The pregnant woman is allowed to whinge, OK?

Cuddles for the baby - 16 weeks

If you ever want to know how much your life has changed, look back over your clothes at the time.

I dragged my maternity clothes up from under the house and rifled through them, looking forward to finding some stretchy things that might fit. My aim was pretty humble; just the chance to wear something other than tracksuit pants would be awesome.

Four years ago, the last time I wore these clothes, looked vastly different to now. The gear I found was mostly appropriate for my old corporate working life, with the occasional pair of tracksuit pants for changing into after work (no, please, not MORE trackies!). Oh, and could someone please tell me why I thought it a good idea to keep the things I wore in hospital, even what I wore while in labour? I nearly threw up when I saw them.

Which leaves me with... nothing to wear. I'm not going to whinge about it - but only because there are about 500 other things I'd prefer to save my whining for. (Back pain. Cramping hips. Insomnia. Overheating. Nausea. Exhaustion. Take your pick!)

Life is quickly becoming all about reducing the aches and pains, and just looking after myself and this baby. I'm glad I was getting used to a simpler life anyway, because that's really all I can manage right now.

My days are filled with long walks, baking sessions and naps. I'm doing Pilates twice a week and I've just managed to track down the massage therapist who helped me through my first pregnancy. This is gearing up to be the most expensive and time-consuming pregnancy in the history of (my) pregnancies.

All that, and I'm only 16 weeks. I'm not even big yet, the baby isn't even weighing down on me. The next 24 weeks could be the longest of my life.

After hearing my complaints - maybe repeatedly - a few people have asked if I want this to be my last pregnancy.

It's hard to get perspective while I'm in the middle of it, but... yes. I'd say that's a very likely conclusion to draw.

Falling into the default

My little girl has a composure and strength about her. I look in her eyes and I see determination and an unwavering confidence. I see absolute happiness.


I like to think of it as the basis that will set her up for a future that will include hard times and confidence crises. If she has this to go back on, this knowledge that the world is good, everything will fall back into place for her. If she knows how to be happy and proud of herself, she'll fall back into that state easily. (Or, at the very least, she'll be able to find some humour in it all and laugh.)

And it was as I wrote those lines, words that I expected I'd probably never publish, that I received this email:

"The darkness you write about and need to be the best sound very familiar. But you also seem to know peace, strength, some kind of certainty that life will find a way and everything will go better than we expect."

This email came from a lady I don't know, who lives somewhere on the other side of the world. She managed to sum me up in two sentences. Powerful words - and thank you, M, for seeing me through this little patch of the internet.

It shows me that what I'm doing here really does create a connection. If I can help someone see that things will be okay for them, too - well, how cool is that? That's what other blogs do for me, as well - they've taught me a lot about other people and about myself.

When I read this email, I went back to those words at the top of this post. Words that are about my girl, but could also be written about me. That was me.

I, too, have a default state of strength, determination and happiness.

Many of us do, I believe. We just have to find it and let ourselves fall back in.

How do you help your child deal with anger?

Yesterday I wrote a little light-hearted piece about anger. As 'luck' would have it, it seemed to be a theme in my day...

I've always had pretty intense emotions, and anger was the one that really plagued me. I guess one part of my childhood I remember is being pretty angry with the world in general, especially being in some situations I just couldn't control (I've written about being bullied here). It all built up so much that some days I would lash out, physically and verbally, at whoever was there.

The 80s decade is known for its loudness, not sensitivity, so it probably isn't a surprise to those who lived it to hear that my anger was generally met with an instruction: 'Stop.'

Just don't be angry. Simple. Except of course it isn't, and learning how to control that anger has been one of my biggest struggles in life. When people say they think I'm a calm person, I feel surprised but also really proud: that's a big achievement for me.

I've also known the opposite in the last couple of years: complete numbness. That was the worst, and I would much rather feel anger (amongst many other emotions of course) and let it out appropriately than feel nothing at all.

It's in this context that I can say I now find some purpose (enjoyment, almost) in every emotion I feel. Just because it's there and it's real and it's me.

And it's with this background that I'm introduced to a new side of anger.

Parenting it.

I've just started seeing anger, real anger, in my three-and-a-half year-old girl's eyes. When we say no to something, her reaction has transformed as she grows - from tantrums to indifference to anger. Not every time we say no, of course, but definitely when it hits a trigger in her (tiredness is a factor in a big reaction, for example).

So I really need to be armed with some ways to deal with it.

Here's what I've got:

- We discipline her actions if she hits or lashes out. Those things are a big no-no in this family.

- We discipline the actions, not the feelings. I'm very careful to tell her, repeatedly if necessary, that it's okay to feel that way. That I get it.

- And then... I'm lost.

If I'm completely honest (and hey, why stop now!), I think this is the point I see myself. I freak out about where this could head if I don't help her well enough. Logically I know that just because she feels angry for a few minutes doesn't mean she's headed towards a problem, and I know that my life is not going to become hers. But in that moment? The pressure is on me to help her.

What I want is some practicality. Sure, I can tell her I know how she feels, but I want to give her some practical advice for dealing with it. How to channel those emotions.

For the adult me, it's all about exercise really. If negative emotions are building up (or preferably before it reaches that point), I need a big walk or a run.

But for a young child? Ummm...

Any ideas are very, very welcome! Please!

10 things people say that make me angry

"What will she be when she grows up?" Um, a grown-up.

"I have a Thermomix, now I can cook cool stuff!" You know you could have done that before, right?

"Why buy a house? It's impossible to be mortgage free, anyway." Hey, defeatists, watch me prove you wrong.

"My husband won't clean/cook/look after the kids." Don't let me near your husband - my disdain will be far too obvious.

"You can only do that because you have no kids/only one child." You live your life, watch me live mine.

"Travelling with kids is horrible!" Poor you, having a family holiday!

"When you move in together/get married/have kids, the romance will go." Thanks for the positivity.

"Don't take this the wrong way, but..." I love a passive aggressive statement that straight away says it's your own fault if you're offended!

"I bought Abbey a new soft toy!" Seriously, we have so many of the things, we have them stashed under the house. We can't fit them all in here. (And Steve and I have not ever bought her one.)

"She's such a tomboy!" I prefer to think of her as a kind, intelligent, funny, beautiful and well-rounded person with lots of interests. But that's okay, you stick a nice, neat little label on her.

In my head

Where I live is on the edge of a forest.

I walk through it, feeling small beside the tall, straight gums. But they do something important for me: they remind me to use them for their greatest power. Air. Up here, and in there, I can breathe. Really breathe.

Often the path through is wide and open. I can see the sky and the light pours its way through, showing a clear, straight path ahead.

Sometimes it's narrow, closed in and dark. The path twists and turns, and I can't see where I'm headed.

It whispers to me. Breathe.

There are times I stumble over tree roots or fallen branches. Things happen in here that are beyond our control; we just have to keep walking through the obstacles.

The trees sway and whisper in a chorus. Air.

*

I write things on this blog that I don't really talk about. Which is funny, because a lot of the people I'm close to read this.

When I sit alone, things come into my head that I need to clear.

In a conversation, those things won't come up. When someone asks how my holiday was, I'll say 'Good, thanks' and I'll share some funny moments. I won't say, 'Well, there was this time I had an anxiety attack...' It's not a secret, just a conversation stopper.

When people ask me, 'How are you?' I answer the usual: 'Very well, thanks'. Because it's true.

Life is good right now. I'd probably struggle to think of a time when it's been better - and by that I mean clearer, brighter and so promising.

There are just a few little obstacles, as life always throws in. These unspoken things make up part of my world, and how I deal with them says a lot about where I am. How I am.

When I'm walking, a clear, wide path is easy. But I love scrambling over the natural obstacles: fallen trees, rocks, hills - it's interesting and shows me I can meet a challenge.

There is one constant: the air up here is nearly always fresh and clear. When things are in my path, I take a deep breath and meet them face on.

Just like I always have, and always will.

A letter to the darkness

I wrote this a few months ago and wasn't sure about posting it. Now, I am. I know I need to get it out there. To say goodbye...

To the Darkness,

You'll notice I didn't address you as 'dear' Darkness. I'm afraid you'll find I'm not up to using terms of affection for you.

So. You're back.

I noticed that you left me for a while and I thought you'd gone forever, but it seems you just took a holiday. To visit another lost soul, perhaps. You've now returned and you might have been surprised by the frosty reception you received. I want to explain.

I guess you feel at home here. We spent a lot of time together, you and I, and I know you enjoyed it all. You'd talk to me and I'd listen, that's how it worked between us, the sharp truth of your words digging a little deeper each day. You had a lot of words for me: useless, idiot, stupid, no good, loser... the list goes on. I believed you. I agreed with all those words.

I was lonely, I guess, and your company gave me something. Someone. I clung to you, as you did me. We needed each other, we protected each other from the outside world, and although I can't say they were good times I can say they taught me a lot. About both of us.

I know you needed a break - you sure worked hard enough to deserve it - but in that time things changed a bit. A lot, really.

See, I got used to you not being around. I got used to the outside world, and guess what? I found out I'm brave enough for it - and for anything. I tried lots of things. I somehow found a way to crawl out and try all the things that you and I were scared of - and they were good. I had fun, I laughed, I found my passions in life again.

I learnt a lot while you were gone. I got used to not hearing those words you like so much, and I started listening to my own voice. After all that time, I was still there, just waiting to be heard.

When you came back this week I was shocked. Like I said, I thought you'd decided to leave for good. I was wrong, and I wonder if you might try that every now and then. I must remember that. I took you in, I listened to your words and I believed them again. But not for long. Now you're gone again.

I kicked you out, and although that might seem harsh I hope you'll know it's what's best for me. I had to do it. The alternative is too scary.

In truth, you don't belong here. I'm too strong for you now. And what I once thought was the truth, I can see clearly as lies. I am good enough, I can do whatever I want, I am loved.

So you can take your loud voice and your negative antics and go. Far away.

And if - when - you come back again, know that the reception will only become icier.

Megan

Dear Baby...

Dear Baby,

I was worried. I shouldn't have been.

Right on cue, you moved yesterday and I felt you. Not just little flutters that leave me unsure whether they were you or not. These were real little kicks.

I just want to say one thing: I love you.

And I'll be the best mum I can be to you.

(In return, I'd love it if you could stop making me feel sick. Deal?)

Life happens. So, let it.

3am.

I'm lying in bed, insomnia hitting again after a couple of weeks of full nights' sleeping. I'm not anxious about it or worried that I won't fall back to sleep. I'm not lonely, like the song says - I'm kind of enjoying the silence, in a weird way.

But I am crying. Just quietly.

I've been so relaxed of late, so calm and even. Not pushing things, just letting life happen.

But I fall back to my natural state of worry so easily. And right now, I'm uncertain.

Worried about this little baby inside me. What if I'm not as good a mum to him/her as I want to be? What if I can't - god, how do you even say this? - love it as much as I do my Abbey? How do I find something in myself that can do this all again?

How do I stop comparing, already, and feeling disappointed that I'm not enjoying this pregnancy as much? How do I move from that benchmark set by my first experience at this: the baby who gave me such an amazing introduction to motherhood.

How do I make sure I don't fall again?

Do I have the strength to do this?

How do I stop doubting myself?

I don't know.

But if I've learnt anything at all over the last few years, it's to take things one step at a time. Breathe. Try to slow my mind.

And so, I'm going to fall asleep, exhausted with emotion now. I'm going to be woken in a few hours by a certain three-year-old's cuddles and smiles, and I'll say a good morning to my littlest one who I love and want so much.

Sometimes that's enough.

Life happens. I just need to let it do it's thing, and let the worry go.

*

6am: Actually I didn't fall back asleep. Strangely, the silence I was savouring a few hours ago is gone. The noise in my head, Steve snoring (he never snores, why now?!) - it's all so loud I can't sleep through it.

I'm up. My day has begun, not quite as I thought it would, but it's here all the same.

One step at a time.

Today will be a gentle day.

How free is your soul?

'Your soul you must keep totally free.'

A beautiful line in a beautiful song.

Abbey was listening, too, dancing around with twirls and jumps, her dress spinning out all the while. But she heard it differently to me. Your soul you must keep totally three.

'Mummy, he said three! I'M three!'

And it struck me: he did say that. Free, three, so similar.

I watched her spin and laugh. Her approach to life is so amazing right now: she does everything with passion. When she's sad she flops on the ground and cries. When she's happy she jumps around without fear. When she does something new she just does it. Freedom is just about living.

Joy without fear. Sadness without guilt. Instinct. Trust.

Three. Free.

Life is a series of moments. Moments that begin before our memories hold them. Moments that pass us by while we're wishing for more: to be grown-up, to be happier, to do more, to have stuff.

I wonder if any of us are really brave enough to try living those moments with free souls.

Simply... The Best.

That quote is from the movie The Lorax - forgot to write that bit in the picture. Oops. Anyway...

I always wanted to be The Best at something.

My life was always about achieving. Things were hectic, but surely I could fit more in? A day of relaxing at home made me anxious: I thought I was wasting a day. It was never enough. No matter how much I did, I thought I should be doing more. More, more, more. Be The Best. And be it quickly. (To be fair, I was The Best at a few things: worrying, rushing, organising, stressing out.)

I thought that by doing as much as I could, I was making my life fuller. Instead, I crashed and burned. It's a sad thing, to be tired by life in your 20s.

I think about that crash a lot, why it happened. Like many things to do with people, it's not an easy thing to pinpoint; there are lots of little things that contributed, and some big things too. What's certain is that it turned my life on its head.

It's easy for me to put it down to some kind of delayed post-natal depression type of thing, because it happened when Abbey was little. It's simple for me to say that she triggered it - not to blame her, but to take the pressure off myself.

But those statements just aren't true. It was me.

When I gave up my career, ostensibly for her, I really did it for me. When life slowed down, it wasn't because she demanded that, it was what I needed to do. These were choices.

When other opportunities have come up, things that would really kick-start a bigger wave of this new direction I'm taking, I've turned my back on them. Choices: I'm holding out to make the right ones.

I gave up the possibilities of being The Best at any career right now. Steve and Abbey support me through everything: they were there, ready to help me be a full-time working mum. They stuck by me as I thought of running my own businesses. But each time, I've stopped at the outset.

My ultimate goal of success, with a family in the background, hasn't eventuated, and every day I kill that goal a little more. Not because I'm weak or can't take a challenge. Not because the temptation to lead a 'busy' life isn't great.

I decided not to turn my back on my family. And in doing that, with my tears pouring and my soul changing forever, I got to reach my biggest goal without even realising.

I'm The Best mum to Abbey, and will be to my next little one too. I'm The Best at being me, and living this life as well as I can. I am The Best at something. I already did it.

I turned life on its head only to find that an upside down life is The Best kind for us.

And being The Best takes sacrifice.

That, I'm willing to choose to do.

New Zealand: my two favourite spots

I've been thinking a bit about how to write this post. I started a few times and made myself yawn with the 'I did this, then this, then this' tone of it. That's the danger really, of writing about travel - sounding like you're just bragging about having had a holiday. And then boring everyone with your scenic photos and gushes of how amazing everything was.

In this, Take 500 of my holiday post, I'm going to gloss over the fact that although I had a good time, I just didn't click with New Zealand. I found the country, well, okay - which may have been a reflection of the way I was feeling while I was there, or might have just been that me and NZ aren't meant to be. I also hated the campervan thing - really not my scene.

So I'll share just my two favourite spots... these are the places that I really enjoyed and that made me want to explore a little more.

Kaikoura, on the South Island's east coast.

Right on the water, Kaikoura looked quite pretty when we arrived, clouds really low, and we went for a wander in the drizzle. Then the next morning we woke to sunshine, only to find that the town is surrounded by mountains, which had seen drops of snow the day before.

Kaikoura is the home of the wildlife. This is where I did my swimming with the dolphins, with albatross gliding above us as the sun rose.

We spent lots of time looking at seals right at home in their colony, just at the edge of town.

They're gorgeous - lying on the rocks, playing together in the water, and creeping over to the grass to sleep in the patches of sun. It's amazing to see such beautiful creatures in their natural habitat, so close up.

We also spent some of our sunshiney time at the beach behind the town's shops. Smooth grey pebbles, rough water and mountains surrounding us, made for a relaxing stop for a play and a relax. This photo looks like it's been altered, I think, but this is how the colours really are.

When Steve, the world's biggest coffee snob, spotted a coffee bean roaster at a cafe he insisted we make a stop there. (Not that my arm took a lot of twisting.) Sure enough, he reports it to be the best coffee he tasted in New Zealand. Abbey was impressed with the milkshakes too.

We clambered around the rocks to see more seals, and had such a fun time together helping Abbey navigate her way around the tricky sections.

And when I was out in the ocean with dolphins, Steve snapped some of his own sunrise photos from land. Not bad, hey?

Queenstown, south South Island.

Queenstown is known for two things: snow and adventure. Sometimes the two are related but at this time of year, even though there is still a smattering of snow on the mountaintops, they're quite separate.

As we drove into Queenstown, the sun was setting behind the snowy mountains and as we navigated the winding roads we kept shaking our heads at the beauty of it. Which was then confirmed with absolute clarity the following morning as we headed up the cable car to check out the view.

Soon, though, we were heading out of town to stay in Te Anau - the home of glow worms (Abbey was dying to see them!) and the gateway to Doubtful Sound. Now THIS is a place I'd love to come back to - so many real bush hikes around this area that would be great to explore. But for now, we can say we've been out on the Sound on a boat.

Spot the rainbow...

Spot the tourist...

And then it was back to Queenstown. And it was time for some adventure.

We were lucky enough to stumble upon a tour company that does white water rafting for families, taking kids from the age of three up. This, we decided, would be way cool.

We were right. It was one of the big highlights of our trip and a great way to (almost) conclude the holiday.

To start with, if there's anything cuter than a three-year-old in rafting gear, I'm yet to see it.

But I'm also yet to see anything dorkier than adults in rafting gear...

I knew my little daredevil would love this adventure. She stood up the front of the raft, her face splashed with the (small) rapids, shouting 'WOOOOOOOOO!' So cool. As was seeing the beautiful Shotover River - the most brilliant blue you could imagine.

So - my picks for New Zealand: Kaikoura and Queenstown. Great for families, lots of fun, but also lots of opportunities to take it easy. And beautiful parts of the world.

The day my baby hated burgundy cars

So I'm enjoying being back home. Back in my house, my hills, my car... and it seems after two weeks in a slow old campervan I'm enjoying my zippy little car a bit too much.

Driving home from a day-trip to a friend's farm near Wilson's Prom (picture above - is that not the most amazing place to live?) I came upon a slow car in front of me. You know the people who drive really slowly and then, just as you get to an overtaking lane, they speed up? Yep. That.

So I too sped, wanting to get past him while I could and then enjoy the rest of the drive home at normal speed. I got past him but then heard the sirens. Looked in the mirror and sure enough, the police had noticed me. One feels really classy when pulled over by the cops with two and a half children (we had my niece with us) in the car.

'You were going a bit fast overtaking that car,' the policeman explained. 'Any reason for that?'

'Yes, officer,' I replied sweetly. 'See, when I turn on my air-conditioning my car loses all its power. But it's getting a bit hot and stuffy in here, so I'm using my open window as a cooling device. And I wanted to turn it up.'

'Oh! Well that's a fair and reasonable explanation!' he agreed. 'Have a nice day, ma'am.' And we each went our separate ways.

Okay. It didn't quite happen that way. Let's rewind.

'You were going a bit fast overtaking that car,' the policeman explained. 'Any reason for that?'

'Well, you see, I'm pregnant. And you know that thing about pregnant women being fussy about food? Well, my baby has an aversion to certain car colours and I just felt sick looking at that burgundy car so I had to get past it quickly.'

'Oh! Well that's a fair and reasonable explanation!' he agreed. 'Have a nice day, ma'am.' And we each went our separate ways.

Oh, all right then. It didn't happen like that either. What REALLY happened was:

'You were going a bit fast overtaking that car,' the policeman explained. 'Any reason for that?'

'I just... well... no,' I said. 'I did the wrong thing. Sorry.'

Oh god, I'm such a square.

A square with a $244 fine. Ouch.

Trimester 1: tales of cravings, insomnia, dodgy joints and a big bump

Thirteen weeks. So early on, and look at that bump!

*

With a second pregnancy, you can't help but compare it to the last. And this one is already so different.

I love noticing those little things that will add up to equal two very different people, my children (and that plural still sounds weird!).

Last time the pregnancy looked like this: no cravings, no sickness, slept fine, life as usual. Not even a baby bump to speak of until much later on. I worked a demanding full-time job. I was hiking during the second trimester. I did have terrible back pain, but it was through the third trimester.

This time, I'm a mess of cravings, food aversions (read: extreme fussiness), tiredness yet frustrating insomnia, and joints that are all over the place. I think my hips would collapse if I even attempted a hike. And the fact that I feel like this already, while the baby is so tiny, is a huge worry to me. How on earth am I going to walk with extra weight when I'm already hobbling around?

Yesterday we saw the little one inside that bump:

Amazing.

When we saw the baby seven weeks ago, he/she was half a centimetre. Just a little blob with a heartbeat. Now it's seven centimetres, with definable features - such a huge growth in a short time.

We saw its face (still a bit alien-like!), brain, heart, hands (with a little wave and a thumb suck) and its little toes. Its legs are only one centimetre long. How amazing is that?

So, now that I'm hitting the second trimester I want to do a few things. Like, try to stay awake and not fall asleep when I'm playing with Abbey (mother of the year), and actually stay up long enough to do some writing in the evenings. Maybe even eat normally.

We'll see how that goes.

Meeting fears on the edge of the world

I watched the sun as it seemed to rise from the rippled surface. It was like I was on the edge of the world. The edge of my world. Looking back, I know I really was.

I was on my way to swim with wild dolphins in the Pacific Ocean.

I was terrified.

When the sun was up, we found a pod of dolphins. I was the last in, climbing off the back of the boat hesitantly. The night before flashed in my mind, piece by piece. The nightmares, the uncertainties of this whole thing. The fears, so many that I couldn't even piece them together. The fears I didn't even know were still hiding there, until that night.

And as my body hit the water I knew I couldn't do it. Still, I followed the others out, dutifully kicking my legs but ignoring the calls from the boat: 'Look down!' I looked up. I knew there were just too many fears for me to conquer this. It was all too much.

And then I couldn't breathe.

I tried getting back to the boat. I kicked but got nowhere. I looked to the others for help; they were having too much fun to notice the fear on my face. So I raised my arm and the boat came for me.

'It's so cold it took my breath away.' I faked cheerfulness to the guide. Still, he knew. I knew he knew and he knew I knew he knew. 'Try again,' he said. 'Just breathe.'

So I did. I sat for a minute and I practiced breathing, gave myself a talking to. Then I put on a brave smile and climbed back in.

And I realised it. It took going to the edge of my world to find this truth.

I'm terrified of myself.

I'm so scared that I'll let myself down. That I'll be too weak. That I'll trap myself. 

If I'm trapped, I can't breathe. If I can't breathe, I don't live.

And I let that go, into the waves of the ocean. I breathed, and I looked down into the water's depths. There they were, swimming under me. But the whole thing wasn't about seeing dolphins anymore. It was about seeing me.

When I climbed back into the boat, all I could say was, 'I did it. I did it.'

I can do it.

Travelling with kids: the big secret

I thought I knew what I was doing when it came to travelling with kids.

(I'll wait while you finish laughing at me.)

I think I can at least be forgiven for thinking that travelling with two children wouldn't be any different to travelling with one, at this stage of proceedings. After all, one is still inside me and not even big enough to cause me discomfort (in theory). But any time in pregnancy is unpredictable. Who would have known that the only time I've ever experienced pregnancy nausea would occur in the week leading up to the holiday, and the first week or so in?

Saying you know anything about travelling with kids is a bit crazy really. You can't know how they're going to be - they're all different, not just each individual but each one on a different day (same as adults are). The trips we've previously taken Abbey on didn't count in any way towards knowing how to best approach this holiday. She was younger on those trips, they were different types of holidays, even we were different parents in subtle ways.

And so it took us a few days to settle in to holiday mode. I think it always takes a bit of adjustment, finding a rhythm with the whole family there and focused on each other. Actually, this is the part I found the hardest. I like silence, I like being alone sometimes. Try that in a campervan with two others.

I guess you could say that the first step in the whole thing was to get over myself. Stop expecting people to leave me alone, and stop expecting so much of my girl. Just stop expecting.

It's then, and only then, that travelling with kids becomes fun.

That's my big new secret: the success of family holidays is all about parents relaxing. That doesn't mean having no boundaries or ignoring rotten behaviour. It just means being realistic about your expectations.

Sometimes we make the mistake of thinking our little girl is always tough. Abbey copes incredibly well with change, but we did forget that she could be a little homesick. She's brave but some situations are still overwhelming and scary. And familiarity is everything to a young child.

When we got our heads around having to help her a little more than usual through those first few days, we changed our holiday slightly. We started incorporating play time into our days: a stop at a park, some time in a cafe with toys, a run around in the autumn leaves, a swim - some time to just let her be made a huge difference.

Stopping at a park isn't dull for parents with this backdrop. Beautiful Queenstown.

A stop at a farm for animal feeding and pony rides.

Wellington Zoo.

A run around in Rotorua (I took photos while holding my nose!) between drives.

A rocky beach was an opportunity to make rock-castles.

When the scenery of Doubtful Sound becomes a bit boring for a three-year-old, she finds the blocks.

I think she had a pretty good time in the end.

More New Zealand photos and words to come...

Home.

I hit the 12-week mark while we were away, and the first signs of a baby bump appeared!

And... I'm back.

Seeing a whole lot of another country makes for a busy two weeks. Hectic. Now I'm home, I just have this feeling of catching my breath.

I love coming home - after a time of wondering where we'll sleep each night, what we'll eat, whether the water will be drinkable, and what we'll do, it's a relief to return to the ease of home.

Relief. The predictability is comforting.

I want to revel for a while in the homeliness of home. My own patch of earth, my little timber building, the smells, the familiar sights out my window. It's heaven.

There's nowhere in the world like this place I live in. Going away always reminds me how much this spot - Melbourne and the hills and this whole state - has my heart. Always has and, I suspect, always will.

It's good to be back.

I hope you're all well, too, and I can't wait to catch up on some conversations and blog reading and also share some of my holiday stories with you!