I’ve been poking around our family heritage for a while trying to find an old family camera.
No such luck.
Who has my dad’s old camera? He can’t remember.
One of my biggest regrets is selling Jason’s old Pentax before we left for China. It needed some work but it would’ve been worth it.
*sigh*
So I’m staying up long past my bedtime, fight the almost lack of internet right now to try and win one. Check this out:
This is my most favourite blog of all — my most favourite photography (I am totally telling the truth and not gushing at all).
I’m in love with Jason’s Instagram (I definitely use it more than he does) so Jason says, please give this girl her own polaroid camera. Please. He wants his phone back.
It suddenly occured to me today, that I’m already in my second trimester. Feels a little odd to say that since these days, other than the obvious bump, I’ve hardly felt pregnant. Well, at least not compared to last time. When they said each pregnancy is different, I didn’t expect it to be that different.
Some things are not different. I have a major aversion to pumpkin. When I was pregnant with Xavier, one night, Jason made a sort of pumpkin soup that had black beans, or maybe the black beans were actually part of a different dish. All I remember is that we firmly established that evening the pregnancy isn’t not a good time to experiment in the kitchen and I did not care to see pumpkins or black beans for the next two trimesters because goodness knows, I saw them repeatedly that particular evening. The aversion to pumpkin at least has continued (we don’t eat much in the way of black beans in Australia — a good thing right now). I can barely even stand the sight of it without gagging. A few weeks back, forgetting my aversion I actually bought a half a butternut pumpkin. Well it stayed in the fridge because I couldn’t bear to look at it…mistake number two since by the time I actually took it out it was no longer orange. Lovely. Now I’m really opposed to pumpkin.
I have some other thoughts on food.
Why is it, we measure our baby’s growth in relation to food items? Is it any wonder most pregnant women feel so nauseous when all we do is talk about food?
Hardly anything food wise sounds appetizing to me right now. I’m hungry that’s for sure but other than living on a diet of cow’s milk, I can still barely think about food. It doesn’t make me sick, it just doesn’t sound good. But if something does suddenly sound good, you better believe it needs to be eaten promptly!
On the other hand, no major food cravings means I haven’t put on a bunch of weight. Where has this bump come from then?!
Clearly my body is lacking in calcium right now because I am eating full cream yoghurt and thinking suddenly how much nicer it would be if I were eating just plain cream. I had this problem last pregnancy too.
Something that I really enjoy about being pregnant is how clearly my body communicates what nutrients and minerals it needs. Even more so this time since I’m still breastfeeding Xavier. Unless you consider cream to be junk food (I don’t), I don’t have ‘naughty’ cravings as such. This time around, I feel more distinctly my body is saying calcium or protein or healthy fats.
Hey, can probiotics be considered a craving? Cause I know my body cannot get enough yoghurt and water kefir! I reckon it can. That’s probably why many women crave pickles — probiotics in the fermentation process.
And finally, ending this ridiculously abstract post, I guess it’s time to admit I’m no longer in the vegetarian camp. I’m not done feeling terribly guilty but my craving for protein was getting the better of me…not with dreams where I killed multitudes over lobster tails but it was the continuous feeling of dizziness and that I was going to pass out. So we added a bio-mineral formula along with chicken and this last week, I tried lamb. Neither meats of which I’m a fan of but hey, I’m still standing! No longer dizzy, no longer blacking out momentarily.
Actually, I really do feel great. Pregnant but great!
Probably…I could do this again!
Obviously the happy hormones have kicked in…
PS. I apologize about the size of the photos and writing on them — if I go with the larger option, the photo is too big for the page and this size, obviously you need your magnifying glass to read them (sorry Mum). When Jason has a moment, he’s going to help me try and figure out if there’s something I can do about it (read: he’s going to figure it out by himself…its too much for my preggo brain right now).
These are not the photos I intended to post for week 18 of my bliss project. The photos I intended for week 18, were in fact, never even taken. The photo of the week was going to be a little boy, blissfully riding on a carousel horse.
Oh, I tried. Believe you me, I tried to get the perfect carousel photo. But the little boy would have absolutely none of it. It took two people to hold him through the first go around and then after that, he was done. We walked away, walked back again, talked about the horses, attempted a second ride and probably emotionally scarred him forever. He most emphatically does not like carousels.
To say I was disappointed was an understatement.
Ridiculous I know, but I had so badly wanted to get that carousel photo that I’d been imagining for a week straight now, that I had a hard time not letting it ruin my day. It wasn’t just the photo though — what else is there for an 18 month old to do at a theme park all day? No matter how many times I tried to convince the little guy he would love it, the answer was no. While he made it perfectly clear that he wasn’t really enjoying the crowds and the noise, if we were going to do Seaworld, we were going to have to do it his way. Which basically just meant walking around ‘looking’ the whole day and not really doing anything. At least he enjoyed the dolphin show. And Mama adjusted her attitude (although, not as quickly as she should’ve).
***
Nana Deutscher sent Xavier a package. Upon opening the box, Mr. X was pretty keen to don the jacket. I asked if he would like to take some photos to show Nana how it looked in all it’s handmade goodness.
“Yesh” he said in his little Sean Connery voice.
Unfortunately, the days are getting shorter and the nights are getting more brisk so taking photos in the late afternoon is proving tricky, especially for my one and only big lens (one day…). However, this does make it perfect jacket wearing weather and the little boy was quick to throw me a few cute smiles and poses. Quite the opposite to the previous incident.
He even posed for a selfie with me!
My dear little boy,
You are so you. I hope that you never decide to try and be somebody else…someone you’re not. I am enjoying this stage — yes, every minute of it! — when you know your mind, what you want, what you don’t want. I am happy to know that even when we have a battle of the wills at times, sometimes it’s me who needs to step back and re-evaluate the situation and my wants and desires. You are teaching me respect just as I am teaching you.
Mummy
And because you all know I can’t resist a photo of my sleeping boy…
He’ll always be my baby.
Only one week behind now…to be updated as soon as I can!
This is just a quick, quick note to say I’m internetless…again…apparently we used up our whole month’s internet quota in a little over a week and now we can barely get on the web at all. All we have is 3G which mostly means, no blogging or skyping or facetime or anything. And since our living situation is temporary, its not really worth getting a landline installed for now.
So please excuse me but I’d rather not spend an hour getting furious at my computer and download speed while it opens one page. I need to channel my energies elsewhere.
I’ve been trying to write some on the side actually, but that require me actually remembering to bring my hard drive with all my photos to my parent’s house and organising for my sister to babysit while I use the internet. So please stick with me — I’m really sorry for not replying to comments and visiting everyone else’s blogs and Project 52′s. I really miss it. Great timing I know, but I’m also being featured over at Melanie’s Blog this month, so if you’re visiting from Only A Breath — I promise, this is not how things usually look!!!
But it’s Mother’s Day, hence the reason I’m on here now. This morning was so long ago since the little boy decided to get up at 5am so the morning was not so glorious. But the boys took me out to breakfast and Jason and my sisters cooked lunch for my mum and me. My dad washed the dishes after dinner tonight. So it was nice — a big step up from last year when Mother’s Day was…um…forgotten…so I’m happy. It was a nice first Mother’s Day. I could do this again.
I don’t really support Johnson & Johnson as a company but when I stumbled across this little video, it really meant a lot to me. Especially after my not so glorious mothering moments of this morning. I wish I could write more but a little boy really needs to go to bed (as does his mother)…did I mention he now has a little pair of skinnies? Oh. My. Gosh. when I look at him in those little skinny jeans…well…my heart just melts. And wants to freeze him in time. He looks like such a big boy. I’m going to snuggle my little man. And then probably my big man too. I’m so blessed.
Happiness is finding a stray, red balloon at the market and becoming completely enraptured with it.
In my pretend life, we are Market Gypsies. We make our living, doing the rounds of all the markets, selling our wares, drinking in the sights, sound and vibrant cultures. We smell of nag champar and patchouli. We sleep in hammocks hanging from poles in our tents. We eat vegetarian lasgne or raw beetroot chocolate cake (or Bratwurst, if your name is Jason). We all play the guitar and dance with bells around our ankles. We share with the other Market Gypsies about Jesus (because He is our culture no matter what our chosen lifestyle). And also, we love balloons.
Since April is my birthday month — my BIG birthday month this year — I had grand visions of totally dedicating the month to myself. Not gonna lie, I figured, after 30 years on this earth and annually avoiding my own personal birthday celebration to the best of my ability, that I deserved it. It wasn’t going to be any extreme hoopla by any means, I just wanted to do something everyday to celebrate the month of Rachel. My only stipulations were, it had to be free or very, very cheap. However, pregnancy kind of got in the way of that idea and I was either too sick or too exhausted to even think about doing something fun every day. And the birthday party? Well, obviously, that didn’t happen. I’ve postponed it till I’m feeling completely better (like, maybe when I’m done having children — kidding). But one thing that I really did want to do this month was go to the Bangalow Markets. The last time I visited this great festivity of colour, sound and smells, I was almost nine months pregnant with Xave, waddling around, hoping to give birth imminently. This time, while we weren’t exactly waddling, we weren’t moving much faster, what with a curious 18 month old and his balloon.
And oddly enough, as we sat down to enjoy our purely banana and strawberry ice cream (which Xave would have no part of — he hates anything cold), Jason realised we were sitting next to the very midwife that delivered Xavier, all of 18 months ago.
Xavier wasn’t not the slightest bit interested in having his photo taken with her (like, Idratherthroughamassivefitanddie not interested).
***
17/52
Hello, Sunshine.
The photos this week don’t tell much of a story but if I don’t get these up, I’ll fall too far behind and become completely muddled again — something that comes very easy to me these days. Can anyone say, pregnancy brain?
This week was a busy week. Aunty Jemima’s birthday was Tuesday, ANZAC Day was Wednesday, and my birthday was Thursday. Then Papa Deutscher’s birthday (for which we Skyped early) was Sunday. Busy enough.
And suddenly, the boy is interested in posing for photos again. That could have something to do with the fact that he realises that after every photo, he can now look at himself in the display on the back of camera. Thanks (I think), Grandma.
We don’t really have conversations, per say, but the boy has suddenly become a lot more vocal. Apparently, in his opinion, there is no need for useless word repetition games. If you can’t sign it, you should use a sentence.
R: Would you like more yoghurt? (signing more)
Mr. X: signs, yes, in my cup repeatedly until the yoghurt does indeed appear in his cup.
***
Mr. X (while reading his newly favourite book, Thomas the Tank Engine): Whosdat? Whosdat? Whosdat? (Who’s that?)
***
Mr. X (after the first page of the Thomas the Tank Engine book, we skip straight to page four, where James the engine has had an accident): Uh oh. Oh no. Uh oh. Mao (his sound for a cat because there is a cat on the page).
***
When Jason brings him into bed in the wee hours of the morning: Derdayare!
(There they are! He is, of course, referring to the boobies — no good morning Mummy or anything!)
***
Mr. X: signing more while walking up to me.
R: More what?
Mr. X: Dis (This. Patting my chest and settling himself in on my lap!)
***
Jason is laying on the floor.
Mr. X: TACKLE! (No need to translate that one I think!)
***
And finally for now, whenever we ask Xave, do you need…, do you want…, etc. His answer is either “no, no, no” in a high pitched voice or “yesh” in his deep Sean Connery voice.
***
I love it! I LOVE this age. He is so animated and great fun to watch. He is Jason’s little shadow (what are we going to do when Jason is legal to get a job?). Every time we go outside, he picks up a rock and gives it to Daddy (I might be slightly jealous). He has taken to posting all manor of things (but mainly socks) under our fridge. He’s just so precious.
On a side note, how do you keep track of all the lovely things your kids say and you want to remember? Notebooks? Post-it notes? Do share — I need help keeping it all together!
Being pregnant for the second time in a whole other country is confirming several things for me.
1. No matter what country I live in, everything smells like rotting vegetation or bad chicken.
2. I really don’t like chicken.
3. It’s true when they say the bump appears much sooner the second time round (not mine, I thought, my bump will stay at bay till it’s supposed to…yeah, right).
4. Maternity clothes will not guarantee you a cuter bump.
5. You will always crave that one food that you cannot get unless you hop on a plane and fly eight to 16 hours to get it (hello, Liang Pi — which, for the record, is a spicy cold noodle dish — and Olive Garden).
Ever since I made the announcement of the impending birth of our second child a few weeks back, there have been of course the usual questions floating around. When are you due? How are you feeling? Do you have names picked out? What country will the baby be born in? Will the baby be American, Australian or Chinese?
Ok…so maybe no one’s asking if the baby will be Chinese this time, but if I’d had a dollar for every time I was asked if Xavier would be Chinese, I could’ve given birth in the Crowne Plaza birthing suite in Sydney.
I don’t know when I am due. I think early November. Maybe even as early as late October. I think it would be horrifyingly funny if the baby is born on the same day as Xavier’s birthday. I really, really hope that doesn’t happen.
I am feeling fine…today. Well, I’m exhausted. But at least it appears I’m no longer nauseous. I was so sick to begin with. Much worse than with Xavier. To date, I’ve still thrown up more times this pregnancy than I ever did with Xave and the first few weeks were spent, camped out downstairs of my parents house, by the bathroom, trying to prevent all manor of smells from seeping into the bedroom. A little emotional…I have a hunch that I just may have been pregnant as early as week 8 of the Bliss project when I mentioned I cried during Kung Fu Panda 2. I mean, who does that? Definitely a pregnant woman. I don’t know though…just a hunch. But probably not. Probably I got pregnant two weeks later when the boy started sleeping through the night. Isn’t that how it usually happens? I have no regular monthly cycle records to go from…breastfeeding has messed that up for me. So you can see my dilemma. Besides…what baby ever arrives on his due date anyway? Oh wait…Xavier did…maybe, since this child does have Deutscher genes, the due date is important to know.
Yes, we have names picked out. Yes, I am that girl that had to marry a guy who liked her baby names. But we’re still working on our back up twin baby names. You know, just in case by some miracle, it’s twins. Which I really, really hope it’s not. I’m not that girl.
Now, you may not get asked what country your baby will be born in on a regular basis for a mixed race marriage, such as ours, who have lived in several different countries since being married, such as we have, it’s a fairly valid question. After much deliberation, we decided early on in our marriage, that all our children would be born in Australia. That’s the boring answer. I really would love to have a tattoo like Angelina Jolie’s showing the latitude and longitude of the birth places of each of our children but it would be very boring. I have considered doing one of their conception places though…Thailand, Australia…I am hoping to add China to that list… In short, since I’m Australian, I have by far more and better medical options for how I want to give birth, here in Australia. And it’s free.
I almost thought I was going to get my homebirth this time around. There is a hospital 45 minutes from here that is the first in Australia to pilot a in-home midwife care programme that includes homebirth services — much like how they operate in the UK. Turns out I live five minutes out of their jurisdiction. Five. Minutes. But they took my details and put me on the waiting list (I am #2…which may as well be #200 because I highly doubt the other women are going to pull out voluntarily and I’m doing my Christian best not to wish gestational diabetes on them…). So there is a .001% chance that I could have a homebirth for this bub. Never mind the fact that we don’t own or rent our own home yet (we are house sitting right now). Minor detail.
At this stage, this baby will be born at the same hospital as Xavier but this time, I’m enrolled in the one on one midwife programme. I get the same midwife all the way through and she does some in-home prenatal visits for me. AND…I get to have a waterbirth!!! I’m so absolutely flipping excited you cannot believe it!!! Suddenly, the pregnancy is very real and cannot go by fast enough! I wanted to do this with Xavier but the option wasn’t legally availabe to me at the time so now that it is, you better believe I’m taking it! Yes! I’m having a water baby!
And finally, the baby will be another dualie. Australian/American. We will look at taking a trip to Sydney early next year to renew Jason’s passport and get the new baby’s American citizenship too. And find the amazing Turkish bakery that our friends brought us the most amazing baklava from a few weeks back. And drink coffee and…yup…since we now have friends that are originally from Sydney, I’m actually looking forward to seeing the city through locals eyes. With two kids. Hmm.
So, I’d better add to this (for the American family that may be reading), I’m not sure when we’ll make it Stateside after the bub is born. But we’re trying and I’ll leave it at that.
Wow…pregnancy is a crazy time. Second time around, even more so. Obviously, some things go by with not such as big a bang as the first time (like abs…I think I had abdominal muscles all the way till 14 weeks last time). But none-the-less, it’s still special. I’m not promising myself a weekly photo update (good grief…I couldn’t even do that with the first one) but no matter how much I dislike my body at this time, you’re about to see more of me around this little blog than usual…could be a good thing, right?
And I promise my updates will not be so long from now on.
Running over, running over, my cup is full and running over…
Did you ever used to sing that little song in Sunday School? It has nothing and everything to do with my life right now. Sometimes, when I look at my two boys, I think that my heart could contain no further happiness, to the point where it might burst. Then I remember that actually the back story to this photo is that we were running from the rain (again) and returning home to face yet another bout of serious cabin fever.
But…being chased by the rain was kind of fun.
And it did evoke all sorts of giggles and laughs from the little boy at least.
And I’m a sucker for my husband’s sexy forearms…even more so now that he carries our little boy in them.
And we have this rare opportunity to have a full-time, stay at home daddy.
And my heart can contain more…there is another little babe growing there.
And I’m not wallowing in pregnancy nausea (just the flu but that aside…).
And it’s highly un-likely that I will die during childbirth.
Wait, what?
I can’t help it. I’ve been too many places and seen things to not think about the greater world at a time like this. I spent seven months of my first pregnancy in what is considered rural southern China where the hospital system is at least 50 years behind Australian standards, women don’t have any rights with regards to how or when they deliver and the Caesarean section rate is through the roof. While they aren’t likely die during childbirth, women do tend to suffer some neglect due to local customs and superstitions the month after childbirth. They can’t wash their hair. They can’t leave their houses. Some are not allowed to bathe. Most have their babies taken immediately after birth for ‘observation purposes’…sometimes before they’ve even held them. And then once home, Grandma takes care of the baby.
But they are alive and they will see their babies grow up. Which, even though every inch of my mother being cries out at the injustice of it all, is more than what I can say for the women of Papua New Guinea.
Did you know one in seven women in PNG die during childbirth?
Did you know there is something you can do about that?
A simple, clean birth kit — something that costs no more than $2 – 3 to assemble, can help save a mother’s life. And this is all from items you can purchase from your local chemist/pharmacy or hardware store. Maybe you even have some of these items in your own first aide kit at home.
Simple, right? But life saving all the same. That’s the difference between life and death right there, folks.
Bloggers for Birth Kits is an initiative of a dear friend of mine, Adriel. I encourage you to head on over to read the back story and see what and how and why exactly you should get involved. Think of it as your good deed this Mother’s Day. Think of it as your right as a human, possibly as another mother, to help save another woman’s life. Think of it as your responsibility.
I know from years of doing self supported, full-time Christian volunteer work, that every little bit counts.
Now, go and hug your babies a bit tighter and be glad someone with clean gloves was there to help you.
I’m not going to bother with back-posting…in fact…I’m not even sure the internet is going to let me post even this post before it times out. In short: we moved. To a country with the worst internet connection on the face of this planet. Our current connection is slower than dial up. Because, wi-fi doesn’t exist in our area apparently. Hello Australia, we had better, faster and clearer internet connecting in Cambodia. In a little, tiny, blown to smithereens by land minds, beach-side village. Seriously. Seriously. I almost think it was better not having internet at all for the last few weeks than to sort of have internet. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m obviously annoyed.
But this is the best I can do. I’ve got ‘net now so I’m gonna try (because it was this time last year that I messed up my 365 project but not posting regularly for a month…and heck, I’m not going to discover I’m out by four days some 257 days later again).
Some Instagram love.
14/52
I decided, just for fun, to take week 14′s installment of bliss (Bliss? With internet like this? Bliss?! Oh yeah, that’s what’s this is all about…) on Jason’s iPhone. No big camera. No technique. Just point and shoot and complete the shot by ruining it with some 1970′s filter (cause ya know, I spent the better part of my working career selling photo archiving materials guaranteed to stop your photos aging and yellowing like those of our parents…since believe it or not, not everything was brown and yellow back then…but now we like it that way. Go figure.).
It was kind of fun. I could get lazy like that. Easily.
Mr. and Mrs. Love. kindly agreed to host us over Easter. Mrs. Love is my sister but her last name is just the best. Of course we call her Aunty Vik, but I’m thinking of teaching Xave to instead refer to her as Mrs. Love. Because how many Mrs. Love’s do you know? I suppose it’s one of those last names that you have to be careful pairing up first names with with (I can imagine some people might come up with some doosies) but anyway, pardon the pun…I think it’s sweet.
Xavier proceeded to eat like he’d never eaten before. So good food coupled with at least two playgrounds a day coupled with glorious weather (a welcome break from the insane amount of rain we have down here in the Rainbow Region…I just figured out why they call it the Rainbow Region I guess) made for a really fun little holiday. The little boy had been eying off the foil wrapped bunnies in the shops for weeks so you can imagine how delighted he was to find out, come Easter Sunday morning, that he now was the proud owner of his very own Easter bunny. Funnily enough, it had nothing to do with the chocolate content — he just loved the bunny.
This soon changed once he discovered it was, in fact, chocolate.
His first.
Fortunately, chocolate-inspired meltdown was only minor on the grand-scale of meltdowns and was over and done with by lunch time, thus resulting in an epic nap. Thank-you Mr. Easter Bunny. It did however, make sitting through church rather interesting. But we’ll take an epic nap any day.
We visited my Grandma, hit up as many playgrounds as was humanly possible, went to the beach, and took long, epic naps. And I was barely even sick at all. Pregnancy nausea kicked me in the butt to begin with — so much so that I had come to the conclusion bump #2 was making his/her appearance faster and with much more vengence than #1 ever did. (On a side note: how did I even get a bump with the amount of throwing up I was doing? Someone explain me that?!) I think I threw up a total of three times with Xavier. Before Easter, I’d lost count already. To say I was concerned with how I’d fair over the weekend was an understatment but baby decided to be kind and apart from being ridiculously tired (or was that all the playgrounds and sun?), we had such a great time. Thanks, Mrs. Love!
Mr. X fully discovered baby-chinos and we fully discovered that our second favourite restaurant in China had a location in Brisbane…but it’s gross. I ordered the same thing I always ordered and I did NOT get any enoki mushrooms. My my shitake mushrooms where already sliced. And they didn’t have wasabi squid and green tea ice cream. We should’ve known when we walked in and the only other couple in the whole establishment were white. First rule of Chinese restaurants: only go where the ratio of people to tables is too many people for tables. And there is no vomit anywhere in sight from the footpath (very important detail). Probably in Brisbane, Australia, our first clue that this place was not going to work out, should have been that it was not in China town. Definitely don’t go to Ajisen Noodles if you are not in China or Hong Kong.
I know you are all desperately concerned at my long-term absence since I’m listed at the top of you blog reader every morning.
Well, first I said I was going to take a mini-holiday…and I did…and it was really good. But then, rather unexpectedly, we had the opportunity to move house. So now we are in our new temporary residence for the next two months…and currently we are internet-less. I should add that we all got sick too. All three of us, at the same time, the very day we moved. And it hasn’t been kind. But we seem to be on the other end of that and next week, we should finally have internet. Then I can get back to my regular blogging (ha).
So thank-you for all your kind comments and I’m sorry I haven’t been around to reply (but I will!).
Finally, just because I don’t like to leave you without some form of visual cuteness, here is Mr. X, bathing at our new abode.
I do miss California for it’s demographic of people that believe in slow, artisan foods. I mean, really miss that. I haven’t found people that are so passionate about their food and where it comes from and how much they hate Monsanto anywhere else in the world. It’s just different. And I love sourdough bread.
And I really shouldn’t watch short films like this late at night. I’m positively famished now. I’ll take a slice of that bread with some of this cheese.
Or maybe some quince paste…I always wanted to try that.
It’s all about good, nourishing and traditional food today, folks!
