March-ing on.

A photographic summary of the end of March, because is there any better kind?

Huge messes were made.

Synchronised ballooning took place.

Some golf carting.

Some biscuit-eating.

Honey water and Johnson and Friends were both consumed in copious amounts while Devin and I shared a lingering cold.

Lots of hide and seek was played on the spare bed.


I was killed. Dead. By eyes.

Walks were taken.

Devin insisted I pose with a dead palm frond.

I finally took Devin to the playground by the river, and it was better than I was expecting.

Partly because of this fountain.

We threw twigs in the water.

We accidentally stumbled across a family day in a park, and had some drumming lessons.

And I read a book in a pub.



I’m not the kind of mother who has a thousand activities up her sleeve. I am always looking to external sources for things to do, and even then, I’m not exactly confident. My Google search must be as sick of searching for ‘activities for a _ month old’ as I am of seeing suggestions like, ‘go to the library’ or ‘do something crafty’.

I keep trying with the crafty things, but Devin still doesn’t quite understand it. When we draw, he’s more interested in the crayons as objects than as implements for making marks on something else. When we paint, he just wants to play with the paint, not spread it around on paper or canvas or even the drop sheet. Which I am not complaining about at all – it just makes things even messier.

Nonetheless, I do keep trying, and in December I tried this home made sparkly paint, which was just equal parts flour, water and salt with some food colouring. Good because it’s cheap, and also because it doesn’t matter so much if your toddler decides to eat the yellow paint and then throws it back up and now it’s time to end this activity, ok?

So I’ve heard.


He was eager to get in there and start making those colours indistinguishable.


And, you know, he actually kind of got it that time. (Yes, we’re painting on folders.)


Right up until the point where he realised there was a cup of crayons behind him, and that he could dip them in paint, too.


But we still ended up with this final product, with only a little help from me. It took a looooong time to dry, and I eventually threw it out because I was afraid of pests eating the flour, but hey, it used up some time and Devin got messy. A win-win situation.

December Devin

Devin picked up a dead spider and presented it to us while we were eating lunch recently, which is what everyone wants to be gifted with during a meal. I believe it went something along the lines of, “Oh hey buddy, what have you got ther- Ugh! Oh no! No no no!”

In more gross-but-later-funny news… Devin added a little something to his bath the other day. It was only the third time it has ever happened, but that’s not the best (worst) part. I waited to make sure he was done, then pulled him out and let him run naked while I cleaned it up. You already see my mistake…
Our bedroom, on the carpet, nice and trodden in. Like a really unpleasant version of Cluedo. Poodo.
We’d been pretty lucky with no major poop incidents up until then, but I guess the spell had to break sometime.

In that’s-not-funny-and-never-will-be-actually-that’s-really-frustrating-stop-it news… He spits his food out, and it’s driving me nuts. He will be happily eating something, open his mouth for the spoon as usual, but then push the food back out with his tongue for no apparent reason. Or he’ll spit a wad of half-chewed snack into his hand and give it to me.
And I used to wonder how mothers handled things like that. How could they just hold someone else’s pre-chewed food like it was no big deal? Like it didn’t want to make them gag?
I still think it’s not particularly pleasant, and I scrunch up my nose (after I get cross), but I just do it, and it is no big deal. It’s funny, these things that you just fall into.
But damn! It’s still infuriating.

On a much cuter and more positive note, he is starting to be really affectionate with his stuffed toys. He’s always been very cuddly with his giant teddy and frog, and he has been giving us fiercely tight hugs for a while, but only recently has he started bestowing them on other things. Today his affections were directed mainly towards a little lion, which he would cuddle close to his face, then tuck under his arm as he continued dragging around his lawn mower.

And finally… We’re leaving soon for Christmas with the family. Apparently, after all the flooding, there’s now an infestation of mosquitoes and a higher risk of Ross River Fever.
Queensland is flooding now, too.
And the apparent temperature at 8am here today was -1 degree Celsius. We had a soaring top of 14 degrees. In summer. In Australia. I’m sitting here shivering in my jumper. It’s like the Winter That Never Ends.
It just doesn’t feel right.

Mmm. Crunchy.

I may have mentioned before that Devin likes dirt.

When his great-grandad gave him some birthday money, we finally bought a clam shell sandpit and some bags of sand to fill it.
His first experience in it was a little hesitant, partly because (though we didn’t know then) he was coming down with something and would spend the next three days battling a very high fever. (Another story for another time.)
We sat him in it, but when he touched the sand with his fingers, he gagged. Just touching it. He was a little bemused by the whole experience.

Now, though, he actually plays in it.


He crawls in on his own, tries to fill his bucket with tiny fistfuls of sand, throws some around, nibbles on his little plastic rake…


The gagging? Not an issue, seeing as he seems to be planning on gradually eating the sandpit empty.





Sometimes he likes to finish it off with a little chew on the screen door.



It’s ok, though. We still think he’s cool.


The cakiest number.

Devin turned one on Tuesday.



He played with streamers.




He opened his presents. (With help.) (He was very tired from a bad night.)


He played with his presents. (Especially the Mega Bloks.)


Well, mostly he handed the blocks to Dad, who was the builder.


There was mess.


We ate pancakes for breakfast. (It looks like apple, but I swear it’s a pancake… Shouldn’t I be saying that the other way around?)


He had one candle on his little owl cake.


He proceeded delicately at first, carefully taking off the jam drop eyes.


And then hesitantly touching and tasting the icing. (It was a strange, sticky texture for him.)


Apparently, initial taste tests were favourable.




The blue shirt is now stained with chocolate icing, in addition to being sun-faded and too short. I didn’t put him in a special birthday outfit. We didn’t have a huge party. We didn’t cater for guests, or buy special decorations (well, $1 for streamers), or give him an expensive gift. It rained all day, so we stayed inside. We ate sandwiches for lunch and leftover lasagne for dinner.

There wasn’t anything particularly special or extravagant about it. But Devin liked the streamers, the pancakes, the gifts and the cake. And at the end of the day, he had still turned one at 4:59 that morning.