Swanky New Years Eve Brunch

After a lovely evening at the wedding of our friends at the Mt. Lavinia Hotel in Colombo(and the whole reason for visiting Sri Lanka).  Chris and I rode a tuk-tuk back to the much less swanky hotel nearby where we stayed (also known as the only room left in the entire neighborhood on the 30th of December).  We booked into a hotel 1km from the wedding and hired a babysitter recommended by Susan's office in Colombo.  She is a marketing executive who babysits expat babies (Sri Lankans apparently do not have a culture of babysitting, and expats are apparently the only terrible parents who would leave our children unattended in the care of a non-family member) be that as it may, $7 an hour later, Chris and I set off to the wedding.  Chris did duck back to the hotel after the ceremony to feed and put Luka to sleep, meaning we pretty much paid the babysitter to watch TV and eat roomservice.

The following morning we took a stroll back to the Mt. Lavinia to say farewell to all the friends and the lovely couple who set off on a tour of Sri Lanka.  Work commitments unfortunately meant that we could not join them.  We did however partake of the nice poolside brunch at the wedding hotel before heading back to our friend's home where we spent the day by the pool and new years eve ducking and covering.

Back to brunch... we were overjoyed that the hotel had high chairs, meaning we could actually not play 'defense' for once as Luka was somewhat safely strapped in.  Here's what he had to say about the fare on offer.

Look at my dexterity mommy, I can see the bread stick,
reach for it...

...and pick it up to show you...

...EXACTLY how I feel about eating breadsticks at a
swanky brunch!...

..now move that plate of food closer to me!

Sri Lanka Shenanigans

Luka the main flirt. 

What better way to spend a day than lounging at the beach/spa/pool of a nice hotel with awesome people.  Luka agrees.

Camp Luka, poolside.

A few of us invaded the pool of the Mt. Lavinia Hotel on the coast of Colombo.  Many Lion Lagers and a bottle of Arrack (thanks Leo and Sara) later - we were pretty well established poolside.  Luka was loving all the attention, swimmig, jumping on everyone.  Alas, even this ever-ender has to 'recharge' (what we call 'sleeping' in this house) for which the PeadPod came in every so handy.

Look how big I am now since we took the train to
Edinburgh in July, autie Sara!

:)

Traveling through Sri Lanka

One of the shrines within the temple

 
Despite the slightly longer than anticipated drive, the trip to Kandy was totally worth it.  We hired a local guide, though slightly senile (he kept repeating things over and over again), ancient and lisping - he was a wealth of information about the important place of Sri Lanka in the Buddhist faith.  He carefully explained all the details in the Temple of the Tooth, the most revered temple in all of Sri Lanka where, legend has it, a tooth of the Buddha is kept in a gold casket (well, seven actually).  Throughout our tour of the sprawling temple, Luka was a trooper.   Since it was a no-shoe temple, it was also a no-stroller temple, so he rode along happily in his Ergo Carrier, entertaining all the Sri Lankan grandmothers along the way who delighted in eliciting a response from him...right up until he passed out (see photo).

Our super traveler having a much-deserved nap after
smiling at each and every pilgrim in the Temple.

In addition to the temple, we took a stroll down the main street, ate fresh roti for lunch, and had a beer (or two) at the old colonial Queens Hotel, where Luka also enjoyed his lunch and a couple of nappy changes.

Chillin' out old school at the Queens Hotel

Tonight we're off to dinner at the groom's family home in Wattala.  We're packing Luka's dinner, pajamas and his collapsible bed to make sure we ca enjoy the night without worrying about what he is up to at home.

A beautifully painted door inside the temple

Rest Stop

Yummie, yummie - mixed juice.

Whilst visiting Sri Lanka, we figure it only fitting to visit the most revered temple in the nation.  The Buddhist Temple of the Tooth, located in the lovely town of Kandy.  The driver turned out to be slightly longer than we anticipated, leading to a nearly 11 hour round-trip for only 3 hours in Kandy. Luka was a trooper ad didn't scream nearly as much as I would have in his position (strapped into a car seat facing the front end of a bus trailing way too close for comfort!)

We were picked up by a driver in a Toyota Prius at 0730, and set off on our adventure.  Along the way we stopped for juice and nappy changes.  At our rest stop, Luka just would not let Chris have his juice to himself - so, was introduced to his first fresh fruit juice.

More on the temple shortly...

Hey! Give me more juice!!

Luka's new friend: Rennie the Rescue Bulldog

Hey there! My name is Luka, you
drool a lot!

Luka made a new friend yesterday - his name is Rennie.  Rennie is a rescue Bulldog from Amman, Jordan that had a rather rough start in life before our good friend saved him.  We figured Luka has found 'his people' in Rennie - let's see - they're both 'stout' and close to the ground, have cute bottom front teeth, chubby cheeks - and drool a lot.

Hey there little pink dude - let me give you a kiss.

Christmas Day in Sri Lanka

After camp Changi was dismantled, we boarded an overbooked flight full of returning Sri Lankans to Colombo.  Despite our best efforts to sleep Luka as much as possible, the combination of the sneezing woman behind us, and all the fascinated Sri Lankans at this smiley baby who were constantly engaging with him, making sleep the last thing on his mind.  Traveling with Luka has now become somewhat like traveling with a small tornado.  As when he was little, he remains an excellent flyer (no screaming, no ear aches), it's just that...well, there is no sitting either.  So we play defense by passing him back and forth as he lunges himself at the back of the seat, all the while smiling at everyone and everything he can lay his eyes on.

Scrub-a-dub-dub - Luka's in the ... sink. 

We survived the flight and arrived red-eyed at Colombo International Airport somewhere in the vicinity of 0400.  We were met by a lovely driver who transported us the roughly one hour to a friend's house in a lovely part of Colombo.  We tried to thwart Luka by giving him his second 'bad tyd' of the evening by showering and bottling him at 0500 hoping for at least a few hours sleep.  True to form though he was up at 0630 and ready to go.  We spent the day in a bit of a sleep deprived daze, but relaxed by our friend's pool, took a stroll to the supermarket, and then had a lovely Christmas dinner with an American-Ghanean couple living here in Sri Lanka.   But not before we gave Luka his Christmas bath.  Not wanting to get into the shower right before dinner ourselves, we opted for the second best thing.

God bless good friends who welcomed us into their home for Christmas, and god bless Luka and his sense of humor. 

Camp Christmas Eve at Changi

Camp Christmas Eve (post spit-up, hence the additional
laundry in the background).

While most of you will be snug in your homes around a warm fire and Christmas tree, surrounded by presents and family - the three of us are in fact someplace much cooler - in TRANSIT.  That's right.  We presently find ourselves in the 'Rainforest' Lounge (so called for the green painted trees on the white walls) in Changi (or SIN or if you really don't get around much, Singapore International) airport.

We have had to adapt our 'strictly one bag each' travel motto slightly since adding a new addition, leading to the rather 'IDP-camp looking setup' in the lounge area.  We have learned that when you travel with an infant, trying to stick as closely as possible to a 'normal' schedule is key.  So we pick flights that coincide with nap times (whenever possible) and have become quite skilled at bathing him in airport lounge sinks.  Yes, this also means we will favor one airport (SIN) over another (DPS), for instance.  We've also learned to pick our gear carefully.  For this trip, we opted for the Chicco Capri Stroller in 'Tangerine' and pitched before you is our little man's home away from home, his Peapod travel bed from KidCo.  In preparation for this trip, we have been napping him in here every day to make sure he is comfortable with it.

Today's travel started with a pre-flight trip to the airport where Susan managed to convince the Air Timor staff to check us in hours before the gate opens - securing not only the bulkhead, but also weighing and tagging the luggage - meaning that we got to avoid the line when we showed up 45mins before the flight departed.  The flight coincided with what should have been Luka's nap - but hey - if you're 9.4kg and have to sit in mom or dad's lap, WHO wants to nap when you can JUMP for 3.5 hours.  So Chris and I pretty much played defense for the entire flight (yes I know my father is smiling as he reads this).

At Changi, our stroller was handed to us exactly as we walked past the door on the ramp (again, why we fly through SIN and not DPS), and we headed straight for the lounge with our Priority Pass cards (we are afterall only Silver on Emirates, can't wait to make Gold one day when I grow up).  It was about an hour past Luka's bedtime, so time was of the essence.  Mommy and Luka took a shower (interesting endeavor in a small space let me tell you) while daddy erected Camp Christmas Eve outside.

Tucked in for a nice nap.

Following his shower and bottle, all snug in his PJs, Luka went down for (what we hope) will be at least a four hour nap before we very gently try and transfer him to one of our shoulders and onto the flight.  What an awful time to be flying on Christmas, to arrive at 0140 in Colombo on Christmas morning - but with only three weekly flights between DIL-SIN, so be it.

Anyway, from all three of us, we wish you a VERY MERRY CHRISTMAS EVE.

Hangin' with my peeps

One of the nice things about living in Dili during the recent baby-boom is that there is plenty opportunity for socializing (for both bubs and 'rents alike).  Tuesdays at Nicole's has become somewhat of an institution - no less for the great company than for the great coffee (fabulous espresso or cappuccino) and awesome cookies.

What is great is it seems to benefit everyone - parents (many of whom steal away from work to say hello to their bubs), nannies (who all know each other and hang out) and of course, the little ones - whom most of which have just come into a place of development now where they are actually noticing other babies around them.

Here is Luka with buddy Morrison - his Australian-South-African brother (with a daddy who is 6foot 4 (at least) no wonder he is Luka's size despite being two months his junior!)

Hey there mate! 

IQ Blocks

Hm...get back here! 

And yes, he is this close to crawling - frightening I know!

I had the wisdom of buying a few toys before we came to Dili - for some reason these blocks caught my eye on Amazon - so happy to report that Master Luka loves them - and is becoming quite familiar with the notion of gravity as we tumble around these on our playmat.  It is them most incredible experience to watch their little brain develop - it's like you can hear the hamster on the wheel just running his little legs off.  And yes, for those who are wondering - I can report that Luka definitely has his mommy's lack of patience for failure...

How to get expelled from a US Embassy

...throw up your egg lunch all over the US Ambassador's annual Christmas Party.  Seriously, not the merriest of experiences, but exactly what young Master Luka managed this evening at 1800.  Things were going super, he was once again a main attraction with smiles, cuddles and more smiles abound.  Mommy sang in the Community Choir, then stopped to have a cold beer afterward.  Daddy decided that Luka looked a little hot in his stroller, so removed him - and then it happened.  Poor guy just opened up and barfed* egg everywhere over the floor of the outdoor veranda area.  Needless to say, we were dumbstruck and immediately concerned.  Chris had the wherewithal not to move him, rather holding him like an outstretched rugby ball to finish his business in a neat pile, before I swooped him up and charged indoors to bring him into the cool airconditioned air, just as he blew another load, right down my front (but thank heavens I missed the ambassador's rug!)

I wiped Luka down with cold water on one of the lovely white terry cloths in the Ambassador's guest bathroom, and cleaned myself up some too.  I decided best we head back out and make our leave gracefully or else someone might be concerned, or just deem me rude.  So here we were, Luka covered in egg-flavored puke, and myself looking like I had just participated in the Embassy's annual wet t-shirt contest, not carol singing.

We said our goodbyes, a few fellow parents commiserated mostly by reminiscing about their own offspring's most inappropriate reverse digestion.  Ah, parenthood.

At home, it was a bath, followed by a breastfeed, some more vomiting, some sheet changing, some more breastfeeding, some more vomiting - before mommy and daddy finally figured out just to put him to bed with an empty stomach.

So, at 21h00 we're off to what we believe will be a rough night with the young man.  Don't worry - we're armed with a flight schedule and emergency private number for a doctor in town, just in case.  

* Did you know that there are apparently 339 synonyms for 'puke' on this website.  Hopefully Luka does not make a habit of it and I won't have to learn all of them.

Luka the Christmas elf

Getting into the festive mood.

As a member of the Dili choir I went to sing some Christmas Carols at the newly opened Timor Plaza shopping center here in Dili.  Luka came along with his nanny Michelle and loved every minute of the music, often squealing in delight.

I have felt terribly guilty for not being more 'Christmassy' this year, no tree, no gifts under the tree, and no real Christmas spirit here except for the growing number of nativity scenes appearing in all the Dili neighborhoods (scenes in which Santa more often than not appear right next to the three wise men).

Anyway, with my Yule Tide, Silent Night and Rudolf - it was good to feel a little merry this afternoon.

Post #200 - The Birth

Of all the blogs I've had (and for those who know me, you know there have been a few), I have never reached 200 posts before.  So it seemed only fitting that I should finally get around to writing the actual birth story.  It's perfect timing really - Chris is out of town for the weekend, Luka's asleep, and I have red wine and chocolate.

For those who have followed the tale thus far, you can see Part I: The frantic departure from Dili, followed by Part II: The panicked check-in to Royal Darwin Hospital, and falling asleep in each others arms on the floor of a birthing room in the public hospital in the Northern Territory...

As explained in Part II, the nurses came into the room every 2 hours to check my vitals throughout the night, which was fine since I was awake busy praying anyway.  I listened to Chris gently snoring as tears continued to soak my pillow.  Finally at 0700 on the 22nd, with Chris still asleep, I leaned over to get my phone so that I could start making a list of things we would need to get for our stay in Darwin. I figured worst case scenario, I am stuck in Darwin for a few weeks (and yes, more than likely not able to fly to Cape Town to have the baby), but that we would be holed up in a hotel room, in which case we are going to need a few basics.  You may recall that in my infinite wisdom I managed to pack my iPod, camera, phone (no charger), five books on natural child birth and running gear for Chris.  Note, no mention of pajamas, chargers, clothes, or other useful things...so, my list went something like this: "Aus sim card, phone charger, camera charger, pajamas, snacks...." and then it happened...

...amazingly, I actually heard my waters broke before I felt the warm gush of fluid soak the bed below me. Here I was, phone still in hand, now lying in a pool of liquid, on the floor of a hospital room, with Chris sound asleep next to me.  Trying to explain the emotions when your waters break 10 weeks early, is not something I am able to do, all I knew was that we were likely having this baby today, whatever that meant.  

Not knowing quite how to wake Chris without completely freaking him out - I turned to him and gently tapped him on the shoulder saying 'sweetie, I think you're going to have to ring the nurse, my waters just broke' - well, you've never seen a former prop go from horizontal to vertical in such a short time. When he rang the button, it was only a few seconds before someone came charging through the door.  I had not seen her before, but took an instant liking to her when the sixty-odd something midwife crouched down beside me on the bed, asked me what happened, and then reassuringly told me "my name is Dee, I'm the midwife on call and I'll take care of you".  I remember clutching her hand so firmly and looking into her eyes begging her to let nature run its course as long as it remains safe for the baby.  She assured me she would discuss this with the doctor and that she would do everything she could.  

Still lying on the floor, still in Chris' boxers (he'd managed to pull a pair of shorts on at this point), I laid there while they took my vitals and what felt like loads of people started pouring in, doctors, midwives, even a social worker to help us find a place to live.  I declined the internal examination, my reasoning being that my water had just spectacularly broke, I did not feel the need for anyone to check whether this baby was in fact coming, we knew it was coming, so just let it be.  

Attached to the monitor shortly after my waters broke**

After a while, I got up, and started moving around.  Dee was in and out of the room, as was the same doctor that saw me the night before.  It was on her second visit to the room when she once again offered me pain relief (mind you this was before I even had any pain), that Chris politely told her that if she offered me any more pain relief after we told her twice already that I didn't want any, he'd ask her to leave.  By this point I had changed into a dry pair of underwear and some more of Chris' boxers and was pacing the room eating the oatmeal breakfast they brought me in a plastic cup.  Chris was on the phone to my dad (the parent with the most favorable time zone at the time), who told us months later that he instinctively knew something was up when he took the call.  While I finished breakfast doctors came and went to take blood and the social worker kept popping in to ask questions.  At some point it felt like we were in Central Park Station, when Chris finally took a piece of paper and wrote a sign for the door that said "We are a Hypnobirthing couple, please respect our privacy and knock, and wait for acknowledgment before entering" kicked everybody out of the room, and shut the door.  Ah, peace and quiet at last. 

On my iPod, pre-shower

At around 10h30 my 'contractions' finally started in earnest, though quite honestly, it was not unbearable.  Dee had me on the bed briefly to take some more vitals, at which time we discussed the fact that she got clearance from the doctors that I could do the birth naturally, provided I agree to being attached to the ECG (the monitor that requires the two big belts around the belly to monitor the baby's vitals), and that I could do anything during labor, but I had to have the baby on the bed to be close to oxygen and everything else.  I agreed, and she helped us kick everyone out of the room from where it was just Chris, myself and her sitting in the corner.  

To get me in the 'mood', Chris popped my iPod out of the bag and instructed me to listen to my 'Rainbow Relaxation' track of my HypnoBirthing training.  After that I immediately switched it to the Birth Affirmations which I literally put on repeat and listened to constantly for the remainder of my birth.  So at 10h30 when the contractions got going, I planted myself on a yoga ball with my elbows and arms on the bed in front of me, and mostly lying with my head in my arms, gently swaying and rocking from side to side while hearing "...I look forward to a comfortable birth, my baby and my body knows what to do...".  In between 'surges' as we call them in HypnoBirthing, I was chatting to Chris, eating toast with Marmite and drinking tea.  Around 12h00 I said I wanted to take a shower so Chris followed me into the shower where I sat on the ball with him hosing my back down as a worked my way through the surges.  We must have spent about an hour in the shower (or it felt like it). By this point I didn't even bother to put any clothes back on, as I walked back to the room and planted myself back on the ball, gently swaying.  A doctor came in to take some blood (must have been in training as he did an awful job of finding a vein), and once the new head doctor came in.  I took one look at this unfortunate mix between Elmer Fudd and William H Macy and instinctively knew that we were not going to get along.  I am sure he is an excellent doctor, and I am sure that I would be eternally grateful for his brilliance if required during the delivery - but at that time, he was just trying to interfere with my birth.  He made me nervous, edgy and uncomfortable with his questions, attitude and constant reference to pain relief.  I tried to ignore him while listening to my birthing affirmations (need I remind you, I was in fact in labor at the time and if you've ever been, you will know that it is a rather otherworldly experience, and not one you want to snap out of because a man needs to ask you some questions).  God bless Chris, who finally stepped up and said that if he had any more questions, he needed to address them to him, and leave me in peace.  I think he didn't like that very much and marched off.  

Anyway, my labor progressed amazingly well.  It was so peaceful in the room, just myself (by now buck-ass naked), Chris (by now only in cargo shorts, no shoes, no shirt) and Dee sitting in the corner (reading our HypnoBirthing book mind you) in Bermuda shorts, sneakers and a golf shirt.  From time to time she would check my vitals and the baby's vitals, I would ask her how we were doing, and she would say just great.  The surges came and went, at which time I would go deep into myself, rocking on the ball, until they subsided - then have another bite to eat, and chat with Chris.  At some point I did get on the bed to rest, and managed to doze off between surges.  I never cried, screamed or doubled over in agony, it was truly a somewhat out-of-body peaceful experience.  With my iPod permanently attached to my head (except for the shower), I walked around, and managed to go to the bathroom a number of times (poor Chris had to come with me because I flat-out refused not to have him with me at all times).  

And so it was that I was actually sitting on the loo for the longest time (those who have done it will tell you it is very comfy while in labor) when all of a sudden, around 14h30, I transitioned into an incredible place...it is at this point that I looked at Chris, sitting in front of me on the floor, and for a brief second thought, oh my god, I can't do this.... and then, it was like the blood drained out of my entire body, from the top, down to the bottom - and then I felt it coming.  Chris (not wanting to fish a baby out of the toilet) yelled for the midwife to come.  The young midwife standing in for Dee who had gone to tea, came in and calmly said 'whoops, yes, definitely time to get you off the toilet and onto the bed'.  Amazingly I was able to stand up by myself, walk into the room adjacent, and climb onto the bed myself, even discussing the most ideal position with the midwife.  Dee arrived back and said that while she was supposed to go off at 15h00, she planned on staying because she was not missing this birth (I was ever so grateful).  She said at this point I had to do a vaginal exam to make sure that I was in fact 10cm dilated before we could proceed. I was.

Then logic kicked in.  I instinctively got onto all fours and asked them to lift up the backrest of the bed so that I could be on my knees and rest my elbows on the backrest of the bed.  As the surges started gripping my body, Chris was to my left encouraging me every single second of the way, and Dee was on my right, monitoring me and the baby, the other midwife also stayed because regulations called for two to be present.  To try and explain the place you go to when in labor is simply not possible.  What I remember is a clarity of mind that I have never experienced before. If I was a bit doozy and foggy during the first stage, the second stage rids you of any and all fog, and delivers *sic* you into the clearest, most intense, most indescribable place I have ever been.  I remember exactly what I said to Chris and what he said to me. I remember the midwife's actions as she checked our vitals.  I remember how I breathed when the surges gripped my body, and how I relaxed and smiled at Chris in between with my head on my arms on the back of the bed...

At some point, I sensed a presence in the room and later found out that the team of pediatricians, NICU nurses and doctors required to attend a premature birth were in fact in the room, but neatly tucked behind a curtain where they could not see me, and I could not see them.  So instead, I was able to peacefully, naturally, and amazingly, let the birth progress.  I recall vividly asking Dee between two of my surges whether she thought I was doing alright, or whether I should flip over into a 'squatting' position - she said that I was doing amazing and everything was progressing.  She allowed me to 'breathe' through the surges and I could feel the baby descend down the birth canal.  

The turning point of my life (note, not my birth) came when she took out a small handheld mirror to have a look and asked me if I wanted to see my baby's head crown - she stuck the mirror between my legs, and at that moment I looked up to see Chris' face as he saw the first glimpse of his baby...and his eyes welled up with tears.  As if I wasn't high enough on hormones and endorphins already!  Dee asked me whether I wanted to touch it, which at first I was reluctant to do because of some fear of infection - but after she assured me that was fine - I did, I felt him for the first time, and emotions just drained out of me.  At this point Dee said that while I was doing really well and the baby was fine, but that he has been in the birth canal for some time now, and that on this last surge, she wanted me to give just one good push to get him out and make sure he does not stay in any longer.  So with one rather vocal finale he slipped right out and plopped down on the bed between my legs with a good cry, and we learned for the first time that we had just had a son.  

Chris proudly doing what he said
he never would!

In a split second Dee handed him to me between my legs and I cradled this tiniest of miracles against my chest ever so briefly before the nurses and doctors appeared to take charge of my baby for the first time in what seemed an eternity.  They unceremoniously cut the cord and whisked him off to the corner for his Apgar and other checkups, Chris close on their heels.  Right before they whisked him out of the room to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit (NICU), Chris begged them to bring him to me for one more second to hold.  Wrapped in the requisite plastic wrap and with a little cap on his bruised head to preserve his body head, it was incredibly surreal and almost unbelievable that this morning, I was still praying to keep him in, not even knowing who he was, and here we were - parents.  

Thanks to Chris' insistance, I get one more cuddle before
Luka is whisked away to the NICU. I cannot believe how
little he is, and that he is here at all....

Chris stood rather confused in the doorway for a brief moment, looking at them whisk him off across the hall, then back at me - before I told him "I'm fine!  Go to him!"   And just like that, it was over, and yet, it had only begun.  Here I was, sitting up in bed, I had just had a baby, but I might as well have just woken up from bad dream.  My belly was gone, there was a bit of bleeding, but not too much.  Dee and the other midwife flanked me as we waited for the third stage to be delivered, and I just looked up and said, I need a chocolate.

With Dee shortly after the birth, in high spirits (hmmm,
hormones....)

After they were confident that I had delivered all that needed to come out, they asked me to stay in the room for the next thirty minutes to make sure there was no hemorrhaging before I could go to the baby.   Chris came back from the nursery and assured me that our baby was doing really well, and did not require any oxygen, but that he was a little bruised from the birth.  At this point, we realized that we had never actually agreed on a name for a boy.  We've had a girl's name picked out for years (because I was always so convinced I would have a girl), but what on earth are we going to call this little boy.  After much back and forth on family names we had been playing around with, I suggested a name that recently came to me, it had no meaning to either of us, only that it seemed to be a good 'strong' name, and all of a sudden we knew it had to be Luka.  

Our little fighter bravely opening his eyes after being
placed in the incubator...

I got up, had a long, hot shower, then just about inhaled a shepherd’s pie for dinner, wolfed down the entire chocolate without leaving any for Chris while he was on the phone, talked to my parents, and then was given the green light to go to the nursery to see Luka.  I had apparently not compensated for what my body had just been through, because when I jumped up from the floor where we had been eating, the blood suddenly rushed to, and then from, my head and I literally hit the deck.  Fortunately for me, Chris noticed something was amiss and was able to catch me to break my fall, but he did not appreciate the terrifying scare I gave him as he shouted for help.

Turns out I just had to get up a bit slower next time, and we wandered over to the nursery where I came face to face with our reality for the next six+ weeks…

And so the legend began….

** Note, some of the photos have previously been posted. 

Feeding frenzy

When we moved from Cape Town to Dili, I packed a childhood favorite of mine in anticipation of this whole solids business.  Maltabella pap (or porridge). The thick, chocolate brown colored, malty porridge was always a favorite growing up, and sure enough, guess who else loves it.  But ever wondered what it takes to feed a seven-month old his porridge?

Loving every minute of his breakfast.

Apparently it takes 1 tooth, 2 spoons, 1 rattle, a nappy to protect the chair, a big plastic bib, and finally, a shower.

Poor rattle had three baths today!

More on eating and our life in Dili

"Give me that! Let me show you how..."

Since I have been absolutely flat-out at work lately, I have not been able to update all of you on the progress and goings-on of life in Dili, and yes, yes I know you are not interested in hearing about Chris and I, only how is Luka doing - so yes - Luka too.

As we've mentioned in earlier posts, we have moved to a new house immediately opposite close friends and Luka's closest buddy in Dili, Adrian.

Turns out it was a great time to move since I was overwhelmed with work commitments at night and especially now going into the festive season I am expected to attend more and more social functions at night, making our current location near all the embassies much more preferable.

Luka has in a word, been thriving.  He is 6.5 months adjusted/corrected age, and closer to 9 months actual age.  In terms of development, here is the latest:

1. He is able to, albeit reluctant, to sit
2. He wants to stand, jump, pounce and most recently, climb, everything
3. He manages to actually move himself forward on his stomach on his play mat when you place toys outside of reach, but is smart enough to know it is much easier to flip on his back, scoot up, then flip back over and triumphantly score the toy
4. He still only has one bottom tooth, and what a cutie it is
5. No movement on the hair growth yet, though we remain baffled at the redness of it
6. His eyes seem to be leaning toward a greenish hue at the moment
7. He still smiles about 40 times an hour, and laughs out of his belly when you blow bubbles in the pool
8. He loves, loves music and wholeheartedly joins in whenever I or the nanny sings to him
9. He is close to a truce with Gus who have lately been much more amenable to trying out this new visitor - I think someone realized that he is not in fact, visiting
10. He has grown out of all his 6 and 9 month clothing and is seriously challenging the 12 month variety - which means there will be a lot of naked baby in the weeks to come until we can get to a place with clothes for him

We haven't weighed him this week, but as of last week here is Luka by the numbers:
Age: 6.5 months
Length: 74cm (29.13inches)
Weight: 8.6kg (19lbs)
Head: 45cm



Yes, that does in fact mean that his length for his corrected age is officially off the charts now.

As for our little culinary experimenter:

"I love my mummy because she feeds me"

Chris was excited to read an article that suggested that one should feed an infant at least 24 new foods before their first birthday - at last count, we were up to 28, and he's only six months old- something Chef Daddy took great pride in.

This week's favorite, home made brown bread.  While we started out toasting it (like the book says) mommy figured out instead of toast fingers, just give him crust fingers - it lasts much longer and is nice and bendy.  He must by mommy's child because he loves bread.

Ouma and Luka

Going through Luka's photos I was just so overjoyed by all of these of my mom during her stay with us in Dili from end of September to end of October.  What a blessed time and opportunity to watch her and Luka get to know each other and for him to learn from her.  The love between a grandmother and your first child is something that I could never begin to appreciate until it happened.  I am so blessed to have had her spend this time with us, and so is Luka.

This photo was taken the morning before Ouma got on a jetplane to leave after her amazing month here in Timor helping us through the transition back to work.

Luka and Ouma at Cazbar

Here is another favorite of this incredible bond between a grandmother and her grandchild....truly amazing.

...hanging out, exploring all sorts of new things...

Oooh, Prada glasses!  What does that mean?

Learning to feed myself

So amid teething, developmental milestones, and a little cold - Luka also developed a very strong sense of self, and particularly independence this week.  Our latest mission is to feed ourself, with rather messy shower-inducing consequences.

Spinach and garlic prepared especially for my by daddy.

Atauro Island

Luka decided to treat auntie Becca to a trip to the local island about an hour off the coast of Dili.  Here are a few photos from our recent visit to Atauro island.  The jist of it is a small eco resort with five cabins, solar power, pit toilets, bucket showers, good food, plenty of sunshine and cold Tiger beer.  What's not to like?

Friday had us chilling in the cabin, swimming and watching Luka trying to feed himself spinach.  On Saturday we wandered out to the local market where we had a fish meal and some local cold drinks, and ventured out on the back of a tuc-tuc to the local Italian restaurant (note: order the morning you plan to have lunch there or prepare to wait 2.5hours for a pizza - fortunately we were forewarned). 

We had an absolutely wonderful weekend teething, cold and broken down water taxi on the way back notwithstanding.  

Luka hanging out with auntie Becca

Fishing nets adorn a local eatery on the beach

Enjoying fresh coconut milk from the source

Luka's voyage out on local transport a la tuc tuc. 

Chillin in my swim trainer out front of our cabin

Pre-bedtime bath

Blessed family

Sunset over our cabin and beach cabana

Weekend island getaway

It might seem like an oxymoron to go on a weekend island getaway, considering that we live on a fairly small island...but that's exactly where we are. After recovering from our Thanksgiving feast (photos to follow soon) we hopped a water taxi to Atauro island, about an hour's ride off the North coast of Timor and booked into Barry's Eco Resort. A lovely group of 5 thatched huts, the resort runs on solar power, pit latrines, good food, cold beer, and friendly staff. Activities include daily trips out to the reef by boat for snorkeling, hikes, a trip to the local doll factor, dinner at the Italian restaurant and dive trips can be arranged. The weather is great, its quiet and the water is 20m away from the porch. Can't wait to come back!

Luka's first Thanksgiving

As has become a bit of a tradition in our household - Chris and I once again hosted Thanksgiving supper for (mostly) American 'orphan' expatriates spending this holiday far away from the warmth, hospitality and food of their families.  I happened to read through our thanksgiving escapades of two years ago in Kabul (see post here) and chuckled at what Thanksgiving pre-Luka looked like, versus this year.

Now if you have ever been at our Thanksgiving table it probably means that you have lived either in Baghdad, Kabul or Dili.  For the past six years, we have hosted probably close to 150 people for Thanksgiving - mostly Americans, with the odd foreigner* (sic) thrown in for good measure.  So it was that we co-hosted our first Thanksgiving in the USAID compound of the Green Zone in 2006.  This entailed four ovens, 3 turkeys, 50 guests, and an insane amount of booze.  The following year in Kabul was our first solo attempt.  We made due with a bird we found through a friend of a friend, were forced to use a can of old cranberry sauce I found on a derelict shelf in a local supermarket, and had to opt for mashed potatoes over sweet potatoes that were not available.  Despite these shortcoming, we hosted 25 very happy friends for a wonderful meal.  Enter 2009, the year of our most legendary of Thanksgiving feasts (and the topic of the link above).  As we cooked our way out of the daily grind of war-torn Kabul, we procured birds, and even made a special trip to Dubai to smuggle in fresh cranberries, celery, sausage, and sweet potatoes. The result was a wonderful Thanksgiving where we hosted 35 guests from American interns to American legend in Afghanistan Nancy Hatch Dupree.

Luka inspects the imported organic turkey, cranberries and
locally procured sweet potatoes

The turkey surgeon at
work to butterfly the
yuppie bird. 

Fast forward to our current island home where we hosted our second Thanksgiving for about 12 friends and colleagues this year.  As with our last island feast, we BBQ'd a bird (well, one of them at least), but it was not just any bird.  I mean, others had turkeys alright.  No, but this was not some Singapore-based, Australian contractor-procured frozen butterball.  No ma'am.  For our feast this year, a friend actually flew in a fresh (not live thank you!), organic turkey from a gourmet butcher in Bondi Beach in Sydney.  That's right.  When I picked up my dear friend and Oxford classmate at the Dili International airport on Wednesday morning at 0700, I was faced with a slightly shellshocked customs officer holding a turkey in one hand and a bag of something I couldn't quite make out in the other.  Rebecca exited the arrivals hall, close on the heels of the customs officer who was by now clasping the turkey in one hand while frantically dialing someone (presumably his supervisor) on his mobile phone.  After a quick dash back to the car to store Ms. Becca's heavy bag, Luka and I rushed over to the quarantine office (me secretly hoping I didn't recognize anyone from our cat import fiasco).  I stormed into the quarantine office and came face to face with the clearly overwhelmed customs officer, still not able to reach his supervisor and started firing off in Tetun explaining that tomorrow is an important day in America, and that I am going to need that bird.  "Bon dia maun, aban iha loran bo'ot husi Amerika, entaun hau presiza ida ne'e" pointing at the bird....oh, and 'by the way, I'm going to need those eight Scotch Fillets as well!'  Fortunately, we walked off with the bird and the steaks.... oh, and the cheese, celery, cranberry relish, five bottles of wine, corn syrup, fresh pecans, and of course Tim Tams.

On the menu this year was thus a BBQ'd butterflied organic yuppie turkey from Sydney, one oven-baked butterball (donated by a friend at the US Embassy), our sausage and sage stuffing (made with chorizo for lack of other sausage), maple glazed sweet potato casserole (made with local honey for lack of maple syrup), simple green beans with sun dried tomato and pine nuts, corn bread muffins, gravy and our 53% density organic cranberry sauce.

And yes, there were pies.  While it goes without saying that I now believe pastry chefs have one of the most difficult jobs in the entire world (perhaps after POTUS and mom) and yes, we may or may not have wasted about 4kg of failed butter in the dough - we did in fact successfully string together 2 sort of holding on butter pie crusts and one crisco backup - but pies we had including home made pumpkin pie (from real fresh pumpkin) and awesome pecan pie thanks to the Australian-procured nuts - I mean, how wrong can you go with pecans, sugar and some egg??

We give thanks!

Okay, I just realized that we are six paragraphs into a post without a mention of Master Luka - so most importantly of course - this was Luka's first Thanksgiving - and as it were, the topic of our thanksgiving this year.  So with friends and colleagues gathered around a table in Dili, we gave thanks for friends, family far away, and especially, so very, very especially, our little Luka.