The Girls

Sofia

Magdalena and Alena came to stay with us for three nights recently. You only ever referred to them as 'The Girls' never quite coming to grips with their names. They instantly became your friends, adopted to provide fun and entertainment.

Maddi stayed with us in 2005 as a 15 year old AFS exchange student from Austria. Some eight years later she joined her friend Alena to spend a month travelling around Australia, visiting all the places that the life of an exchange student attending school makes an impossibility.

I'm constantly inspired by the exchange student process, watching teenagers mature into adults who very often return to the land that challenged, excited, scared and engaged them.

Maybe one day you too will embark on such a journey.

Absence

Sofia

 

It's been six months since I last updated this blog for you. A lot has happened. We have been busy, but not in the conventional work, social, consume kind of busy. It's been more about work, search, dream kind of busy as we continue looking for a rural property to start the next phase of our family life together.

 

There has been a lot of driving, hours in the car as we head into different corners of South East Queensland to inspect properties that for a number of reasons seem to have potential on the internet but lack certain qualities in person. Your tendency towards car sickness seems to arrive in bursts. We are learning to limit the amount of fluid you drink before a big drive as the reality of stopping on the edge of a busy freeway in the middle of road works on a windy road in the middle of a misty rainforest to clean up the contents of your stomach and change your clothes adds drama and distraction to the drive that I can always do without.

 

You too are expressing your reluctance to look at more houses but as you get a little older we are able to explain that the house we are looking for is also for you. We want to share the space with you, acres of space instead of the little patch of garden we currently have at the back of our cream brick suburban house. It's been a lovely house to raise a toddler, but daddy and I are both ready for something different. I dream of you helping me collect the eggs, giving the food scraps to the chickens, exploring the bush and watching daddy as he yells at the goats that have eaten his underwear off the clothesline.

 

It is a big dream, and daddy and I are struggling to find the right house on the right piece of land for the right price. Yesterday we looked at another place. It's a difficult process, and the disappointments are mounting but I know in my heart that our piece of heaven is just waiting for us to discover it. We have a list of things the house and land need to do, but just as importantly the local community needs to be right as we plan to stay there for most of your schooling. Time will tell.

 

Tomorrow is your fourth birthday and despite all of the Christmas preparations, busyness at work, our long days away driving to inspect properties I am feeling like I have some space to reconnect with my writing and this blog.

 

It may appear that I've been absent, but ironically I've been very much absorbed in our daily routines and reaching out towards our future. A little more pausing in the present though will surely be good for us both.

 

PS This photo is a selfie you took, setting the camera up on the table, reaching out to press the button and then waiting while the flash went off...all while I was writing this post.

 

Mummy

Car Sick

Sofia

 

Yesterday we decided to take a drive and explore the local area, heading in the opposite direction that we normally take from Villa Trotta. The road wound around the Cilento National Park, through quiet mountain villages where even the local cafes where closed. The views were amazing and we stopped to capture the vista, local churches and passing scenery regularly.

 

Unfortunately, you didn't enjoy the trip as much. By the time we had descended the mountain and reached the sea side you'd been car sick on five occasions. So often in fact that you'd ruined all of your clothes and we had nothing for you to wear but your swimming bottoms and a hoodie. After an unsuccessful stop at a village shop to see if they had anything for your to wear I decided that you could travel in just your swimming bottoms to avoid vomiting down the front of your hoodie.

 

As the seaside we found a shop that sold swimming gear and accessories. Daddy bought an overpriced shirt in a size 8 that fit you like a dress and a pair of princess thongs after your repeated requests to buy some clothes.

 

We had a swim and some time in the sun, skipping lunch and ignoring your request for a drink before winding along the coast road to go home. With your tummy empty you vomited just two more times, holding earnestly onto the princess bucket that Nonna gave you as part of a beach play kit.

 

I know you'll grow out of the car sickness, but in the meantime it's awful watching your pallor change and you whisper from your seat that you need the bucket.

 

Piedini

Sofia

 

Our week at Villa Trotta, Perdifumo in the Cilento National Park is coming to a close. You have been using my camera almost every day to take photos. Last night I was downloading some photos from the cameras and discovered the photos below.

 

As well as being unbelievably sweet they remind me that your perspective of the world is often quite different from mine. Sofia's view of the world involves details that most adults no longer notice. It fascinates me and while many of your photos are of the people around you, beautifully centred and focused, it is the other details that you capture that are often more interesting.

 

I hope your eye continues to see the world through the unique lens that is yours.

Fiori

Sofia

It's one thing for a girl of three to pick wild flowers from the fields as we walked around Aunt Marina's home, a red poppy, something yellow, another white and a smattering of something blue.

It's another thing for a little girl to present her Aunt, her grey hair still growing back after the chemotherapy, with those flowers exclaiming 'Marina, these flowers are for you!'

Sometimes I think you are a gift brought to heal some of the illness and pain within our family. It's not just your lovely face that melts hearts but more your innocence, generosity, childish charm and kindness.

I will work hard to ensure that you retain these qualities. For now, you should know that your Aunt has pressed those same wild flowers between the pages of her favourite book.

Cousin Marianna

Sofia

 

The first time I met Marianna she was still in nappies and about 18 months old. I remember a photo I took on that first trip to visit Daddy's family at Lavariano, near Udine, of Marianna sitting in a shopping trolley in just her nappy and a singlet, cute ringlets framing her face.

 

Marianna is now 20. Daddy and I were very happy that she could take some time out from her studies and exam preparation to spend some time with us. Her open hearted, genuine personality immediately connected with you and I watched as you started to engage with her, not quite understanding that she was in face Marina's baby girl, just as you are my baby girl.

 

She is in fact, at least in the English language, your second cousin. Regardless, she is a special girl and we one day soon hope to welcome her to our home in Australia.

C'e Sole

Sofia

 

We spent a lovely few intimate days with your great aunt Marina at her home in Pozzuolo di Friuli. Marina has been sick with breast cancer. The surgery and chemotherapy are now behind her but she is still very much in a phase of recovery. With periods of energy and warmth contrasting with phases of fatigue and fragility all I want to do is wrap her up in your hugs and sweetness.

 

One morning we prepared to leave the house to go into town. Coming down the stairs into the entrance foyer the light from upstairs disappears and without the lights on it is a dark, cool space. With our sunglasses at the ready we exited and stepped out into the sunshine. Your face in this photo perfectly sums up the delight we all felt as we embraced with warmth and light of the day.

 

Tula

Sofia

Aunty Kim gave us a Baby Bjorn carrier when you were born. We both used it a lot. It was great for shopping, doing housework and settling you. You grew out of that carrier some time ago and we've relied on your stroller. 

I was inspired by another blog to investigate the Tula toddler carrier and we bought the skeleton design. I wasn't sure how much we'd use it on this trip but having left the stroller at home (on purpose) daddy and I are both enjoying having you strapped on and close when your legs get weary or its safer to have you up on our backs. 

After less than a week of travelling it's already paid for itself. I especially love seeing you sleep strapped to daddy's back. I guess it also allows you a different perspective. Something other than knees and the world view when you are but 1 metre in height. 

We will no doubt take many photos of the Tula in action during the trip. This photo taken in Udine  sums up how happy you seem to again be "worn". 

 

Hyatt

Sofia

 

We enjoyed a layover stay at the Hyatt Regency Incheon courtesy of Korean Air on our way from Brisbane to Milan. It's a perfect way to break the trip up.

 

We arrived at our room and you explored the space.

 

Your critique of the room was summed up on one sentence. "There's no kitchen!"

 

"That's right, we eat downstairs at the restaurant."

 

We swam the next morning, and then you discovered the joys of a detachable shower head.

 

"I clean the shower mummy", you told me.

 

It may not have had a kitchen Sofia, but it certainly had a clean shower by the time we checked out.

Rainbow

Sofia

During the flight to Seoul you checked in a few times about the status of the trip with a simple "Are we up in the rainbow?"

 

"Yes, we're up in the rainbow" I assured you, before you turned back to the entertainment at hand.

 

I think we flew through lots of rainbows.

 

Several days later, we got soaked transferring your sleeping smudginess from the car to the Marina's house with an afternoon thunderstorm sending bucket loads of rain down from the sky. After a warming shower you insisted on putting on your rainbow fairy dress and I just know that behind the grey skies above there are more children flying through the rainbows.

 

Traveller

Sofia

After months of planning and saving we caught a taxi to the Brisbane International Airport for the two day journey to Italy. This is your third trip to Italy but last time you were only 20 months.

 

You are now a very different girl, old enough to pull your own hand luggage around and voice your opinions. Old enough to understand most of what we tell you and certainly ready for the plane trip after days of asking 'Can we go on the plane to see Nonna and Marina today?'

 

With your pink Trunki called Toby full of snacks and entertainment we set off, ready to embrace the process of taking you on two ten-hour flights with a layover in Seoul courtesy of Korean Air.  

 

In Seoul we caught up with friends Harry and Shawn, English teachers that mum and dad had befriended in Naples about 6 years ago. You particularly enjoyed the swimming pool at the Hyatt Regency and Daddy enjoyed the traditional Korean style baths.

Bears are Asleep

Sofia

 

It was Saturday morning and I'd stripped the sheets from your bed. You walk into your room and I hear you say 'Oh no, what's happened? Whachya gunna do?" as the bed lies naked, waiting for the clean sheets and restored order.

 

You stay in your bedroom for a while. I know you are in there, busy playing with something. Maybe you are stripping the sheets and mini quilt Nana made for you from the doll's cot Grandad lovingly restored for your Christmas gift. Maybe it's your books, the dress up clothes, your box of trinkets and treasures or a puzzle.

 

Sometime later I return to your room, ready to make your bed, fresh floral sheets in my arms.

 

You have since moved out into the garden, and I can hear you jumping up and down on the trampoline singing 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star' and 'The Alphabet Song' loudly and proudly to yourself. It still surprises me that you've mastered these songs. I must have sung these songs to you hundreds of time. I sang both of them as lullabies when you were a newborn, finding they were the two songs that I could most easily recall and recite through the fog of new motherhood, breastfeeding and sleep deprivation.

 

I sometimes miss those early moments of nurturing you as a newborn. I remember feeling strangely and unexpectedly confident as a first time mummy, savouring the snapshots in time as you were nourished at my breast, lay sleeping on my chest or looked about with expectant eyes as I enjoyed the age old art of baby wearing. I remember wrapping you and placing you in your bassinette, marvelling at how wonderfully compact you were.

 

As the summer of your birth turned into winter I would tuck a blanket around you, thinking that soon you would need to transfer into a cot.

 

So as I returned to your room my head filled with flashes of your first few months as a baby as I discovered four of your favourite teddy bears neatly lined up and tucked up asleep on your bed. In the absence of proper sheets you had used the Teddy blanket Nana had made underneath them and another Nana quilt to keep them warm.

 

Each bear has a story of its own.The pink bear on the left was my Teddy Bear as a child, now slightly battle weary and scarred. The little red check bear was a gift from a work colleague. Bear No. 3 is from Italy, but you have long since stripped him of his Italian sporting jersey. The big blue bear on the right was a gift from my best female friend in Thailand, Tasanee. It was April 2011 when he joined our family, crammed uncomfortably into the last available space in the suitcase.

 

Before I could make your bed Daddy loudly called out for me to come and help with something.  In the meantime you had returned to your bedroom, checked up on your sleeping posse of bears and trotted down the hallway to confront us both with a finger raised to your lips and a stern "Ssshhh, bears are sleeping, be quiet please".

 

Not too different to what I used to say in those early days of baby Sofia in the bassinette.

 

Grrrrrr

Sofia

Your tiger suit made its debut recently. You roared and growled with great conviction. We ventured into the front yard to take some suburban jungle photos. Of course you insisted on turning the camera on to me at one stage. I simply couldn't decide which photo I liked best, so here's a selection. Gggrrr!

Parking

Sofia

It's a joy to watch you at the park. We stopped at a new park today. You headed straight to the swings as usual. Today was different though. I gave you big pushes, higher and higher, as you requested. In the past you have enjoyed the thrill for a little while and then seem to get scared, suddenly asking to get off. Today, I kept pushing and you smiled, giggled and loved every moment, not a trace of the fear as you flew into the sky, legs pumping, toes inviting tickles, my phone camera unable to keep up with your pace and movement.

You made your way around to every piece of equipment, investigating, exploring and testing. Occasionally, you discovered you were too small to climb up or use the equipment according to its designers intention. To my delight you found alternative ways to play on or around it.

We often watch you on the slide, intimidated whenever a boy (or pack of boys for they do seem to travel in packs) appears. Today, you were still a little wary but you seemed less interested in worrying about them and more engaged in climbing, sliding and trudging through the sand to do it all over again. I see these as small steps in building your confidence as important building blocks for the greater things you will do some day.

Special Dinner

Sofia

 

I collected you from child care.

 

On the way home you asked 'Can I have some-fing to eat please mummy?'

 

'But I've cooked you a special dinner.'

Your face lights up. I watch in the rear view mirror. 'A special dinner? A pink dinner?'

 

A pink dinner. If only I'd thought of that.

 

'No, darling, not a pink dinner', I lamented. For the lentil and vegetable curry with yoghurt I'd prepared certainly wasn't pink - but it was still special.

 

'Mmmm, tasty mummy' you said rubbing your tummy. 'Thanks for cooking mummy'.

 

I still don't know who taught you to say that but you often thank the chef at meal times. It warms my heart. 'You're welcome' I say.

 

'You're welcome mummy' you respond. I smile, you still don't understand the etiquette of giving thanks and receiving a 'You're welcome' in return. But it's so endearing that I don't bother correcting you and we return to the business of spooning yoghurt onto the curry and enjoying our dinner.

Sugar Rush

Sofia

We went to Georgia's 2nd birthday party - a relaxed afternoon tea in their backyard. We had a lovely afternoon, and you enjoyed the home made sweet treats including fairy bread, vanilla cupcakes and a wonderful chocolate birthday cake in the shape of a hot air balloon and a basket.

 

You played in the mini car and on the swings. I watched you retreat from your game at one stage, a little intimidated by some of the older boys at the party. I've been thinking that you need to start to learn to stand your ground to other kids that you find a bit overwhelming. Gentle encouragement and support will be the path, teaching you strong, assertive phrases that you can use to express yourself. I know you're still only three, but if you can already tell me to 'stop it' when you think I've stepped over your boundary, I think you can apply the same assertiveness with other kids.

 

You spent most of the ride home babbling away to yourself in the back seat. But it was as the afternoon turned into evening that the full impact of those sweet treats came to fruition. As Carmen and Daddy made mozzarella for our dinner you bounced around the dining room, chatting, playing, and engaging in an unusual range of silliness. At one stage you came out with your lunch cooler on your head, then you were climbing on furniture that you normally ignore. The glint of cheekiness in your eyes was at full throttle as you searched around for mischief and attention.

 

Don't get me wrong - we love to do silly. In fact I still surprise myself at how easy I slip into the kind of silly that has you rolling around on the floor in giggles. But tonight, with the sugar surging through your system, you were on turbo-charged silly. You have literally been bouncing around the house, during dinner, in the shower, while Skyping Nonna and during your wind down time with warm milk and brushing your hair. Even now I hear you negotiating hard with Daddy for four bed time story books when he has promised one. Normally at this time of the day you are tired, a little lethargic and often telling us it's time for bed.

 

It's been fun watching this Sofia being hyped and super energetic at the wrong end of the day, but I'm glad she doesn't live here all of the time.

 

 

December 2010

Sofia

 

I'm working on editing and filing some photos. I came across these photos taken in December 2010 when you were just one year old. They were taken at Boreen Point. You were already growing out of the roly poly baby stage. Your eyes were still changing colour.

 

I love stumbling across these photos. I remember the pink seersucker hat you were wearing and the feel of your swimming nappies. I remember the smell of you at that age. Most of all, as I look back at the younger you I can see some of what you are about to morph into - the bubbly, sometimes giggly and cheeky, often sweet and always sincere 3 year old girl who now wears a different hat, no longer needs the nappies and has eyes of luscious brown (despite what it says on your recently renewed Italian passport - but that's another story).

Buttons

Sofia

I'm not sure if it's an official milestone recognised by with the United Nations but tonight you successfully buttoned up your strawberry pyjama top. After I demonstrated with the first button you suddenly seemed to understand the process of holding the button in one hand and pushing it through the button hole. It was lovely to see the look of accomplishment on your face after weeks of unsuccessful attempts that ended in frustration.

 

It may seem small to some, but it's another big step in the skill set of a 3 year old.

Photos at 3yo

Sofia

 

For some time you've been asking to use my camera. Slowly and with lots of supervision I've been giving you my digital camera to take photos for the last few months. You wrap the strap around your left wrist and carefully lift the camera up, mindful of your fingers in front of the lens, positioning your fingers over the shutter button, holding the camera still...all the tips we've been teaching you.

 

It amazes me to see the quality of the photos you are already taking. Of course, like any photographer there are many that are out of focus, badly composed or obscured by fingers. There are also a many that are of the floor, the table top, people's feet and the grass. But for your age it's fascinating to watch how confident and inquisitive you are about snapping away at the world around you.

 

Mirroring the fact that daddy and I have undoubtedly taken thousands of photos of you since you were born you easily aim the camera at us, instructing us to say 'cheese' before snapping away. I still find it a bit weird to be the subject of your photos; more often than not I'm the one behind the camera. But I'm happy to be captured by you. It gives me some idea of what you see, and how you perceive the world around you.

 

Yesterday you took some photos of me at the shopping centre. In the spirit of writing about all the things you do that bring joy into my life I'm sharing those photos on the blog today as they are infinitely more personal and interesting than any of the photos I took of you sitting in the big red car or sliding face first down the slide.

 

Selfie

Sofia

The best thing about our trip to the gallery today was looking at the photos that you took on my camera once we got home. It wasn't until I uploaded them onto my computer that I realised you'd taken two 'selfies' - a self portrait of yourself, as though it was to be uploaded to Facebook, Instagram or some other social networking site. As I write I wonder if any of these platforms will still be around in years to come when you revisit these words and photos. I also wonder how different the media and our current concept of social networking will look by the time you reach my age.

 

Regardless, the selfie will be something that sticks around as mobile phones with cameras, video and internet become more and more entrenched in our lives.

 

So I thought I'd keep these two selfies, so you can later reflect on what has or hasn't changed about your attitude to capturing yourself (on film as we used to say) and what eventually happens with those images. For now they are part of this little blog about the joy of you.

 

Gallery Visit

Sofia

This morning we spent some time exploring the kids activities at the APT7 - 7th Asia Pacific Triennial exhibition - held at the Gallery of Modern Art and the Qld Art Gallery. You and I visited with my cousin Stephanie another day and saw some of the bigger exhibition pieces including sculptures from Papua New Guinea and Indonesia.

Today we went into the Yellow or Blue exhibition, a series of rooms made from cardboard, painted either in solid yellow or blue. It got me thinking that it would be a cheap funky solution to create screening within a room from cardboard boxes glued and taped together and painted to create a cohesive look. The kids activity centred around yellow and blue cardboard boxes that were flattened. We made a car, while daddy worked on a blue aeroplane for you.

 

To my surprise you insisted on taking your afternoon nap with the car. You even took a photo of it.

 

 

We went on to making a mask, watching a short video about lights and lamps coming to life, and showing daddy the beat up Vespa that had toured Indonesia with a musician and the rainbow coloured plastic plant exhibit. The colours in it are particularly appealing and again you captured it on my camera.