It's Moments Like These You Need...

Chocolate.

Yes, chocolate fixes all problems. Those who know me will know I am a total cliche. A woman who loves chocolate. Chocolate is my vice, my addiction, my kryptonite. In fact I believe chocolate is single handedly responsible for keeping me about three kilos above skinny for pretty much my entire adult life. That extra bit of chub is all down to chocolate, and it's so worth it, for I could not live without it.

These days it's a special treat for me to have chocolate with less than a 70% cocoa content. My addiction is so bad that I've had to retrain my tastes, so that anything too sugary just tastes wrong (except when I've had a few wines, and I'd do anything for a block of Cadbury peppermint...).

Anyway, my poison of choice is Lindor 70% Cocoa, and I buy a block every time I'm at the shops, at least so often that I've not yet been able to use the "Confectionary Free Check Out" (yes, this exists at my local Woolworths).

Recently I discovered a new type of Lindt chocolate block. It's "extra dark" (60% cocoa - stop the press!) and filled with something gooey that makes it, and I quote, "highly meltable". Also highly freaking amazing. See picture below, and take note as you will want to get yourself some:

To get you inspired, I've taken a leaf from Minties' book and compiled a list entitled It's Moments Like These You Need Lindor:

- Both kids are sleeping. Double fist pump! Sit down and enjoy some Lindor.
- Neither child is sleeping. Both are being loud and stressful. Hide somewhere they won't find you and enjoy some Lindor.
- Friends are over. Break out the Lindor.
- You're alone. And lonely. Let Lindor be your friend.
- Your child has just done a wee next to the potty. Break off a piece of Lindor.
- It's 7pm and your husband has just text to let you know he's still in the office...on a call...Lindor.

You get the picture. Any time is Lindor time.

Enjoy!
*Sponsored by Lindor
**I wish!

Z x

Baby Steps

My little boy is six months old tomorrow (sob!). He is just perfection in every way. We're all head over heels for him.

I've sort of taken the "less is more" approach to parenting when it comes to little W. Probably for a number of reasons. Firstly, I don't have a lot of time to fuss over him. Secondly, he doesn't need a lot - he is an extremely uncomplicated baby. Finally, I've tried to follow the Gerber technique of respectful parenting, albeit pretty loosely.

I came across Magda Gerber's philosophies while reading Janet Lansbury's amazing parenting blog. The blog I stumbled upon while looking for positive discipline techniques when it became obvious I had a strong minded toddler on my hands. It appealed to me not only for its respectful and gentle approach to parenting but its similarities with Montessori philosophy.

It's hard for me to articulate and explain exactly what I mean by respectful parenting but Janet explains it really well in her blog here. A huge part of it that resonated with me was allowing babies to play independently and observing them closely, as well as letting them develop and learn at their own pace. So, for example, no forcing to roll over, propping up to sitting positions, training them to stand and so forth. Letting them get there in their own time.

I don't know if it's because W is my baby, possibly my last (possibly) or because of everything I learnt the first time around, but I am completely happy to let him just BE for as long as possible. To be a tiny baby. To lay on the ground and babble. To sleep by our bed every night.

Suddenly, "milestones" are so unimportant to me. Sleeping through the night? He does, but not always. And it genuinely doesn't bother me when he wakes up. I give him a cuddle or a feed and go back to bed. Crawling? I can see that he wants to crawl, which is frustrating to him. I could prop him onto his knees, just once. But I don't, because I see the progress he is making every day to get there by himself. And how proud he, and I, will be when he does!

I have a three year old who is quite dependent, who I created by fussing over to the extreme. Through my learning and our continued involvement in Montessori education, we are getting there. But I think a combination of her personality and my early over-stimulation and over-pandering of her will mean she is always a little more needy (although still perfect, in my eyes).

So for now, we are moving forward with baby steps. One day at a time.

Z x

Gratitude

When you're home all day with two small children it can be easy to lose sight of the big picture. Especially when your three year old is pulling all the utensils out of the kitchen drawers and naming them "Love" and "Oven", while the six month old…well okay, he's pretty perfect. But he needs caring for while all the utensil naming is going on. Meanwhile you're bored, and lonely, and would quite like to be having a wine somewhere glamorous with adult people.

So you wish for some time alone and some time out. And maybe feel a little sorry for yourself, because you're stupid like that.

At the beginning of the month, disaster struck our little suburb. A fire lit up a shop and the apartments above, and three people died - a 27 year old man and his neighbours, a 31 year old mother and her 12 month old baby boy.

This was just a few hundred metres from my house, and has affected me and our community greatly. Not a single person here has been untouched by it - people are talking about it everywhere you go, and meanwhile there is a gaping hole where three buildings are missing on the main street. Even J, who is less emotional and current affairs obsessed than I, was compulsively watching the news and thinking about it for days, imagining being that father left behind.

It's difficult to watch the community that's so embraced and welcomed us struggle - this is the kind of place where you can make a great friend by simply chatting to someone at the playground, the coffee shop. You talk to your neighbours. You know all the business owners, many of whom have been shut down for weeks.

Today was the funeral of the woman and baby who died. We were running errands up the road and I wondered at the amount of people, the news cameras, the black…and then I realised. I felt so sick. That baby…that mother. Were they scared? I hope not. Tonight, I read about it online. Mother and baby, buried in the casket together. Where they were happiest.

And I cried, and cried, and cried.

Every day we get to spend with the people we love is an absolute blessing. The days can be long, but the weeks are short and painfully finite. So I am reminded to be so, so grateful. And tomorrow, I will sit on the kitchen floor and name utensils, while I can.

Z xx

Brothers & Sisters

I've been feeling increasingly inspired to return to blogging lately and then this morning, BAM! I HAD to write. I love these moments - there's no faffing about, wondering what you'll write about or how you'll find the time. You just have to do it.

The nature of siblings has been on my mind a lot lately as I watch my two interact more and more. Really, no one is closer to you, genetically or otherwise - not only do you share the same DNA, you share a history, a story.

My brother and I were just 17 months apart, he the younger, and by all accounts never had a fight in our lives. I certainly don't remember any. We are complete opposites, which I think accounts for our getting on - I am loud and confident and talkative but also in many ways a thinker and an observer, whereas he is quieter but just gets on with things. More of a doer. We also have a sister but she's quite a bit younger than us, the baby and in many ways equaliser of the family - probably we are both closer to her than we are to each other, in adulthood. Oh and trust me, we both fought with her!

My brother and I got up to all sorts of mischief as little children and apparently drove my Mum quite mad. She recounts stories of getting us dressed up for a day out and returning home in tears vowing to never do it again.

When we were older we worked in the same pizza shop and carpooled to and from work. One night we were driving up our street, very late, when we spotted a large mass on the road - someone had placed a large block of cement right in the middle of the street. Teenagers probably, like us but stupider. Had we hit it in my old car it could have killed us. But as we pulled over to move it, a car came speeding up behind us, our neighbour's. We frantically started beeping the horn, my brother running into the street, but they hit it with an almighty bang. My parents ran out thinking it was us. No one was badly hurt but the car was completely written off, and the night is etched in both of our memories.

These days I don't see him much, him being the quiet person he is and the kind of guy who is probably more inclined to spend weekends with his girlfriend's family than his own. Like most men I guess. But I feel incredibly proud and protective of him, worry for him and stalk his Facebook posts. Normal big sister behaviour. Having had the privilege of having both a brother and a sister, I feel there is a completely different relationship between a woman and her sister to that between she and her brother - at least in my experience.

So here's to brothers - mine and my daughter's, our sweet little ray of sunshine who she finally happily plays with and is less inclined to try to smother...

 Z xx