Holidays, Hospitals, Happiness and Hobbitses – Part Two

It has now been 6 days since the very sweet baby James arrived.


We’re all adjusting. Adam is having the toughest time and has terrible mood swings and shifts from Love to hate for baby James quite regularly. Adam is a very special, very clever, and very emotional young man. I must say, he’s an undeniably sweet and caring young thing, and getting him his own baby who he has christened baby Jim was a stroke of genius. He’s able to parent his baby and demonstrate and process how he feels about the whole thing a bit better with his own baby to nurture. Parenting win? We think so.



Today is James’ actual due date, and also my 36th Birthday. It has been a lovely day so far and I am struggling to feed the insatiable child, answer messages, post this blog, and get about a million other things done before heading out to the day spa for some alone time. How’s that for a champagne complain! I am more pampered and blessed than my wildest dreams could have ever foretold. Immensely grateful, but yes, I know that I am very spoiled indeed.

So… back to some stories of Hobbit life.

I’m beginning to think that this baby has a touch of magic in him. We’re very free and easy with letting people hold our kids from the moment they arrive. I’ve already lost count of the number of strangers that have had a snuggle with James. He got passed around the hospital, several people at the mall were thrilled to have a hold when offered. The staff at Soto were keen to have a snuggle. There’s a little bit of magic that happens when we let someone hold him. Particularly if they have rarely or never held a brand new baby.

One of the most worthy examples of the magic I am talking about, happened on ANZAC day.

We braved the chaos of the 1:00pm sale crowds as Grumpy had his eye on a pram that was 25% off at Baby City. The mall was a zoo. I took Stephanie-Jane and James up to grab a coffee while Steve stayed down to wait for the doors to open and buy the baby booty he’d been eyeing up.

On the escalator, I met some very sweet and enthusiastic women. They asked about James, and how old he was, and I told them he was only a couple of days old.

I handed him over to the woman who’s name was Trish. She relished her snuggle. And she told me about her daughter.

This is Christine Main.


Christine lost a valiant battle with a very aggressive form of cancer one year and one day earlier.

Trish shared her daughter’s story with me, while she held sweet baby James. The joy in her eyes and that radiated off her as she told me the story of her beautiful, adventurous, caring and generous daughter gave me goose pimples and as I share the story with you now is making my eyes leak.

She needed to share the story of her vivacious daughter, who I am quite certain I would have adored had I been lucky enough to meet her. I needed to hear that story. And we both needed to meet that day on an escalator at the Westfield Albany Mall.

Please take the time to read about Christine. She was an amazing woman. Trish told me about her sky dive and that the adrenaline rush she got from it never actually wore off, and that she spent every day of the rest of her life full of joy and vigor, even through her illness.

I’ve always found it quite amazing that the little people we have made have so much demonstrable personality, right from the moment they arrive. They have all been so different, undeniably unique. One could argue a bit of chicken/egg in this. Perhaps, as parents, we ascribe attributes to them from the moment they are born, and then there is a trajectory that occurs based on this. I can’t say for sure how it works. We’re just muddling through like everyone else does. For the most part though, we’re fairly proud of the empathetic, engaged and charming little people that share our home and our lives with us.

Here’s just a few more pictures to share with you before I head out for the spa in a minute or two:






He’s settled into Hobbit Life beautifully. The children have embraced their baby brother and are keen to help out and offer snuggles whenever the opportunity presents itself.

We’ve had a constant but absolutely lovely stream of visitors and we’re very keen to introduce him to everyone! We’ll open the doors to the Hobbit homestead one day soon and everyone is very welcome to pop in for a snuggle if they are close by.

Well, I’d better pack up and head out so I don’t miss my facial and massage!

Hope you enjoyed today’s peak into Hobbit life. And thank you for taking the time to read!

Have a wonderful week wherever you are and whatever you are up to. And thank you for your kind words and friendship from so many corners of the world.



Wanting to Run Away

We’re about a week out from becoming parents again.


Pre-knocked up self had pictured this point in the pregnancy as seeing a glowing and maternal me crocheting blankets and staring blissfully off into the distance imagining the hours of baby bonding that lay ahead once the fourth and final heir to the Happy Hobbit throne had arrived.



House is almost completely baron of newborn gear.  It is cleaner than usual.  And the kids and Grumpy are all chipping in to keep it that way. That’s something worthy of note.

I have a pack of newborn diapers, some muslins and a breastpump and hand-me-down onesies in a drawer somewhere. This is the sum total of proof there will be a new baby arriving here soon.  That is, aside from my large belly that got at least half a dozen complete stranger rubs today. I admit I will miss that. There is something so cool about breaking down barriers between people.  I have found, when it comes to strangers, it is mostly Polynesian and Indian women who reach out for a feel.  I’ve never had an Asian lady lay a hand on my belly to feel the kick.  Someone could do a sociology thesis.  Not me.  I’m too busy denying the inevitable to embark on a thesis at present.

So yes.  Mum of the year all up in here.

While I should be fantasising about the fleeting joys of meeting and greeting a new member of the family, I am actually just dreaming about pulling a full on Dian Fossey and running away to the Rwandan jungle where no children or husband will find me.  Hanging quietly in the mist with some chilled out band of gorillas. Oh wait.  I suppose now they’d be looking in the Rwandan jungle.  Scratch that.  I’d have to hatch another plan entirely after mentioning that I suppose.


I have no idea if I should be sharing any of this.  And I am in full on white knuckle praying mode wishing that when he arrives something changes and my maternal instincts kick in.  I know they are there… Somewhere.

So now, I will attempt to embark on some sleep which will of course be completely denied me for a minimum of 6 weeks starting in the very near future.  

Maximum of 8 more nights of relatively uninterrupted sleep… I shall enjoy every single one thoroughly.