v day

Do you celebrate Valentine's Day? One of those that make today the most sickly romantic day of the year? It seems quite normal - a regular behaviour for such a day. It barely registers on my calendar. It serves to remind me that my brother in law's birthday is the day before, and that two years ago, I was praying that Eliot did not choose such a date to make his grand entrance into this world. Thankfully he decided the sixteenth would be a far better date to declare his birthday. Thankyou my little love.

My husband used to be more romantic. In those first years we were together. Which is pretty normal I think. Seven years into married life, and nine together in total, the definition of romance has changed somewhat and V Day is non existent for us. Occasionally he will surprise me with a bunch of flowers or a card, but I never expect anything. And neither does he. And I'm totally okay with that. I find the day a little strange to be honest. All the heart shaped confectionary and singing stuffed toys. Plenty may feel differently, but I don't need to be showered with flowers or chocolates or a fancy dinner for him to show me he loves me - or vice versa. We show and tell each other every day that our love is strong. Hubby is a quiet soul. He really only speaks if it's absolutely necessary. And even when it is absolutely necessary - he may still say nothing. He prefers useful action, to words.

If he has really busy weeks at work where he knows he will miss bedtime routine, and being able to spend time with the kids before they go to bed, he will do tasks and chores around home in the morning that will make my life easier at the end of the day, so that the evening schedule can run as smoothly as possible with one man down. Once dinner is done, my day of kitchen duty is officially over. He is chief cleaner and dishwasher stacker, restoring order swiftly and routinely. It seems he is forever folding and sorting washing. When I have thrown the towel in for the day, unable to move from the couch, he can be found in the other lounge room, folding and sorting clean clothes into piles to be put away while he watches the tele. I tell him it can wait till morning - he never listens. He says once it's done, it's done. If he goes to the shop on the way home from work, or after the kids are in bed, he returns with a chocolate surprise. He changes the sheets every Sunday morning. He is in charge of the vacuuming. He has a system as finely tuned as his evening Operation Clean Kitchen. He does the washing without being asked. Some weekends he is the only one near the washing machine. Weekdays, he will wait in the mornings to hang it out, before he heads to work because he knows it will be one less thing on my to-do-list for the day. He will bust his arse at work on a Tuesday so that he can leave early to take Ruby to her dance class.

Hubby comes from quite a conservative family when it comes to open affection. Which is perhaps why he is the complete opposite in his adulthood. He has always been open with public displays of affection and craves touch to feel loved. The PDAs do not extend to sending beautiful big bunches of flowers to my workplace (pre kids of course) to declare his undying love. However, he did propose on the top of the Summit at Mt Buller in front of quite a number of strangers.

I'll take my dish washing, clothes sorting, bed making hubby over a flower and chocolate giving one, any day.

photo by Tim

father's day

A sleep in for dad
Breakfast in bed
Handmade gifts
Of course something that must be returned..
Healesville Sanctuary
Sunshine
Chinos and gingerbread
Fish and chips
Chasing

A spontaneous decision to stay into the evening to ward off yet another late, late afternoon sleep by all three, was so very clever. Well done me. A dark, peaceful drive home, with happy hearts, sore legs and a bit of dirt carried into their beds. I do love morning baths anyway.

seven

Thankyou for seven sweet years of marriage, my love xx

52 weeks of grateful :: reclaimed intimacy

This could be the post that pushes me into the crowd of over-sharing bloggers. I have always been honest here in my little space. I have said before, I am a loner in my grateful posts in that I have never joined in with the weekly topic. I prefer my week tell me what I am grateful for. This week it told me I was grateful to get my groove back. Finally. {If I've put you off your dinner, come back tomorrow for something shiny, happy and sexless.}

A little over a month ago I became me again. No babies to feed. No babies to grow. For the first time in four and a half years. All the mamas know, growing and birthing babies affects your sex life. Whether you believe it will, or not. Before our blessed babes arrived into this world, when I used to hear people say it {sex} all changes after you have kids, I naively thought not us. How can it all change when having a baby only increases the amount of love between you and your husband {partner/boyfriend/girlfriend/whatever}? You created life. You made a human being. That is some serious crafting. Some serious loving.

I must say I don't think I really came to fully understand that statement until after Eliot was born. With each child that arrives, you have less and less time. For anything. Sex included. And plenty of it has been taken out of your hands. Especially if you are breastfeeding. The body is content on thieving necessary functions required for the big love. I fell into the large majority of breastfeeding mothers whose sex drive falls significantly while feeding. Did I want to have sex with my husband? Of course. Did I feel like having sex with my husband? No.* And that's not heart. That's hormones. And timing. Eliot was a healthy little feeder and right up until ten months of age, had the awesome ability of waking for a feed just as I was heading to bed, be it alone or for some lovin. But we were both happy to put up with the handful of shitty things that come with breastfeeding, to be able to enjoy the armfuls of wonderful things that come with breastfeeding. In the scheme of things, it was for such a short space of time.

In the last four and a half years I have gone from pregnant to breastfeeding to pregnant to breastfeeding to pregnant to breastfeeding. Translated to best sex of your life to worst sex of your life. And repeat. Twice. And now I'm just me again. Hormones back to normal. And a {mostly} all-night-sleeping baby. I am needed less. Which means a little more free time has crept through the back door. A little more free time to get to know each other again. To reconnect. Properly. No hormones or pregnancy exhaustion or feeding or full milky boobs or blah blah blah getting in the way. Just us. Reclaiming our territory. And it is oh. so. sweet.

{photos by the talented Mr C}

{Linking up with the beautiful Maxabella for Kidspot}

*No, hubby was not starved of sex for the past twelve months. Far from it. We all have needs.

parallel lives

{I have to tell you the sunrise shots were not edited at all. The sky was amazing that morning.}

Milina and I are living parallel lives. We're sure of it. The only difference between us this week was that while her husband was in fantasy football land, mine was working. Would have been more fun if we were on the same couch. But then it would have been odd playing Draw Something right next to each other.

On top of the usual routine I have been playing dad too, not always successfully. When Ruby and Cole ask will we see dad before we go to bed tonight? I hate having to say no. Next week will run the same. Why do people always leave everything to the last week of term to get things done? And then handball all their stress and anxiety, and ridiculous schedules onto my husband? Grrr.

In amongst the pick ups and drop offs, commitments and routine, we have been trying to take things slowly. We are heading into a busy weekend and an even busier week. Hubby's birthday will be on Saturday and he's one of those ignore-it-I-don't-want-anything-special kind of people. BORING. Of course I always make a fuss. I never understand why people do that? And how did I end up marrying one? Love goggles, I'm sure. A birthday should be a celebration of another year of life, whether it was fabulous or crap. Balloons and cake all the way. So while there will of course be cake for my darling, we will be celebrating in style, elsewhere. Three year old style to be exact. Some dear friends of ours have just moved back home after two and half years in Sydney, and their little girl turned three this week. We will also be meeting her baby brother for the first time. Who is almost one.. ahem. I can't wait.

Next week I hope to share a whole lotta photos with you. I have been keeping Tim's shots all to myself. But I think I should share them with you. And then I will need to leave a few days' gap before I show you the fruits of a family shoot I did last weekend. Just so you forget how amazing Tim's are and still think mine are okay. And then there's this and this I need to attend to. I'm just, like, totes popular.

Thank goodness tomorrow is Friday. Our only free weekday. Exhale.