Once Upon a Time…

Once upon a time there was a Mum whose baby just didn’t seem quite right. He wasn’t doing the baby stuff that all the other parents said their babies were doing, he hated being fed, he loathed sleep and he cried a lot. Like screamed, all the time, way more than babies usually do. His Mum had never been a parent before, but deep down inside she knew that something wasn’t right, so she visited doctor after doctor trying to explain that she felt in the pit of her stomach that her baby’s body wasn’t happy and perhaps it had something to do with what she was feeding him. Only to be told, that what she was experiencing was normal. After a long time, someone finally listened and perhaps agreed that he might be reacting to what he was being fed, but only because his weight on the chart now reflected that he should be investigated further. From then on the Mum decided to listen to her gut more often and follow her instincts, and mostly, they lived happily ever after.

Twice upon a time there was a Mum who had learned to listen to her gut for the health of her baby. She gave birth to her second baby, who very quickly became unwell and in a lot of pain. She visited the doctor, again, even though she had very broken trust from past experiences and suggested that she knew her baby was reacting to food she had eaten. The doctor completely squandered her suggestion and told her that it was rubbish, and to eat whatever she liked and sent her on her way. The mum knew herself, she knew her baby, and she followed her instincts. And it turns out, she was right (again!). For two years she fought for the health of her son, and not only was she heard in the end, but she lifted his health above and beyond what was ever expected and used her experience to help inspire and empower other Mums who were also fighting to be heard. And for the most part, they lived happily ever after.

Thrice upon a time, there was a Mum who could tune in to that quiet inner voice, deep within her gut, the one full of doubt, but reason, despite being broken over and over. She trusted herself and her baby to lead them through the right path to health and happiness. When her third baby was a few weeks old, covered in fiery, sore skin, on her face, all over her back and down her arms. she ignored the suggestions of hormone rash and cradle cap, and she found a strange suggestion in the voice in her gut. (The voice told her that her baby was reacting to coconut, which really sucked because she was already dairy free and all the yummy treats were made from coconut!) She listened to it, and within three days her babies skin was miraculously clear. She continued to tune in to her most inner Mum voice and her baby has been the happiest and healthiest of all the children, and in fact at two years old has never needed to visit the doctor. And so far, they lived happily ever after.

The moral of the story? That voice inside your gut is there to be listened to, it knows more than you could ever imagine. No one is more expert on your child than you are. If someone tries to tell you it is normal, and you know it’s not, tune in to that voice and search for the answers you are looking for. If you are going to trust anything, trust that voice that holds your Mum instincts. Sometimes you might need to gently peel away layers of fear, or pride, or anxiety, to hear it properly, then when you get that niggling message, make sure you don’t ignore it, it’s trying to tell you something important.

The Lunchbox Mum

When Ashton was five and Felix was 6 months old, I quit my job to be a stay at home Mum. As I envisioned myself as a school Mum … a stay at home school Mum. I envisioned being that Mum that turns up to school pick up in activewear, because I’ve actually done yoga or gone for a run. The Mum with the slick pony tail who always knew what day it was, and sent her son off to school every day in clean clothes with a healthy 100% homemade packed lunch. The Mum who turned up to help out in class occasionally and paid the school fees on time. The Mum who was always smiling, and organised, with a clear head and a clean car.

The last two years has taught me, that I am in fact, none of those Mums! I’m the Mum that stays in the car at school drop off because she is wearing her slippers, and the toddler is in his pyjamas. I’m the Mum who may have actually been for a walk or a run, but is wearing track pants because she hasn’t shaved her legs in 6 months. I’m the Mum with the un-brushed messy bun, probably still up from overnight, and clothes covered in baby puke, snot and possibly poop, maybe chocolate – but probably poop. I’m the Mum who hasn’t been in to meet the new teacher except through the car window one time. I’m the Mum whose son goes to school regularly wearing odd socks, and on occasion, odd shoes. I’m The Mum who has no idea what day it is, but can tell the time by how heavy her eyes feel. And the Mum who can’t see the floor of her car (last time I checked there was an open jar of mayonnaise in the back seat). But I am also the Mum who tries her best to send her boy to school everyday with a lunchbox made with love. Love doesn’t have to be homemade, or tidy, and it doesn’t have to be perfect. Love just has to try it’s best.

Here is what it looks like when I am that Mum, the one who is messy, unorganised, covered in baby excretions, and tired beyond belief, that tries to send her boys off with a nourishing lunchbox every day. My lunchboxes aren’t perfect, they are not 100% homemade, they are made quickly, on little sleep, and sometimes empty cupboards. When my boys open their lunchboxes, I hope that they see the love.

Don’t worry about perfection, because even the most experienced of us don’t get it right, all the time. Be inspired to pack lunchboxes out of love and the kids will have everything they need 💞

And if you need a little helping hand, this resource I created helped to make sure the kids had somewhat healthy lunchboxes packed daily, in my manic attempt to get everyone out the door on time

https://mailchi.mp/b75eda91781a/chefashton_lunchboxplanner?fbclid=IwAR2zWqBO66IABaMZNqWiyNpDMObZCwe_TTv5MeQgwt92_PsHLadMMrU41Eo

Why we left behind our quarter acre dream

While most people tend to outgrow their houses when they add to the tribe, our family of five has just downsized! We have left behind a quarter acre land with chickens, bees, fruit trees, berry bushes, veggie garden, outdoor kitchen area and plenty of (neglected) grass and sheds, and large 1920s bungalow. Instead we have downsized to a section half the size and a nice tidy little house across town (that’s five minutes away, for you city folk!)

While leaving behind a lifestyle that enabled us to supply our own eggs, honey, fruit and veggies was a little sad, while we were there we were left with little time to focus on the things we love most. Our house was enormous but cold, drafty and old. we spent a lot of time sorting fire wood to heat the place and it took ages to clean and tidy even after we decluttered nearly half our possessions. I am often home alone with the kids, for sometimes weeks at a time with little notice, I just didn’t have time to upkeep such a big section, all the pets, and the house, let alone keep the kids alive and make sure they have allergy friendly food made for each meal. It was really stressful trying to juggle everything.

Our new house still has enough backyard for the kids and dog to play, for a small veggie garden and a green house (and maybe a couple chooks if I can convince Chef Dad 😆). The neighbors behind us have land with fejoa trees along our whole fence line 🙌. Our house is warm and dry and easy to heat and set out so i can watch the kids play outside while I’m in the kitchen. Really hoping less space means less maintenance and upkeep and therefore more time to do the things that we love. Which for me is blogging, cooking and writing! And of course spending time with the kids without having to worry about the wall that needs painting and the fence that’s going to fall down.

In our case, bigger isn’t always better. Sometimes it might sound like someone is living the dream, but you just don’t know, behind the scenes what sort of stress is being created to upkeep that life. It was a huge decision to admit that we were in too deep, and there was blood sweat and tears involved in the buying, selling and moving process. In fact I think I’m still in fight or flight, but Just in this short week post move, I’m realising how much of a valuable decision we have made. So here’s to onwards and upwards, moving on to bigger (but actually smaller) and better things, and hopefully more free time to do the things that matter to us most.

Confessions of a Healthy Food Blogger

I share a fairly popular recipe for zucchini cheese – but I never make it myself, and always buy that super expensive vegan cheese from the supermarket.

I don’t like Brussel sprouts, I think they taste like farts. I live with three males (five including the cat and the dog) yes, I know what farts taste like.

My kids won’t eat frozen peas, in fact they won’t eat frozen mixed veggies either. Purely to make my life difficult. Except this one time I told my friend that my kids don’t eat peas and my 1 year old then stole and ate all the peas from her sons lunchbox.

Ashton, just Ashton. Ashton is incredibly fussy. He has the most ginormous list of foods he won’t eat, and bunch of finicky food preferences that I often comply with because I hate the moaning at the dinner table. If you want a winge-fest serve roast chicken (unless it’s a supermarket rotisserie basted in all sorts of non allergy friendly crap that he shouldn’t eat), or potatoes, especially mashed, roasted is marginally acceptable but only if they are cut into 1cm cubes, and crisp, but not too crisp, heaven forbid. Or try soup – if it’s soup, it’s inedible. Make sure you have you best gag face at the ready to make a performance at the table on soup night. Also if its marginally spicy, it may as well be poisonous. Someone save me from this kid he is a healthy food bloggers worst nightmare.

My kids won’t eat my homemade hummus, the two little ones just straight up won’t touch the stuff while Ashton will only eat “Lisa’s” hummus original flavour.

Sometimes I eat proper crisps for breakfast … and let the baby join me.

None of my kids eat raw carrot sticks, but I put them in their lunchboxes all the time because they look good in photos.

When I was a kid I used to steal meal mates crackers from the pantry and eat raro juice sachets like it was sherbet.

My mum buys the kids allergy friendly biscuits and chocolate and I eat it all myself.

Our children are allowed pudding once a week. But every night when they go to bed we eat chips and chocolate and mug cakes.

Most of my blog photos are taken on our bed covered in white sheets, or on the floor of our snail infested sunroom (best lighting in the house 😆)- I peg an upside down piece of scrap vinyl to a portable clothes rack to bounce the light off. Once I spilled a milkshake all through the bed during a photo shoot.

Sometimes I lie to the kids about what they are allergic to, so they don’t eat too much sugar, because I can’t handle the meltdowns.

Anyone else got anything to confess?!

Feeding Kids with Food allergies

The leaflet from my talk at the Total Health Explosion on Saturday, in case you missed it. There I shared some of Felix’s story (you can find his full story here and Ashton’s story here), and I gave some ideas on healthy, allergy friendly breakfasts, lunches and dinners that are all free from the top allergens – dairy, soy, wheat, eggs, nuts and peanuts. If you went, i hope you all enjoyed the event as much as Ashton and I did!

total health handout