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?

Days Six through Ten - The Final Stretch

Wednesday 27 April

So today was day 1 of the transformation. My Mum came over to help me tackle the job of the lounge/dining area. I had an awesome sketch of the floor-plan I was aiming for and a burning need to succeed.

Because the night before I tried to teach myself to knit. With a picture and a step-by-step DVD tutorial. And this is as far as I got, after about 2 hours:

Yeah - I wish I was joking.

So with the stench of failure in my wake I was determined to get our home to work and look the way I wanted, not how it just kind of fell into place.

We cleaned, mopped, scrubbed, moved, shoved and huffed our way around the space. And at the end of the day we'd achieved a lot.

But it still wasn't finished.

On top of that I had entered the 'man-cave' (also known as the study) and discovered the Guru's terrible secret.

It goes against the grain and I wanted to cry when I saw it.

I had unearthed what I could only describe as 'the-Guru's-collection-of-inexplicable-man-crap'.

I went through it and, whilst considering the idea that he could have built three perfectly functioning computers with all the 'man-crap', made an executive decision about what stayed and what was sacrificed to the God's of Clutter Free Living.

A lot of the time I had no idea what the items were, but I figured;

1. I had never seen this pile of crap in the entire time we've been together (despite moving house 4 times!); and
2. He hasn't, to this day, built three perfectly functioning computers. 

Therefore he doesn't need any of it.

I'm the first to admit that this theory is highly likely to come back and bite me in the arse.

Whatever. It was messy and it was blocking my vision of a clutter free existence.

It was around this point that I decided I'd had enough for one day and proceeded to feed the Toddler and we both collapsed in a heap.

I woke up in the wee hours of the morning with a craving for a computer and wanting to build cheeseburgers to sell.

Or something.

Thursday 28 April

This day was a blur, and I'm not entirely sure what we did. So I offer you a picture of the Toddler in her Easter-Egg-Hunt-Groove:



That bag was overflowing by the time she was finished...moderation is not a word used often in my family.

And I also offer you a picture of my new best friend. She happily does dishes while I sleep and this makes her the shining jewel in our home...


I may have shed a tear of joy when I set her first load - and then was able to walk away and watch TV.

Friday 29 April

According to a very sneaky source, there was a whisper of a wedding happening on this day. I wasn't 100% sure until I was trying to eat my cereal and drink coffee whilst being beaten over the head with continual blathering about Kate Middleton and Prince William on all channels.

Well, I had other monumental activities to be focused on, so the wedding would just have to go on without me.

It took the remainder of the day but it finally all came together. It was glorious.

So - to begin, let's refresh our memories of what we started with:

The lounge room of doom - view from the front door

The dining dumping ground - view from the front door

These are the only pre-transformation photo's I took. The rest was too shameful.

And now - I unveil the wonderful transformation that is our kitchen...

 

It's small and stuck in the 80's (for now) - but it's clean and sparkly...with a dishwasher!



Favourite corner of shiny red things #1



Favourite corner of shiny red things #2

I also tackled our bedroom - bought new linen, bed covers and a new lamp that's girly and pretty and has a flocked lamp shade in teal.

Behold! Our room of debauchery!

See the pretty lamp?

Still see the pretty lamp?

And finally - the Pièce de résistance...

New view from the front door

Awesome lounge area with sleeping child and only one basket of folding. BLISS!

New view from the kitchen area...makes me happy

New view from the front door

Somehow it feels bigger, brighter and better. I walk in the front door now and smile - rather than fall to the floor, curl up in the foetal position and scream 'you can't make me stay here! I'm going to a hotel!'

And that night I locked the door behind me as I departed my sparkling residence and took myself and my child to my parents house for a sleepover and some wedding watching.

Thankfully the wedding watching only lasted as long as it took for my Mum and I to see the dress. Then we were over it and watched The Kings Speech.

We felt good about keeping the movie to theme.

Saturday 30 April

Spent the day shopping with my Mum and the Toddler.

And we hit a milestone.

The Toddler had her first haircut. She now has a little fringe and her curls are all even at the back. I kept the hair, filmed the entire haircut and watched as our baby became a little girl.

I looked at the hair from her haircut later than night and realised I was holding the hair that she was born with 2 years ago. That sprouted on her little head while I carried her. That now bugs her when it flys in her eyes.

I hit the emotional peak of my day at that point and went to bed with some chocolate and a movie.

Sunday 1 May

4am. We're at the airport. And I spy a group of blokes at the other end of the terminal. I scan them and decide that it's not the Guru and his mates. They're obviously football hooligans who go over to Bali to buy more singlets and thongs to wear to their sisters weddings.

You know, there's nothing like a Bintang beer singlet at a wedding. It's seriously classy. I'll bet William and Harry were wearing one under their jackets.

I continued to wait for my perfectly non-hooligan-ish, non-Bintang-singlet-wearing husband to appear.

I also continued to observe the bloke-ish group advancing on my position.

Before I had the chance to throw my handbag at them and run away, the Toddler screeched 'Daddy!' and wriggled out of my arms before running towards the hooligans.

Hooligans who were now looking familiar.

Hooligans, of which one was the man I married.

A husband hooligan who brought me back 2 Bintang singlets. One pink and one purple.

Sigh. At least I have something to wear to a wedding.

***Sunday after some more sleep***

Sleep in. Watch TV. Obsessively and compulsively tidy things away to maintain my pristine environment.

Drive the Guru insane.

He puts something down and when he goes to pick it up again, it's gone.

I tell him that's because he puts them down in the wrong place.

He asks me how it's possible to put on a pair of shoes if they have to stay in the cupboard unless they're on his feet.

I tell him to stand in the cupboard to put them on.

He says we're going out for dinner.

Monday 2 May

May Day public holiday for the NT.  Bedroom TV replacement day for the Guru.

We spend some quality time out with the Toddler - and head home when the tantrums of tiredness begin. We're not even buckled in and she's asleep in the car.

For a child who spent her first three months of life screaming whenever we put her in the car, this has been an interesting development. But I guess not even the most stubborn of children can combat the power of cars and making children sleepy.

Adults too, when they're in the passenger seat.

Once we get home, the Guru immediately starts assembling the new shrine TV set up in our room. And promptly falls asleep testing out the picture quality.

It's good to have him home.

Days Two through Five

Saturday 23 April

Today was so exciting that three days later I can't actually remember what we did. Wait - I think we might have...gone...somewhere...for food.

Awesome.


Sunday 24 April

So today is Easter Egg day. Well, I won't deny that I postponed the egg-stravaganza until as late in the day as possible. How, you ask? By spring cleaning. And I mean right down to scrubbing the walls with sugar soap, dragging everything into the laundry that I could possibly fit into the washing machine and if it wasn't nailed down it was shoved aside for vacuuming and mopping.

A full day of this and I wasn't even 50% finished. Our house isn't that big - I'm just in anal-retentive mode.

We then proceeded to my parents house for dinner and an Easter egg hunt. It was a hit and I was stunned by the lack of chocolate-want-but-can't-have tantrums.

The Guru found time in his busy schedule of relaxation and stupid, boring, boy activities to say hello via Skype. He mentioned a lot of things but the one thing that really sticks in my mind is that he's had a massage one or twice a day, every day since he got there.

Insert sobbing here.

We got home and passed out. Yay for sleep. It's the closest thing I'll get to a massage around here.

Monday 25 April

Spent the morning doing some more cleaning. I found that scrubbing things, very hard, made me feel better. Less rage-y about the lack of Balinese massage therapists in my house.

Then, after a marathon nap for the Toddler (3 and a half hours!) it was time for her play date. We went to our friends house and swam in the pool, made the most of the pool slide, played on their bouncy castle/ball pit thing, played some snooker and even went as far as attempting some SingStar.

I'm ashamed to say that when The Cardigans, Nickelback and Natalie Imbruglia came on I was in my element. It brought back many memories of singing into hairbrushes.

After a fab dinner of pork belly with crackling that the neighbours could hear you chewing on and all the SingStar we decided to head home. Our children had long since passed into the world of sleep. And we got home around 1am.

Seriously, it's the latest night I've had since I found out I was pregnant. That wasn't home based or baby related.

Today, Tuesday 26 April

More cleaning. Yeah, I'm so not done. It's hard - once you start doing something properly it's really disappointing to do a half arsed finish. Especially when you know you'll most likely have to clean it again in five minutes because your child and/or pet will have destroyed your efforts.

I did some more washing. I think my washing machine will be going on strike shortly. The TV in our bedroom has died. It made some scary noises and then smoke and sparks started in the back.

I initially thought it might have been an extreme protest to having to play In The Night Garden. For the eight hundredth time.

But no, it did the same when I tried to play something worthwhile. I toyed with the idea of contacting the Guru to tell him that one of his treasured technological items has bitten the dust. But I decided against it for fear of having to hear more about massages. I knew it would only make make me get stabby.

So, instead - I stood in my loungeroom and looked around. As a result I was very unhappy with the view and so I am taking it upon myself to completely change it while the Guru is away and not here to whinge.

This does mean making a slight change in the TV department - specifically, taking it off the wall and relocating it. This could cause may tears from the Guru as, when he hung it on the wall for the first time, he almost fell to his knees at his newly created altar of viewing pleasure.

With our not exactly wonderful room shape (an L shaped area) that needs to incorporate our lounge area, dining area and some play space for the Toddler, I was in a bit of a pickle as to the floor plan.

This is our living/dining area - our front door is at the top of the wall directly behind the couch. The white empty space at the bottom is where our kitchen is and we have 2 doors exactly as indicated on the lower part of the diagram.

After some thinking and some Googling I think I've found a solution, and it'll look something like this:

Obviously this is just to give you an idea, I'll have to 'flip' this pic to adapt it to our place...I'm hoping it'll work!

 I've most likely set myself a ridiculous task and I'm not even sure if it's do-able. It could be a complete disaster!

But hey, what have I got to lose? Maybe a couple of finger/toenails at worst. Lifting heavy furniture has its risks.

They say a change is as good as a holiday.

I don't know about that just yet - let me get back to you when I'm done.

Day One

So here we are, the end of day one, and we're all still alive.

The Guru is living it up in Bali already and has scouted out some fresh haunts (read: bars) to spend time watching football (with beer - this wasn't specifically mentioned but we all know football is unbearable when you're sober. Oops - did I say that aloud?)

Well, he could have done that here. Hmpf.

Moving on, however.

While I am typing this the Toddler is walking circles around me on our bed singing 'here we go round the mouldy bush, the mouldy bush, the mouldy bush. Here we go round the mouldy bush on a cold and dusty morning!'  Apparently Mulberry bushes must be out of season and global warming has turned the frost to dust.

The future is something to be feared by all people with allergies, if her song is anything to go by.

But aside from this and the spectacular dose of diarrhoea due to the choccy egg overload at day care yesterday, it's been a fairly regular day. Regular in more ways than one.

And now I am off to put my terror child to bed and relax in front of the tv with vodka tequila wine coffee before I have to get up and do this all again.

Minus the diarrhoea.

http://nihilobstat.info/2008/03/18/an-easter-cartoon/