Things I've Learnt - This Time Around

Well, it's been 18 months since I last posted. Not that I haven't had anything to say in that time - the motivation to sit down and type it out wasn't there.

At. All.

I have been doing things, and generally speaking my Facebook page reflects that. The most significant events? Surviving being a SAHM to 2 of the most headstrong girls on the planet, the eldest starting transition (2014) and now Year 1 and discovering the terrifying world of school pick-up and school drop-off. If high school didn't prepare me for a world of 'your body fat percentage is over 1% - you are therefore a lower grade version of a person', then holy cow has being a school mum opened my eyes! Personally I think all these women have shares in a spandex production company and are afraid that demand is falling.

The beginning of year 1, January 2015.

On the bright side, it means I still get to be the cool mum who volunteers in the classroom and who knows all the kids names. I did it all through transition. Brain food prep, listening to the kids read, helping with craft - I rocked the shit out of it all!! Miss H has a cult following, but is far less comfortable with the popularity than I am. The kids are also fascinated by my bump.

Oh - did I not mention my bump? Well, it's just one more thing I've been doing...growing a baby brother for our 2 girls while trying not to lose what little sanity I have left. That's a daily battle which isn't always successful -  but I have high hopes of rehabilitation once I'm no longer pregnant.

Bump Announcement!

This pregnancy has been far from easy. I look back on pregnancy 1 and 2 with fondness and remember the carefree days of being able to waddle my way around without a care in the world. Yes, there was the odd occurrence of nausea and I'll admit to eating my body weight in chocolate donuts during my first foray into the world of cravings. There was even a moment of disgust and horror when I realised I had been sitting at my desk eating watermelon coated in gravy without a single hesitation.

Truly, I figured I had already conquered the dark side of growing people and there was nothing left to be afraid of.

Cue pregnancy 3.

Holy mother of all that is truly fucked up on this planet, was I wrong. I had never really heard of Hyperemesis Gravidarum before - and mostly it was in relation to Princess Kate when she was growing George. It seemed like an exotic and high class way of saying 'Kate is spending most of her days face-timing with her gold-leaf toilet block and not having the strength to wash the spew from her hair'.

I was in this unenviable position from weeks 9 to 30. And this included Christmas. Christmas, people! The one time of year you won't be judged for the volume consumed at the table, and then on the couch and possibly later, while laying in bed.

The exhaustion following Christmas shopping.

Browsing for the Christmas menu.

It also co-incided with The Man taking a road trip to Queensland with his brother. For 2 weeks. While I alternated between trying to keep a 5yo, a 2yo, a dog and a cat alive with removing my head from the toilet bowl long enough to sip some water.

It wasn't pretty, and to all those Mum's out there that have experienced this and had the strength/courage/insanity to risk it again and again to complete their families - you have my unending admiration and sympathies. We knew this baby would be our last, regardless. After The Man got home, I was fully prepared to perform his vasectomy on the kitchen bench with a blunt knife and then check myself in to a mental institution.

Bump progression.

By week 30, things had settled enough that my stomach no longer rattled with the volume of medications I was on. I was enjoying spending less time with the toilet bowl, and more time outside with my children and re-introducing myself to a lovely thing called 'food' and another called 'life'. I should have relished it more.

She lost her first tooth!

A certain someone learned to swim.

And this girl just continued with her Hayley Lewis skills.

Bump progression in bathers.

Participating in her school swim carnival. Participation was a lot different in my day!

We enjoyed the rain.

Further bump progression.

Someone upgraded to a big girl bed.

Week 32+6 - CONTRACTIONS!! Initially I thought it was just Braxton Hicks, but memory served long enough to remind me that they weren't supposed to hurt. Or come at regular intervals, specifically intervals that grew shorter while the pains lasted longer. Or give you the familiar sensation in your nether regions of birthing your second child...in the front seat of the car.

I remained in denial while The Man called the hospital. While the hospital issued orders to get my arse in the car. While my Mum came over to stay with the girls. I refused to take a bag, a change of clothes - I wasn't even bothered by the fact that I had left my phone on the charger at home because I KNEW it would all stop in the car and I'd be home from the hospital in under 2 hours.

Sometimes my reluctance to accept reality baffles even me.

Admission 1

I spent the next 3 days being pumped full of drugs to stop the contractions, hourly observations, regular tracings of bub and pain meds. Sleep had been a bit hit and miss, depending on pain, lack of comfort and general disturbance, but I really wanted to go home. I was released late on Mother's Day with threats ringing in my ears that if I didn't take it easy I'd be back in hospital. And as far as I was concerned I did take it easy!

Monitoring all those contractions and bubba movements.

2 weeks later I decided I was feeling awesome enough to take the girls to their friends birthday party at a local indoor playground. The Man had to go into the office, so made sure my Mum was with me 'just in case'. I told him he was being over cautious and I would be able to sit the whole time - what was the harm!?

The party started at 2pm and by 4pm I was back in delivery suite with some poor doctor trying desperately to find a vein that wouldn't collapse before he got the IV in. I was treated to another few days in hospital, regular hospital meals doing it's best to look like tasty, edible food and all the Facebook/Twitter/Instagram/Pinterest browsing time a girl could need. Except that between the contractions and the regular checks I was still getting almost no sleep. Even though they had given me pain meds to manage at home after I was discharged last time, I was reluctant to take them because they zonked me out and I've never been one to willingly lose control. And my reluctance was at an all time high knowing that I didn't want to be incoherant while my kids needed me at home!

Admission 2.

Panadol took some of the edge off, but never enough to really cut through the discomfort. So considering that sleep was still hard to come by after 3 and a half weeks, cue complete sobbing meltdown with the nurse. After which the doctor came in and stabbed me with pethidine. I knew very little of the next 12 hours. They told me it would offer 4 hours of relief. I view the extra 8 hours I got as a fucking awesome bonus.

Sadly, that meant they didn't administer it again. Bastards.

After another few days I was released home, yet again, and this time under strict instructions to keep off my feet, with horizontal being my main angle. 90 degrees was acceptable with elevated feet. Vertical, other than for the purposes of visiting the toilet, was right out. I was just relieved that I was still allowed to wipe my own arse.

Resting...

Let's be honest, I was never, ever going to be their ideal patient. Not with 2 kids at home and a husband who has a demanding job. Have I been breaking the rules? A bit - not enough to be back in hospital, but just enough to keep the house running, the kids alive when The Man isn't home to help and enough to keep me sane. Perhaps because baby brain is the least of my concerns when it comes to losing mental functionality.

Day time TV - you have a lot to answer for. Seriously, how are Ridge and Brooke having the SAME conversation, in the SAME room, wearing the SAME clothes they were 15 years ago?! More to the point, how on earth do I even recall the conversation from 15 years ago?! I blame my high school friends - they were all into B&B and I reluctantly* joined in so I could understand what they were talking about. (*reluctant may be the wrong word. A more correct term might be 'enthusiastically' but I'm not stating anything outright.) And the token Australian you stole from Neighbours - absolutely bloody awful! She's a countryman and I can't listen to her without wanting to claw my ears off.

But to be honest, between watching ABC Kids (Miss 3) and endless videos of other people playing Minecraft (Miss 6), B&B is sometimes the only adult interaction I have in a day. Which is tragic. And worrying because I'm starting to think shoulder pads need to make a comeback.

So there you have it - my life* in a post. (*not my whole life...I may have started this post 6 months ago...)

Tell me, what have you been up to?

Filling in the Gaps...

It would seem that Friday is my blogging day. I'm putting it down to being at home and having a lot going on at the moment, rather than being at work and blogging to make the day go faster before my brain starts to leak out of my ears for lack of use.

I have a feeling that this is going to take a lot longer to type out than I planned because I keep rushing to the window every 5 seconds to see of the Australia Post man has arrived with my ASOS order. I may or may not be hysterically excited to have some new clothes.

And speaking of hysterical, since my hysterical post about baby names, things have happened.

Specifically, a miracle has occurred. We have chosen a name for our baby girl!

When The Man got home from Sydney, I may or may not have burst into tears at the sight of him. Miss 3 was attached to him until sleep loosened her grip.

Can you tell we're a household of needy females?? I know, it's tragic - I should be teaching Miss 3 to be independent, how not to need a man in her life, and to change her own spark plugs. The only trouble is that I hate being independent, I absolutely need The Man in my life and I wouldn't know where the hell to find the spark plugs in our car if I had a diagram and the car came fully labeled (despite being the daughter of a mechanic...oh the shame!).

Once Miss 3 was in bed and we had time together, I broached the subject of names again. Before I even had a chance to say that I actually wanted the name we originally chose and I didn't give a rats bum what anyone else thought, The Man piped up with "I don't care what anyone says. It's our daughter and we have chosen her name because we love it. We're not asking for anyone to agree with us, we're asking them to respect that we've chosen a name we think is beautiful and that's all that matters."

I didn't really have anything to add to that verbally. So I just cried a bit more.

The Man understood it was a supportive sob, and with that we had gone back to our original plan and our baby girl will have a name that we chose for her out of love.

And that's the most important thing.

Secondly, further progress has been made on baby's room, with *flushing going on the walls. It's starting to look like a real construction zone - and this makes me happy.

Coat 1 of 3. All 3 coats have since been completed. *Flushing is now a word that I no longer associate specifically with the functions of a toilet.

Despite the out-laws declaring that I am a drama-queen for wanting the room complete 2-3 weeks before bub arrives, the FIL has followed through and the electrician will be here tomorrow! I am so pleased about this fact I don't even have anything snarky to say about it.

On Wednesday I spent far too much time in Bunnings staring at a rainbow-on-crack wall of colour samples. It started out as a fun idea, which soon turned to terror when I realised that I actually had to make a choice.

Anyone who knows me, knows that making a decision is the one thing that will mentally cripple me.

I finally decided it required time to sit down and ponder while Miss 3 had a blast on the indoor playground.

Almost 2 hours later I ended up with 7 samples out of 8 colours I 'narrowed it down' to. I would have had 8 samples, but the last colour didn't come in anything less than 1 litre, and I thought that might be a bit much just to paint a small square.

But can I just ask one thing? SINCE WHEN IS WHITE NOT ACTUALLY WHITE?! Seriously, I've put one of the samples on the wall and it's bloody GREEN people! What is with that? It looked white in the shop. Why is it not white now I get it home?

Top Left Hand Corner - it's GREEN!! Why was it even in the white section!?

I sure as hell don't have this problem when choosing finger paint colours for Miss 3.

In other news Miss 3 is really loving our new lifestyle of doing lots of things together and so am I. I'm constantly in awe at the speed she absorbs everything around her, and I swear her vocabulary is greater than mine!

The only bummer is that she loves to start the day bright and early when The Man leaves for the office. I, on the other hand, am keen to sleep for as long as I can and the getting up early thing just doesn't float my boat.

Sleep is a bit hit and miss at the moment - that elusive comfy position is a bitch to find, but once I get there it's awesome. I just wish it was the same spot every night! I'm a tummy sleeper by nature, and pregnancy is in direct contradiction of this fact.

As a result the nanna nap has made a regular appearance whether I want it or not.

Thank god for the numerous kids channels on Austar. They are a nanna napper's best friends and they also mean the carnage is limited to one area of the house while I'm passed out on the couch. Trouble is, I usually end up 'napping' slightly longer than I plan. And so my eyes suddenly spring open and my brain immediately goes into overdrive...

'Holy crap how long have I slept? Shit, is it dark yet? Oh my god why is it so quiet!? Right, plan of action is to stand up, stumble around and pray you trip over your still alive 3yo. Ready? GO!

Picture Credit: Allie Brosh, Hyperbole and a Half via Google search

Yes, cartoons are awesome, but we know they'll only entertain for so long while you snort and drool in your sleep...even if it is in the same room as said child.

Regardless of how much energy I do or don't have, ironing specifically remains the one task I LOATHE. I've had clean washing piled on a chair in the lounge room for days and I can't find the motivation to iron it. But I'm also attributing this to mental exhaustion as I've been helping my Mum with some of her essays for uni.

Holy freaking shite has it been a long time since I've had to write an essay - let alone write one that makes sense when 95% of my brain cells have abandoned me. And to be honest, I spend most of the time being indignant that all this 'writing an essay like you swallowed a thesaurus' is supposed to make a person a good nurse.

Yeah, because a patient will overlook the fact that you're an arse-hat with no empathy or love for the job if you can swan around and speak like a Professor in arse-hattery.

But sadly my ability to roll my eyes at all the bullshit involved in obtaining a degree is of no assistance. If it was, I'd have a degree in everything.

AND I WOULD RULE THE WORLD!!

Ahem.

Otherwise, we've just been plodding along and making the most of the time Miss 3 and I have left as just the two of us. It involves lots of time in the pool, baking more than I have in my entire life and being far more arty farty than I thought was possible - mixed with a healthy dose of over-attention for the cats, chickens and the general outdoors.

Loving every minute of it. Except when it's 6:30am.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to hover around our front windows in preparation of throwing myself at the first Australia Post truck I see.

FFS!? Friday...The REALLY Cranky Edition...

I've been working on this post all week. Since Tuesday in fact, because there were some things from the weekend that linger, and as the week has progressed, more and more people have been lining up to be on my shit list.

Well, I'm more than happy to oblige.

• Told the Inlaws Outlaws that we're expecting a baby girl! MIL's immediate response was 'oh, so you'll be having another one then, for a boy.' Are. You. Serious!?...FFS
• Miss 3 happened to let slip a name from our 'possible name' list that she has fallen in love with, and MIL's response was 'that's fucking hideous'. In front of Miss 3. I wanted to stab the woman in the eye with a fork...FFS
• The MIL also turned around to announce that clearly The Man is at fault for us having a little girl. Like it's a fucking crime!...FFS
• My father is going through mid-life crisis #3,234,665 and I am going to stab him in the eye with a fork if he doesn't stop being such an arse-hat...FFS
• I'm referring to him as my 'Father' rather than 'Dad' because I don't like him at all right now, and 'Dad' is too caring for how I feel right now...FFS
• He won't stop picking on my Mum about completing her nursing degree. Well, last time I checked she works full time, studies full time and still manages to see us regularly and look after a 56 year old husband child who makes snarky remarks about how on earth can she find the time to study when she's too busy looking after the rest of the world and not him...see, total arse-hat...FFS
• My father is very material and money is everything to him. Money becomes his only thought, night and day, during mid-life crisis mode. He has more than some people could ever dream of, and his selfishness is disgusting. It makes me want to slap him...FFS
• I feel like a bitch because my Mum cried on the phone the other day. She misses looking after Miss 3, but The Man and I aren't letting it happen because we don't want her around my Father's shitful behaviour...FFS
• Did I mention I feel like an evil bitch for making my Mum cry?...FFS
• My solution is to have Mum at our place as often as possible, but when she's here all she wants to do is clean and do chores so that I 'don't have to worry about it'...FFS
• If I didn't think it would set off her claustrophobia, I would cling wrap her to a chair...FFS
• My workplace is making it as difficult as possible for me to access my leave - I personally think this is in direct response to me having to go on leave early on advice from my OB...FFS
• I don't know why I'm surprised - I work with a bunch of women who's biggest concern in life is where their next drink is coming from and how soon can they get it. People like me are a waste of space because work comes AFTER family and I'm not a raging alcoholic...FFS
• How dare I put my health and the health of our unborn child first! There are spreadsheets to be done, wench!!...FFS
• If I see anyone from work on the street, I'll be hard pressed not to swerve onto the sidewalk and chase them with my car...FFS
• Daycare totally buggered up our fees etc and so now we have an account for $550 due to their system screwing up...FFS
• They only discovered the error after doing up our final paperwork for pulling Miss 3 from care now that I'm at home. If she was still at care they never would have known...FFS
• So much for going on maternity leave making life easier...FFS
• The Man is going to Sydney for a few days from Sunday for a company booze and feast-fest something-or-other. He says it'll be all work, work, work but I know that's a load of bullshit...FFS
• He also came home last night to announce he bought tickets with his brother to some music festival thing in Adelaide in March...FFS
• This is after he promised the next trip we took would be as a family since he took a boys 10 day trip to Bali in a villa with a butler, cook, maid and would text me about his massages that cost $5 for 2 hours...FFS
• The closest thing I get to a massage is the 2 cats clawing the shit out of my shoulders to indicate they're hungry...FFS
• I'm turning into Betty-bloody-Crocker and I'm afraid to get on the scales at the OB's office in 2 weeks time...FFS
• The insomnia has started to kick in and so it gives me more time to dwell on all the bullshit and realise how badly our ceilings need to be re-painted...FFS

So this week has certainly been a pain in the arse - all I can say is TFIF!!

On Being Productive...

Well, as productive as one can be with fractured ribs, anyway.

I'm scheduling this post for today as our home officially becomes a construction zone, rather than just a destruction zone. It'll make a nice change for walls to go up.

I keep looking around the house and seeing eight million things that I want to tidy or throw out or put into storage. And then there are the eight million things in our store room that I want to bring upstairs and start sorting for the new little miss, due to make an appearance in 13 weeks time.

I'm really excited to go through Miss 3's baby clothes as there were a few things that she only wore once or twice before it had to shift out of rotation - I'm happy to think they'll have a second life :) But, of course, that won't stop me from shopping up a storm! It was terrible when Miss 3 was born, so with 2 girls to dress I'll have to work very hard on my self control...maybe...

And speaking of Miss 3, by some miracle I was able to sort through her toybox without her really noticing. I take the fact that she hasn't mentioned a single item missing means they were long gone from the repertoire of play.

My next mission is to go through her play kitchen and all the materials associated with such.

That may be a tad more stressful than discreetly addressing the toybox, but we'll see how we go.

I have to say, having another girl has thrilled me to bits. The Man too. The only trouble now is agreeing on a name. The Man has latched on to a name that is so left of field I'm not even sure where to go with it! Needless to say I think it's an 'interesting' choice - but I'm not able to provide a counter proposal as I can't make a decision on anything!

Chances are the maternity staff will be writing 'Baby + Surname' on all the paperwork.

But a name is just number 1 on the list of things to decide. I'm still not sure on the colour for the room - I'm not sure about going pink again, I'd like something different for this baby. I love the yellow and grey nursery's I've seen on the internet but I'm not sure about the practicality of it and how fast it will age.

I also have to find a set of drawers for the baby's room, that won't cost $600 plus! I'm trying to find a raw pine set that I can paint white myself, as that's how I recycled the pine tall boy in our bedroom. With new handles and all painted up it looks fantastic, so I'm more than happy to do the same again.

And then there's the horrifying task of sorting through The Man's computer crap. Well, I call it crap. He calls it...some word I can't remember. But the endless computer parts, cables, funny board things and whatnot have to be addressed. If it was up to me I'd throw it all away - but I think that would probably kill him. So in the spirit of life preservation I will simply be pestering him for however long it takes for the crap to disappear.

It could be a very long life. Or a very short one.

But overall, while the men are constructing, I plan to be out of the house doing some shopping for my Hug-A-Bub, the chest of drawers, a baby record book and some girly stuff that I'll not be able to resist bringing home with me.

It's going to be a good day...

Pregnancy, Construction & iPhones on a FFS!? Friday...

Oh Friday - I love you. You herald the beginning of another week in this pregnancy and one less week for everything to be done that I've decided MUST be done before this baby arrives.

Good times.

But let's cut to the chase, shall we?

• My self esteem is at an all time low when it comes to my appearance. So when The Man happens to mention that a model in an underwear advert reminds him of his brother's wife, my ground level self esteem begins to dig a tunnel to the centre of the earth...FFS
• He tried to make me feel better by saying it was the models face that reminded him of his SIL- it had nothing to do with her body. But we all know the more you explain, the worse it gets...FFS
• When The Man and his brother were demolishing part of the house, they managed to have an entire section of wall bring my laptop, crashing to the ground, with it...FFS
• Missed The Man's computer by a mile, of course...FFS
• Miss 3 has managed to lose her iPod. I know it must be in the house but I can't find it and it means my phone is often recruited as a replacement. I only discover this fact after she's gone to bed and I find my flat phone buried in the couch...FFS
• I'm sure my friends must think I'm a rude bitch for not answering my phone or replying to messages...FFS
• Miss 3 doesn't bother with The Man's phone. Only mine...FFS
• The Man, his brother and a carpenter mate are completing the walls to the new baby's room tomorrow. I have an impending sense of doom about the idea of nail guns being used...FFS
• Perhaps this is because they are the most accident prone people alive, especially when together...FFS
• I also keep having premonitions of a visit to the emergency room...FFS
• I found some awesome maternity clothes in the newest Big W catalogue. But I forgot that I live in Darwin and the idea that I could buy something advertised is completely ludicrous...FFS
• The OB has me on maternity leave because I need to be able to rest a lot to allow my ribs to heal. Not sure how that's meant to work when I have a baby using them as monkey bars...FFS
• And just in case my life sounds far too glamorous, the all-the-time-sickness hasn't gone. I had to throw up in my handbag the other day...FFS
• This awesome retching also does nothing for the rib situation...FFS
• I've developed a disturbing addiction to pancakes. This does not bode well for my plan of minimal weight gain in this pregnancy...FFS
• My nesting is in full swing and it's turning me into a nut job. But it's not my fault, THE HOUSE AND EVERYTHING AROUND IT IS JUST SO DISORGANISED!!...FFS
• The biggest issue is that as soon as I've put something away, I can't remember where I put it. Such as my house keys or my child...FFS

So there you go...now if you'll excuse me I have to go clean all the things I cleaned yesterday and put things away in the hope that I'll remember where I put them.

A New Beginning...

Well, here I am. Typing on my laptop from home with official sanction from my OB not to return to work.

To say a weight has been lifted off my shoulders is an understatement.

Any guilt I might have felt by going on leave so suddenly, is overshadowed by feelings of release. It's like being covered by a cloud and driving into the sunlight. It's bright, warm and wonderful. The sudden change can be blinding, but once your eyes adjust you wonder why the hell you didn't drive for the break in the clouds sooner!

It's probably a sign when you leave a place you've worked for the past 5 years, and you're not even a little bit sad for not working with those people anymore. Call me bitchy if you like, but there's one person who I won't be sad to never see again.

Her reaction when my pregnancy was announced? "Oh, poor you. Was it an accident?"

If she see's me coming, she crosses the street to avoid speaking to me or if she happens to be stuck in the tea room at the same time, she walks around me like I'm contagious. As far as she's concerned me and my life are the worst case scenario. If she woke up tomorrow as me, she would have a heart attack.

Thing is, I feel sorry for her. She'll never know the heart crushing joy of bringing your baby home for the first time, she'll never know that new baby smell, she'll never know the intense joy of your child saying their first word, taking their first steps.

But she's obviously found what she's looking for in her career and her husband, and that's awesome. A career isn't the be all and end all for me, but I've always known that.

I don't condemn her for her choice to not have children  - I didn't think it was too much to ask from her to offer me the same respect.

However, there is no need to obsess over the past - and that's exactly what all of that is, now. The past.

Now, I'm looking to the future and I'm so excited! I'm looking forward to getting the rest I need for my ribs to heal, I'm looking forward to loads of quality time with Miss 3 and I'm looking forward to welcoming the newest addition to our family in 13 weeks time.

And on the subject of the newest addition to our family - the OB whipped out her ultrasound machine and has finally given us the answer we've been dying to know.

Miss 3 is thrilled to announce that she is the proud sibling of a...

BABY GIRL!!

So it turns out Miss 3 is not psychic...she just chose the wrong 50% of the gender debate to fixate on.

The Man and I have yet to settle on a name, but when we do decide, we're going to keep it to ourselves until our littlest girl is here.

So there you go, the latest update in our lives.

And a bloody awesome life it is.

It's Official...

I'm pregnant!

Okay, well, I knew that months ago, but since I had to give my 12+ weeks advanced notice of maternity leave (which means I've actually told HR I'm preggers, and not just eating too many donuts) it feels far more real.

Or as real as it's going to get if you ignore the wiggling person in my uterus with a heartbeat and constantly changing mood towards food.

So I'm on the countdown to 18 October when I can shuffle off this working coil, and become a (lumpy) lady of (not really, but as close as I'll ever come to) leisure.

If you completely diregard the fact that I'll be 36 weeks pregnant and I'll have an almost 4yo at home with me, then the leisure part seems perfectly reasonable.

Somehow, I've managed to wrangle a full 12 months paid leave. Obviously it was HR's plan all along: drive me to the brink of insanity for my own benefit. Looks like completely losing my shit over being tired, unappreciated and not feeling like I could take time off from work without being given the evil eye was simply part of the grand plan.

Just a tip HR - next time let me in on the secret - we'll get along a hell of a lot better.

The fact that there won't be a next time is completely irrelevant.

I'm really looking forward to not working. Even after all this time as a working mum, I still feel the sting of having to be exactly that. I'm not saying I'd rather see our family starve than go to work - clearly I'm not that evil, or I would NEVER have gone back to work - but I think the tug of war between my obligations to a workplace and my love and attachment to a person we brought into the world conflict every single day and I am ready to put that behind me.

When I hear people say things like 'if you can't afford to stay home, then you shouldn't have children', it really burns my butt. Last time I checked there were far worse things in this world than your child attending daycare.

It's not like I'm strapping my child to the fan blades during the day and leaving her there until I come home! We put a lot of consideration into which daycare she would attend - like every parent does - and waited as long as we could before putting her in. People don't choose to go back to work lightly - some of us don't have a choice.

Things are different this time around, and I'm very grateful for it. The emotional rollercoaster that is being a working parent is not for me, and I knew that from day one, but circumstances meant I had to do the hard yards for a while until things changed.

Being a SAHM is going to come with a whole new load of challenges, and I get that. I certianly don't have visions of laying on the couch, watching TV while eating chocolate (well, not until after the kids are in bed!) but I know I'm going to love it a hell of a lot more than schelpping into work every day wishing I was somewhere else.

So here's to the remaining 91 days...may they dissipate faster than a fart in a fan factory.

Riding in Cars with Boys...

Last night, I hit a new low.

The shame is still imprinted on my brain and I'm not sure I'll ever be able to look my husband in the eye again...or, at least, not until dinner time tonight. Especially if he's cooking.

I had thought the worst of this 24/7 morning sickness was over.

I was wrong.

Terribly, mortifyingly, wrong.

The day had started out badly, with my head in the toilet. This was an omen, and I didn't pay attention...

********************************************************************************

It began as a normal ride home from work. Rather than taking 2 cars, we decided to travel together since The Man was actually going to finish at a reasonable time. It was nice not to have to drive in the peak hour traffic.

Everything was fine - I was checking Twitter and Facebook, catching up on what I had missed throughout the day. Suddenly I paused, as the familiar feeling of queasy churning began. I took deep breaths, I put the air vent on my face for the cool air and I tried to focus on something else.

The rising panic told me I had to find something fast. There was no time for deep breathing and cool air - this was the time for frantic action!

If we had been in my car, there would have been a plastic bag available. There also would have been easily cleaned leather seats. But we were in The Man's car, and the only thing I could find was the cardigan on my lap and everywhere I looked all I could see was Subaru emblazoned, absorbent material laughing in my face.

This was going to be bad.

We were on the highway - nowhere to pull over as we were stuck in the far lane and traffic was bumper to bumper. I could have put my head out the window, but in my panic I know I would have forgotten to turn away from the wind and it would have blown back in my face.

This was going to be traumatic enough without adding that kind of scarring experience to the mix.

I should have thought about the cardigan better. Tried to fashion some sort of cloth 'bucket'. But before I knew it the muscle reflex from hell kicked in and I crammed the cardigan up against my mouth.

And from there the day unravelled at lightening speed.

For a moment I thought perhaps it was just a reflex and nothing came out - until I wondered why I couldn't see through my glasses anymore and why the mess was hovering before my eyes.

Something was dripping down both arms.

Something warm was slowly making its way down my cleavage.

Then another wave came.

Oh, shit.

The Man kept saying "don't panic, it will be okay, don't panic!" over and over. I think this mantra was actually more for his own benefit than mine.

He's not good with vomit.

With every wave it spread further - it sprayed onto the sun visor! If I hadn't been so horrified by what was happening, I probably would have been impressed with the leverage I was achieving with every heave.

I could feel the car moving faster and faster. I think at one point we were air-borne as The Man tried to get us home before it could get worse. I'm not sure how it could have been worse, but it's the thought that counts.

As we screamed into the driveway, of course the heaving finished. Even in my lowest moment the irony was not lost on me. Miserable, fucking, irony.

I stood in the yard, and The Man hosed me down like a prize winning horse that had just vomited all through it's trailer. I am all class, and this day was no different. And it got better once I stripped off to my knickers and bra so I could get into the house without dragging a trail of mess behind me to the shower.

Thank god for high fences and privacy screening.

In the shower I started to scrub. I was only removing stomach contents, but I was trying to scrub away the memories, too. A 'two birds, one stone' scenario. The milk and honey smell was soothing but it took me a moment to gather my thoughts and remember to take my glasses off. Clearly I was so traumatised I decided looking through a veil of my own vomit was perfectly normal.

See, all class.

I emerged from the shower 20 minutes later, red raw from scrubbing. The Man came back upstairs, his hands red raw from scrubbing the terror out of his car.

The car now smells like pine-o-cleen...and a bucket has been installed for future trips. If I'm ever allowed back in the car again.

*********************************************************************************
The Man has a renewed glow about him today.

His macho-ness is proven through his ability to drive his vomit encrusted wife home, hose her down, get her into the shower and then clean his vomit encrusted car - all with minimal fuss and only a few gagging episodes.

Although it did take him a long time to come to bed...

Image from Here

The 'To Do' List...

I'm a planner.

I love lists and calendars and diaries and reminders and pin boards - it has absolutely no effect on my ability to be on time or even be somewhere on the correct day, but I love to feel like I have everything written down and a time line to apply in the forseeable future.

The trouble is, I'm also very impatient. I hate waiting around - I hate waiting to go out somewhere. I always wait to get ready at the last minute so when I'm finished we head straight out the door and we're on our way. Sure, it means I'm always forgetting something, but I don't like butterflies of excitement in my stomach for too long.

Pregnancy, while it's an amazing thing and we have been wanting this second baby for so long, manages to capture everything I dislike about time and planning.

I have to wait 9 whole months to meet this new person. And not knowing its gender means I can't plan as I had hoped to.

It's killing me. I won't deny that I cried a little bit after our scan last week - having to walk away without the magic answer to my burning question was bitterly disappointing. And I only had the luxury of focusing on that one point because everything else with our Jelly Bean is perfect. 10 fingers, 10 toes and a button nose just like its big sister.

Perhaps it's the universe telling me to take a 'chill pill' and stop being so uptight about it all. That having spent the weekend playing memories over and over in my mind, as I drag out the tubs of baby clothes from Miss 3, would have made no difference to my life today. I would still be here at work doing what I'm doing, whether I knew what we're having, or not.

The only thing different would have been this post.

The kicks I'm feeling make me smile, but serve to remind me of everything that we need to do before Jelly Bean arrives. Although I must confess the line between 'need to do' and 'could do but it's not absolutely necessary' is gone blurred, but this is where my love of lists comes in!

In no particular order, I present:

The To Do List

• Conclude the gender debate and ask the Obstetrician to check at our appointment in July!
• Don't get upset if we still can't tell what we're having, just accept that this child will be as stubborn as you are.
• Replace front decking
• Install new gutters
• Pressure clean all decking and oil before the wet season returns
• Finalise Miss 3's enrollment for school (because enrollments for 2014 are already filling fast at the school we've chosen!)
• Replace wall to create 3rd bedroom/study
• Decide on theme for baby's room
• Paint baby's room
• Find wardrobe/chest of drawers for baby's room
• Bring cot and change table upstairs from the store room and re-assemble
• Buy new cot mattress
• Sort through baby clothes from Miss 3 OR buy boys baby clothes
• Wash baby clothes, fold and put away
• Organise bedding for cot
• Finalise lay-by of new pram, capsule, rocker and Miss 3's booster seat
• Make final payment to obstetrician (Sept)
• Finalise tax return for 2011-12 year
• Decide re: maternity leave options from work
• Decide re: maternity options from the Government (i.e. baby bonus or maternity leave scheme?)
• Complete pre-admission paperwork and return it to the hospital
• Finalise meal plan for The Man and Miss 3 while I'm in hospital
• Cook and freeze meals for The Man and Miss 3 for my own peace of mind...

These are the things that linger on my mind the most - the smaller things I'll probably make another list for and fit them in as I go along. Because that's how I roll.

The Man says I'm too uptight about it all, and I know he's right. I doesn't mean I'll change, but I completely understand where he's coming from.

Especially when I'm busy having a panic attack over the fact that our child won't have a room and I'll have to strap it to the fan blades because I'm convinced The Man will be building the new wall on my due date. Conveniently overlooking the fact that the cot could go in our room if necessary - but I'm overly dramatic when it comes to being in a flap.

It's part of my charm.

I'd like to believe I'm not the only obsessive-compulsive, list making, perfectionist, nut-bag in this world. Please share your unhinged moments and we can all read over them with a cup of tea while breathing a sigh of relief that we're not alone...

The B6 Miracle...

Yesterday, I hit rock bottom.

Needless to say that a side effect of not being able to keep anything down means my anti-depressants don't have a chance to absorb.

I struggled for the past 2 weeks, but yesterday was my breaking point. Anxiety at an all time high, the irrational part of my head telling me my boss would sack me for being sick, telling myself that I am always sick and it's not good enough, no one else gets sick - it's only me, that I'm a failure as a parent, a wife, a home maker and a person in general.

Yeah - it was a 'great' day.

I managed to schlep myself to the GP and sob away in her office. I give the woman credit for being able to decipher what I was saying through all the sobbing and sniffling.

So here I am, fresh from an uninterrupted, anti-depressant absorbing, nausea free nights sleep, thanks to a high dose of Vitamin B6.

Oh B6 - I wish I knew about you sooner. I know we'll be the best of friends and you can consider yourself added to the Christmas Card list, Easter gift list, Birthday acknowledgement list and any other important list I create that you could be logically included.

I had forgotten how something as simple as an uninterrupted nights sleep can make me feel a lot more together. The Man also took Miss 3 to daycare today so I have an entire day to myself - I can sleep, watch TV, sleep a bit more and, most excitingly, HAVE SOMETHING TO EAT!!

I am loving life today. And it makes me kick myself that I didn't say something sooner - but I don't like feeling as though I'm wasting the GPs time. There are people with serious illness or chronic disease that need a GP appointment more than me. My situation always feels so insignificant.

However, today I am focusing on the good and enjoying the fact that I feel far more human than I did 24 hours ago.

Hooray for Vitamn B6!!

Week 8 Highlights...

I've decided to document this pregnancy a little better than I did with Miss 3. Although I have done some scrapbooking to cover the first 12 months of her life, it's as far as I got before my scrapping mojo died in the arse.

I feel guilty because my friend is a die hard scrapper - I just don't have the creativity right now.

Anyway, the highlights for week 8 of The JellyBean...

• The never ending nausea. I won't bother going into detail, because there's a whole post of bitching about this awesome experience.
• I've turned into Bleeding Gums Murphy. I hate this part - blood makes me gag, even when it's my own.
• Exhaustion. I could sleep for Australia.
• Emotional Freak. One minute I'm fine and dandy, the next I've morphed into Medusa. Or I'm drowning in a puddle of my own tears. Damn you, Huggies. And Disney.
• Brain Power/Memory. I can't be sure that I ever regained the memory space from pregnancy #1, but I know I'm already losing brain cells at a rapid rate this time around and it worries me. But I can't remember why.
• Libido. Is back! Enough said, really.
• Pretending to be sad that I can't eat things like raw seafood and soft cheeses. Specifically because some idiot, who hasn't started work with our company yet, signed up to a 'mail order cheesebox of the month club' and had it sent to our building as a friendly gesture. Someone cracked open the box and the noxious odour that penetrated every corner of the building meant I spent a lot of time in the toilet. Can I just ask - who the HELL orders cheese via MAIL!?
• My perfume makes me feel sick. This really pisses me off - my Mum got me 2 bottles of Be Delicious by DKNY and I can't wear it because the smell now makes me feel sick.
• I can't use my awesome, favourite, Oral B electronic toothbrush. Because the vibrations in my mouth make me feel like throwing up. So does the toothpaste.
• Restless Legs. This shits me to tears - literally. I can pace, stretch, drink water, swim and none of it makes any difference. If I'm lucky enough to get an attack, there seems to be screw all I can do about it. I don't remember having RLS until late pregnancy with Miss 3, so this early onset is just balls.

So that's about all for now - all that I can remember anyway, since my memory is failing and my memory is failing.

I feel like I have to go do something now but I can't remember what that was so I'll just watch TV and hope someone reminds me.

Hell Hath No Fury...

Like a woman scorned by morning sickness.

Or, in my case, all the fucking time sickness.

8.5 weeks gestation and all I can think is that this better end soon because I really want some ice cream.

The doctor gave me some tablets to take that will (hopefully) help. I was excited thinking I might get to eat dinner and not have a post-meal chinwag with the porcelain.

It was an awesome theory. Until the doc mentioned that I take this tablet 20mins before bed and I should be feeling better in a couple of days.

Arsehole.

I'm hungry, cranky and nauseated. Telling me that I need to wait another 48 hours or so for a chance to eat without hurling makes me stabby. And more hungry.

I've tried it all - ginger, dry toast, grated apple, pears, watermelon, flat lemonade, weak cordial. None of it helps. And it makes me cry.

I cry harder when I have Miss 3 sitting in the hallway outside the toilet, watching me, and I listen to her blow by blow commentary to the crowd of stuffed animals she's gathered for the performance. I always stare back at those bears and think how lucky those little bastards are with their lack of stomach content.

Fully aware of the 'just be grateful you're pregnant' band, I would like to clarify that I am NOT saying this isn't worth it, and I'm NOT saying that I am ungrateful for this chance. What I AM saying is that emptying my stomach contents into the loo on a regular basis is not one of my favourite activities and I will be glad when this stage has passed.

Besides, the last time I checked, they didn't stop drinking or whinging when they passed out in front of Uncle Sam's and spewed all over themselves.

Sorry, that was the bitch in me hunger talking.

I suppose the bonus is that I have been able to watch all the trashy TV I usually miss by going to work. Admittedly I booked annual leave for another purpose, but watching TV was always part of the plan. And it means that when The Man gets home there's no judgement for me being in the same position on the couch as when he left that morning.

Sure, Miss 3 has destroyed the house, the dishes are still in the sink and I may or may not have forgotten to round up the chickens so they don't shit on his pristine deck, but I manage to move as little as possible unless I'm running to a meeting with the Thunderbox. And that takes serious skill  and a serious lack of parenting.

Oh yeah, I am winning all kinds of awards this week. My mother would be ashamed proud.

So here's to the hormones that are making me sick as a dog just for the priviledge of having a baby. Some may think I'm an ungrateful whinger, but if they don't like it I'm more than happy to go around and spew on their doorstep.

A special gift to remind them never to piss me off when I'm pregnant.

The JellyBean...

I've not been posting too much about my pregnancy - somehow it still feels 'unreal'.

I felt somewhat silly and embarrassed for having been so excited last time, only for it to not work out the way we planned. But then we can't always predict these things.

Let's just say I thought I jinxed myself last time - that the Universe was punishing me for being so cocky and proud, it had to take me down a peg. Well, it was a harsh lesson and one I was determined not to repeat.

So here I am, trying to be cool, nonchalant and detached.

Except last Monday I got to see this:

Behold! The JellyBean...

Apart from being chastised by the ultrasound tech for having such a difficult surname, and that it meant I couldn't have my entire first name on the picture as a result (it was missing the 'y' - I'm not loosing any sleep, honey), it was a fairly standard appointment.

I was so happy I nearly screamed stoked to see a flicker in the JellyBean.

I was disappointed to find out that I'm not as far along as I thought, going by LMP dates. But then again, given things have been so erratic, I'm happy to be pregnant at all!

I was disappointed that The Man couldn't be there, but happy my Mum and Miss 3 were, and we got to go out for breakfast afterwards. I had Eggs Benedict and almost fainted from the excitement.

I am embarrassed by the Instagram pic of my 'belly' that I posted the same morning. Oh the shame! I thought I was 10 weeks (or there about) and to find out that I have a 'jelly belly' at only 6 weeks is mortifying. My stomach muscles have obviously gone on annual leave thinking their 'tight' job was done for a while. Bastards.

The JellyBean is nestled in a challenging spot, and so pictures weren't as easy to get as I'd hoped. Very different from Miss 3 who was all show for every ultrasound.

I swear she knew we were looking.

Miss 3 in her first picture - we dubbed her 'Peanut'...

And so, tomorrow morning we have our first appointment with the OB. I am so happy to have been able to book Dr Mitchell - she's the bomb, not to mention 1 of only 3 private OBs in Darwin.

There are some awesome birthing programs in Darwin, including Homebirth through the Midwifery Group Practice, the birthing centre where you can go home after 4 hours, and the public hospital also have some darling midwives and fab birthing suites.

But after Miss 3, I'm going private again and I wouldn't have it any other way. I felt this way after visiting a friend when she gave birth at the public hospital (before I was even pregnant with Miss 3). Apart from finding some else's umbilical cord clip with cord still in it, under her bed - her freaking bed nearly tipped over, which would have catapulted her newborn daughter into a wall!

Now, I'm the first to say that this is NOT the norm, and when we told the midwife on duty she was horrified and had it dealt with ASAP - but for me, that one experience was enough to know I wouldn't be going there to give birth.

I had visions of infection and death. I was already pretty highstrung with the idea of birthing with no drugs in our own home - fear of death was enough to push me over the edge!

Happily everything turned out  perfect - I got an epidural  and  a healthy baby.

So here's to everything being perfect again, and to me not pissing off The Universe with my pregnancy babble.

A Small Announcement...

Well, the time has come to unveil the issue that has been rattling around in my head.

It may come as as shock (or not) but I would like to tell everyone that...

I am PAINFULLY uncomfortable with the idea of Tony Abbott running the country.

Oh - and did I mention that I'm pregnant, too?

I've been a bit cautious this time around as last time ended sadly - but I can confidently say that this time feels a whole lot different. And a whole lot more permanent.

I was going to wait until next Monday when I've had my first ultrasound - but since a certain husband had a few too many corporate drinks in the corporate box at the football on Saturday and was too tipsy excited to keep the news to himself, I've decided it's my turn.

Going by 'standard' dates from my GP, I'm 8 weeks pregnant, but the ultrasound will give a better idea of actual gestation. I'm actually quite stunned that I am pregnant - my cycles have been so unreliable since Miss 3 was born that it's not unusual for a couple of months to pass between periods.

But on a whim and after a few enquiries by the mother-in-law and even Miss 3 herself, I peed on a stick last Tuesday morning and a fabulous, thick, unmistakable second line arrived.

It's an excellent result - I couldn't have asked for a better second line.

I feel like everything has worked out, and this baby has arrived at the right time. I have cut back my working hours, the Obstetrician I wanted is available and it will be a dry season baby. After being heavily pregnant in the wet season, I am thrilled to not be doing that again!

I am tired and getting lots of sleep, I feel like my pants are already getting too tight around my pelvis and I can feel things stretching. I don't have morning sickness so much as 'all the time sickness'. So much so that I was hovering over the toilet bowl at midnight last night.

Yeah - that's been fun.

But overall I'm feeling good, feeling positive and very happy.

All we need to do now is put back the wall we knocked out so we can have the 3rd bedroom back!