I am unashamedly passionate about food!

I get the sense that it is almost considered ‘unladylike’ by some for a woman to have a hearty appetite, it’s all supposed to be diet this, fat free that. I can’t count the amount of times when I have been out to eat with female friends and ordered a big old feast while others poked at unappetising looking limp lettuce leaves or gave umpteen instructions to the poor servers about how their food must be prepared, lest the world stops turning if someone ends up with butter on their bread. It’s hard to sit and enjoy a meal whilst listening to calorie this or carb gram that & hear the women I love so much talk about how ‘naughty’ they have been lately. In these situations actually enjoying your meal without regret seems almost improper or obscene.

Don’t get me wrong, I understand and appreciate the desire for a healthy & balanced food intake, it’s just this attitude towards food that equates deprivation with virtual sainthood & creates an almost phobic response to some foods that kind of breaks my heart. I love my food people! When it comes to eating I believe in balance, self moderation, fresh, Seasonal, preferably local ingredients, variety & whole, unprocessed foods. Similarly I believe in the power of food to create pleasure, culture, nurturing & ultimately bring people together.

When I think of a ‘good day’ I think of food, friends & family. A simple & yet perfect combination that never fails to make my heart happy! Days like these…

Handmade Potato Slinky at the Eumundi markets!

Fresh corn off the cob fritters with tomato relish & $5 roses Joy of Joys!

Market Cupcakery! FYI the gentleman manning the stall was pretty sweet too! ;)

I chose the red velvet with cream cheese frosting.. ooh baby!

Real fruit Icy cup really cools you down on a hot day!

Jumbo fruit salad topped with crunchy toasted muesli, Greek yoghurt & honey at Nude Deli Cotton Tree

More Nude food. I am a terrible food photographer but this was SERIOUSLY good eating. Roast pumpkin, mushroom & chicken lasange with fresh salad greens & a liberal splash of zingy honey mustard dressing. Love, love, loved this!

Carrot Cake giant cookie with cream cheese frosting (again with the cream cheese Lou Lou!) also Nude

Lovely Cotton Tree, fast becoming one of my favourite places to spend a lazy Saturday!

Fresh, local Seafood – Thank you Fisherman’s Haul I was so excited to find you so close to home!

It is usually me that drags my husband along to chase my culinary fantasies, but every now & again he has a suggestion & I have to indulge him. I was most definitely out of my comfort zone in more ways than one when we hit the ‘Golden Nugget’ for breakfast this morning, a local truck stop/restaurant situated along the Bruce Highway. There was not a fruit or vegetable in sight so I skipped the meat fest & pinched the grilled tomatoes from everyone’s plates. But I had some pretty cool breakfast buddies..

Not quite sure where they were going with this? Crazy noodles.

Decadent Deli Case- B Fresh Markets Warana (sadly no webby :( )

(My husband gets super embarrassed when I pull out my phone & start photographing food, but I can’t help it, I find delicious food so exciting that I want EVERYONE to try it too!)

Pumpkin Salad with fetta, sundried tomatoes, baby spinach, spanish onion & pine nuts. I loves me a fancy salad!

This plate is an absolute disgrace because some piggy who shan’t be named started munching before photographing. But here we have parmesan baked pita crisps, rosemary & sea salt paper thin crackers, rocket, pear & fetta dip & bruschetta topping. The dip was light & sweet in a gorgeous shade of green that I didn’t quite capture. The Bruschetta topping was delicious, it wasn’t oily at all & the tomatoes were soft & sweet with a hint of basil. Yum Yum YUM!

Baby taste tester- we love strawberries!

Best friend

Just Chillaxing

(and showing off my pretty shoes :P )

We love sand..

and sunshine!

(I am the proudest Aunty ever! I was blessed to be there to welcome this precious soul into the world & I haven’t stopped gushing since. She is joy personified & has just learned to say my name!)

Say CHEESE!

I hope your weekends are full of family, food & fun!

Filed Under: eats, family, Life, Yummy

Quiet.

April 9, 2012 By Lou Lou Leave a Comment

Last night I ended my 2 year treadmill strike. Yes, it’s really been that long! I do go for walks occasionally yadda yadda but let’s just say exercise & I aren’t exactly buddies. I was a chronic P.E wagger in high school. I hate puffing, I hate getting sweaty & the physical effects of working out just kinda freak me out. However yesterday I just needed to ‘do’ something. I felt emotionally chaotic & restless. I couldn’t stand myself & my feral mood. I wrote the pink portion of this post yesterday & it was so darn blah that I couldn’t post it. If I was sick of myself then I didn’t want to make you guys sick of me too, so I just left my browser open & walked away..

I’ve always been the kind of person that struggles with not being honest. If I am hiding something from you, you wont find me making a million fancy stories or excuses, I will just withdraw from you because it is easier than having to deal with not being able to tell the truth. Truth is freedom, for real.

I have had some kind of heavy stuff going on in my personal life lately that has made it almost impossible to blog or to pick up the phone & call those that I love & those that I would usually lean on for support. I’ve been kind of withdrawing from people because it is easier than having to deal with the anxiety of keeping secrets & I’ve withdrawn from this space because I feel like if I can’t talk with you all honestly then I can’t talk to you at all. I miss this space. I miss the freedom of sending my thoughts out to the universe instead of keeping them locked inside my head.

I have a beautiful life. I truly do. I have a husband that shows me unconditional love, a child that is sunshine personified, a support network that I feel completely unworthy of, a ‘job’ that I adore & my pretty shoes outnumber my feet tenfold. I want for very little. But what I have realised lately is that even with all of these things, I find it almost impossible to be happy when someone I love is hurting.

It’s no secret that I am a control freak, I have to know & be prepared for everything in minute detail. I’m a doer, when something goes wrong I swing into action and get ‘doing’! But sometimes there is really nothing to do. Some things are completely out of our control. The big things. And this is where I seem to struggle time & time again. Someone I love is hurting right now and I am utterly useless. The situation is completely out of my control. Nothing I do or say will make things better, so I am left watching them ride it out & feeling helpless. I’m all out of things to do.

I do not know how to be still with this feeling. I do not know how to be when there is nothing to ‘do’.

Enter date with the treadmill. It was so hilarious I almost took pictures but then I thought that might be just a procrastination technique so I refrained. But picture this..

It is no accident that the Vax lives on my treadmill, because I avoid both like the plague. Picture two clothing racks in front of the treadmill & the ironing board pushed in front of that. It was like treadmill Everest that I had to climb to make exercise possible. I fought my way through, plugged her in & popped on the clever magnetic key thingymabob. I expected to hear that cute little ‘beep beep’ that told me I was ready to jump aboard and enter the death zone but there was nothing. I thought to myself ‘If this thing has died from lack of use my husband is seriously going to kill me!’. I’ve mentioned it before but this rather expensive & yet neglected piece of equipment is a contentious issue within my marriage. I begged for it, he bought it, I didn’t use it, we sold it, I bought it back. Yes, I really did that. ‘Nuff said.

It then occurred to me that there was one more thing that I had forgotten to try. Oh yes, the on button. Yep, it has been so long that I literally forgot how to use my treadmill y’all! *le sigh*

How embarrassment!

The carnival of errors didn’t stop there though. After about 5 minutes Miss precious was a little too hot. Steps off treadmill, takes off shirt, get’s back on. Still too hot. I made my way to the back of the machine walking backwards, somehow managed not to fall off, turned on fan, good to go! Did I mention that I hate exercise? Well I hate it so much that I can’t face it without tricking myself into it by watching television at the same time. I decided to watch Masterchef re runs on my laptop so cleverly propped up my laptop on my ironing board, now I was really ready! After about 3 minutes I started to feel dizzy and realised that the positioning of the screen was making me motion sick. Get back off treadmill, climbed up to prop laptop on top of bookcase. Perfect.

*** by the way, that Rachel lady on masterchef, holy flirtypants batman! Ahem.

Anyway, no treadmill or Lou Lou was harmed in the making of this blog. I may have been in just my bra, it may have taken me longer to get it all set up than I actually spent exercising, I may have been salivating the whole time thinking about the masterchefery that I would create when I was done & Adriano Zumbo, but I did it. Strike over!

I also did it again this morning with far less complaining!

I don’t know why I turned to my arch nemesis for such unlikely comfort. I realised something though. I may not be able to control what is going on in my life right now. I may not be able to ‘fix’ things or even make them better for those that I love. But I can look after me. Up until Friday I had been sick for four weeks. One of those cold/flu hybrids that I just couldn’t shake. My insomnia was back & I was feeling perpetually nauseous. Looking back, it is no surprise given my current stress & anxiety levels that my immune system had taken a pounding. However, if I can manage my own stress productively & fill my soul cup I will have more to give to those who need me.

I realised something else too. Life might not look the way that I thought it would, not the way we planned. But it can still be a good life. It is a good life. Things probably aren’t going to go back to ‘normal’ any time soon, but together we will make a new kind of normal.

In the immortal words of the Rolling Stones…

“You can’t always get what you want
But if you try sometimes you just might find
You just might find
You get what you need”

It’s going to be ok.

Filed Under: family, Life, Love, Things that suck

The business of birthdays.

February 22, 2012 By Lou Lou Leave a Comment

I woke up 30 this morning, It was hard to ignore particularly because my husband woke me up at 12.00am to tell me so (he is sweet but a little too enthusiastic about the whole deal if you ask me!). In some ways I feel so very old and then in other insecure, notoriously socially awkward ways I feel like I am still 15 years old.

I still get that face, so does my daughter. Is grumpiness genetic do you think?

I wonder what she is thinking?

Probably something cheeky, I still get this face too. As does my daughter. They call that karma.

It’s so weird looking at old photos of yourself. Someone you know so well but somehow you can’t reach them. If I could, I would tell her that she is perfectly good enough just the way she is, and that everything would work out just fine. Let’s just fast forward those angsty years shall we? Or not. The older I get the more I believe that everything is working out just how it is supposed to, even if it doesn’t make sense right now.

I’m grateful to be here, grateful for 30 years. Hopeful for 30 more!

It’s at these milestone birthdays that we start bargaining with our time left here on earth. If you give me another 30 years I promise to stop eating cold Watties tin spaghetti for breakfast and use the treadmill more… or something like that.

FYI I like to milk my birthday’s for all they are worth. At least a week’s worth of attention will do.

My birthday started like this..

I am an absolute fool for flowers, I just can’t get enough of them. Whether they come in gorgeous fancy arrangements like this one did (thank you my darling Vanessa), or fresh from my own garden, they are like gold to me. And I have the disgusting habit of holding on to them way past stinky…

I’m not really the ‘party animal’ type. Sure, I do like to get my tipsy on occasionally, but waking up with a hangover (or worse) is not my ideal birthday treat. I’ll save my sloshpants for YOUR birthday! Instead I like to head away with a few of my favourite peeps and just laze about & eat my weight in fine foods. If you don’t come back 5 kilos heavier then you are doing it wrong imo :P

So we rented a beach house in the teeny little ‘Town of Seaside’ on the Sunny Coast. Seriously, it is like the set of Desperate Housewives , immaculately manicured patches of suburban perfection, it’s very easy to forget your troubles there! I felt like a right tool taking a photograph of the public toilet, and I’m sure the perfectly manicured residents were horrified by my uncouth behaviour but come on, look at it! I would happily live in there!

The house we actually rented wasn’t too shabby either!

It was large & well proportioned, with every mod con you could ever desire & that fancy grass that you just want to roll around in!

This was my favourite part of the whole house. The perfect chair to read a book, catch the morning sun and listen to the sounds of the ocean. Only common decency and my husband stopped me from squishing that chair into our car & taking it home.

We spent some time frolicking!

and eating…. ok, that was mainly me doing the eating, but it’s MY birthday and I will gain 10 kilos if I want to! :P

That is such a craptacular photo of the Gelati, but have you ever tried to take a picture of gelati with your glasses getting misty with excitement as you fight the natural urge to lick the cabinet? I guess not. This multi award winning creamy confection was at Colin James fine foods Maleny. Did you know they have a whole room for cheese there? I would love to hide in there like some sneaky over sized mouse and just nibble my days away…

Of course I couldn’t resist stopping into Rosetta Books

Where I proceeded to buy half the store, or at least that is what you would think if you had heard the slight groaning sound my husband made when we were at the cash register. Personally, I think I was quite restrained (don’t make me pull the birthday card again!).

I popped in to see lovely Ann at Quiltopia Design , where I got to fondle all of the pretty fabrics in person for once & pick up a few pretties that I ‘needed’..

She gave me this cute little tape measure shaped like a rubber ducky for my birthday and it tickles me no end. There is a five year old trapped inside of this 30 year old body just dying to come out and play I swear!

Sadly, like all good things, my perfect little holiday had to come to an end. Of course I was sad but also eager to get home to greet my new sewing love child…

and celebrate my proper birthday, today!

With some tasty treats from a couple of crazy friends who were super duper awesome enough to indulge my love of peanut butter confectionery… I almost fainted when I saw this! I can see myself getting rather fattyboomtastic this year/week. Thank you my lovelies for being so thoughtful and hilarious. I can just imagine the two of you conjuring up this!

And some pretty gifts that had been taunting me to open them all week. I literally squealed with delight when I saw the unmistakable packaging from Pip Studio . “Happy products for Happy People” -hey that’s me!!

This pretty porcelain is absolutely DIVINE and I feel incredibly blessed to be given such a beautiful gift. Straight to the top of this strange crockery hierarchy I have going in this house! I get seriously annoyed when someone has the audacity to use MY favourite plate/cup. Hell will have no fury like yours truly if anyone dares to touch these babies!

So if you were wondering what else I was planning to do with my special day, skydiving or swinging from some chandelier perhaps?

Nope. In truly Bridget Jonesesque style I am climbing back into bed with Jane Austin & some Reece’s pieces to laze the day away until I meet my darling for lunch. Even at 30 I am SUCH a NERD! :P

P.S. It looks like 30 is definitely going to be the age of the photoshop! ;0 )

xxLL

Filed Under: eats, family, Life, silly, Yummy

Sisters.

January 16, 2012 By Lou Lou Leave a Comment

“Finally you got your long-awaited privacy, your own grown-up life, and you wound up calling her all the time just to see what she is doing.

You wouldn’t have guessed it years ago while you were yelling at her through the bathroom door, but there’s so much comfort, such relief in having someone in your life who has always known you, who gets your jokes & accepts your eccentricities. Who else has humoured you throughout your rebellious phase, your intellectual phase, and that one weird health food phase?

No matter who you’ve become, your sister knows where you began, how it all started. She may be the only person who has the ability to recount every good, great, or stupid thing you’ve ever done. She understands the girl inside the grown up woman you are today, and that is no small thing.”

It started a little like this..

admittedly it wasn’t exactly love at first sight!

Back then I thought you were a pain in my rear.. but looking at this picture now I realise just how precious you were & I wish that I had been a little nicer to you. Like that time I dragged you through the bindies.. If I could go back in time I would take better care of you, I would let you know that you are a great dancer with an awesome voice & pretty fabulous style.

Time changes everything…

It has been so beautiful watching you grow.

(I remember when you bought that dress, I was a pain in the ass that day, I’m sorry about that too.)

You met a boy… who changed everything.

(and so began the serious of photos in various stages of undress that I will continue to tease you about, are you sure your husband actually owns clothes because he never seems to be wearing any :P )

I’m not sure that ever I told you this, but you were so beautiful that day.

And every day.

“Your sister will do anything for you, as proven by the bridesmaid dress she wore at your wedding.”

and I forgive you for that too.

lemon meringue anyone? :P

I met a boy too..

And I think you approved because..

When you first saw me on my wedding day you looked at me like this..

and told me I looked like a princess!

(Thank you for always making me feel pretty)

You looked really pretty that day too, and I couldn’t have done it without you there.

I remember exactly the story I was telling you here, who else would have been as suitably outraged as you? Thank you for ‘getting it’ and always having my back.

One of my favourite parts of the whole day was just lying here with you, two girls on a bed (and a charming young man who I also adore) , having a chat. I pray you always find time to lay on my bed for a chat.

But not just girls anymore, also mothers. Have I told you lately that you are a beautiful mother? I hope you know that, I don’t think you get enough credit. Fierce as a lion protecting your gorgeous cubs, even if it takes a good zapping! ;) You make me want to try harder, do better. I would love my child to think I am half as good a mother as I see that you are.

I love your girls as if they were my own, or perhaps in a way they are because they are a part of you and you a part of me. Know that I will be here for you & them for always.

I don’t want you to go. Not while I still need you around. Though I know I can’t ask you to stay..

But can you? Just another day, or maybe even forever?

Who else do I know that would stop in my driveway for a Kentucky fried chicken picnic and a phone call? Yes, I totally took that photo, you should know me by now ;)

” And there is the miracle of sisterhood. Without knowing it, in fact sometimes without even liking it, the two of you formed a powerful, unbreakable bond created from thousands of tiny, seemingly forgettable moments.

Today you can see it- that your ideas about loyalty, fairness & cooperation have been formed by each other. You’ve been one another’s teacher, mirror and friend. And deep down you understand what only sisters can know: That you belong to each other in a way that can never belong to anyone else.That a love that grows through stages and phases is even stronger for having been tested. That sticking together works for almost anything life can throw at you. That you’ll keep moving forward, shoulder to shoulder, through every phase of life. And that makes all the difference”

I love you Jomo more than you will ever now. But for now I’ll miss your smile

Filed Under: family, gratitude, Life, Love, PDA

Growing up.

December 7, 2011 By Lou Lou Leave a Comment

In all honesty I’m kind of in a Christmas funk this year. I’ve always had this almost child like, idealised view of Christmas that you see in the Disney Christmas eve special. You know the ones where people trek across the globe rain, hail or natural disaster all to be together in time for Christmas. Where no matter what happens throughout the year, somehow Christmas makes everything ok.

I partly ~~blame~~ thank my parents for indulging this fantasy of mine for so long, because regardless of whether we had been playing out world war three five minutes earlier, by the time our family was jammed into our car with 10tonnes of gifts and food ‘Christmas’ had begun. No frowns allowed because Christmas was on like Donkey Kong and for that one day a year everything was Disney perfect.

The older I get the more I realise that my Christmas fantasy is kind of flawed and the reality is that Christmas time is stressful for many people, myself included. I realise that adult relationships are complicated and often cannot be tied up in a neat, pretty red ribbon bow. That real life doesn’t always resemble a Christmas eve Disney special.

I guess they call this growing up?

However before I cop a bauble in the head for being the Ruffler who stole Christmas, I have to admit that despite my grumpiest intentions a little Christmas is starting to creep in. I think I noticed it when I was knee deep in polka dot tulle and my favourite little human was suggesting I add a cape to her Christmas frock..

I didn’t. But it took about 4 seconds to realise that although it hurts a little to lose the magic of Christmas as an adult, it’s not about me anymore. Christmas is now about

Her.

And I realised that it’s now my job to give the gift of a magical Christmas to her and make it last as long as it possibly can. Because by golly I am thankful for the 29 magic Christmases that I will keep in my heart forever. I truly believe Christmas spirit is contagious and just having her around is having a funny effect on me…

Like mother like daughter? And somehow almost against my will I find myself humming Christmas carols and fiddling with the tree that I almost didn’t want to put up this year because ‘we won’t be here to enjoy it anyway’ *cough* tantrum *cough*.

I’m so glad that Christmas is sneaking back in, hopefully just in time for Santa…

Filed Under: family, Life

Sunny Saturday-What fills your cup?

July 30, 2011 By Lou Lou 3 Comments

I’m a super huge fan of Sunny Mummy . I remember reading an old blog post of Stacey’s one morning and having this one phrase stuck in a loop in my head all day long “what fills your cup Lisa? What fills your cup?”. No, I’m not talking about my morning Jarrah pseudo latte, it’s white chocka mocha by the way! I’m talking about what fills my soul cup, what replenishes me? What nourishes and nurtures me as a woman, wife and mother.

After a fabulous but exhausting weekend away recently, I mentally bookmarked this weekend for a scheduled soul-cup refill. Where better to start than one of my favourite places to be, the delightful little town of Maleny. I think somewhere along the way I left a little piece of my heart there because it always feels like home to me.

First stop-food! There are a bunch of lovely little cafes that beckon as you walk the Maleny high street, most of which we haven’t tried as we tend to buy our yummies and take them with us! However today we were hungry with plenty of time up our sleeves so we decided to try one. They all looked and smelled great but most were really busy. This probably means the ones we skipped were fabulous local haunts but in all honesty I like a little bit of quiet and the illusion of privacy when I go out to eat. Plus, children are loose cannons when dining out, you never know what stunt they will pull to publicly humiliate their parents (like the time my little ~~feral~~ angel took her nappy off, left it under the table at a restaurant and mummy had to go back and discreetly PUT IT IN HER HANDBAG!)

So we were delighted to find that “Monica’s” nestled away near the end of the street was alive, but not chaotic. What really swayed me was the sight of french toast on the specials board and a glimpse of comfy couches and loft dining! Wherever available, I will head straight to a couch in a cafe. We ordered a Giant cookie and freshly squeezed orange juice (her), chicken pesto panini (him) and sweet potato and lentil pattie on toasted panini with curried tahini dressing (me). I love, love good vegetarian food, it’s literal soul food for me, nomnomnom. Of course mummy and daddy ordered the obligatory lattes too!

Scrummy menu

Mummy's scrummies

Illicit substance for the parental figures

The food was delicious! Mine looked like a rainbow and tasted like one too. I tasted hubbie’s and it was also fabulous, he sat back at one point and declared it ‘the best sandwich ever!’ which I thought was kind of cute. Little miss gave her cookie and juice the thumbs up too. I was so obsessed with my sandwich that I came back later and bought the dressing! Lmao. Ok, ok , I do love my food : P

obsessed much?

In order to keep Miss 6 on board we decided to alternate between things she wanted to do and ‘boring grown up stuff’ so next stop was off to the lovely timber park.

Miss 6 and her ruffles

Excuse the attitude face, don’t know what that was about. Possibly because I had the audacity to make her stand still for 5 and a half seconds in order to take a picture of her when there was serious playing to be done. And yes, she owns other clothes, we just can’t get that bloody skirt off her! She calls it ‘ruffle’ and gets way too excited when she sees it come out of the wash. Those shoes are another point of contention but I try to ignore them. I suspect they will soon fall apart and the battle will be over. Or perhaps that is naive parental optimism talking.

The next stop was actually the toilet but thankfully none of us posed for a photo..

Then we found a charming little quilting shop tucked away off the main street. Actually, I found it last time we were there but at the time could not convince the husband that stopping was a good idea. This time my feminine wiles worked and I dragged him into Quiltopia for a quick browse. While I do the majority of my fabric shopping online you really can’t beat the simple pleasure of getting to see, touch compare and even smell the lovely fabrics in a bricks and mortar fabric shop. The owner Ann is lovely and clearly knows and loves her fabric. She looked so happy there in her lovely little shop! I fell in love with a Moda print and dragged the husband back later so that I could adopt it, I’m not sure what Ann thought when she saw us back again!

Divine print

As promised, next stop was chosen by Miss six and predictably we ended up at the sweet shop. ‘Sweets on Maple’ is about 245 kinds of awesome and truth be told I love going in there just as much as my chocolate munching counterparts. I am completely fascinated by the American sweets section, or is that shamelessly lured by the promise of Reece’s Peanut butter cups? Seriously, how splendid is the combination of PB and chocolate?

See what I mean? I am powerless to this aisle.

We always try something a little fancy..

The champagne truffle was delightful but we both ran to the park bubbler after trying a ‘chilli bite’. It looked divine with a sprinkle of gold leaf dust but it really did have some bite! Goodness knows what we were expecting? Much restraint was exercised when I left this baby behind, next time giant freckle, next time!

Super Yums

After approximately 35 laps around the store I finally decided upon these to add to my private chocolate stash..

better than sex?

That Reece is my new boyfriend I swear!

Next stop was my favourite bookshop, I super dooper love this place. Where else are you allowed, no actually ENCOURAGED to do this?

Yes, I do it too. Every time. Don’t worry there are enough comfy couches for everyone, and cushions! In fact I suggest the folks at ‘Rosetta Books’ keep an eye on me because I could totally move in there! After miss 6 asked me to read her a ‘Bratz’ novel the other day which resulted in me almost throwing it across the room in disgust, I decided that some classic Enid Blyton was in order and I am really looking forward to reading them….to her. ahem.

Bratz antidote

A lovely day was had by all and to top it all off we made it down the winding Montville range without being hit by a wave of projectile vomit from miss six in the back. Won’t somebody give me a high five? (Yes, that really did happen last time)

I came home, had a warm shower and snuggled into my pj’s for a bit of a blog and a bit more of a certain chocolate bar..

My cup, heart and tummy are well and truly full today and I am filled with gratitude for simple pleasures.

Filed Under: family, gratitude, Life, Yummy

The only good thing about being sick..

June 30, 2011 By Lou Lou Leave a Comment

is…

Cheer-me-up tulips from him *swoon*

Cute cards from her (I am that rather large one in the middle, it looks as though I ate a couple of wee children!)

and mysterious folk in funny masks!

With exceptional health care like this I am bound to get better real soon!

Hope your house is happy and healthy : )

Filed Under: family, Life, Love, PDA, silly

My best work yet!

June 23, 2011 By Lou Lou 3 Comments

This is without a doubt my favourite thing that I have ever made. It’s by no means my best work technically, in fact I didn’t even bother to use a pattern or ruler! But it was made one recent lazy Saturday afternoon, with my very best girl. I can’t even begin to express the gratitude I feel to be able to sew, and pass a little of my passion on to my little one. It means so much to me to be able to share that gift with her. She chose the fabric, trims, colour of the thread and the fancy stitching we did around the top (that I’m totally going to use more often!). While I taught her what a bobbin was (that 12 months ago I didn’t even know myself!), let her play with the presser foot, push the buttons and control the foot pedal (FYI she’s a lead foot just like her mother!).

It was an exercise in patience and letting go, because my perfectionist tendencies had me wanting to take over and make sure every stitch was ‘right’. I guess there was an element of trust there too, me trusting my 6 year old to listen to my instructions so that she didn’t sew my finger to the bag! But she/we did well. The bag is beautiful, functional and no fingers were lost in it’s construction. Plus we had a really great time! She started talking about having a ‘sewing Saturday’ every week and it made me so happy that she enjoyed it so much.

I’m hoping it’s the first of many creations that we will make together, or maybe even the blossoming of her own little love affair with sewing. Or maybe not. Maybe she will never sew another thing in her whole life! But she’ll always have the pretty little bag she made one lazy Saturday afternoon with her mama! And that makes my heart happy : )

I’m just so lucky to have her, she is a million kinds of awesome and I hope she knows just how much I love her and feel blessed to be her mama.

Filed Under: family, Life, Love, Uncategorized