Something else out there

I can’t remember the correct timeframe, or how old she was. Everything is such a blur when you’re a new Mum.

But I had just come back home from one of baby girl’s Maternal Child Health Nurse check-ups. They are so frequent at the beginning – they visit you at home a couple of times, then there are weekly visits, they go to 2 weeks and 4 weeks and 8 weeks… maybe it was even MORE frequent. I can’t remember.

I think some things you choose not to.

I had been trying to breastfeed her for so long. She was just so little, and still learning. She was soooo little. Born at just under 2.5 kilos, she truly was a doll.

I had been told at the previous visit, based on her good weight gain with the formula milk I had been giving her, that I could try to wean her onto the breast, and rely less on the formula.

Which is what I did. It was really hard, and that is a whole other story, but I did it.

So when I came for my next MCHN check-up, the nurse was surprised to find… she had actually dropped in weight.

A couple of hundred grams is a lot when your baby is only weeks old. The nurse was actually quite nice, not judgmental, and didn’t question my tactics… yet I saw the concern on her face.

She suggested perhaps my breast milk wasn’t strong enough. Try some cheese, a handful of almonds before you breastfeed, she said.

She looked at the previous record and this current one, repeatedly, comparing the two and wondering if there had been a weighing error the last time.

She tapped her finger against her chin, thinking of what to do, wondering what was going on, and scheduled me to come in and see her again sooner than was necessary.

Through my haze of confusion and intense worry, I could see the answer, and yet it couldn’t come forth for me to speak up. It was too far away to catch, distant amidst all my sleep deprivation, anxiety, intense mood swings, and adjustment to life that I had not been prepared for at all.

I had only been somewhat prepared for the labour. That was it. None of the BEYOND. None of the important stuff.

I thought I had turned a corner in my breastfeeding, and that finally, I had succeeded at something. To have all of that questioned, to hear that my little baby girl was losing weight, NOT gaining weight as needed, especially as she was so petite, was the tipping point.

I don’t know how I drove. A friend was desperate for a group catch-up. I hastily wrote “it’s not a good time at the moment.” And I went home and bawled my eyes out.

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Photo by Jordan Whitt on Unsplash

Baby girl was asleep. I remember sitting on the table near the kitchen, feeling so alone. Those first few days, weeks, months, ARE LONG. You are waiting for your husband to come home, to help you, relieve you, hug you, love you, and tell you it’s going to be ok.

They go to work every day. Oh how lucky they are to leave those walls. To walk out the door and go back to some sense of normalcy, to speak in proper conversations with actual adults, when all the while you are dying at home and wondering when it will all end.

I was sitting there, and actually begging. I was begging God to send me someone to save me. I sat there crying, feeling so alone, and yet unable to reach out and call anyone.

It’s awful that in our worst moments, we are unable to reach out. To ask for help. To seek advice, a shoulder to cry on, and a listening ear when it is most dire to our wellbeing.

I was an absolute mess for what felt like the longest time… but maybe, it was really about an hour. Watching the clock, crunching on almonds, hoping someone would call, or Hubbie would come home early.

Soon, the phone rang.

Help had been sent. It was my sister.

She listened to my tears. We worked out what I had tried to grasp earlier, but couldn’t amidst the shock of the news. The formula was heavier than the breastmilk. She naturally dropped in weight as I went to exclusively breastfeed her, and within time, it would go up again.

She would regain it all.

And she DID. Being at one of the lowest percentiles at birth, can you believe this petite angel of mine is now in about the 90-95th percentile in height and weight?

People constantly tell me how tall she is for a 4 year old.

I never would have imagined.

But this is not the moral of the story. It’s got nothing to do with the breastmilk, early Motherhood or even how much you should listen to nurses…

It’s all about the sign. The help. The call out.

I had called out, and I had received help.

I’ve always believed in something greater out there… and this to me was further proof.

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Photo by Maranatha Pizarras on Unsplash

I don’t know what has gotten into me lately. Something is not right. I can’t get excited. I don’t know what it is, or why or how this has come, because I didn’t think, other than the normal crap that life sometimes throws at us, that I had anything that was weighing me down.

All of a sudden, I was DOWN. Not in the gravitational pull sense.

I mean FLAT. Uninspired. Losing interest. NO focus.

I don’t like to use this term casually, but even… DEPRESSED.

I started to worry. Was this a hormonal cycle thing? Was I just having a bad day?

I woke up after my first bad day, my DOWN day, and… was still DOWN.

Day 2…

Day 3…

Day 4…

No interest. Lacking motivation. Feeling hopeless, for no apparent reason at all.

When I realised I wasn’t looking forward to anything, I started to worry.

Because this wasn’t like me. I always had something to look forward to. Even when I was sick I’d be looking forward to getting better. I would even look forward to work, believe it or not. I had many things to look forward to, and even amidst shit people and events and spanners thrown into the mix, I would find a way to look past all that and look forward to something bigger and brighter in the future.

I think of things now, and my mind goes blank.

I actually have no reason to feel this way… that concerns me too. Nothing notable or significant has happened to make me feel this way, and yet there is this niggly, annoying feeling at the back of my mind, there is something weighing me down, making me feel moody and lowly and telling me that all is not right.

It is a scary place to be.

I didn’t ask for ‘help’ while I was at work yesterday. But I was thinking a lot about the state I was in, and getting upset and emotional within myself. Because each time I spoke to someone, and they asked me how I was, I felt like I was trying to convince myself, more than I was trying to respond to them. 

“Yeah,” I replied nodding, thinking. “Good.”

No, I was not GOOD.

I went through these emotions, this thinking, ALL DAY, trying to get myself out of the funk, to no avail.

And then without any kind of request, other than me asking myself “WHY?” a series of small interactions occurred.

Because within a 5 minute period, as I packed up my belongings for the day, I came across three women. Not necessarily women I see or talk to often at work either. And all three of them expressed great interest in me, in how my life was going, and they had such big smiles as we spoke, that it was hard to not get affected.

Now don’t get me wrong, a simple chat wasn’t enough to take me out my funk. I was still a bit helpless. But I had gained a bit of something that I talk about often here.

HOPE.

I don’t know why, but that series of small chats made me feel like there was something, or someone, trying to get through to me and lift me up. Those three women were thrown at me, so unusually, and with such force, that it was difficult to deny that there was something other than divinity at work here.

Someone or something, had responded to my unanswered question.

Life can be hard. No, Life IS hard. We are fortunate when we call out and receive a response to our cry for help.

Other times we may not ask, but we get assistance in unspoken form.

And then there are times, when we need to seek it out ourselves.

There is no shame in asking for help, or telling people we feel like shit. It actually takes all the courage in the world.

And whether you believe in a higher power, a greater good, or NOT, that is also ok… as long as you seek what you need when your soul is crying out for it, because every now and then, we all need a lending hand.

And maybe, just maybe, you have somehow been led to this post, and I am lending my words of advice, my experiences, and my Hopes for something greater, to YOU.

If you or someone you care for needs help, you can call Lifeline on 13 11 14, or click here.

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Photo by Paola Chaaya on Unsplash

 

 

 

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How Now, Yellow Cow

The Winey Cow
39A Main Street Mornington

(Visited November ’16)

Each time we drove past this place on the Main Street, we almost drooled with delicious envy. It wasn’t that we could actually witness the plates of food, or the creative coffee designs from our car windows: rather, it was the herds of people frequently overcrowding the front of this premises that told us that it was clearly a revered and local fave.

Herds. Pardon the pun.

So after Hubbie ventured there with baby girl whilst I was at work one day, and made me totally jelly when he sent me a photo of their coffee-babycino experience with the caption ‘it is the bomb,’ well we just had to go there together and get into some tucker.

Very conveniently, we rocked up to The Winey Cow the morning of Melbourne Cup day, and there was a car spot bang smack in front of the cafe. It’s like it was meant to be.

(Angels sing!)

We grabbed a spot at an outside table under one of their many brightly yellow umbrella’d tables, the strong wind toning any warmth from the day right down. It was cosy and packed, what with the public holiday and all, and soon we were placing our food orders.

I was pleasantly surprised when baby girl was brought a personal kids menu that could be coloured in, complete with a handful of pencils. Aww. And I didn’t even have to ask.

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Soon after we received our meals. Baby girl’s Nutella on Toast

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Hubbie’s Chilli Chorizo ‘something’ (I didn’t quite get the description but the photo pretty much says it all)

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And my Winey Cow Benedict: corned beef, poached eggs, toasted English muffin, citrus hollandaise

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Oh man. My mouth is watering just looking/thinking of it again. I loved my meal. It had texture, it had zest, creaminess, and the muffins were soft while the eggs were poached beautifully. I cleaned up my plate easily, however I did pass over a few several slices of my corned beef – I did enjoy it, but it was piled on, so I shared the love with Hubbie.

He too cleaned up his plate, evident of how great the meal was. I tried some of his chilli hashbrown, and it was amazing! Soft and spicy and creamy. Wow.

Baby girl loved her brekkie… but seriously, nutella? Show me a kid who doesn’t. My only gripe was that the toast she received was too damn hard, especially the crust. If it would cut my gums, what would it do to baby girl’s? We cut off the crust and managed somewhat to cut her toast into pieces so she could dip it into the chocolate-hazelnutty goodness.

We got some coffees to come right after our meal, and lucky we ordered them when we did, as it took some time to arrive with all the people brunching out. It was worth the wait:

 

Cappuccino, latte and babycino.

Can I just make a point of saying “I got a photo of baby girl’s babycino, and marshmallows were still in it?”

???

So, for once she held off while I said “wait!” for my mobile to go snap. My cap was strong and smooth, but it had a discernible taste upon the first few sips, something I couldn’t identify… not bad, just different. Their website states they have the best coffee, and it definitely was up there. But in Mornington, really we’re spoilt for choice when it comes to the bean.

We left the Cow with full udders and happily looking forward to our next visit here… this could very well be our regular paddock that we munch grass on.

Food: 9/10. Inventive, satisfying and fresh. If it weren’t for the overly crusty bread, full marks.

Coffee: 8.5/10. Smooth, strong, different.

Ambience: Laid-back beach vibe meets urban hipster meets upper-class ‘Peninsula types.’ The yellow umbrellas, and metal bordering the outside area and wooden tables scale it all back to an everyday accessibility.

Staff: Really friendly, actually amazingly so considering they were so busy. Very impressed with their genuine service.

People: Locals and out of towners. I should know. We used to be the latter, and now we’re the former. Generally a younger, kid-free crowd, but there were littlies too – they are welcome, hence the kids menu and pencils.

Price: $68.20 for our lot. Maybe a bit on the ‘up’ side, but man was it worth it. That’s what I want when I go out, that’s what I’m willing to pay for.

Advice: Head on over early and grab a table before it gets snapped up!

In a nutshell: Having now dined there several a many time since our first encounter almost a year ago, I can confidently say that this yellow burst of café sunshine will inhabit our lives dominantly… and with food, coffee and service this impressive, Udder cafes will have to try doubly hard to match this ensemble.

Okay. I’m done with the puns. Moooo-ving on.

The Winey Cow Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato

Things that shit me… #13

Things that shit me…

Drivers who speed up when you need to get in their lane.

I mean, I was in an area, a road I don’t use often. I had google maps to help me, but still, when I saw I was soon turning right, I didn’t also realise at that stage I could have stayed in my current lane, as 3 lanes were turning right.

I saw the little white, bullshit car speeding up, coming up fast from behind me. I know I jumped in front, but I swear it wasn’t a dangerous manoeuvre…

…The little shit box stayed close, clearly pissed that I had gotten in front of them, despite my indicator, despite their speed, and BEEPED!

I saw the driver in my rear-view mirror, motion left and right, and I was like “geez dude, you’re kidding me right?”

I put a hand up, in a motion of “sorry” and CALM THE FUCK DOWN.”

They went back to their soap box, and I sat there. Silently fuming. 

Because although I had jumped in front of them, I had felt I had no choice at the time.

And they, despite my driving manners (i.e. clear indicator), decided I shouldn’t be let in.

The mother-f%^er sped up.

I wondered:

Would that driver be the type of person to push in at the supermarket check-out in front of an elderly hobbling grandfather, or a struggling Mum with screaming kids?

Would that driver be the type of person to take the last piece of shared cake from the work communal kitchen, and then whinge that it was all gone?

Would that driver be the type of person to take their dog for a walk, and let it shit on someone else’s lawn AND NOT PICK IT UP?

Would that driver be the type of person to complain loudly of anyone making noise in a movie theatre, and yet continue to receive loud notifications and calls from their phone?

Would that driver be the type of person to complain of beetroot in their burger, even when they clearly had seen the menu description and don’t even like it in the first place?

Yep. Yep, that driver is probably ALL of those things.

Shit people.

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Photo by Kevin Lee on Unsplash

Mediterranean in Mornington

Manhattan in Mornington
55 Barkly Street Mornington

(Visited October ’16)

Lucky Duck. This was our first restaurant birthday celebration in our Sea change location, and it was going to be for Hubbie’s birthday, just a few weeks after moving in.

We had booked ahead, and arrived to a small table awaiting us just opposite their front door.

Opulent, classy, yet warm and inviting. That is the upper-class yet traditional Italian vibe I got as we sat down. There was seating on the ground level, and I could see the stairs beside me spiralling up onto another higher seating level. Elvis watched us from one wall. Waiters and waitresses were in professional uniform. It was a perfect place to celebrate something special.

We soon ordered some drinks – for myself the Di Giorgio’s Cab Sav from Coonawarra – an old fave from a certain questionable restaurant that will not be named in this review for fear of unfairly negatively influencing this review in a bad light – and a beer for Hubbie, along with some Chefs Dips – tuna, pesto and beetroot with house-made bread

I enjoyed all the dips, and interestingly the tuna was good as well, which I didn’t think I would like. The waiter took great care to explain to us which dip was which, which showed the much-appreciated attention to detail.

Baby girl received her ‘no delay’ order soon after the dips arrived: Chicken tenderloins and chips.

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I was really impressed with the quality of chicken. I am always happy when they offer a softer piece of chicken meat for the kids meals, as I think it says a lot about food care and consideration, especially for our most fussiest of eaters.

By this stage the restaurant was quickly filling up, and suddenly I was grateful that we hadn’t just fluked it and walked on in because it was a Wednesday night – because for a Wednesday, this place was packed! It certainly seemed like the place to be in Mornington.

After much talking, drinking, and pecking at baby girl’s yummy chicken and chips, our meals finally arrived.

Birthday boy had ordered the Pancetta Di Maiale – Twice cooked pork belly resting on sweet potato mash served with an apple crackle salad

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While I had ordered the Mare e Monti – Linguini pasta, fresh prawns, scallops, calamari, pan seared Moreton Bay bug, chilli infused virgin olive oil, baby spinach, cherry tomatoes

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Hubbie really enjoyed his meal. Like, so much so, that he has continued to order it on repeat visits to the restaurant, a clear good sign of a winner dish. Crunchy crackling with super-soft falling-away-at-the-fork pork underneath it, make him a very Happy Birthday Boy.

I enjoyed mine too, however it wasn’t as perfect as I would have expected a restaurant of that calibre to produce… I loved the Moreton bay bug, that was delicious and fresh. However at the same time, I found the scallops too undercooked for my liking, so I couldn’t eat those unfortunately. The rest of the seafood infused with the extremely spicy chilli olive oil was delicious, but also, that was part of its undoing when it came to enjoying the meal, because it became too much by the end of it, so much so that I actually felt a bit sickly from the overuse of oil and chilli. If the seasoning and oil had been scaled back a little, I think I would have preferred it a lot more.

I let my stomach settle and took baby girl to the change room, to come back and get some coffee and dessert. I mean, what the hell. It was a birthday celebration after all. We decided to share the Profiteroles because we were really stuffed with food, and get some coffees, a latte, cap, and a babycino.

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We got two big profiteroles which were light and creamy, so that was easily enjoyed. My cap was smooth, not so strong, but that I didn’t mind as it was past 9pm. We received some cute bikkies on the side which I’ve noticed a lot of Italian places tend to offer with coffee, and I do like this tradition… so does baby girl, taking it upon herself to eat ours as well as her own. We were happy, we were full, and we were full of birthday festivity… and when baby girl shoved her hand into the lolly jar beside the counter, we knew it was time to go.

Food: 7.5/10.

I have to explain, the food, the presentation, and the quality of all we received was of the highest standards, but after repeat visits here, I’ve come to realize that all the food I receive here is extra oily and especially-seasoned, something my stomach complains about after every visit. It is the rich Italian style of cooking, something I can’t really fault, even though my tummy does…

It’s an Italian thing.

Coffee: 7/10. Smooth.

Ambience: Classy yet comforting. Warm polished wood undertones are displayed throughout with that coastal mediterranean-style that makes you feel like you’re holidaying away in a little secluded and exclusive town in Boot-country.

Staff: The friendly but professional Italian-speaking types, if you get my drift. I’ve seen them sooo many times before, and if you’ve eaten at the expensive side of Lygon street, you’ll know what I mean. They did their job well, and our lovely main waitress was kind enough to wave at baby girl every time she walked by, because baby girl just couldn’t stop trying to get her attention!

People: Those with $$$ come out to play here, and the menu prices are indicative of that. Lots of families, young and old, and big groups of people… like I said earlier, this is the place to be when you have something to celebrate.

Price: $151. On the ‘up’ side, for 3 mains, an appetiser, a dessert, 3 alcoholic drinks, and 3 coffees. But the quality of the food and the service were also on the ‘up’ side, despite my extra-rich linguine…

Advice: Definitely book! Everyone goes here! If your stomach tends to get affected by very strong and heavy flavours, best you avoid the linguine… or most things for that matter…

In a nutshell: Despite my meal on this occasion, we have come here on several many other occasions. Their menu is diverse and interesting, and the ambience is spot on, making you want to keep coming back. The service is especially caring and attentive, as it should be. I was also impressed with the baby change room, it was new and impeccably clean. I am really excited about this find, and I think the rest of the Peninsula is too… I think they should have stayed true to their style though, and instead of their existing name, gone with ‘Florence in Mornington’ or something along those lines… it would be truer to their restaurant character. Anywho…

Potat-oe, Potat-o….

Tomat-oe, Tomat-o…

Messina, Manhattan…

Manhattan in Mornington Menu, Reviews, Photos, Location and Info - Zomato