Cousins, cousins everywhere!

Emma, thats my guitar!

Now if we can just work out that Ozzy Osbourne rif, both of our daddys will be so proud.

And We're Off!!!

The Wonderful World of Walter will be quiet again for a few days because we're going up to Grandma and Pop's house for their 50th wedding anniversary. All of Daddy's nine brothers and sisters and 25 cousins and various hangers on will be converging on Grandma's backyard to celebrate. Auntie Grub and cousin Emma are here, having flown down yesterday from Brisvegas and we'll all head off later.

So see you next week!

Thats it....I need an eating disorder!

On our recent trip to Nanna and Claudie's house, all of Mummy's family were calling me fat.... yes, you heard me, fat.

Sooooo not impressed - like any of them can talk! So I may be sporting a few chubby rolls here and there (particularly in that delicious area Daddy calls my 'knee fat') and certainly I'd fare better in times of famine than Cousin Claudia of the ice cream eating fame. But to say that I'm fat is just teasing me up!

As I've stated before Mummy and Daddy wont share any of the good stuff with me, so I've been forced to eat fruit, vegies, lean meat and wholegrain cereal my whole life (despite Mummy's jokes about pureeing my McDonalds for me and Auntie Becca's response that she gives it to Cousin Clancy still in the wrapper so she at least gets a cardio vascular workout trying to get it open!)

So I did a little research, and this my friends, is a genuinely fat baby....

My first Christmas.

Ahhhhh, home sweet home! We made the trek down to Nanna and Claudie's and made it back in one piece (just.....Daddy was severely traumatised by the amount of traffic on the Hume Highway on Saturday the 23rd and spent the whole drive and the following 24 hours shaking like our old washing machine.) It was great to see all the aunties, uncles and cousins and to bask in the sugary goodness that is Mummy's family.

On Christmas Eve we went out to Uncle Denis and Auntie Becca's farm for dinner. Clancy has the most rocking sandpit in the whole wide world and all the cousins and I put it to good use. We also played with the chooks and patted the horse. They have just renovated the old house and it now looks like something out of all those Lifestyle channel renovation shows Mummy watches with an addictive fervour.

Christmas Day dawned, bright and cold (not quite snowing..... quite). I went to mass with Mummy while Daddy stayed home for some 'quiet time'. Once all the Tomlinson cousins were assembled (Sarah, Tori, Claudia and Clancy - Grace, Harry, Frances and Lil came over later.... okay, most of the cousins and where were Megan and Jess?) we got to play with all the wrapping paper, sorry unwrap the presents. The grown ups got to eat lots of lovely food and drink lots of lovely drinks...and all I got was healthy vegies and water! So not fair, especially when Claudia and Clancy got to eat ice cream and lollies. Damn those parents of mine and their nutritious ideals. I also have to say a big thank you to Auntie Kathryn, who shared a room with me at Nanna's house and got up to feed me at the crack of dawn, gently encouraged me to go back to sleep after my bottle and then got up to play when it became obvious that I just wasn't going to go back to sleep. I missed you this morning Auntie Kathryn.....did you miss me?

And to Frannie, for the skillful delivery of crawling lessons......I can get up onto my knees and rock back and forth now!

So, to Nanna and Claudie and all the Tomlinson family, thanks for a great Christmas,Love Wal.

Merry Christmas and to all a good night.

To my dear friends and ardent admirers,
I would just like to take this opportunity to wish all and sundry a Merry Christmas. The presents are wrapped, Santa's lap has been sat upon, lists have been made and checked not once, but twice and Auntie Kathryn has a firm rein on the catering arrangements (if there is one thing Mummy's family do well, its catering arrangements!)We're heading down to Nanna and Claudie's house for Christmas to see the cousins, torment the dogs and to let Nanna slip me some pavlova and trifle when nobodies looking.
To everyone who has made my nine months on this earth memorable, thank you.
Love Walter.
P.S. Santa, you can find me at Nanna's house....O.K?

As seen in this Saturday's Canberra Times:

CHANCELLOR (Ebner) Rod and Fiona are thrilled to announce the swift arrival of Walter David born 24.11.2006 at CJJMH.ANNOUNCEMENTS : BIRTH NOTICES16/12/2006

Right...... That kid is going down! How dare he steal my name!

Let Festivus Commence!

Yesterday we had our Mum's group Christmas party, where we all met each others daddies, played balloon volley ball and got a special early present from that fat, bearded dude, Santa.

Ow!.....It's all spiky.

This is Eleanor, she can crawl.....and for that I hate her. (Joking! I kid because I love!)

Lachie, a little birdie told me that all your Mummy wants for Christmas is decent night sleep...

Luke and I co-ordinated our outfits, as usual.

This is Tamika doing Lindsay's (Eleanor's Mum A.K.A. 'My real Mummy') hair.

Logan clearly has his priorities right here...

And Ella and Kelly, who were off attempting to break Ella's spirit (unsuccessfully, might I add) at Sleep School.

Merry Xmas to all my friends!

Midwife with the Mostest.

My sincere apologies for my recent absence from The Wonderful World of Walter. My admin staff claim that they have been dealing with the backlog of the festive season and haven't had time (or the inclination may I add...) to process the genius that springs forth from my mind.

Anyhoo!

A couple of weeks ago Mummy and I went to the CMP Xmas picnic and met some lovely woman called Young Oak who maintained she had known me all my life. I didn't think much of it at the time, but then she left me a comment here on the blog, so I asked those parents of mine what the story was.
Young Oak apparently was the lady who looked after Mummy when she was pregnant with me. So all that interutero prodding and poking, all that wiggling of my poor head to see if it was engaged - all her! Mummy says that Young Oak was a veritable angel, who swept down upon our family thanks to a wonderful primary care midwifery program we have here in the land of three wheeler prams. The CMP espouses natural childbirth with minimal intervention and an early discharge program. This naturally appealed to Mummy, who at that time was determined to be the crunchiest hippy mum on the block (amazing how she's given up on that whole idea now!)
The reality of my entrance into the world was a little different..... The week before my ETA it became obvious I was on my way- I mean when Auntie Josie and Uncle Denis both rang to find Mummy washing the windows, they knew something was up. By 1.30 am the next morning Mummy was in very early labour. However after nearly two days of labour, Mummy wasn't getting anywhere and I wasn't any closer to getting the hell out of there. Mummy was exhausted, Daddy was exhausted, Nellie was a nervous wreck, Auntie Josie had visions of Mummy having a C section because I was taking so long and Mum's boss Neralie had the shits because Mummy wasn't answering her calls or emails. Once we did manage to get things going and arrived at the hospital, Mummy demanded to be taken upstairs to the Delivery Suite to get 'the good stuff'.
Once Mummy finally got her narcotics, sorry epidural (you should hear her version of how grateful she was to the anesthesiologist!) she was a much happier camper.
Eventually I made my appearance into this world, cradled by a pair of salad tongs straight into the waiting arms of my beautiful Mummy. The whole experience was, in hindsight pretty traumatic. Mummy was however, proud of herself for asking for intervention when it was needed (after her inital fear that Young Oak would be disappointed with her for not managing to have the waterbirth that they'd planned.) Daddy still says that Mummy vomiting on him during transition was the worst part (too much gas.... Mum got carried away with the nitrous oxide - it reminded her of a particularly debaucherous afternoon on the floor of the bathroom of the flat in Oxford St with Auntie Laurinda.)

Mummy and Daddy still say it was the most amazing experience of their lives, made so much better by the support of a great midwife. Daddy misses his freedom, and Mummy misses her pelvic floor muscles but they wouldn't have it any other way.

So thank you Young Oak, thank you.

Sorry

Sooooo lazy....

Will post about something soon -

Promise!

Bad Parents in Contemporary Culture.....Part Deux.

Okay, I think that we have established that my grown ups, Andrew and Anthea, being novices and all, are not very good at this parenting game. In addition to taking me to a den of iniquity last weekend they have also:

• Sent me to daycare with questionable nappy emissions.




• Failed to heed such warning signs as pulling on my ears and crying when I lay down.




• When Mummy did finally take me to the doctors, it turns out that I have a middle ear infection and gastro. And then she and Dr Sharma spent most of the consultation researching Mummy's and Auntie Kate's question du jour - 'Where do your ovaries go when you're pregnant?'




• Then to top off this list of heinous crimes, they tried to take me to a portrait sitting this morning. Said portrait sitting was a no go and had to be rescheduled as I spent the whole time crying. When we got home Mummy finally deemed to take my temperature - 39.2 degrees......To quote the great Spike Milligan 'I told you I was ill'!

This shabby treatment surely deserves retribution. What do you think I should do?

Da Boyz.

Bad Parents in Contemporary Culture.....Please Discuss.

I have a sneaking suspicion that I may have 'bad parents'. 'Why Walter, what ever makes you say that?' I hear you ask.

They took me, at the tender age of eight months, to the pub last night (I spent the whole evening in fear of getting carded!) It was Uncle Jeremy's birthday yesterday and we went to a local yuppie bar/cum drinking establishment to for an hour or two to help him celebrate. Whilst there lots of people admired my tres stylish AB/CD t shirt, my boyish good looks and my superior ability to vomit on Mummy's shoulder several hours after my last bottle.

Mummy claims that Nanna and Claudie used to take her to the pub after football and after mass all the time when she was little, but hello.... that was your social life because you lived in the middle of nowhere! Daddy, however with his comparatively urban upbringing isn't so sure.

Anyhoo! I also got to meet my cousin Carl who, despite living around the corner, never comes to see us.

It was kinda fun, but I'm wondering what the good people at Family Services would think!

34.3 degrees...

See, Aunty Kathryn.... this is why I need a wading pool.

5.15 am

Oh, I do love the smell of tired parents in the morning......

Me n' my gal

Systems back on line.

Woo Hoo! I think we can get pictures again.

Here are some large novelty boobs to celebrate (they were meant to go with the breastfeeding post).

Possession is nine tenths of the law.

A most peculiar thing happened to me this morning. I was in bed with Mummy and Daddy this morning having a lovely early morning snuggle. We were all drowsy and cuddly, the parents both had horrendous morning breath, Nellie was burrowed in under the blankets....The blankets fell away and suddenly I could see Mummy's boobie. So I did what any self respecting red blooded male would do, I went to grab it...and rudely had my hand diverted by Daddy, who claimed that the boobie now was his!

You see, apparently when I gave up breast feeding I forfeited all my rights to Mummy's chest. No one told me this, why wasn't I informed? You would think that someone would have sat me down and explained my rights to me, almost as a disclaimer. Perhaps I shouldn't have been so hasty to reject Mummy and all her milky goodness.

See, Mummy and I had been having feeding 'issues' for quite some time, I wanted more than she could give me (story of her life, I can hear her muttering from the background). I got sick of working for a decent let down and well, the sweet chemical taste of formula was just too appealing (it's like heroin man, one bottle and you're hooked!). But that said, during crisis times, like when Dad accidentally walked me into the door frame or when Mum accidentally let me roll off their bed, I really miss being held so close and that comforting soft boobiliciousness. A mere cuddle just doesn't cut the mustard!

I know that Mummy has been wracked with guilt over my rejection of her boobies - I think she wanted to be one of those mummies of a certain crunchy persuasion who fed their kids until university. And now that I've handed in my notice, Daddy's right there waiting to claim them back.So I ask you this who do they belong to? Um, last time I checked the boobies in question were actually attached to Mummy's chest and ergo, are not mine, are not Daddy's but are hers.

Free the Boobies!

Liberate the former lactators!

Sag away, my pretties!

Phew!

The good people of The Australian Federal Police found our car, relatively safe and sound on the shores of scenic Lake Ginninderra in the wee hours of this morning. I hope nothing happened to traumatise my toys!

Where, oh where has my jellybean gone?

Some bastard stole our car! Mummy and I went to go to our respective daycare centres this morning to find that our Mazda (the little or old car, depends on who you're talking to) was gone. It was there last night, but this morning all that was left was some debris where they broke open the lock on the driver's side door.
This means that life is about to become a whole lot harder for Mummy and Daddy... And some of my favourite toys were in there!

The Bastards....

Next stop, Port Vila!

Today we take leave of Mummy's dear friend 'Lette, who goes on posting to Vanuatu today for the next few years. Colette has been one of the few people that Mummy has been able to be brutally honest with about the realities of this parenting malarky.....and Daddy and I thank you!
We're going to miss you heaps, and we know that Nick and my mate Julian will be lost without you.
I am however getting alarmed by the rumours of me and Daddy having some 'boys bonding time' whilst Mummy says she's going to sit by the lagoon, tucking foreign currency into some pool boy's trunks.

International League of Infant Anarchists- human rights division, is there something that can be done?

'Lette, it would seem we still have technical difficulties posting photos, so it looks like you got lucky, because the photo I was gonna use was a doozy!

The fesitval of Mummy.

We apologise for this break in transmission due to industrial action related to Mummy having something called a birthday.
What are these 'birthdays', where does one get one, can you buy them at Target? I know I've never had a 'birthday' and if my memory serves me correctly, neither has Daddy in my lifetime. All I know is that Mummy got all dressed up and went out on Saturday night and then was no fun what so ever on Sunday. Then yesterday I had to do her a painting at day care and Daddy cooked her a special dinner, full of ingredients he doesn't really like, whilst she sat back with a soothing gin and tonic.
I want to know what all this is about....

I would have liked to include a terribly sexy photo of Mummy, but it would appear that Daddy's porn is corrupting our system...

The Mother of Invention.

In light of my emergent skills of scooting backwards and in circles across the kitchen floor (not the carpet though, too much traction!), Mummy has been working on putting me to work.

Plus

Equals

Carpet and Upholstery attachments are still in the research and development phases.

Welcome to the world.

Introducing Tomas Edward Whitaker....
Product of The Irritable Uterus and Big Dougie.
Little brother and future scapegoat of 'Bugga' and 'Scarti'.

Born 7.08pm, Wednesday 25th October 2006.

7pds 12ozs.

Mummy and I went on another road trip to see Auntie Kate and Tomas. There were lots of bendy, twisty, steep roads to drive down (so I'm told, I was sleeping off all those 5 am wake up calls I've been giving Mummy!) and lots of opportunities to laugh at Mummy and her wonderful singing.
Mummy and Auntie Kate are having fantasies of Tomas and I fighting, sorry I meant playing together when we're bigger and sharing hand me down clothes.

Tomas, The International League of Infant Anarchists welcomes you to it's ranks.

Three days without a virus!

Yep, that is the sum total of the time I have been without some form of lurgie since I started childcare. I have given a good host body to a whole range of colds and gastrointestinal anomalies. Mummy is getting kind of sick of it, which I think is rather hypocritical given that Mummy has facilitated children's diseases all her adult life. (Sorry Amanda, if you're reading this, Mummy said to say that she like, totally understands it's not your fault!)

Now Mummy's watching my nappy carefully and telling me if I do one of those impressive mega poos we won't be able to go to Lachie's house this morning......I must control my bowel, I must control my bowel.

And another thing..... when does daylight savings start? I've woken up at 5am every morning this week.....Not a good way to make a Mummy happy.

A Blanket Apology

To my dear members of The International League of Infant Anarchists,

Comrades, I feel that I must apologise for my disgraceful conduct of late. You look to me as a role model, as a leader in the field of infant anarchy.... and I have let you down.

Certainly there are some areas of guerrilla warfare that I have managed to 'maintain the rage' such as crying whenever the adults are out of my direct line of vision and my extensive research into projectile vomiting, but I feel I am sorely lacking in so many areas.

Apparently, (and Mummy is screaming at me not to type this in fear of activating Murphy's law.... No Mummy! Put down the wooden spoon, Mummy! I'll be a good boy, Mummy!) I slept through the night last night. I'm sorry, I am sooo sorry! I endeavour to never let it happen again.

Kiss my.....

Does my bum look big in this?

Look what I can do!

I can also chant Dad Dad incessantly and hold my own bottle!

Days off...

Okay, I think I'm finally getting into the swing of this Day Care thing. Jellybeans early in the week and then home with the folks the rest of the time.

The nice ladies (I added that just to get Mummy's goat after the seminal Early Childhood text 'Not just nice ladies' - Thank you Anne Stonehouse!) at Day Care have been raving about me to Mummy and Daddy- What a great sleeper I am, How well I self settle to sleep, What a great eater I am etc etc. This has given the parents a great ego boost.

On Thursday, day one of parole Mum and I went to Mum's group in the park where there was some funny looking people doing some funny looking dance.

Mummy said it was to try and tempt the rain gods (they should try washing the car and leaving the clothes on the line!) and that this was my daily dose of culture.

After that we went over to Callum's house to paddle in his pool and admire his ability to raise his tummy off the ground in an attempt to crawl....damn, wish I could do that!

On Thursday we went to Aunty Colette's house supposedly to help her get ready for going to Vanuatu, but she and Mummy decided it was all too hard and went out for a boozy lunch instead. At the restaurant we were entertained by a baby brown snake that was slithering under our table, kinda like this....I thought it looked good enough to eat.

Colette had this really cute Muppet of a floor mop puppy that she was looking after to give to her Mum. I didn't like it much though, not as polite as Nellie.

Mummy wants to know....

Who would play you in the 'Movie of the Week' version of your life?

See ya, Unkie Al!

Unkie Al is moving to the big smoke....you'd better be back in time to play spiderman with me!

Retribution

Never fear, members of The International League of Infant Anarchists! I found a way to pay back my parents for the crime of placing me in Day Care. I've had a cold since Thursday, which has given me great mileage on the snot displacement front, and now I have spent the last day perfecting the art of projectile vomiting. Daddy, in particular is proud of the way I can vomit and come up smiling and laughing a moment later (he just wants me to keep being sick so that he can stay home from work with me tomorrow!).

I knew it was too good to be true!

Damn those parents of mine. Just when I was all happy and content, they have gone and spoilt it all!
On Tuesday morning Mummy got me up ridiculously early and made me get dressed. After what seemed like a terribly long time in the car, we arrived at Jellybeans Correctional Institution and then Mummy left me there. 'Fine' I thought, this is just another 'little play', but she left me there.....all day. Daddy finally came and rescued me and took me home in time for a play, dinner and bed. I went to be safe in the knowledge that this was an isolated incident and that tomorrow things would be back to normal.
I was wrong, oh how wrong I was! They expected me to go back the next day.
Sooooo not impressed.

Memo to The International League of Infant Anarchists: What can we do about this?

Halcyon Days

I think that these may be the best days of my infancy....My party was a hit, all the grandparents and cousins have gone home and Mummy and I have just been rolling around on the back lawn. Yes, truly these are the salad days of babyhood.

Mummy would like to add that she takes no responsiblilty for the dirt on my bum in this photo.

Definition of Gorgeous

This is me and my Mummy's friend Laurinda.....

Cute huh?