The Contingency Plan

After hearing the latest stories of all the (bad) dates she's gone on, Jules looked at me and said, "I should just write a book."

And I thought that would be the last thing I'd want to read.

I'm tired of hearing about the cheaters, the losers, the men with bad dress sense, little tact and a shallow heart, about the ones who change their mind, change their number, revel in laziness and are unkind.

I need to hear one case where they meet, fall in love and despite the battles, stay in love and die that way.

That to me, is the miracle story.

A few months ago I received an email from an old friend inviting me to take membership of a friendster-like site he'd just joined.

We'd been friends since high school. In those days he was popular and had something all the girls wanted. He was musical, good looking, trendy, aloof and not interested in anything academic. I was friends with everyone but never slept with any of the boys, which I think always affects the popularity of a girl in high school, plus I was a good student.

But despite this we became close and in those days, he'd often visit my granny flat. We'd smoke cigarettes, have deep conversations and listen to whatever music he was into at the time. He's a talented muscian and I strongly encouraged him. We'd also go out, but our friendship waned whenever he had a girlfriend. I didn't mind and we continued like this for years.

One thing I'd always noticed was how restless Dylan was. He could never sit still. He would always fidget, chain smoke, shake his leg when he sat and his restlessness reaches beyond this. He was always searching, never fulfilled and wandered without accountability or responsibility and I grew accostomed to his actions because of this. Our calls and visits waned even further when Lucas came on the scene. Although I was disappointed, I also knew that I couldn't expect anything. He and Lucas didn't seem to get along.

The last time I saw Dylan was around two years ago at a Vice magazine party that Ali and I attended. He looked great. He'd grown his hair, he was wearing makeup, a little retro suit and after we recovered from the shock of seeing each other, we shared an intimate hug that closed the distance between the years.

We exchanged the usual 'so what have you been up to' information. He was high, I was drunk but we were both so happy to see each other.

And then the inevitable question came up.

"So are you still with Luc?" he asked.

"I sure am, can you believe it's been over three years?" I yelled over the crowd.

He looked surprised. He said he really missed me over the years. He would often drive by my house and sit outside wanting to see me yet not able to leave his car. He'd always drive away heavy.

The next few sentences are a blur, but I walked away when he said that his life was different and that I couldn't be a part of it right now. I felt confused and bewildered. He said he couldn't see me or talk to me in the state that he was in. I quickly sobered up and left the party.

Sometimes I find it strange how technology keeps us all in touch. Due to his email invitation Dylan and I spoke again a few months ago over email and messenger.

I asked him what happened between us and he still wouldn't tell me, not unless it was in person. He was elated when he found out about Hugo and we arranged to meet up but never did.

During one of our online chats we exchanged url links for our blogs. He's the first person I know who has the address (besides Luc who claims he never reads it anyway).

We haven't spoken since but I always furtively read his blog. Sometimes I think I should stop as I feel guilty for reading his journal and not contacting him but I never do. It's almost like reading his words is my way of maintaining a closeness without having to deal with anything. Sometimes I miss him more after reading it. More recently I read the words of his ex-girlfriend and felt even more like a voyeur.

And in my justification I wonder whether he does the same thing to me. Even though our words are in displyed in a public domain, is it wrong of me to do this?

At times I crave closure and call him but never get through or leave a message. Other times I bear the desire but sit not being able to make the first step. I'm too scared it would invite drama and I'm already too tired and hurt.

On Sunday Penelope came with our little family on a drive up to Berowra Heights, around 30 mins north of Sydney for the engagement party of Tim to our lovely friend Charlie

It was a beautiful and very sunny autumn day (this is a pic of Lucas squinting)

Penelope wasn't happy until she'd had some cake

Held in the backyard of Tim's parents' place, the engagement party was a picnic overlooking a generous, breathtaking valley of trees

The view was extraordinary

There was a kookaburra in the trees

Hugo and Pen

Hugo was a dream and enjoyed lounging in the sun with us

I met up with a fabulous friend whom I haven't seen in over a year today.

Upon seeing me he gasped and shrieked, "Oh my God, look at your tomboy hair. You are so Yum Cha at Tiffanies!"

I couldn't stop laughing at the time, but think it's possibly the best compliment I've received.

___________________________________

This morning I woke to Hugo's tiny hands touching my face for the very first time. He had short, staggered but soft strokes that melted my already mushy heart. He was silent and looked at me as if to say, 'Ah, so that's what you feel like".

Later in the morning he continued with the same theme and while sitting up on his own in between Luc and I in bed, he amused himself by touching my nose, then touching Luc's nose, then my nose, then his nose... on and on.

It was so simple but we were all warmly entertained with this play for over an hour.

___________________________________

I visited my eight year old next door neighbour, Tom yesterday to give his gorgeous honey coloured Labrador puppy some succulent ham hocks I'd used for a minestrone soup.

When he returned the bowl around a half an hour later, he did so with some flowers he'd picked from the garden, he blushed and said, "Thank you. I think you look pretty today." And then ran home.

So damn cute.

I wrote a list of dreams and goals when I was 13 years old. The list lies in a box full of diaries kept at my father's house but I can still remember some of the items.

I wanted to fall in love, live in a funky city apartment, have a successful career, surround myself with gorgeous girlfriends, get wiser with age (ha!), posess an enviable wardrobe, beautiful shoes... I loved writing these kinds of lists. Life was fresh and there was so much to anticipate.

While hanging out with Alannah and her irresistable children today, she looked me square in the eyes and said, "Umi, I never thought my life would end up like this."

Tired of neverending housework, child-rearing and neglect from herself and her selfish husband, she was exhausted and flirted with the idea that this may be it. Thirteen year old Alannah wouldn't have been happy to know her older self.

When I was 21 I started a dot com with a friend. We managed to secure VC funding and hired a fabulous team of employees, which included a respected journalist as our Editor. One day she looked at me with the same expression Alannah did today as said, "Oh Umi, your drive reminds me of when I first started my career. I thought my words were going to change the world but that's all gone now and I'm just a jaded old bag.

"I think that's one of the things that surprises me the most when I look back."

Naturally my life hasn't quite worked out the way I thought it would. When I look back there are plenty of unexpected events and no, they're not necessarily bad, but sometimes I do miss being thirteen.

Well there was absolutely no cleaning done yesterday. In fact, I spent the whole day in bed. Luc made and gave me all my meals in bed, Hugo joined me for all of his naps and I literally spent the whole day making the virtual Lucas and Kazumi grow rich and happy on the Sims 2. They got married and had a baby, but it was a girl so I couldn't call it Hugo. It was the best day I've had in months.

Anyhow, our little family spent the better majority of today visiting our good friends Jamie, Kris and Luis up in Newcastle. The city's around 150kms north of Sydney, which is approximately a two hour's drive away. We left after having brunch and getting the car washed, at around 11am and arrived at our friends' beachside apartment just after 1pm.

Hugo slept the entire trip (there and back) and besides eating and catching up, Luc and I also had our hair cut. Jamie's the best darn hairdresser I've ever come across. I did a lot of hair modelling for him when he lived in Sydney and followed him to many different salons, but he's no longer a professional hairdresser. Weary of the whole industry he changed careers and is now a builder. He still cuts a lot of hair though, thank God as he's very talented. His hands have a few callouses now and he's a little rougher around the edges but I think it merely adds character.

I recently decided to lop off my boring girl hair and decided it was worth a trip to Newcastle to have Jamie do it. Afer cutting it for six years he knows what works. I've never told him what I want; I just sit in the chair and let him do his stuff. I've worn it shaved. I've worn it white blonde (I have naturally jet black hair), I've had a mullet, a mowhawk and my favourite, an 80s inspired asymetrical cut parted to the side with one side a no.2 and the other side long and swept across. It looked hot at the time. Sadly, I had to get my passport renewed during this so I'm stuck with it for a long time. Bad.

Anyhow it took Jae over an hour to cut my hair as I went from having curls half way down my back to wearing it cropped like a boy. It's now very short and I love it. I now feel happy about how I look for the first time since I was pregnant. What a relief.

After it was cut we had fun being stupid with all of that hair. We made fake bear slippers (no slipper was actually needed), a wig, a nest, etc. In the end we scooped a whole plastic bag of it up. Crazy.

No, it's not a bear slipper but most of the hair that was cut

Things that rock about today:
* Waking to see my baby son cuddling me, tiny arm across my neck, delicious breath billowing
* Staying in bed for hours after waking, reading blogs and playing games
* Luc bringing me hot, creamy coffee and warm, fresh muffins to eat in bed
* Seeing his cute little face so pleased for doing it
* Having a valid excuse for not doing any laundry yet (main water pipe has broken and we won't have any water for another few hours)
* Planning for our road trip tomorrow, yay!
* Realising this will be my last day of long, boring girl hair
* Hugo waking up and being content to just chill and cuddle
* Seeing Hugo give me a cheeky grin after he farted - hilarious!
* Luc coming back to bed after going out to get us breakfast

Things that don't:
* Having a runny nose and being too lazy to get out of bed for a tissue
* All that damn laundry
* Our messy house = I'll have to clean today :((

The nights are getting colder and tonight bliss found me by the heater playing the Sims 2 while chatting to Mum on the phone. Hugo was napping, my stomach was digesting a delicious three mushroom risotto and I was finally feeling my feet.

I was getting an update on a trip some close family friends recently returned from. Honestly folks, we all dream of parents like Uncle Glen and Aunty Beverly. They have four kids: Kerry (27), Lisa (24), Matthew (19) and Jessica (15) and the whole family, including Kerry and Lisa's fiances were treated to a ten week, all expenses paid holiday to Hawaii, New York, Paris, Rome, London, New York and South Africa.

They all get along wonderfully well so being with family for that long didn't cause a dire need for a copious amount of 'jetlag pills'.

Anyway, upon his return Uncle Glen called Dad and was saying how he recently met Hugo when Dad interrupted and said, "Stop. I don't want to hear about her".

Uncle Glen was well aware of the situation, but was still shocked (Uncle Glen's known me since I was born and wants to marry Luc and me) so he naturally told Aunty Beverly who called Mum who informed me. And I was sad for my mother as she's still getting over how much of a bastard my Dad can be.

But after my short-lived sadness, I thought was I was once so close to being with someone who is just like him.

...

Phil and I met at an industry party. The formula for these parties was simple. The media were gaming geeks so the only way to capture their attention was free food, alcohol and games games games! Being an attractive female who could talk on their level was enormous kudos.

At the time my client was a major video console company and he is a prominent and popular gaming journalist.

We both smoked Marlboro Lights. I lost his matches.

Our chemistry was instant and tangible but I wasn't attracted to his looks. Phil isn't stylish. He wears big, baggy jeans with enough denim in the legs to create another pair, baggy sports jumpers, baseball caps, he has unkept strawberry blonde hair and is slim but a major gamer, hence no work-out body.

But he's cheeky, confident, indifferent and very witty. We shared a love for the same kind of music, the same kung-fu movies, the same drugs and yes, the same kind of games.

Our game lasted around six months and was very messy with too many extra lives.

Phil had a serious girlfriend. Sure, they'd only been dating for three months but he cheated on his fiance with her. She was the fiance's best friend and it's taken Phil's family nearly a year to accept her. Things were finally comfortable and he didn't want to rock the boat with his folks again. He couldn't deal with what they'd think of him.

Luc and I had been together for nearly three years. I broke up with him before I could be classed a cheater but remember the unhappiness and overwhelming confusion. I didn't want to loose Luc but the passion with Phil was overwhelming. And the tragedy was, was that I knew it would fade and I'd be left with nothing.

It's during these times the candid words of my mother resurface, "Aiya, men who cheat have their main meal, they have enough. The extra woman is the dessert. She's sweet on the side. He can go without dessert but never without main meal, just remember." Sophie was seeing a married man at the time and hearing that was, as Dr. Phil would say, the 'deal breaker'.

Nevertheless Phil and I absolutely fell for each other but for once in my life I played it cool. I told him it was a fling and wouldn't last. I didn't ask him to leave his girlfriend and said that I didn't want commitment from a man who has his track record. But I'd left Luc to be with him and these words only seemed to unintentionally add more intensity to things with Phil.

We were out one night when, out of curiosity I asked him what was wrong in his relationship for him to be with me.

"Nothing," he said. "Jill's honestly amazing and I can't fault her. She's sweet, giving and caring. The only thing that gets to me is she doesn't do her bikini line and she isn't as adventurous in bed, but on the contrary, it's loving."

"When why are you jeopardising what you have with her?" I asked.

He paused and grinned before saying, "I simply can't help myself."

I broke up with him shortly after that. Jill suspected but never found out about me, though I wonder if she did, whether she would try and dissect her relationship to try and figure out what was wrong (maybe the fact that they were Phil and Jill could have something to do with it).

I casually visited a therapist during this time as I discovered the extent of my father's affairs just after Phil and I separated. It was only after I'd seen the therapist, could I notice the stark similarities between my father and Phil and am thankful I didn't fight for a such a selfish coward. I also realised how much a really missed and loved Luc.

We used to keep in contact while I was at work but haven't since I've had Hugo. It's better off that way.

Luc booked a plane ticket home to Canada the very day he found out about Phil. Although Phil and I were no longer together, it was only after hours of talking and crying that I convinced him to stay.

I kept Luc's plane ticket after that to remind myself of all that I have and what learnt during that time. I recently found it while unpacking some boxes. I don't think Luc knows I kept it.

Hurray! An article that supports what parents have long believed...what a treat to read after Mother's Day.

This Is Your Brain on Motherhood
New York Times

By Katherine Ellison
Published: May 8, 2005
San Francisco

ANYONE shopping for a Mother's Day card today might reasonably linger in the Sympathy section. We can't seem to stop mourning the state of modern motherhood. "Madness" is our new metaphor. "Desperate Housewives" are our new cultural icons. And a mother's brain, as commonly envisioned, is impaired by a supposed full-scale assault on sanity and smarts.

So strong is this last stereotype that when a satirical Web site posted a "study" saying that parents lose an average of 20 I.Q. points on the birth of their first child, MSNBC broadcast it as if it were true. The danger of this perception is clearest for working mothers, who besides bearing children spend more time with them, or doing things for them, than fathers, according to a recent Department of Labor survey.

In addition, the more visibly "encumbered" we are, the more bias we attract: When volunteer groups were shown images of a woman doing various types of work, but in some cases wearing a pillow to make her look pregnant, most judged the "pregnant" woman less competent. Even in liberal San Francisco, a hearing last month to consider a pregnant woman's bid to be named acting director of the Department of Building Inspection featured four speakers commenting on her condition, with one asking if the city truly meant to hire a "pregnancy brain."

But what if just the opposite is true? What if parenting really isn't a zero-sum, children-take-all game? What if raising children is actually mentally enriching for mothers - and fathers?

This is, in fact, what some leading brain scientists, like Michael Merzenich at the University of California, San Francisco, now believe. Becoming a parent, they say, can power up the mind with uniquely motivated learning. Having a baby is "a revolution for the brain," Dr. Merzenich says.

The human brain, we now know, creates cells throughout life, cells more likely to survive if they're used. Emotional, challenging and novel experiences provide particularly helpful use of these new neurons, and what adjectives better describe raising a child? Children constantly drag their parents into challenging, novel situations, be it talking a 4-year-old out of a backseat meltdown on the Interstate or figuring out a third-grade homework assignment to make a model of a black hole in space.

Often, we'd rather be doing almost anything else. Aging makes us cling ever more fiercely to our mental ruts. But for most of us, our unique bond with our children yanks us out of them.

And there are other ways that being a dedicated parent strengthens our minds. Research shows that learning and memory skills can be improved by bearing and nurturing offspring. A team of neuroscientists in Virginia found that mother lab rats, just like working mothers, demonstrably excel at time-management and efficiency, racing around mazes to find rewards and get back to the pups in record time. Other research is showing how hormones elevated in parenting can help buffer mothers from anxiety and stress - a timely gift from a sometimes compassionate Mother Nature. Oxytocin, produced by mammals in labor and breast-feeding, has been linked to the ability to learn in lab animals.

Rethinking the mental state of motherhood is reasonable after recent years of evolution of our notion of just what it means to be smart. With our economy newly weighted with people-to-people jobs, and with many professions, including the sciences, becoming more multidisciplinary and collaborative, the people skills we've come to think of as "emotional intelligence" are increasingly prized by many wise employers. An ability to tailor your message to your audience, for instance - a skill that engaged parents practice constantly - can mean the difference between failure and success, at home and at work, as Harvard's president, Lawrence Summers, may now realize.

To be sure, sleep deprivation, overwork and too much "Teletubbies" can sap any parent's synapses. And to be sure, our society needs to do much more - starting with more affordable, high-quality child care and paid parental leaves - to catch up with other industrialized nations and support mothers and fathers in using their newly acquired smarts to best advantage. That's why some of the recent "mommy lit" complaints are justified, and probably needed to rouse society to action - if only because nobody will be able to stand our whining for much longer.

Still, it's worth considering that the torrent of negativity about motherhood comes as part of an era in which intimacy of all sorts is on the decline in this country. Geographically close extended families have long been passé. The marriage rate has declined. And a record percentage of women of child-bearing age today are childless, many by choice.

It's common these days to hear people say they don't have time to maintain friendships. Real relationships take a lot of time and work - it's much more convenient to keep in touch by e-mail. But children insist on face time. They fail to thrive unless we anticipate their needs, work our empathy muscles, adjust our schedules and endure their relentless testing. In the process, if we're lucky, we may realize that just this kind of grueling work - with our children, or even with others who could simply use some help - is precisely what makes us grow, acquire wisdom and become more fully human. Perhaps then we can start to re-imagine a mother's brain as less a handicap than a keen asset in the lifelong task of getting smart.

Katherine Ellison is the author of "The Mommy Brain: How Motherhood Makes Us Smarter."

Have a bit of a cold/flu at the moment. It came on during my date with Lucas on Sunday and seems to like it here.

Boo.

It's Sunday night and our little family is still in pyjamas. We've gone out but it seems as soon as we enter the front door, the dress code is PJs. We haven't cooked. We've watched the entire third and fourth series of Sex and the City. We've then watched Hugo roll and pick up objects that were formerly too heavy. It's been perfect.

We've had such a great weekend.

For the first time in nearly six months Luc and I went on a date... without the baby. Mum came over early on Saturday morning, giddy at the prospect of spending so much time with her grandson, and promply kicked us out of the house, not to come home until much later that day. It was the first day I've spent without him since he's been born.

So Luc and I saw a movie (Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy), we talked, we walked around the city, had dinner, spent around an hour browsing a book store. It was delicious. We really enjoyed our time, though next time we agreed to organise a night time date, that way we can really do the things we can't with Hugo, like eat in one of the small, crowded inner city restaurants that a pram can't fit into and see a band. Nevertheless, we came home feeling refreshed and eager to see our son.

That night Mum, Harry and Natasha came over for dinner. Recently tired of everyone always being too busy, I suggested we have 'family night' on the first Saturday of each month and the idea was eager accepted. That night was our first one.

I'm hoping to inspire some change in our family through these. My brother and sister are used to just turning up to things and never really making an effort so we agreed to treat the nights as special time out, we'd take turns in organising something and give plenty of warning in case the date didn't work out. Parents were invited, but since Natasha's the only one Dad speaks to, we guessed he wouldn't come. Activities also had to include things we could involve or take Hugo to, so naturally Tash suggested ice stating...

It was Harry's turn last night (we went in alphabetical order) so in true form he got the date wrong, Mum cooked, he showed up late, made a long private call to his un-girlfriend and practically fell asleep after dinner on the couch. But hey, we were all there and that's what counts.

I'm due to organise the next one and since my last suggestion has been made public (bowling), I want to think of something else.

And on the subject of firsts.... It was also my first Mother's Day today. It freaks me out to think I didn't know I was going to be a mum this time last year.

The day was just right. I woke up battling a cold so Luc took good care of Hugo, though he napped with me. He takes longer naps when they're with me and this time before and after sleeping he played with my hair, touched my face and made the most adorable baby sounds. He also held onto me while he slept so I was in heaven.

I didn't want any gifts as I was so spoilt on my birthday so Luc bought me a card and two boxes of mouth watering, 'they look too good to eat' chocolates. Luc and I have just finished eating one of them and Hugo's now going crazy with the box.

Perfect.

While constructing my last post, I made a note of all the poetry I've posted here.

It's nothing major, I just thought to put it all in the one place in case anyone's interested.

Midweek Lullaby
Smoke
White with one
Call me
Healing
Sore and Still

Note: I have a hard time giving my poems names so all of them but Midweek Lullaby and Call Me are made up. I had to use something for the link.

It’s 05.05.05 today. We’ll have to wait a day, a month and another year for this to happen again.
I’ve just realised it was my blog's first blirthday five days ago and I totally forgot. Bad me.

So much has happened over the last 12 months:

Lucas and I happily reunited after months of torment
But during our break I had a fling with a rather egotistical male
I broke up with my best friend of seven years Sophie
I received my first diamonds
I took my sister Natasha to see Justin Timberlake not knowing I was nearly five months pregnant
Found out that I’d been promoted to management and was pregnant within the same week
Discussed baby names with Luc
But found out I wasn’t just pregnant, but five months pregnant
Got revenge on Jack
Went to my first word slam
Made up with my Dad... mainly because I was pregnant
But I grew weary of all the drama
Started to question whether PR is right for me
Tried to hire a dead photographer
Had to eat copious amounts of carbs (yay!) when my doctor thought I had gestational diabetes
Helped to mind a celebrity at a televised perfume launch with thousands of teen girls while eight months pregnant
Had a week off work before giving birth to beautiful baby Hugo
Heard from Sophie
Experienced the baby blues
Despite requests from my MD, I did not return to work three weeks after Hugo was born, but agreed to attend the Christmas party
Realised we had to move and left our apartment of two years with this view for a house (no regrets)
Survived meeting Luc’s parents for the first time and have them stay with us for three weeks in our tiny apartment when Hugo was just six weeks old. Never again.
Survived a gross stomach virus while looking after a very sick Luc and our young baby
Nearly got sucked into suburbia
And then totally fell out with Dad again
But survived it all to see Hugo reach six months. Woohoo!

So that was my year!

Thanks to everyone for reading and being a part of it.

I recently read a New York Times article on the treatment of perfume in Japan and found it quite fascinating.

In many ways I can relate to the Japanese who prefer no smell on a body, unlike a lot of Westerners who lather their skin with scents.

If I could, I would strip my body of all hair and smell. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t object to bodily odors. While on my last holiday I didn’t shower for three days just to see how my body would smell. It was an enjoyable indulgence, but I would never venture out of the house like that. Some days, like today, I wear shirts that Luc has worn as they smell of him – his sweat, his skin, but despite this, I’d love to be stripped of this essence as it would seem so clean, pure and unpolluted.

When Luc first arrived in Australia he carried almost as much cologne as he did clothes. I was amazed. My family and many past boyfriends have a few fragrances each - whenever I smell Chanel No. 5 I think of my mother, my Dad always wears Pacco Rabbane - yet Luc had a spectrum of flavours. I was intrigued.

Unfortunately that interest didn’t develop into love as I found many of the scents too heavy and overpowering; perhaps it was due our warm and humid climate. In fact, he’s become quite like me and only wears a couple of scents now. My favourite is Hugo by Hugo Boss. He wore this when we first met and it always takes me back to the elation and giddiness I felt.

When Luc’s mum visited us from Canada last year I took her shopping and realised why Luc had so many colognes. She spent over an hour in the perfume department sampling the scents and bought a few of them, all with a very strong, thick and musky textures. Wearing perfume was like wearing clothes to her. She enjoys being adventurous and greatly treasures variety whereas I prefer a few classic pieces.

It was then I realised I put a lot of myself into the perfumes I choose. I almost become synonymous with them. I’ll usually wear one for a year or two, wear it out and then move onto a new one. I’ll always love the ones I’ve worn though as they billow with memories embodying that time. A couple years ago a good friend bought me CK’s Contradiction, an aroma I adored many years ago but haven’t worn in as many since and it shocked me that he remembered.

My sense of scent was very sensitive while I was pregnant so I rarely wore perfume. When Hugo was first born, a number of midwives told me that he would know me from my scent and I absolutely adored the notion, it only strengthened the bond I already felt.

True to form, I’m feeling like a new fragrance as my present ones (Davidoff’s Cool Water and Gucci’s Rush) don’t seem to fit anymore. I don’t want anything that slaps you in the face, no, I’m craving something that flutters and floats and is as close to that clean, pure and unpolluted feeling I so desire.

Unfortunately I don't know what the cities are like so who knows what this says about me... aren't people suppose to like either LA or New York and not suit both equally??

American Cities That Best Fit You:

60% Los Angeles

60% New York City

60% San Francisco

55% Chicago

55% Philadelphia

According to this, I'm actually much older than I look....

You Are 32 Years Old

32 Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

And much more of a chick...

Your Brain is 66.67% Female, 33.33% Male

Your brain leans female You think with your heart, not your head Sweet and considerate, you are a giver But you're tough enough not to let anyone take advantage of you!

It's seems babies are expected to do much more than say 'ga-ga' in these times. I purchased Hugo's first DVD today and it's not about cute pictures or cartoons, but part of the Baby Einstein collection on Mozart.

I know... I partly suckered into the whole theory that playing classical music will possibly make your baby smarter, or at least have a positive effect on its intellectual and creative developments.

Part of me thinks this is a big load of shiznit. I know classical music follows beautiful structural patterns and is far more complicated than today's four chord pop, but it seems too much to weigh upon my six month old who's just discovered he has feet! But I decided I'm actually playing a lot of classical now with my new piano so a little more won't hurt. Plus, it seems to keep him occupied so I can do other things... ok, that's the main reason why I bought it.

But the DVD got me thinking about the pressure modern parents put on their children. Most of the mothers I know have their babies in a strict routine. They eat, sleep and play at specific times, one of them even keeps a daily journal on the habits of her two month old! Yuck.

Of course I believe learning, structure and discipline are important, but I still want my kids to be kids - to play in the dirt, to fall off a bike, graze a knee, watch cartoons and build a fort - without worrying if it's intellectually beneficial. It's not all pretty, but I think it's still good stuff.

This is Hugo

Nearly six months old

Lookin' so cute!

Munching on his hand

It's often easy for me to focus on the negatives of my relationship with Luc. He's over-worked. He perpetually has a tooth ache (that he insessantly complains about), and after working and spending time with Hugo, he craves time alone so I'm an after-thought. He's always tired. He thinks he works more than I do (athough he never admits it), but I can tell as he's started to keep score on who does the dishes or changes the nappies, yet this story's not unique.

And I commonly exacerbate the situation. Emotionally transparent, he can walk into the room and see I have a problem, but instead of having integrity I lie and claim everything's fine (he doesn't believe me) so he quietly leaves to get food he says he won't buy.

Seiously, who likes nagging about a lack of attention and affection? Yuck. It's not who I am.

But I know it's not fair to dwell. There are times it's simple and beautiful. We'll drive through the staccato rain for the city's best pizza and while waiting he'll play me all his favourite songs from a treasured CD. He'll squeeze his face in excitement and I'll feel like his best friend. Or he'll hear of an upcoming storm and we'll travel to the most northern Sydney beach so he can show me how lightning looks over a dark, brooding yet breathtaking beach. And all the time our son will be sleeping in the back. Then there are the times we lie on our bed, talking for hours while Hugo plays and chatters between us. And the small things like getting us an arthouse movie to watch and not going for his favourite action/thriller type or going to get me breakfast and coffee each morning.

I feel Luc and I are setting some kind of standard in this part of our relationship. I'm forever challenged to not give into my exhaustion and not act like a tired brat. We went through a hard time before my pregnancy and some of our wounds haven't totally healed, but despite this there's so much love and even though I get mad, lonely and depressed, I can't act from those emotions as they don't encompass who we are.