
Have returned safely from Toronto, to find my family still in tact (well, relatively, but that's another story) and, most importantly, my baby willing to breastfeed. For her part, Zoe was more excited about the fact that my plane couldn't land at Coolangatta, and was diverted to Brisbane, delaying the family reunion by 5 hours, than actually seeing me. She talked about it all the way home. Bless her. George 'slept through' the night before I returned, but has not repeated that feat since. Nonetheless, it is lovely to be home and having all those night time cuddles with him. While Ewan and George bonded while I was away, and Zoe was apparently an angel, she has now completely rejected her Daddy and gone back to being Mummy's shadow.
Expressing milk on the plane and in airport toilets was one of the most unpleasant and embrassing things I've ever had to do. Not that many people knew, but I'm sure some wondered what that whirring sound was coming from behind the stall door! I was also chastised by a passenger for taking too long in the plane toilet, but I'm sure I'd only been in there for 5 minutes before he was banging on the door. I was angry then apologetic and then embarassed.
We're still madly trying to get the backyard ready for Santa's delivery on Christmas day, but are otherwise happy and healthy, if a little hot and bothered by the weather. This photo shows George being entertained by a load of coloured clothes in the front loading washing machine. Cheap baby entertainment!