Sophie is just becoming aware of when she wees or poos and she’ll grab ahold of her nappy and grunt, or something equally ladylike. Hugo said “Look, she’s holding her china!”

“What’s her china?”

“It’s like a penis, but for girls.”

Of course.

“Hugo, stop picking your nose”

“I’m NOT picking it! I’m pulling out the dry snot!”

_________________________________________

“Mummy, what’s a skeleton?”

“It’s when all your bones are together in the shape of your body.”

* pause as he processes this *

“Mummy, why isn’t there a bone for the penis then?”

Yesterday I took the children for a picnic at the park to catch up with Leigh, and Rah, and Kerrie and Brad.

Yesterday was just a mess from the time I woke up. You know those days that go wrong before you’re even fully conscious. That was my yesterday. But we eventually arrived at the park, and I started to relax and have a good time.

And then I lost Hugo. He’d been playing close by in the playground area, always within sight and earshot. I tend to be a bit more relaxed with Hugo because he is not a child who wanders off, he was never a runner, and has a highly developed sense of risk and safety. One moment he was in the playground, the next he was nowhere to be seen. It was literally within seconds.

I am so grateful that I was there with these guys, they all scattered immediately to help me look, and fortunately he showed up within a couple of minutes. But those minutes … my brain just went wild with possible scenarios - had someone grabbed him from the playground? had he fallen in the lake? was he wandering around crying, wondering where I was? Every morbid news story I’d read about child abduction and accidents - and it happened so quickly, that was the scary thing. It was so, so fast.

He’d actually gone to feed the ducks with Leigh’s children. They looked after him so well, he was totally fine to go with them. He told me “I’m fine Mummy, I’m with the big kids” and he really was fine. I really didn’t want to let my panic show, and just told him that he needed to tell me every time he was going to leave the playground so I knew where he was.

It makes me wonder and worry. I was lucky yesterday, I was with friends and had help right there. What happens next year when I’m in a country with no social network, where I don’t even speak the primary language? How do I let my children grow up without restricting their experiences but still keep them safe?

While Sophia was having her vaccinations this morning, the doctor did her 12 month check up. This is all the normal developmental stuff, and measurements.

He asked was she talking yet and I said that she had a few words but do you think I could think of them at that moment? I sat there looking blank and I bet he was thinking “Wow, if mum is this good at conversation, poor baby has no chance!”. It’s kind of funny in a sad “poor second child” way that at this age, I had a written list of Hugo’s words, that I updated regularly. On the other hand, it means I’m not overly stressed about her development and everything is going ok.

Her height and weight were as expected, fairly low in the percentiles but Hugo was the same and she’s thriving, eating well and obviously healthy.

But her head was so massively enormous it was off the chart. Now of course as her mother I’m expected to think she is beautiful (and she IS!) but I really think if her head was *that* big, I’d have noticed she was dragging it along the ground behind her. She looks pretty normal to me. And I know he’s the doctor and probably had special “measuring babies head circumference” classes at uni, but I was watching, she was throwing her head all over the place in much the same way she does when I try to put a hat on her. He barely got the measuring tape around her head before she pulled it off, so rather than googling “massive head” I’m just going to put that one down to an error of measurement than assume she has some terrible problem. Or even just a big head.

I’m taking the baby, Sophie, for her 12 month vaccinations this morning (only a month late). This is not one of the fun parts of parenting, but one I consider to be necessary (or, if not strictly necessary at least important enough for me to put her, and myself, through it. And yes, I have educated myself about it).

To vaccinate or not to vaccinate, that is the one of the questions that raises tempers temperatures vigorous debate on parenting forums across the internet, along with breast vs bottle feeding, should I pierce my babies ears, cloth nappies or disposable? … I’ve always taken a basic “live and let live” philosophy towards other people’s parenting choices. While I don’t subscribe to the ubiquitous “happy mum, happy baby” theory because of the obvious problems with that, I do think within fairly wide parameters we all make decisions based on what works for our baby and our family situation.

As much as anyone, I find it annoying and confronting when people tell me subtly or blatantly that they think I am not raising my children properly.  I am righteously indignant when a stranger in the supermarket tells me I should put socks on my baby, or that I am holding her the wrong way.

On the other hand I am often scathing in my judgement of other mothers who let their children eat foods I consider inappropriate or behave in a way I wouldn’t condone in my own children (but I would never say anything!). Yes, I admit to that hypocrisy. Because I don’t think it’s my place to interfere.

But when *is* it ok to interfere? There has been a case in the media lately regarding two small children, not much older than Sophie, who died seemingly as a result of malnourishment. Trickles of information suggest the mother had expressed her inability to cope with her family on a parenting forum. Even so, surely at some point, someone in her life *must* have noticed that she wasn’t coping, that the twins weren’t receiving adequate care. How many people thought that it wasn’t their place to say anything? How many people didn’t want to interfere? Would just one person saying something, ANYTHING have changed that devastating outcome?

Life after a baby (or two) can be really difficult. Without going into too much detail, I’ve been there. I also think there is still quite a stigma attached to asking for help. You look around you and everyone else seems to be living out a Huggies commercial, maternal joy infusing every waking moment. If you feel like you’re struggling to keep your head above water and just get through the day in one piece it can be intimidating to ask for, or even accept offers of help.

I am grateful that I have people in my life who love me and love my children enough to make sure we are *all* coping ok. One of my big ‘keep me awake at night’ worries about going overseas next year is being away from my usual support network. I consider myself really lucky that some of my very dear friends live inside my computer, so I can take them with me Next year if I’m not coping (and you’ll read about it here, I’m sure) I’d really appreciate an occasional “Hey, hang in there!” or word of support … hey, I’m asking for help!

I’ve come a long way, baby.