Beautiful Chaos

12 boxes

3 suitcases

3 carry-ons

1 baby

2 house guests

endless rain and sleet

3 hours of power outage

..... Oh, and I’ve lost my voice.

(probably a good thing otherwise I may be partial to rolling around on the floor, screaming like a stressed-out banshee for the next 4 days to come)

I HEART MOVING

Don’t tell anyone, but I have stashed a bottle of vodka in amongst the bubble wrap that is littering our garage. Ok, I haven’t really. But I’m going to the bottle shop now. See ya round suckerz, mama’s going to get her relocation drinkies on!

Conversations with teddy

Deep and meaningfuls on the couch....

Big-ass news

So, I’ve been keeping a wee secret. In fact, it’s everything but ‘wee’, but I can’t resist that sweet, Scottish word. Wee wee wee wee wee. There. I’m done.

Secret? Oh yes...

Papadada, Sticky Baby and I are moving. And I’m not talking houses. I’m not even talking suburbs, nor cities, but COUNTRIES! Even CONTINENTS!

Sweet jesus! We’re moving HOME!!!!!! (There will never be a font big enough or bold enough or sufficient exclamation marks. Just saying.)

After 3 years of living in beautiful France we have decided that a 4th year is no longer in our plans, nor in our hearts. We are ready to go home for good. The two months we spent back home recently were just too golden. Nothing beats family. Nothing beats old friends. Nothing beats the weather and the lifestyle that our beautiful Brisbane, Australia blesses us with. Our baby boy needs his grandparents and his cousins and his aunties and uncles. We need our sanity back.

France has given us so much. Papadada proposed to me in gay Paris. We spent the first two years of our marriage in this country. We made a baby. We created a family, a network of amazing friends, and unforgettable memories.

But now? We are ready to lay down some real roots. We want to be home to share Sunday lunches, birthdays, friends’ weddings, weekend bbqs. We want to open and USE our gorgeous wedding gifts. We want to communicate with our loved ones in real time, not via emails or skype. Give me a coffee date with my mama any day of the week!

My talented and extraordinary husband has secured a brilliant career move back to our home town, so professionally, exciting things lay ahead. Things couldn’t be more perfect.

I can’t even fathom what life will be like back home, for good. Besides living there for 11 short months back in 2006, I haven’t resided permanently in Bris-vegas in nearly a decade. Say WHA? I cant even believe that myself. Wowsers.

The possibilities for Sticky Baby and I are endless. First on the list? Semester enrolment at Gymboree. Baby gym, here we come! Next? Maybe some work here and there for me. Who knows. I’m excited. And the most exciting? The thing that has me doing mental backflips? Perhaps a couple of nights off a month for PapaD and I, leaving the Stickster in the amazing care of his doting grandparents. HELLS YEAH! BRING IT!

Anyways, this post could go on and on and on, like a bad Oscars speech, so I’m going to cut it short.

We leave this Friday. Can anyone say “Surviving on 20 coffees a day”?

Looking forward to ‘Au Revoir’ and ‘G’day’ in the space of a few days.

Angel

I snapped this photo early in the morning, whilst on holiday at my uncle’s dreamy rainforest house mansion. The place is heaven. And in heaven there are angels. Sticky Baby’s white pyjamas glowed in the sunshine like nothing I’ve seen before. All that was missing were wings and a halo. Divine.  

The arrival of Mother Teresa

(In the back of a cab in New York City circa. 2006.  Ahhh, I look so FRESH and YOUNG!)

Today, at 12:40pm, one of my dearest, bestest friends in the whole wide world is coming to visit!!! Her name is Teresa, and seriously, she may as well be the Saint of Friendships. We met in steamy Singapore, in a 4-story model house, back in 2003. Amid the sea of 14-year old, eastern-european waifs, and huge-ego’d male models, we spotted one another, clicked over a bowl of 2-minute noodles (yes, we were the only ones eating), and the rest is history! We traveled and worked our way through Singapore, Thailand, Australia and New York City. We have cried over lost loves, laughed ’til the tears rolled down our faces, and danced in crazy thai night-clubs. She read a beautiful psalm at our wedding, and witnessed my growing belly over Skype. She knows my sister, my parents, my grandparents and all my dirty little secrets. She is my sister from another mother and I thank GOD that I get to spend a whole week with her! She will finally meet Sticky Baby, and that is a moment I cannot wait for. 

Oh the joy of reunions!

Just Do It

With much love (and a belly full of dinner), I have put together a pictorial recapitulative of our FREAKIN’ AWESOME time back home. (Don’t you just love a sentence with two fancy, grown-up words and two crappy, slangy words? Mmm-hmmm. Thought so. You’re welcome). 

Needless to say, our vacation was verb-alicious. We DID so much. And Sticky Baby was right there with us!

Sight-seeing in our beautiful, river city - Brisbane, Australia

  

Bush walking and river crossing in lush Byron Bay

Putting in the new letter box with Papy Jacques and Papadada

Running around the house with pjs on his head

Mowing with Papadada in nothing but a nappy.

Riding in the shopping car-t. Baby bliss.

Just a snippet, of course. We had the most incredible two months ever. Memorable, in so many ways. Perhaps life-changing. More on that later. Cryptic, I know...

For now?

We heart Australia:)

Forecasting

This morning, post-bottle, Papadada and I were watching Sticky Baby play. I love him in his all-in-one, terry towelling pyjamas. The round belly, the cushy tushy, his small, covered feet padding around our living room floor. I melt.

All of a sudden, I blurted out:

“I hope we get a nice daughter-in-law when the time comes. I pray he chooses a nice girl that treats him well”.

This is the look I got from my husband:

Not a true to life image of Papadada. But the look of confusion was identical.

Ok, so maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself. But don’t you guys sometimes think of these things? Like, what if he chooses a real mole of a lass, a horrid, bitchy, nasty piece of work. I die to think. I know he’s still in nappies and is in no way capable of saying anything remotely close to “Marry me”, but I hope and pray that he picks a nice girl. Just like his mother. HA! Damn right

My Fair Baby

The fair is in town! Roll up, roll up! La Foire Saint Martin comes in once a year, full of spanish gypsies, Nutella crepes, bright lights, and colourful rides. The air is crisp, the coats are out, and sticky baby fingers are tingling in anticipation....

Sporting my gumboots just like all those London trend-setters at summer music festivals 

My first ride - The Star Wars 'Millennium Falcon’

(Clearly, I did not know the actual name of this space craft...but Papadada did, and he insisted I record it in this blog accurately)

How the jeebus does this thing work?

The man just cannot resist a shooting game

Ready to get his junk on...hot fries and a crepe. Bring it!

Tragic photo of me..red nose, fly-aways, giant coat that reminds me of the one Anthony Hopkins wore in ‘Legends of the Fall’. Help. But Sticky Baby and fake horse look killer. Photo saved.

Regressing

We dug out Sticky Baby’s first stroller today, complete with attachable moses basket/flat bed. Guess who decided he wanted to be a newborn babe again?

The new ad campaign for baby bottles.....?

Papadada back from a run, desperately thirsty, grabbing the first drinking receptacle available...Sticky Baby’s bottle. Weirdo. Gorgeous weirdo.

So much to tell you

Hey Bubba,

It’s been too long since my last scribble to you. So here we go!

You are 14 months old now, and gee whiz have you been a busy little weasel!

In the past two months....

* You have boarded 6 different planes, wooing the flight attendants from Singapore Airlines and Air France each and every time. Mini Casanova, you are.

* You started walking! And haven’t stopped since! You have spectacular stacks several times a day, but none of them seem to bother you. You are slowly breaking into a bubba-run and you climb stairs terrifyingly remarkably well.

* You are becoming quite the ‘mellow fellow’, as I like to call you. Those magnesium tablets are working their magic and we find you several times a day, laying down on the tiles, peacefully resting your blonde head and happily watching the world go by. Last night you even ‘vegged’ out on the couch with us, giving us big, contented smiles with your belly full of milk. You are divine. Just divine.

* You are saying "bye bye", blowing kisses, and waving all at once. You totally get it. Puzzle pieces are coming together like nobody’s business. Smart, smart little boy.

* You are ‘talking’ like never before. With perfect, melodic intonations and hand gestures to compliment what you are ‘saying’. Although a lot of it is sounding strangely Indian. You say stuff like ‘Batik batik’, ‘Bouti’ and ‘Patak’ A LOT. We have no idea where it’s coming from. But gosh, it makes us laugh! Your Mamie Nic especially loves your crazy little language and imitates your Bollywood-inspired accent to perfection.

* You are turning into quite the little swimmer thanks to Pop’s patience and guidance in the pool. You come home from those swimming lessons completely tuckered out, bleary eyed, but oh so happy!

* You are rocking mad new threads and looking like a real little toddler now! Denim long sleeve shirts, plaid sneakers, woollen vests, cargo pants. Tres tres cute!

* Papy Jacques has nick-named you ‘Babo’, after the way you first starting pronouncing ‘Bye bye’. I think it’s going to stick.

* You have Granski wrapped around your little finger. Completely. You are a tough little nut with her, relishing in your games of ‘catch me if you can’ and making her work so hard for every kiss and cuddle. But the way your face lights up when you see her in the morning says it all, really.

* You have gotten SO MUCH BETTER with being in the car. I think you’ve finally understood that being in a car generally means that we’re going somewhere new and fun. ‘Bout time, kiddo.

* We think you are due for your first hair cut very, very soon. We are hoping that auntie Belinda will do the honours, seeing as she is the best hairdresser in the world. And your God-mother. It’s her duty, isn’t it?

* You are loving cherry tomatoes, blueberries, cheerio cereal, cheese sticks and raisin toast. You also have a serious love affair going on with mashed potato. Carb-loading all the way.

You are changing day by day, surprising us at every turn and making our world such a very bright and happy place.

Love you like fireworks,

x Mama

We’re baaaaaaccckkkk!

Back in France. Back in blogging action.

Pardon my severe blog-lect (that’s neglect in blogging terms), but I did warn you.

I have a shiz load of photos that I want to share with you all, but the camera charger is buried somewhere beneath a mountain of unpacked clothes and miscellaneous travel items. Sheesh.

Out of all the photos we have taken recently, there was one shot that I kinda regret not having snapped....

It happened yesterday as I was speed-vacuuming the house. I was enthusiastically sucking up dust bunnies beneath the stairs with the nozzle-y end, vigorously rearranging the stuff that we have stored there. I left the power on the vacuum running, placing the nozzle-y end down while I moved some items around. As you do. The next minute I heard a whirring, whizzing sound. I turned around and Sticky Baby’s face was being sucked off by the vacuum. Dear God! Half his mouth and cheek were being violently suctioned and his eyes were bugging out of his head with shock. He must’ve grabbed it while I had my back turned. Shit. Shit. Shit!  I quickly jumped into mama-action, turned the vacuum off and grabbed him in my arms. Fortunately, the little guy didn’t really have time to cry. He was too busy touching his cheek, wondering who the hell had given him the biggest hickie of all time.

Seriously though, it could’ve been bad. Really bad. What if he’d popped that nozzle-y round end on his eye? I cringe to think....Papadada made me consider that possibility and now I want to hurl my ravioli dinner.

So here’s a heads up to all you mums out there. Don’t leave the vacuum on, nozzle-y end exposed, with your back turned. Shit happens.

And also, just ‘cause I have to say it... I don’t really mean that I wish I had captured that photo. But that look of sheer shock and ‘WHAT THE EFF’ on his face? I’ll never forget that! You’re one lucky little bugger, Sticky Baby....

Seriously, did this cartoon artist visit our house the other day? Spooky. 

Although Papadada looks all wrong and for the love of Kris Jenner, I hope my fashion sense

is better than a black pencil skirt, a purple sweater and black shoe-booties.