The Intrepid Explorer

"Look out world! Here I come..."

Houston, we have a crawler.

It all started innocently enough – a shuffle here, a roll there. Then suddenly, my little boy turned 7 months old and within the same day was on the move! I was excited for Ethan as I could see the sense of adventure in his eyes, a whole new world awaiting his little fingertips. And of course, I had sufficiently childproofed our apartment to allow safe travels for a curious baby…or so I thought.

Childproofing principles I suspect are, in large, roughly the same for an apartment as for a house. Cover over powerpoints, block access to certain non-childproofed rooms, make sure toxic substances are out of reach and avoid sharp edges. I began my childproofing project approximately 3 months earlier, by diligently attending an information seminar on this very topic at the local women’s hospital. I returned from the seminar armed with clear childproofing ideas but foolishly believing I had ample months ahead of me to execute them.

Once Ethan began his crawling in earnest, I suddenly realised just how unprepared I was. And Ethan was more than happy to highlight my flawed implementation. We shall refer to a particular incident as ‘Wake-up call Wednesday’ – I left Ethan playing in the middle of the room with his toys and quickly popped into the bedroom for a jumper. I returned no more than 20 seconds later only to find Ethan had crawled across the room and was curiously examining the column heater (previously referred to in this blog). Thank goodness it was off and cool to touch…but my heart sank and my childproofing campaign went into overdrive.

Scrambling about our apartment, I attempted to view the world through the eyes of a curious crawler and took note of sharp edges, dangling electrical cords and head-banging opportunities (NB not the rock and roll variety). Ethan was more than happy to assist me in my survey; I needed only to pop him onto the floor and he would zone in on the most dangerous and what I had thought was well-concealed object in the room. How do they manage that?

Armed with a list of requirements, Cam, Ethan and I set off for the local baby store on Saturday morning, with a priority mission to procure security gates and perhaps a few soft-edged covers for skirting board corners and table legs etc. Childproofing fun fact #1: gates are quite expensive! They are a little fancy, with a swinging door you can walk through, not dissimilar to a pool security gate. Of course, depending on the size of the room, you then add on gate extenders to meet your requirements. And did we want white, grey or charcoal? Hmmm…whatever happened to the wooden gates from my childhood, that you had to practically pole-vault over to escape?

Feeling somewhat disillusioned and fatigued trying to calculate our measured gating requirements, I gave only a cursory glance to the large wall displaying additional baby proofing products. I did observe some interesting safety ideas, most notably, a shield you place at the edge of your stove to prevent things from falling and little hands from reaching.

Thus, we returned home, empty handed but more determined than ever to make our apartment a safe playground for our intrepid explorer. Below are some of my more impressive contraptions:

The playpen wall doubling as a fence – column heater (and washing) securely behind the perimeter

Ethan systematically testing the fence for weaknesses – not dissimilar to the velociraptors in Jurassic Park

Now you see it....

...and now you don't! Am pretty sure Ethan has already clued onto this one though.

An impromptu bay window made out of pillows

A woolly pillow liner to hide the glass cabinet doors

"Seriously mummy...is that the best you can do?" Ethan breaks through the defences

I have lived in our apartment for two and a half years and never noticed this dodgy nail until Ethan pointed it out. Solution pending...

Do note, these are only temporary solutions until I either find better online prices or brave the world of ebay for second hand solutions. Stay tuned for the blog "Childproofing 2: the playpen solution"...

And this is the way we dry the clothes, dry the clothes, dry the clothes...

Having a baby has seen my clothes washing requirements disproportionately increase in comparison to the number of members joining the family. Back in my DINK days, I managed to get by with doing a load maybe once a week – two weeks at a stretch – by cleverly investing in sufficient undergarments and towels etc so as not to necessitate a more frequent requirement for washing.

With the event of Ethan joining our home, I’ve found myself visiting the washing machine every second or third day with mountains of clothing to tend to. I must admit, in an attempt to decrease my washing quota, I’ve recently started examining Ethan’s clothes in earnest at the end of each day to determine whether that amount of drool or carrot on the sleeve means the hoodie really needs to go in his Pooh hamper, or whether I could get another days wear out of it. It is inevitable however – the dirty clothes do need to be tended to and yesterday was one such day.

This brings me to the exciting topic for today – clothes washing in an apartment. Firstly, I would like to note that I am extremely grateful for the internal laundry in our flat. Whilst I live quite close to several commercially operated Laundromats, I appreciate the convenience of doing the washing at any time of the day (or night, as I found in the early days when sleep was elusive after the 4am feed and I felt surprisingly spritely). Hence, the challenge is not in the washing of the dirty laundry, rather, in drying it.

Our block of units does have a section out the back where there are several dubious looking lines and not a lot of sun. Of course, this would involve several trips up and down the stairs, Ethan in tow, and I can’t even imagine how this would practically work (unless I popped Ethan in the washing basket?!).

Ethan in the washing basket doesn't quite work for me.

Instead, I attempt to dry our wet washing within the confines of our apartment, taking advantage of our balcony and some cleverly placed clothes airers. A word on drying your washing in an apartment: the strata by-laws are strict in stating that no washing is to be visible from a person’s balcony. Fortunately, our top floor apartment and high brick balcony wall affords me a discrete space to inconspicuously hang the washing, thus meeting strata’s requirements and my own. Particularly with living on a main road, I certainly wouldn't take an unnecessary risk of my unmentionables flying over the edge and onto the street, nor cam’s fave tracksuit pants, for that matter…

Our airer on the balcony, thankfully not visible from the street. Unlikely that anything is going to be flung over the edge either...

Our balcony tends to get full sun all day during summer but limited rays during winter, restricted more to a burst in the mid to late afternoon. As this is also the time that the air is getting considerably cooler, drying potential is highly unlikely, which I discovered yesterday afternoon, as I eagerly went to un-peg the towels around 4pm only to be bitterly disappointed with the result.

This leaves me an alternative of hanging the clothes on the two clothes airers, throughout the apartment. This was a suitable alternative back in the day but now that Ethan is beginning to crawl, the task becomes logistically challenging. There are two prominent clothes-drying ‘hot-spots’ (literally!) in our apartment; one is the north facing second bedroom and the other is the lounge area, where I have the column heater on at regular intervals.

The lounge airer taking advantage of prime positioning near the column heater.

The second bedroom has been overtaken by Ethan’s playpen but I shouldn’t rule it out; I have heard of plenty of mums that use play-pens for the sole purpose of keeping children out, as much as keeping them in, and I could consider putting the clothes airer inside its four walls. The lounge room does get cluttered with an airer however the bigger challenge is keeping Ethan away from the oodles of dangling temptations: socks, jumper sleeves and trouser legs, to name a few. I am able to run reasonable interference for now and can still move faster than Ethan. But it is only a matter of time before this option is ruled out for safety reasons…

Ethan's play zone amongst the washing.

This brings me to my final option, which is the clothes dryer in the kitchen. Brilliant, efficient and behind a gated doorway, if not for the soaring electricity price threat in Australia, I would not even bother with the fiddly clothes airers and go straight for a guaranteed dry result. I can also convince myself that the column heater isn’t needed with the heat that the dryer is generating, thus I am actually saving electricity by using it.

Yay for the dryer! My valentine's Day present in 2010.

With the clothes now damp-free and maintaining a softness that only a dryer can achieve, I can put my feet up and ponder whether life would be easier in a suburban home with a hills hoist out the back. And then I recall the story of my sister who decided to use our childhood clothesline as a swinging apparatus when she was much younger, only to get stuck and left to rotate a little longer than planned….seems drying challenges aren’t restricted to apartment dwellers after all.

The Witching Hour

Witching hour begins...

I will face the witching hour alone this evening.

For the uninitiated, witching hour can be loosely defined as a period of time - sadly, not limited to an hour - during which your precious bundle is, well, less than precious and more of a challenge (or witch?!). It was one of the first 'baby' phenomenon that Cam and I were introduced to shortly after arriving home with our shiny new bub. On day 2, Ethan didn’t take kindly to us trying to put him down for the evening and screamed for three hours straight. A tired Cam mentioned this to a mate the following day. “Ah”, said the wise father of four. “Sounds like the witching hour”.

Interestingly, it seems recognized in professional circles too (phew! Not another one of those parenting urban legends). I spent a week at Karitane for their residential stay program when Ethan was a mere bub of 6 weeks. They assisted me in settling Ethan into a routine and as part of this, conceded that between 4-6.30pm each day, even though due for a well-needed nap, Ethan would not likely go down in his cot (they were right!).

Four months later and our witching hour time period remains roughly the same, stretching from whenever Ethan wakes from his afternoon nap, until he goes down for bedtime (according to all the baby books, this should be 7pm on the nose). FYI – Ethan’s witching hour on Tuesday began at 12.15 pm… :-I

In my professional ‘mum’ opinion, I surmise witching hour is due to end of day fatigue; Ethan is all tuckered out from his bouncer, bumbo, mirror time and sleep itself and the result is cranky. UNLESS I can stay one step ahead of him and keep him entertained. Review blog on ‘Ideas for Amusing an Indoors Baby’ and adjust accordingly for the toughest two – three hours of the day. Challenge accepted!

We begin with some 'cot-play' time...big smiles

One of the ‘tricks of the trade’ so to speak is to take the grouchy bub out for a long pram walk, in the hopes of a late nap or just some time to 'reflect’. With the end of daylights savings and recent cold snap in Sydney, this is no longer a realistic option. Mind you, I have spotted many a fellow Eastern Suburbs parent out pushing a bub, clad head to toe in winter woolies, late in the afternoon. Where was I when spotting them, you ask? Well, uh... (insert diversion tactic here). Back to the blog!

Let's swap a pram walk for some quality play-pen fun!

Ethan’s bedtime routine commences at 6 pm sharp and involves a bath, feed, some Macca Pacca and Upsy daisy and then, all tracking well, bed at 7 pm. It is just after 5 at the moment, so only an hour to go! Ethan is presently enjoying ‘Grandpa in my pocket’ which follows playschool on ABC4kids. And what’s that I hear? ‘Thomas the Tank Engine’ has just started? Good-o!

Usually by the time these programs have finished, Cam has returned home from work and can step in with fresh inspiration for amusement. One such gem was the invention of a game called cars. The ingenuity lies in the simplicity of the game: to play cars, take Ethan to the balcony window, look through the window out onto street and state the colours of all the cars driving past. In Cam’s absence however, I shan’t attempt this one as I do see it as special father-son time.

"Mummy, cars would have been much more fun than this..."

Instead, this is a perfect opportunity to check and see who might be on skype. Nana Burgess is quite a reliable contact and and Ethan is happy to bounce in front of the iMac screen for 15 mins, talking to her.

As bath time draws closer, I may also attempt the baby massage that I learnt several weeks ago. For the most part, Ethan giggles his way through my relaxing massage which I take as a sign of enjoyment - not bemusement - of my technique.

I tend to follow massages with pants off time (NB: for Ethan only). For some reason, being pants free seems to give Ethan a second wind (pardon the pun) and he is happy to roll around for another 15 mins, so long as I am happy to take the risk.

Hopefully these activities see us through to 6pm but if not, I apply some of the ideas from the previously mentioned blog. Of course, it is important to note that by this time, Ethan is extremely fatigued, cranky and possibly bored with mummy’s attempts to intrigue, so I find that the time honoured tradition of walking the apartment works a treat, as do some well chosen nursery rhymes.

Not.. happy.. Jan...

And the conclusion of this entry brings me to 5.30 pm. With half an hour til the bedtime routine commences, I’d like to take this opportunity to toast those parents that face witching hour solo on a regular basis and express my gratitude for Cam's timely arrival home each evening.

And then I shall see who is on skype.

Ready for bed - made it!!

It's a beautiful day for a walk but...I need to think this through

The wind has stopped and the sun is shining. Quick! We can add ’pram walk’ back to the list of things to do for the day. Let’s go then….

Wait a minute! That sounds a bit easy, I hear you say. How wise you are. Going for a walk with a baby takes planning in any event but when you are in an apartment, there are a few extra elements – mainly mental - to factor in before setting off into the great outdoors.

An important contextual fact is that our third floor apartment is not housed in a building with a lift. Every time I wish to enter or exit my apartment, I have three flights of stairs to contend with. Four, if you count the set of steps leading down to the foyer where I have chained Ethan’s pram. Thus begins the mental and physical deliberation: "To walk or not to walk? That is the question..".

It’s not so much the going down the stairs that is a bother, although there is a deep-seated fear I will misstep one day. No, it is more the inevitable fact that I must indeed climb back up those stairs if I wish to return home (of interest, our downstairs garage does have a fridge and with some space-conscious planning, I could add a cot and a change table, evict some spiders and it could be a great alternative. Well, at least until Cam returns home in the evening).

Hence, I don’t pack my beautiful baby tote, bundle Ethan into his pram and simply stroll out the front door. Instead, I pack a lightweight dodgy blue backpack, flex my muscles and carry Ethan down the stairs to his carriage waiting at the bottom.

The pram that lives under the stairs

Over the months, as Ethan has progressively gotten heavier and my slight frame has begun to buckle, I’ve cleverly taken to leaving more ‘essentials’ downstairs in the pram, to lighten the load, so to speak. The many compartments of the pram are starting to swell, as is my necessary faith that our neighbours have no interest in taking a Lamaze toy, umbrella, muslin wrap, woolies green bag or nappy change items from the pram, for their own amusement.

The timing of this important walk is key, as the walk cannot be wasted. Physical and mental investment aside, a pram walk affords a decent portion of time spent in the day where I can almost guarantee no tears.

First thing in the morning or straight after a nap is out. Ethan has been snoozing and it is only fair I let him stretch his legs with a bit of a roll and play. He is also happiest at this time, so mindless stroller walking intervention shouldn’t be required.

Late afternoon should be taken with caution, particularly with the colder evenings now setting in fast. Is it worth the risk of waiting all day, only to decide it is too cold to walk in the afternoon and thus wasting a perfectly good pram-walk opportunity during the day?

Instead, the ideal time is post-meal and pre-nap, before 4 pm. It takes into account the compulsory 'sitting' time I encourage post-meal and is a nice distraction for Ethan, who has reached his short-lived patience threshold by this time (yep, one of mummy's generic traits there) and has realised that despite his best efforts, mummy will not let him play with the remote control, roll into the glass doors on the cabinet, or continue eating her women’s weekly. With no other enticing options on the table, a bit of a wander through the neighbourhood holds some appeal.

We live at the top of a hill so unless I have a vehicle at my disposal or plan to take the bus - both worthy of a separate post in their own right - destination options are fairly generic. Once we have made it through the maze of preparations above, the only further consideration is whether I can really spend anymore time at the local shops and if we do end up there, whether I am willing to carry the inevitable chocolate purchases back up to the third floor.

Oh, and come afternoon restlessness, whether we want to go through this all over again...

The park is always a good destination for catching the late afternoon sun - so long as precautions are taken against the chilly weather.

Ideas for amusing an indoors baby

Today is an ‘indoors day’ as my beautiful bub, Ethan has his first cold (I can’t find a section in the baby book to make note of this momentous occasion!?). I have resorted to warm layers, our column heater on high, and a quarantine from the great outdoors. Whilst a breath of fresh air would do us both the world of good, the view from the third floor bears witness to a ferocious wind, coupled with the weather report from the Today show confirming a maximum of 20 degrees – brrr! What happened to Autumn?

In all honesty, a day out of the public eye is probably best for all concerned. Sleep was elusive last night and so I am looking worse for wear and may be bordering on cranky or teary. Attempts to return to bed this morning were thwarted by a hungry 6 month old and so I started downing tea and dark chocolate to perk up. Appetite sated, Ethan has decided that NOW is the opportune time for a long 1-2 hour nap – unfortunately, my investment in caffeine is now paying dividends and sleep is off the table for mummy.

Instead, I am pondering what I can do to keep Ethan amused for the remaining 6 hours before daddy arrives home. A few things come to mind:

1. Eating! He has lunch and dinner to go. That should take 10 mins each.
2. Changing the nappy several times. Unfortunately, I do have this down to a fine art and call myself the ‘fastest nappy change in the East’. Would probably total 5 mins.
3. TV - is there such a thing as too much? Thank goodness for Giggle and Hoot on ABC4Kids
4. Rolling time. This is Ethan’s latest trick and if he is well rested, he quite enjoys being left to roll about on the lounge room floor. I am yet to finalise child-proofing however so he also has to endure mummy repositioning him when he rolls too close to exciting foreign objects. If I am lucky, we can achieve perhaps two x 15 min sessions.
   
   "Look at me mummy!"
   
   
5. Sitting practice. Not perfected yet and so I have built a pillow-fortress to cushion any toppling. Practice is usually in front of the TV to distract from distress of toppling (see point 3).
6. Nursery Rhymes. After an extensive google search, I have managed to find lyrics for several songs from childhood. We had been stuck on ‘3 little ducks' for some time, gradually increasing number of ducks each time to draw out length of song. Poor mother duck trying to keep track of 20 little ducks…no wonder they went over the hill and far away. 15 mins.
7. Another nap (fingers crossed!) – 40 mins.
8. Sitting in the bumbo or bouncer whilst watching mummy doing the housework. Surprisingly effective! 20 mins.
   
   
9. Jumping time in the Jolly Jumper. Timing is crucial – at least an hour after a meal and not too close to bedtime. I also limit jumping for fear of long-term effects. 5 mins.
10. Mirror Possum. I have an affectionate nickname for Ethan – ‘my possum’. He is quite fascinated by his reflection, so we spend some time looking in the mirror. 5 mins.
11. Cot Fortress. See point 5 and relocate from in front of TV into cot. 10 mins.
12. Apartment wandering. This is a desperate, last pitch attempt to keep Ethan amused by walking through the apartment and looking at all the furniture. Rarely successful, mainly because, I admit, I get a little bored. 5 mins.

Ok, if my mathematics skills prove sharp, I have 360 mins until Cam arrives home and if I act upon all above ideas, I will chew up ~155 mins or 43 % of time.

Looks like point 3 is the winner for today!

An introduction

I grew up in the suburban landscape of South-Western Sydney, in a lovely home on a quarter acre block. We had a great sized backyard complete with swimming pool, swing-set, trampoline and even a pergola, providing ample room for roller-skating, playing barbies (yes, even barbies need to get some sunshine) or for my little brother to chase me endlessly. We also had a decent sized front-yard, where my sister and I would try and impress many a passer-by with our cart-wheeling skills or just take the time to ride our bikes round and round, taking care to avoid mum's rockery and the temptation to take the bike just that little bit closer to the road. It was the perfect way to grow up and one day, I could imagine the same lifestyle for when I had children of my own.

Fast forward 30 years and I now have a baby of my own but not a house or yard in sight! My husband, Cam, and I have lived in Sydney for nearly 6 years in an area we have grown to love and two years ago, decided to dive into the real estate market and see what we could find. We weighed up the suburban dream home versus the inner-city apartment and with proximity to work a big ticket item for both of us, an apartment was the only affordable choice. As fate would have it, we came across a decent sized 3 bedroom flat - 15 mins to work, a 5 min drive from the beach and within walking distance of some fantastic shops, parks and cafe's. Sold!

I always knew that it would be a challenge with a little person underfoot in an apartment and with my 6-month old son and I bunkered down in our apartment day after day, I am starting to experience the intriguing and unique challenges - and joys - of the lifestyle we have chosen. Welcome to our world which is Flat Out!