Garden Prettification

One of the things* that excited me most about this house when we bought it was the garden potential. There are flower beds around the front of the house, filled with roses, irises, various protea, and a couple of natives - a grevillea and a lillypilly. The front of the yard, where a fence would go, is on an extremely steep angle, perfect for turning into terraced garden beds. The back year has garden beds around the edges, surrounding a yard large enough for a trampoline AND running around space, and theres a corner tucked away behind the garage** that's invisible from the house and therefor off limits to the children, but exactly the right size and position for a vegie patch. Sheltered on three sides by fences/trees/wall, but full sun most of the day. The eventual aim is to severely limit our reliance on the grocery store for vegies and herbs.

Unfortunately, the garden has not been top priority as far as expenses go. We had to buy furniture/kitchen things/laundry things. Then the oven died and we had to not only buy a new oven, but get an electrician and a plumber in to change it over from electric to gas. Then winter happened and this house is cooler than the other and we discovered we needed more bedding. Add that to the constant expenses of food, utilities, mortgage, car payment, clothes... The garden has been sorely neglected.

But recently things have started settling down. We found a new place to do our groceries, where a trolley containing 8kg of meat, 12kg of flour, 9kg of fruits/veg and various sundries only costs $130,*** and there is an Aldi right across the road from the market, so the weekend after hubby gets paid we stop in there as well and I stock up on the stuff they have super cheap - cheese which goes in the freezer until its needed, sultanas, canned tomatoes, cling wrap, etc. Combined with our new credit card****, we have a lot more wiggle room in our budget now, even with interest rates going up.

So we're prettifying the garden.

The easiest and cheapest prettification was the front garden beds. Pruning the roses, removing the agapanthas (they're everywhere, I hate them, and I think I might be allergic to them. They had to go), general weeding. It looks so much better, and cost absolutely nothing.

The biggest change was cutting down the trees in the back garden beds. Some moron planted a pine tree about 6 inches from the fence. Presumably the same person either planted, or at the least didn't remove, a camphor laurel. DUMB. Along with a couple of palm trees, and some other scraggly looking things, hubby removed 6 trees from the back yard, giving us (tiny) views of the lake, and space to eventually plant something attractive and useful - like citrus, or apples. And more than 6 inches from the fence.

The most exciting was discovering the banana tree is fruiting. Technically we didn't have anything to do with that, as it was here when we bought the place and they fruit on their own, but HOW COOL IS THAT??????

The most expensive thing has been the addition of some plants. In pots. Which made it even more expensive. But now we have 8 tomato plants, a lavender, a blueberry bush, and 2 pots which will have parsley and coriander planted in them as soon as it warms up a little bit. We also repotted the thyme and one of the basil plants that we already had.

We're not expert gardeners. I've managed to kill everything I've ever tried to grow, except the basil and the thyme. They just won't die. I can even kill lavender, and its supposed to be unstoppable. I suspect the tomatoes don't have enough space, and we discovered we'd bought the wrong soil for the blueberry, so its sitting forlornly on our deck waiting to be put in its pot. But the garden looks better, and if we kill the plants, we can always try again. Seeds are cheap, and we already have the pots.

But most of all, the children will get some experience in growing things, and hubby and I had a fun time tending our garden together. I think its the best date I've ever had.






* The others included the massive deck with potential views of the lake, an inside laundry, decent sized kitchen, 2 living areas, and a 2 minute walk to the local school. OH YES.

** Currently unusable due the third shed and massive amounts of junk/concrete/WEEDS, but hey. The space is there once we clear it up.

*** I know this is going to sound insanely high to Americans. But when you realise that COUPONS DO NOT EXIST, and the CHEAP price for chicken breast is $8/kg (about $4/#), well. Food is more expensive here. Shopping elsewhere, the meat alone could have cost that much.

**** My first ever. And yes, I know credit cards are generally a bad idea. But hubby sometimes has to go away for work, and he does NOT have a company credit card. Which means he has to spend our money. Which means I'm often left $300 short, with no chance of seeing it back for anywhere from 2-4 weeks. With the credit card, he can spend as much as he wants on customers without impacting on our ability to feed our children and pay for our house.

Since Last We Spoke...

• We moved in to the holiday house. Which, by the way, was about 1 block from the beach. It took a few nights for me to get used to the sound of the ocean.
• Critter started school. (How can my baby be so big?)
• Gosling turned one. (Seriously! How can my babies be SO BIG!!!)
• We moved in to OUR HOUSE!!! Our very own house with ROSE BUSHES!!!
• Gosling's vocabulary consists of the usual baby babble, plus her brother's name, "hello", "nigh-nigh" (very occasionally), "dadadadad", and a brrrrrrrrrrrrrrm car noise, predominantly made when playing with a toy car.
• Critter can read. Not just "cat", "dad", "hit", but "where is my hat? this is my red shoe", and "the buffalo jumps in. let's have a swim". SMARTY PANTS!
• Gosling started to walk, and can now get herself halfway across the room without falling down.
• She is more likely to get up and walk if there is music playing.
• She is extraordinarily fast when she crab-crawls, and will do this if she REALLY wants to get somewhere fast.
• We somehow managed a 1.5hr drive with a 5yr old, a hungry 1yr old, and a terrified, blind, bigger-than-the-baby 13yr old cat, without anyone being injured or yelling.
• The cat has settled in fairly well. He didn't eat or drink for the first couple of days, but oddly, his blindness seems to have been a blessing. He can't SEE that everything is different, so because it all still smells like his people, he's just accepted that we've moved some things around and it's all fine.
• We bought a very expensive couch, which is balanced by the fact that we got another couch for the kid's area, AND a TV unit for less than $250. YAY SALVO'S!!!
• Our bedroom has a REMOTE CONTROL FAN AND LIGHT.
• There is one light in the house with NO off switch that we can find, so we're leaving it bulb-less.
• The walls of the house are all yellow, except the kid's area which is hideous 70s wood panelling.
• We can't afford paint at the moment, and don't have time to paint even if we could afford it, so I'm learning to live with yellow. I'm never going to love it though.
• We bought a wardrobe and toybox for critter's room, splashing out on custom stuff so it would match and he would have a decent looking room instead of the jumble he's been living with, and after getting the truck loaded up and driving for over an hour to get it home, getting it down the sloping front yard and into the house, miraculously without scratching the hardwood floors, WE DISCOVERED THEY'VE MESSED UP AND STAINED IT THE WRONG COLOUR. Yes, it looked paler than we were expecting when we picked it up, but we assumed it was to do with being in sunlight rather than a dark bedroom. So we took it back and it's being fixed.
• I have to learn to cook with a small oven. My cookie tray keeps the door open.
• We are also learning creative pantry-ing, as although we have a decent amount of counter and otherwise-cupboard space, the 'pantry' area is about 1/3 what I've previously lived with. Some of the other cupboards have been taken over.
• There is NO LINEN CLOSET. The enormous laundry is going to have cupboards installed, and part of our wardrobe is being taken over, because at the moment, there's no-where to put towels, sheets, or even toilet paper.
• I've discovered a laneway that turns the 5minute walk to Critter's school into a 2minute walk. Unfortunately this makes it tempting to leave Gosling asleep when I leave to pick him up at 2:40, and she's been asleep for less than half an hour after being awake since before 7am. I DIDN'T leave her, and never would, but the temptation is there, and I don't like it.

And lastly,

• My computer is borked. The battery life is approximately 7minutes, and the power cord has to be held at just the right angle and pressure or the machine thinks it isn't plugged in and turns off, so I've been using hubby's machine. THIS IS VERY ANNOYING, and means that I won't be around much, even though we actually have a decently working internet connection here, unlike the holiday house which had little to no reception and would cut out for no reason intermittently.

I Don't Know How to Use a Dishwasher

In about August my husband got a promotion. His company opened a new branch, and he applied for, and won, the position of branch manager at the new branch. This is Awesome (and the extra money is nice), but it does present a few difficulties.

The new branch is over an hour's drive south of where we currently live, and with hubby working 7am to 5pm, we don't get to see him much. He gets up at about 5am and leaves before 6am every morning, and he doesn't get home till well after 6pm. Some days he doesn't get home until nearly 8pm, if he's had to stay back for some reason and the traffic gets bad. He's also "on call" 24-7, meaning that if someone calls in the middle of the night and needs something, he has to go in and open the store to sell them stuff - not fun when the store is so far away.

Because of this, we decided to move down the coast. He's been desperate to get out of Sydney since we moved here, and this is the perfect opportunity. After a few setbacks we've found a house and the bank has agreed to throw money at us (contracts are exchanged, just waiting for the tenants to vacate in March and then we settle), and Critter is enrolled in school - which presents the other difficulty.

The house is due to settle mid-late March. Critter starts school at the beginning of February. That gives us about 6 weeks where we are living over an hour away from his school, and I don't even drive. Things were looking tricky. Hubby could take Critter down with him every morning, let him play in the warehouse for a couple hours, take him to school, pick him up after school, let him play in the warehouse for another couple hours and then come home. Except that I don't relish the idea of waking a 5year old at 5am every morning to get ready for school, and its hard enough spending 12 hours a day away from my husband. I don't think I could handle having the boy away for so long too.

So hubby came up with a good, if expensive, idea. We are renting a "holiday home" for 8 weeks. Its in the suburb we will be living in. Its 4 houses away from the beach. Its fully furnished, so all we need to take is clothes, food, and Gosling's cot. And we're moving next Sunday.

My parents bought this house in 1987. Other than 8 months up the coast when I was 5, and my not-quite-2-years in California, I've lived here since then. My husband has lived here since coming to Australia, my children have never lived anywhere else. I have 5 days left in this house.

I'm very excited, and I'll admit to being a little nervous. We only bought the very very basics in groceries this week, in order to use up as much of whats in the cupboards as possible. I'm trying to remember where our suitcases are, so I can pack up all our clothes. I'm also trying to figure out the best way to transport 2 pot plants, and how to take 2 cars down, when we only have one driver. But my biggest concern? I think the new house has a dishwasher, and I don't know how to use one.

Of Roots and Proper Pronunciation

I've noticed that I refer to my father as 'my father' and my mother as 'mum' throughout this post, and I find that rather interesting. I was brought up to call them Daddy and Mummy respectively, and seeing as they each referred to their own parents thus until their passing, it would be acceptable, and possibly, to them, even preferable for me to continue to do so. While I love my parents, I do not get on with my father particularly well, and my mum less well than I would like, and the terms 'my father' and 'mum' reflect this.


My father was born in England at the tail end of WWII. His father had served in the British navy during the war and became a politician, and later a door-to-door salesman, his mother could best be described as a socialite. She claimed to have had tea with the Queen, been kidnapped by a sultan, and run off to join a circus at 16. I'm serious. His family lived in Jamaica when he was very young, and when they moved back to England and he started school, he was sent to boarding school. He went to Clifton College, and upon watching Monty Python movies, noted which teachers John Cleese based the characters on - he was a year ahead of my father. My father moved to Australia with his first wife when he was in his early 20s, moved back to England a few years later, moved back to Australia after marrying my mother, and is a LAWYER.

Mum was born 362 days later, in the U.S.A. Her father was a farmer who had served in the U.S. army in Britain, opting to stay at desk work instead of taking the better paying job as a sniper, because he couldn't bear to take a human life. Her mother was a "war bride", a British girl who fell in love with an American soldier, and went back to the states with him. She had what the doctors called "muscular dystrophy", but still went out every day to fetch water from the well at the log house my grandfather built, when she had two young children. When mum was 15 they moved back to England, for better medical care for her mother, and mum left school, not being able to stand being in the 'babies' french class - she hadn't learned french in the U.S.A. She had various jobs, among which was taking tours in Spain and teaching rudimentary English. She married my father when she was a secretary at the same law firm he was at, and they moved to Australia. Some 20 years ago she started work as an ENGLISH TEACHER (teaching the language to overseas students) and is now head of department at an English Language school for overseas students. She re-started her education at the age of 50 when she went to University in order to earn more.

What was the point of all that? Well, there are a few main things to take note of:

• My father is ENGLISH, and was raised fairly upper-class.
• He is a LAWYER.
• My mum is an ENGLISH TEACHER.
• She was raised in the U.S. by an English mother, who wanted to make sure she spoke properly.
• She has a masters degree.

These have contributed to my upbringing quite a bit. We never had much money when I was young, because my father never learnt how to save, but by golly we were taught how to behave well, and speak properly.

I was born in, and have lived most of my life in, a country where Steve Irwin's accent, while ridiculed, is actually quite normal, the 8th letter of the alphabet is habitually pronounced HAITCH, the c-word is a far too common nickname/greeting/insult, and when an ad on the TV got complaints for using the word "bugger", they issued an apology ad, using the word about sixty-gazillion more times. Despite this, I somehow ended up with an almost-English accent, and often say/pronounce things in a way that makes my American raised (British-born, but he claims it doesn't count) husband walk around with his chin tucked under and his teeth sticking out, being "British".

I distinctly remember my father teaching us that the 'h' in any 'wh' should always be pronounced, before the 'w'. Thus:

• Hwale
• Hwether
• Hwip
• Hwat

Am I alone in this? Is it a very English thing? Is it just downright wrong? Should I bother trying to teach my children this pronunciation? Critter has somehow managed to pick up an almost South African accent, so I hold hopes that he at least won't sound like a Queenslander, but should I try to push the Hw while correcting him to AITCH?

Gallows Humour

At the very beginning of December, I found out a good friend was pregnant. She comes over most weeks, we lets the kids run riot and enjoy what is sometimes the only adult conversation we have all week, other than our husbands. (And seriously, do boys necessarily count as adult conversation? I'm not sure the merits of one wrestler over another, and just exactly why golf is so wonderful really count.) That week, she had been feeling 'odd', and while she wasn't *ahem* late, she decided it would be worth a test anyway, so she bought one on her way over.

Due to not being late, the line took a looooooooong time to come up, and was very faint. So she used the one I had left over from last July with Gosling, just to be sure. We looked at those tests, and while those lines took a while, both of them were definitely there. By August, we would have 4 kids between us.

We've joked in the last couple of years that she's been stalking and copying me, trying to imitate my life. Her little girl is almost exactly 18months younger than Critter, and people often think they're siblings when we're out. (Her husband is half-greek and mine's mostly-half-italian, so the kids have ended up with olive skin, but somehow they've also both ended up with blondish hair and super-dark eyes. Gosling is the only one who's blue. I'm sure people think all three are mine, since she is a tiny blue eyed brunnette.) The new one was going to be 18months younger than Gosling - the same 4.5yr age gap as mine have. We laughed and joked, she took my leftover pregnancy vitamins, and we made plans for her to borrow our cradle, and to swap strollers once her bub was born, so she could have the baby one, and I'd have one better for a toddler.

When she came round a couple weeks later, she mentioned that she hadn't been feeling sick yet. At all. Morning-noon-and-night sickness had hit early with her daughter, but so far, all she'd had was tiredness, and she was beginning to wonder. She wasn't worried yet, but she was wary.

Then, that weekend, the weekend before Christmas, the facebook posts started. "K is having an exceptionally ***** day." "K is planning on getting very sozzled this silly season." "Super strong pain killers+couch+tea+chocolate = my day." I didn't want to believe it, but when she rang me in tears there could be no doubt. The bleeding had started on saturday, and an ultrasound had confirmed there was no heartbeat.

We talked. We cried. We agreed that all those stupid things people say really don't make you feel any better, they only make you want to scream. "There must have been something seriously wrong with it." Well thankyou, now I have an image of a badly deformed baby in my head and I'm already upset. "At least it happened now. Think about how much worse it would be if you'd been further along." My baby died and I feel like my heart has been ripped out. I do NOT want to think about how much more it could hurt, and quite honestly I'm not sure I believe you at the moment anyway. "Well your baby is in a better place now." I DON'T CARE I WANT IT HERE WITH ME IN MY ARMS!!! And perhaps the worst, "Theres nothing you could have done." I KNOW that, but you just aren't helping.

For me, now, some two and a half years later, some of those idiotic things people say are a comfort. To know that if my baby had survived it might have been in constant pain, but now it is safe, and will never know pain or fear, that is a comfort. To know that it wasn't something I did, that I do not have to live with guilt that somehow I caused it, that is a comfort. To know that my baby is resting in the eternal circle of God's loving arms, safe and waiting for me, that is a comfort. But in the beginning, none of that helps. All you want is to cry, and scream. To be angry. To blame yourself. Odd as it sounds, believing that I could have stopped it helped sometimes. To come to terms with the fact that it was out of my hands was hard. And all I wanted anyone to say was "I'm so sorry. Can I do anything for you? I'm here if you need me."

For her, one thing seemed to help. "Well, I see you haven't given up copying me, but you're running a bit late you know."

We laughed until we couldn't breathe, and then everything was just a tiny bit better.

Christmas is ovah

We had mostly successes with this years presents. My mum got Critter a Lego pirate ship, which he has completed, with hardly any help. Hubs' mum is sending another Lego pirate ship that was Hubs' when he was about 10... I suspect there will be pirate battles once both of them are here and made. He also got a LOT of clothes, a game of Trouble, and I can't remember what else right now. I'm in a turkey induced fog. Gosling got a dolly which she adores, some soft noise-making balls, which are kinda interesting, but not as much as the plastic carry case they came in (love babies), some awfully cute clothes, a couple of shape sorters, including the Tupperware ball, and again I can't remember. Hubs gave me the Stargate box set, bought at 6:30am on Christmas Eve, and probably spent far too much on it. He got Lego Indiana Jones for the Wii, the two Family Guy Star-Wars spoofs, and a radio transmitter for his Ipod for his truck (our car has an Ipod jack, but his work truck doesn't.) We got mum some CDs and DVDs, and tickets to go see the Gypsy Kings, which I made a cardboard rose as a clue for the envelope. We got my sister some VERY expensive towels. Mum gave us all money. The cat got turkey.

We all ate far too much turkey, except Critter who is allergic and had roast beef. We watched Elf, had a few altercations, and then dad and his wife came round and it got weird, 'cause what do you say to a pair of orthodox Jews at Christmas when theres ham on the table?

To top it all off, half of us had gastro, and then I gouged a chunk out of my toe on the rubbish bin, after putting on a load of the most horrendous nappies I've ever smelt. It hurts, and I'm not sure if the skin is still attached or not, as I taped it up with 3 bandaids immediately (I do not heal easily or cleanly, and it is entirely possible that it will STILL get infected despite being washed instantly and being covered with bandaids and antiseptic cream within a minute.)

Due to said gastro, we didn't get to go to church, so I feel weird and am greatly looking forward to tomorrow. The real point of yesterday was never lost sight of, and my heart sings with joy at the amazing gift of Life given by our most loving Lord, some two-thousand years ago.

Merry Christmas all! (again)

Family: do we have to keep them?

Today, my lovely sister accused me of loving Gosling more than Critterbug. Her reasoning? I buy her lots of clothes, and I make her food from scratch instead of buying it all in jars. Uh.... right.

Clothes: Critterbug is 5 (in 2 weeks!! EEK!!!) and has too many clothes already. He has so many shirts I've run out of hangers for his wardrobe. He also has some sitting in the storage room waiting for present-times, to replace ones in his wardrobe that are a mite too small. The thing is, at 5 years old he grows slower than a baby, and therefor doesn't need new clothes as often as a baby does. Gosling however grows like a weed. I have bought her a lot of clothes, but she's already grown out of 3 or 4 sizes since she was born, and a lot of what I've bought is in larger sizes - I bought it cheap so I don't have to pay full price when I need it, and its sitting in her dresser waiting till she grows again. Theres also the fact that some babies tend to need a lot of clothes because they have explosive nappies, or they throw up a lot. She does both.

Food: It is significantly cheaper to make food for Gosling than it is to buy it. What would cost me $11 on sale in jars can be made for about $2, a couple hours in the oven, and 5 minutes with a blender and icecube trays. I wish I had realised this when Critter was tiny, and had had the confidence in myself to actually do it. Because while my mother loved to tell us how she never bought jarred food for us kids, and always ground up our food at every meal, she never once offered to help me or show me how to do it, and as depressed as I was, I didn't think I could do it anyway. I mashed sweet potato for him a couple of times, but that was about it.

My sister says a lot of things that bother me, and usually I can ignore them, but this one has really got to me. Probably because I'm so scared that people might think its true. I don't love Gosling any more than I love my Critter, and I don't give her any more attention that I give him (i neglect them both equally. (JOKE! that was a joke people!!)), excepting that she's a tiny baby and unable to do things for herself like toileting and feeding, but I do treat her differently than I treated him when he was her age, because of the depression.

After Critterbug was born, I was so depressed I could hardly function. I contemplated suicide more than a few times, firmly believing that no-one would miss me, and that my husband and newborn son would be better off without me anyway. There were days when I would just sit, staring at the baby as he screamed and screamed, not caring. He was fed, he was clean, I had taken care of the basics, and he didn't want me to hold him, so I just stared, and thought "yeah.. so?" There are times now when I don't know what to do with Gosling. When she's been fed and changed, needs a sleep, doesn't want to be held, but screams when I put her down, and I end up just walking away, but I care. I keep an ear out to make sure she doesn't get too distressed, and I rack my brains trying to think if I've not thought of something. I don't hover over her when I know I cant do anything about it, but it makes my soul hurt listening to her cry. I don't just sit and stare at her, vaguely wondering why she's crying, but not caring enough to try and fix it.

I am constantly amazed at how relatively easy things have been this time round, and am incredibly thankful. She nurses easily, she eats with no problems and doesn't appear to be afflicted with allergies, she usually sleeps for 7+ hours in a row at night, and is generally cheerful. I have not been sent down the dark road this time, and having done it all before, I have more confidence in my abilities as a mother, too. I have enjoyed my Critter as a child, so much it makes my heart want to burst, but I merely experienced him as a baby. Now, I am enjoying having a baby for the first time, and I'm loving it.

Then my sister goes and ruins everything, and leaves me feeling like I'm being selfish for finding joy in things like pureeing food, or finding cheap clothes for my children.

Sometimes, I really wish we could choose our family.

Love

Babygirl is three months old. She's been wearing 3-6 months clothes for over a month. Her cheeks are still enormous, as are her eyes, and she still has an Amazing Magical Disappearing Tooth. Her stares are intense, and her eyes are still blue, though considering Critter's are so dark brown they're almost black, and Hubby's and mine are greeny-hazel, anything could still happen.

She seems to be quite happy, smiling as soon as she catches sight of anybody, or even if she doesn't. Many the time I've gone to check on her, to find that she's smiling at the light coming in through the window. She talks when she smiles, often as not, and loves to hear us imitate her noises. Gurgling at her is a sure way to see her amazing smile.

Steve is getting good use, and she often falls asleep in her rocker gripping it. She is also fascinated by the toys hanging from the rocker, and just might have realised her hand actually has a use - she hit one of the toys the other day and then spent the next half hour examining her hand and watching it hit the toys. Not sure if she's doing it deliberately, but she does seem to be aware that its happening.

She thinks the baby in the mirror is hilarious, when I can get her to actually look the right way. She coos and gurgles and smiles like crazy, loving the fact that this other baby talks and smiles right back at her. The other mummy in the mirror confuses her, but doesn't upset her. Which is good. I much prefer her smiles to The Sad Face.

For some reason she still outright refuses to poo during the night. Which is nice, because it means I don't have to change her a million times when I'm barely awake, but it does mean... explosions during the day. And baths in the sink. Which she really rather enjoyed until the water got too cold. For some reason my kids like their baths HOT.

Speaking of night time, I can not figure out her rhythm at all. Some nights she wakes as early as 12:30 for a feed, others she sleeps till 7am, or later. Doesn't seem to matter when she gets fed or bathed, she has her own crazy rhythm, and she's not letting us know what it is.

I love this baby girl so much it hurts. My boy is precious, and I would die, or kill for him in a heartbeat (isn't it terrifying the first time you realise that you are absolutely capable of kiling, if your baby is in danger? Gave me nightmares for weeks). I do not love Spaceghost any more than I love Critterbug, but it is different. He is my precious, gorgeous boy, my firstborn. She is my daughter, my baby, the one I never thought I would have. And my love for these two does not in anyway diminish the love I feel for the one resting in God's arms, who never got to rest in mine. The more there is to love, the more love there is to give.

I survived April without spiralling into the waiting blue, but the sadness lingers. Hugging my children helps. I think I'll go do that now.

We are all individuals!!!

Spaceghost is 4 weeks old today. Due to being born in February, this means she is also one month old today. I know there is still a vast opportunity for change, but so far, she has been incredibly easier than Critterbug was.

For one, she actually feeds. Bra down, baby on, 25 minutes later she pulls off. Critterbug did not. Bra down, baby on, baby off, screaming, baby on, baby off, more screaming and flailing of arms and legs, baby on, choking, baby off, screaming, baby to daddy, formula out, baby drinks formula, mummy pumps milk while crying. Lather rinse repeat in 2-3 hours, replacing formula with expressed milk.

For another, she sleeps. Anywhere. Bed, car, pillow, floor, pram, someone's arms, bath... Critterbug would sleep in someones arms, but would awaken screaming the second he touched his bed. For months he slept in his pram, because it was the only thing that worked. Put him in the pram, walk him up and down the street for an hour or so, and leave him in the pram once he fell asleep. Spaceghost, on the other hand, will even put herself to sleep if she is put in her cradle after being changed and fed. I AM AMAZED.

Isn't it funny how we expect them to be the same? We recognise as adults that we are all individuals (I'm not!). Even as children, we recognise ourselves as our own separate people. I for one HATED being dressed in the same clothes as my little sister. We weren't even twins, and my mother dressed us the same. I hated it. Yet for some reason people often seem to expect subsequent babies to be the same as the first, just like I expected Spaceghost to be the same as Critter.

And I'm really not sure why, since even the pregnancies were vastly different. With the Critter, I had morning sickness till the day he was born (admittedly not as bad after the first 3 months, but decidedly still there - just nausea instead of run to the nearest container), and the nausea even lingered for some months after he was born. I didn't dare let myself feel hungry, because hunger would turn to nausea in a few minutes. With Spaceghost I think I was only actually sick three times. Critterbug demanded I eat nothing but cheerios and macca's chicken nuggets, Spaceghost couldn't abide sugar. Pre-eclampsia with my boy, perfectly normal with my girl. 4 hour labour ending in hemorrhage the first time, baby in distress leading to emergency c-section this time.

The fact that one is a boy and one a girl should stop me from treating Spaceghost as a little clone of the Critter, just in case the incredibly obvious personality differences weren't enough. I only hope if I am ever blessed with another (looking incredibly unlikely at the moment) I won't fall into the clone trap.

Five years ago today...

... my life ended. Sounds dramatic, I know, but it really did.

I was 21, twelve-thousand km (seven-thousand+ miles) from home, had very little family nearby (none of it immediate family), was unmarried, and had just found out I was pregnant. I was totally in love with my boyfriend, but terrified he was going to take one look at that evil little stick and run away. My life was over. I cried so hard it hurt.

Life started again within minutes. Boyfriend didn't want to run. He still loved me, wanted to keep the baby, and proposed on the spot. I kept on crying, but it was happier tears now.

But it was a different life.

My old life really did end. The life of Young-Sarah. No major responsibilities, always enough money, time to have fun. A carefree life, and one that matched my friends'. We weren't living in the same country, but anytime I went 'home' I would fit right in, we would have things in common. We could go out and do silly things. Stay out in the city till five AM and catch a cab home. Spend all day on the beach and eat whatever we wanted for dinner. And boyfriend and I could do whatever we wanted. We could stay up all night playing video games. Spontaneously decide to go to a museum 3 hours away from home. Drive to Vegas for the weekend with no prior planning. Go to the movies every night for a week. Not any more.

I think I like my new life better. Filled with cuddles and the smell of new baby, tiny clothes on the clothesline, and terry towel nappies scattered through the house. Brightly coloured toys that make far too much noise, and long nights in bed with a small body snuggled against me. A 'big boy' intent on teaching his sister to play soccer, and tiny hands eager to help with anything sister-related. Prayers to look after 'the baby', even though she now has a name, and a four year old's arms anxiously waiting to hold her.

My life ended February 16th 2004, and I've never been gladder.

Meet Spaceghost

Erin Jacqueline
3.52kg (7lb 12oz, I think) 51 cm (20 inches)
Born Saturday feb. 7th, 6:41pm (I think) via emergency c-section, after her heart-rate dropped to 70bpm.

Now home and sleeping wonderfully, but I wish she would feed a little more, as I have far too much milk and it's a bit painful.

Her brother is excited, and nervous, and doesn't really know how to cope, but he's trying.

Daddy is wonderful.

We are all happy.

This has not been a great week

Spaceghost can't seem to make up its mind whether to be super-low-down causing me aches in rather uncomfortable places, or all-stretched-out making it hard to breathe. Combined with the weather, this makes for a rather uncomfortable Sarah.

But I can deal with that.

What I'm finding harder to deal with is the fact that my father is currently in hospital with septicemia.

On wednesday afternoon, at nearly 4pm, I was getting ready to leave the house to go pick up critterbug from pre-school, when the phone rang. Since I had to leave the house in less than 10min and was only halfway dressed, I ignored the phone, and checked the answer machine just before I left. I heard something along the lines of this:

*VERY QUIET VOICE* mumble mumble mumble dad, mumble mumble mumble north shore private hospital mumble bone infection mumble mumble mumble

I turned up the volume as high as I could on the machine, but my father gets a bit incoherent when he's sick, and that was all I could make out.

Figuring there was nothing I could do to sort out the message, I left the house, and continued on my way to pick up my son. I texted my sister when I got to the bus stop, since calling dad would have resulted in more incoherence. She didn't have much more information. He was unwell, presumably some sort of infection, but they couldn't find it. They suspected he had an abcess of some sort, and were going to do a scan to figure out what it was. The were trying to put him on antibiotics, but couldn't get an IV in because his veins kept on collapsing. And of course, he thought he was dying. My father is a bit of a hypochondriac, and always thinks he's going to die whenever he has an operation, but this time he actually sounded very very sick.

Yesterday she had more info for me. They suspected septicemia, and he still thought he was dying. My father has rheumatoid arthritis, and therefor a compromised immune system. He doesn't get sick very often, since his body his constantly fighting everything including itself, but when he DOES get sick, he gets SICK. And in much the same way that AIDS sufferers tend to die from some random other infection that they can't fight because of the AIDS, apparently RA sufferers tend to die from mass infection. He's had a few scares in the past 10 years: an incompetent doctor who gave him 10x recommended dose of Methotrexate, making him extra-ordinarily sick, and thereby cutting it out of his treatment regime since he developed some sort of allergy and couldn't take it any more; an abcess on his spine which spread infection elsewhere (his elbow looked like someone had put a tennis ball under the skin, and felt like over-ripe fruit), and when trying to remove said abcess, the doctors managed to break his neck, though thankfully the spinal cord was undamaged. And now this.

Today I got a text from him. "seems clear i have septiccemia improving now hopefully home mid next week with aintibiotic drip pump sewn into me. will know more after scan monday."

I'm praying that he'll be OK, that he'll get over this the same way he's gotten over everything else. But I'm scared. Septicemia is not something to be taken lightly.

Not stupid, just different. Very, very different.

“Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them.”

Maybe you've seen it on a T-shirt, maybe a sticker on a car. Maybe you have no idea what I'm talking about, but its everywhere. Boys are stupid. Throw rocks at them. Yet another dig at our other halves.

Sometimes its tempting to believe though. Sometimes they do things that are just so... different. Their minds don't work the same as ours, and its easy to mistake this for stupidity. I'm sure they think the same thing about us.

One of my jobs is laundry-put-away-er. This also translates to clothes-sorter-outer-er, since I'm the only one who knows what all we have. A few months back I told hubby I was frustrated because I couldn't fit everything in his t-shirt drawer, and he told me to just go ahead and put in storage anything I didn't think he wore any more – if he missed something, he'd ask for it back. So I attacked that drawer with a vengeance, culling madly as I went. You would not believe how much better everything fits now.

Anyway.

Since there was space to actually see the clothes, and since I'd noticed hubby having trouble finding what he was looking for sometimes, I decided to sort the clothes in the drawer in a more easily accessible layout: light t-shirts in one pile; dark t-shirts in a second; sleeveless under-shirts in a third; and shorts off to the side. It was easy to see what I'd done, no pile was disproportionately bigger than the others, and it ought to make his life easier.

Or so I thought.

A couple weeks back I saw him wildly rummaging through his drawer, and then he asked me if a particular shirt was in the wash. I told him no, but since its black he'd be better off looking in the dark pile than the light pile. He looked at me as if I'd grown a second head.

Sarah: There's a light pile, a dark pile, a singlet pile, and a shorts pile.
Hubby: Are you sure?
S: Yes, I did it when I got rid of everything months ago!!
H: Why didn't you tell me?
S: I thought it would be obvious, since everything in that pile is light, and everything in that pile is dark, and I've always kept your singlets separate!
H: Its only obvious now that you've told me!!

He didn't see. He absolutely did not see that one pile contained light clothes, and the other was mostly black. He's not stupid. My man is a smart man. He does stuff I don't even pretend to understand, and makes it look easy. But his mind just doesn't work the same way as mine.

Boys aren't stupid. Just different.

its that time of year again

i need to make an appointment with my hairdresser. ive been putting it off. i cant just let my hair go raggedy for ever, but im dreading seeing her again. because its nearly christmas.

i havent been feeling so great the past few weeks. ive been snapping at people a lot, and ive been having trouble sleeping. i feel sad for no reason, and i just lack the motivation to DO anything. i was wondering if post natal depression had kicked in early, and then i realised. its nearly christmas.

christmas ahs always been a time of anticipation and excitement for me. the one time of year i WANT to get up a little earlier than usual, so the day lasts longer. seeing peoples faces as they unwrap the presents ive found for them. seeing their faces when THEY see how much i enjoy the presents theyve got for me. the beautiful heart-lifting christmas church service. TURKEY DINNER (i love turkey. id eat it all year). seeing family happy and joyful (for the most part) and the usually less antagonism than other get-togethers. and recently, my son, my little critterbug, so caught up in the excitement of things he doesnt quite understand yet, and the amazing crash and burn afterwards.

until last year. last year was a struggle. i dont remember much of christmas day. a few snippets of getting presents, and i think i managed to spill gravy on my clean white skirt.. the rest is a blur. there was something missing last year, and its still missing now. the addition of my giant belly is helping fill the void, but there will be a gap in my christmas for ever, i think. smaller each year perhaps, but there none the less.

last april i lost a baby. it would have been due around christmas day. last year, the baby was all i could think about. even when we painted critterbug's room that september, the excitement so evident in him (his own blue room! that he painted! and a BED!! with PIRATES ON THE SHEETS!!!!!!!!) wasnt enough to drown out the little voice in my head reminding me that there should have been a space left in the room for a cot, and a new set of drawers slowly being filled with baby clothes, waiting for december and the new baby.

and to top it all off, my hairdresser's first child was born last december. within a week or so of when i suspect i was due. every time i saw her, glowing and smiling and expanding, my heart broke a little. i was so happy for her, and so sad for me. and i was so angry at God. she hadnt wanted the baby, didnt think she was ready yet. she was taking precautions. she had even taken the morning after pill, and the baby had still stuck. why hadnt mine? what had gone wrong? why did she get to have a baby, and i only got to loose one?

im not so angry anymore, although it still hurts. if i had had that baby, i wouldnt be having this one. i would still be feeding the baby, and my baby-making-abilities last time didnt kick back in until the kid was about 15 months old (that surprised the doctor) - three months after he stopped feeding. theres also my husband. the chances of him agreeing to a third are very very slim. (not that he really agreed to this one. we have a habit of accidental conception.)

but seeing my hairdresser still hurts. seeing photos of her son, how big he is, how much hes growing. all the things i didnt get to see with mine. and seeing her now is going to be very difficult. her son turns one soon. mine would be having a birthday soon too. there should be extra presents under the tree in the other room. there should be extra time management needed to actually get my hair done.

its not as hard as last year. and next year will be easier again. spaceghost will be taking up most of my attention, i'm sure. and the year after that, there will be something else to fill a little of the gap.

but christmas will always be a little empty. now i really need those christmas day services i love so much.

do we all turn into our mothers?

my mum is up here for the weekend. a long weekend, since she arrived yesterday (wednesday) night, and will leave on monday morning. i love seeing her and getting to talk and stuff, but... she annoys me too. she's a fusspot.

the weather here has been rather not conducive to drying washing (we have no dryer), so last night i put on a wash, and hung it up inside. when the ads came on in the show i was watching on tv, i turned on the light in the drying room, since its at the other end of the room and i dont see well in the dark - didnt want to fall over carrying a basket of washing - and turned on the light in the laundry so i could get the wash out of the machine, and left it on so i wouldnt forget about it (has happened numerous times in the past). then i sat down to watch the last five minutes of the tv show.

mum chose that exact moment to come out of her room and gasped. 'sarah, you know you really should be more careful about leaving all these lights on. it all adds up in your electricity bill' she said, as she STEPPED OVER the laundry basket. because, you know, since im the one who pays the bill, i have no idea what it costs. 'i know mum. the lights have been on for about 2 minutes, because im about to hang up the washing.' she looked shocked and confused. 'hang up the washing???' then she noticed the laundry basket she'd already stepped over. *HEADDESK* apparently she also hadn't noticed that the hanging rack was set up, even though she'd walked past it about 7 times already by that point.

i understand that she's worried about us. obviously she thinks we're very very poor, since every time i talk to her one of her first questions is 'and are you sure you guys are doing ok financially?' i know that as a parent you cant help but be concerned for your kids. i watch my critter constantly and every time anything happens to him i panic. but at the same time... i am an adult. he is 4. he doesnt have the same life experiences and brain function as an adult, to know when he's doing something dangerous or stupid. i do. and i would have thought mum might have realised this by now. (when i rang her four and a half years ago to tell her i was getting married, her immediate response was "OH sarah... you're not pregnant are you?" not 'congratulations' or 'when so i can be there?' (she was in a different country to me) she didnt quite realise i was a grownup then, and still doesnt seem to realise it.)

and really.. is having 2 extra lights on for 15 minutes once a month going to be a huge problem? especially since lights are not turned on during the day unless its exceptionally cloudy?

what concerns me most is that it might be genetic. am i doomed to become this worrywort? will i constantly be convinced that my kids have no money and dont know how to live their own lives? will i panic constantly because they are not doing things the way i would have done them?


will i become my mother?

things that make you go BOOM

my family lives with allergies. to quite a few things. the current list stands at:

• egg
• poultry (chicken and turkey.. dont know about duck)
• hazelnuts
• pistachios
• pineapple
• grass
• cat fur (NOT cat spit - cat FUR)
• poison ivy (actually, anyone who reacts to this is technically allergic. some people do not react. but our case is extreme.)
• oranges
• capsicum (bell peppers)
  

between the three of us, the only overlap is grass and cat fur for both my son and i. the rest are spread between us.

the first four are my son, and it makes things a little difficult. hes not dangerously allergic to any of them, thankfully. no epi-pens in this house. and despite his nut allergy, he is NOT allergic to peanuts. he could eat a whole tub if he wanted. but one pistachio and he throws up for a couple hours and gets a rash. ditto a chocolate made with hazelnuts. any allergy is difficult (ever tried to avoid the pineapple on a hawaiian pizza?), but his seem specifically designed to make my life annoying.

egg wasnt too hard to deal with. the only time i eat egg is when its IN something (cake, cookies, cake, waffles, cake) as i find the flavour of it rather disgusting, so cutting it out of my diet when i was breastfeeding was a total non-issue - especially after we found no-egg powder (scroll down, its at the bottom). and after nearly 4 years ive got so used to using the powder instead of actual eggs, that i dont even think. hubby is very careful when he has eggs for breakfast, and critter knows that he's allergic and eggs will make him itchy, so he avoids them anyway. the only time ive eaten eggs since we found out about his allergies in feb/march 2005 is if i have pasta at a restaurant or something like pancakes/cookies etc out, or if i make cheesecake. when a recipe calls for 8+ eggs, i dont think the no-egg powder is going to cut it.

the poultry allergy is harder to deal with. im a definite carnivore (as is hubby) but if i eat red meat more than three days in a row i go nuts. i need a change. so we tend to have chicken or pasta at least twice a week. which is fine with the pasta - i just have to make do with eating macaroni instead of tortellini (eggs, and hubby wouldnt eat it anyway) - but becomes more difficult with chicken. we always make sure we have some sort of leftovers the kid can eat - even if its just sausages that we cut up and put in a bowl of baked beans. which he loves by the way. we also have to be very careful not to touch or kiss him until we've very thoroughly washed. if chicken, raw or cooked, touches his skin he breaks out in hives within a few minutes. many's the time ive given him a bath only to discover a bright red, raised, pimply looking hand print under his arm where ive lifted him. or kissed him goodnight only to discover a welt on his forehead when i check on him later. and it breaks my heart.

it makes christmas difficult too. despite living in a land where christmas day is always one of the hottest days of the year for some reason, and customary christmas clothes consist of sopping wet sweat drenched singlet and shorts, and fans are compulsory, and normal people have a seafood bbq and go to the beach where they can cool off, my parents always did a traditional english christmas dinner. with the roast turkey. and the million roast vegies. in the oven. and the hot ham. and until a few months ago we didnt have a functional air conditioner. and after 25 years, im just not sure i can cope with a turkey-less christmas. which means making separate vegies for the kid - so they arent cooked with the turkey. and making extra ham - so he actually has something to eat. and washing my hands a million times a day for the next week or so as i compulsively snack on the leftover turkey sitting in the fridge (no idea why it lasts so long).

by far the worst for my critter is the nut allergy. as i said before, peanuts are fine. he also has no problem with walnuts or almonds. but a single pistachio will have him vomiting for a couple hours and breaking out in a rash. half a guylian chocolate seashell and he complains that his throat feels funny, and then starts vomiting for a while (MORE FOR ME!!). and can you guess my two favourite nuts? sigh.

his reaction to cat fur seems to have decreased over the years. he no longers breaks out in a head to toe rash, just hives on prolonged contact areas. and his grass rash doesnt seem to bother him. (interesting - he gets a rash with no itch, i get an itch with no rash.)

my own allergies ive become so used to, i dont even think about them anymore. i dont like pineapple anyway, so discovering that eating it made my lips go numb and turn into balloons was only annoying because it happened. i just avoid hawaiian pizza wherever possible (and pick over it VERY CAREFULLY when its not) and dont drink tropical juice. some cats affect me more than others, and i know my limits. if the cat has been sitting on a chair, i dont, and if i touch him i wash my hands. blinking in a cup of saltywater works wonders to stop the itching and swelling if i somehow get got. and grass.. i just make sure i dont sit on it for very long.

hubby has also grown accustomed to his allergies. two of which are rather mild. capsicum gives him a stomach ache, so he just doesnt eat it. and oranges may or may not make him break out in a rash sometime in the week after he consumes them. UNLESS theyve been somehow diluted: food cooked in orange juice is fine; 1/2 water 1/2 orange juice is fine; he just cant eat/drink it straight. very odd.

by far his worst is the poison ivy. which i thankfully have never witnessed, as he's managed to avoid it since he was quite young. but as i understand it, the rash he gets oozes horribly, and he swells to the point his skin is almost ready to burst, its so stretched. NOT FUN, PEOPLE. thankfully poison ivy isnt common here.

i live in hope that my kid will grow out of his allergies, and fear that the uncooked one will have even worse. but we know how to deal with it, and deal with it we will.

adelaide - pictures

grandma made play-dough for the critter one morning. daddy helped him play with it.


he LOVED the pigs in rundle mall. LOVED THEM.


these two were following each other around everywhere.. never more than about 2 feet apart.


critter trying to push daddy over...


...and so not succeeding.


TUXEDO DUCK!!


very curly tail "like a PIG!" according to critter.


it was hard to get a good picture of this guy cause he was swimming so fast.. kept getting out of the shot. and then he flew off, so i couldnt try any more.


and for some reason this duck followed me around for ages, till hubby scared it away for me.


three pelicans. its blurry cause they were on the other side of the river, but the two did NOT like the third.. ended up chasing it away.


see? much happier alone.


he quite quickly and happily climbed UP the wall, but freaked out trying to get down again.


BABY FUZZBALLS!!


look how FUZZY they are!!!


and not quite so fuzzy, but not fully grown yet, by any means.

guess this is where he came to, to keep an eye on the babies.


SIGNET! GREY AND FLUFFY!


they were trying SO hard to stay under the boat to sleep.. but the current kept drifting them away.

adelaide was fun

on friday morning i got up FAR TOO EARLY and got ready to catch a plane to adelaide, where mum lives, from sydney, where i live. ive been to brisbane and canberra, and lived in melbourne and darwin, but ive never before set foot in SA, WA, or TAS, so a trip to adelaide to visit mum was exciting for 2 reasons - i get to see my mummy, AND i get to see a new place.

and boy was it different.

mum lives about 20min from the airport. we drove through THE HEART OF ADELAIDE to get to her apartment (she lives IN the city. who actually lives IN sydney-city?), and it looks like the suburbs of sydney. there are no tall buildings. there are no people frantically rushing to get places. the streets are a hundred miles wide. and THE WHOLE CITY is only about a mile across. the mind boggles.


friday consisted mostly of me trying to wrap my head around a city that really isnt a city. i slept a lot, the kid watched a movie, and hubby went for a walk. when mum got home we went around the corner to a pub for dinner - a first for my man. he's been in australia for over 4 years and it was the first time he's eaten pub food. he DIDNT have steak and chips, so i wasnt sure if it really counted, but chicken schnitzel and chips is the next best thing i guess.


saturday was a big day. we walked to the central markets, which were, again, mind boggling. there are markets in sydney, but not like that. flemington and paddington are NOT like the central markets. ive never seen so many green-grocer stalls in one place! and all of them had different prices. broccoli ranged from 1.99-4.50/kg, and everything else was similarly different.

from the central markets we went to the tram stop, where we waited for a tram (a first for me. never been on one before.. sydney light-rail doesnt really count), and hopped over to rundle mall (similar to sydney's pitt st mall) FOR FREE. travel terrace to terrace (one end of the city to the other), by tram, IS FREE. FREE PUBLIC TRANSPORT. as in not paying any money. to catch public transport.

rundle mall was, as i said, much like pitt st mall, for those who know sydney. one block of the street, paved and closed off, with shops on either side, stalls in the middle. it was fun. the fact that spotlight and lincraft are RIGHT NEXT TO EACH OTHER made me twitch a little. (i cant even get to one by myself. its either 40minutes on public transport and buy food out, or find someone to take me. and i cant go to both. theres none near each other.) the two storey target (admittedly not QUITE in the mall proper) caught me off guard. (two storeys? what is it - myer? and ARGH! they have different clothes in different states! i only saw about 4 things they have in the target here!!!!) and harris scarfe.. ive never seen anything like it. (i want to live there. all the kitchen things.... mum bought me some stainless steel measuring cups and spoons, because the plastic ones we have keep breaking.)

we stopped at hungry jacks (burger king) for lunch, then continued our walk round to mum's work, at uniSA. which is right next to adelaide uni. the two universities, presumably rivals, are so close you cant tell where one stops and the next begins. i still cant quite comprehend that. after a quick look at her office, we went back outside and continued down the road, past the unis on one side and the hospital on the other, and walked down to the river. where we saw a duck crossing sign, which made me giggle, and then 4 ducks crossing the road in a line, which made my eyes fall out of my head. they reached the road, stopped, looked around for a second in unison, then jumped out into the street as the cars stopped for them.

we went all the way down to the river, and sat for a while in the shade, watching the ducks, and the swans, and the pelicans, and trying to avoid the seagulls. the ducks also watched me. it was a bit creepy. critterbug ran around a bit and came FAR too close to the waters edge for my liking a few times, but he had a great time trying to catch daddy by surprise and push him over. didnt work. daddy ended up catching the bug by surprise and tossing him in the air. many many times. he just didnt learn. there was MUCH delighted screaming and laughter. the ducks watched it all.

when my butt started to go numb from sitting still for too long, and my legs started itching, reminding me of my grass allergy (not grass seeds, GRASS. if it touches me i itch like mad), i enlisted my mum and husband to pull me upright, and we started to walk along the river towards king william street, taking more pictures of the interesting ducks along the way. one of which followed me for a while before hubby scared it off for me. at one point hubby ran up ahead for me, to catch up with the pelicans and take pictures, since they had been too far away to get clear shots, and spaceghost is making me very very slow and i couldnt catch up to them.

we also got to see a bunch of ducklings, and a couple of signets: there were two ducks with about 9 or so little fluffballs following them around, up on the banks; and trying to sleep in the shade of a boat, a few feet away from the two beautiful black swans who were presumably the parents, were two fuzzy grey signets. i love baby animals.

when we reached king william, the plan was to walk to the nearest tram stop, catch the tram back to rundle, and walk back to mums apartment, but after being out and about for nearly 5 hours, by the time we reached the street the tram was on, i was so exhausted (stopped to rest about a zillion times on the slight uphill walk from the river to the tram) that my pleas of "ill be fine in a minute, after all its 15 minutes of sitting before the tram gets here" were over-ridden, and we got a taxi back to mum's. where she showed me how to do silverside, and i promptly fell asleep until dinner time.


sunday was a lazier day. we were going to go church, but mum wasnt sure where the nearest one was, or what time services were on. she walked up to the nearest anglican while i got the kid and myself ready, but it had started by the time she got there and didnt have a second service, and it was further away than it looked. so she backtracked and checked out the two lutherans nearer to her place. both had services at 9 and 11. the 9 had already started, and if we went to the 11, we wouldnt have time to do much else for the rest of the day, before we had to leave. but now she knows where they are, and what time the services are, so hopefully she'll be going to church soon.

so after hubby got back from his walk around adelaide, we all headed out again. we went to tandanya, which was wonderful, and walked around the street market up by rundle mall for a little while, then we went to a cafe/restaurant for lunch. the food was good, when it came, but the waiter got two of our orders wrong. hubby was given fish instead of chicken (which he said was fine and ate anyway), and i was given pasta with some sort of tomato sauce (which normally would have been fine, but the pregnancy, it does weird things to me, and merely looking at it made me feel ill) instead of the bacon/mushroom/cream i'd ordered, so he had to go get it all over again. i dont think mum will be going back there. she was not impressed. like i said, the food was good, but the service.. not so much of the brilliant.

by this time it was about 3ish, so we headed back to mum's and after an icecream, predictably, i had a nap while the kid watched a movie. at about 5 we called a cab, and headed to the airport, where our flight was delayed by half an hour, because the plane we would be leaving on was delayed coming INTO adelaide from sydney. not to worry, it gave us time to eat at the airport, since virgin blue dont give you food unless you pay extra. mum looked close to tears by the time we boarded, but we'll be seeing her on 2 weeks when she comes up to sydney for a conference.


i liked adelaide.. the whole place FEELS different to sydney. there wasnt the constant rush, and it was nice to be able to see the sky. im not really a big city kind of person. i look forward to hubby getting a position somewhere a bit further out. and he doesnt want to live in sydney either. he's lived in a slow desert town in california most of his life, and i think working in LA didnt help much. i could do adelaide. where the city isnt a city. and theres green everywhere. definitely want to go back and visit mum again, though that wont be any time soon, i fear. not with the ever expanding sprog stopping me from flying.

ah well. the weekend was good.

and now i have a ton of washing to do, as soon as it stops looking drizzly.

groceries, oh joy

today we're going grocery shopping. it usually takes a while. during the day, i write up a list of everything we need, and get the pile of green bags out (note for non-aussies - a lot of our grocery stores now sell re-usable bags you can use instead of using the plastic ones. theyre usually green, and are referred to by many as 'the green bags', even though they DO come in other colours - our 'cooler bags' - like a collapsible coolbox - are blue), and then when hubby gets home sometime before 6, we head to the stores and do the groceries.

there are 4 places we go in a normal week. woolworths first, because thats where the ATM is, then aldi, harris farm markets (green grocer) and the butcher. these last three are all next to each other, and woolworths is between them and our house, so it works well.

at woolies i pull out our weekly grocery money, and then we start to shop. which is fairly easy, despite the million different places we go, because i know what needs to be bought where, and write my list in 4 parts. some things arent set, we just get them wherever theyre cheapest, but i know which ones those are, and will buy them if theyre super cheap, even if they were written down in a different part of the list.

the only thing that bugs me is the cost. i budget $200/week (which will sound insane to any random americans who drop by, but what would your weekly grocery bill look like if there were NO COUPONS?) and usually we come in under. sometimes we go over, but anything that doesnt get spent stays in our grocery envelope, so i never have to pull more out of the machine. and every few weeks (usually around 5-6) we end up needing practicaly nothing (mainly milk and fresh veg), and just stay at woolies because the extra cost of petrol, though minimal (and the bother), wouldnt be worth it - we usually end up spending less than $80. one week it was about $40. this is also the week i usually ignore the green bags, so we have a stock of plastic for the small rubbish bins in the bathroom and bedrooms. why buy, when you can re-use the plastic grocery bags?

ive been trying to get our costs down, but i just cant see it happening. we waste hardly anything, often have leftovers for dinner - at least once a week, more for the child if hubby and i are having chicken - and i always check the catalogues first to make sure i stock up on cheap stuff, and avoid luxuries if theyre full price. now that my morning sickness is well and truly gone, and my energy seems to be increasing a little, oddly enough , i can get back to baking bread (yeast was SO BAD), but that will only save a couple dollars a week, and may have to stop again soon anyway if my wrists get any worse. kneading can get achy. we only buy name brands if theres no alternative, or the homebrand alternative tastes disgusting/flat out doesnt work (like the cheap toilet paper.. no thankyou. im sticking with my quilton. its not cheaper if you throw out the whole 8 rolls and have to buy new stuff.)

i guess im stuck at the magic $200.. ugh.

today in a nutshell

just not hazelnut or pistachio, much as i would like, because my kid might end up in hos-ta-pal, and that would be bad.

• wake up as hubby comes in from his walk, mumble something along the lines of 'hello', steal his pillow, and fall asleep again.
• stumble out of bed and convince my eyes they need to be open.
  
• dark laundry (ok, so i cheated, i didnt actually do that this morning. i loaded the machine before bed last night, and set to 9hours wait. hoorah for the timer!)
• have the critter help me put away dishes. wonder yet again why he thinks it is SO. MUCH. FUN.
  
• make the kid's and my breakfast - raisin toast for critter, honey nut cornflakes for me.
  
• make hubby's lunch (lemon/tereyaki chicken left from last night, sliced thin in a sandwich with cheese, lettuce and cucumber. very thick sandwich today. and a pear.)
  
• get the kid organised to go to preschool.
• wave off my boys, and marvel at the new car, again.
  
• dark laundry out, kid laundry in.
• dark laundry outside.
• chocolate custard/pudding. definitly need just a little more milk and sugar next time.
  
• computer
• kid laundry outside
• LUNCH. i still have pizza left from the other night. i will eat that. one question.. do i want it cold or hot? oh the dilema
• make musli bars. YUM.
  
• sleep. because i havent been at night. the spaceghost wont let me.
• try to be awake before 3:30 so i dont ahve to run around in a panic to get ready to get the critterbug before 4:30
• collect critterbug.
• get him to help me put away dishes again
• bring in laundry, get critterbug to help me put laundry away.
• start on the red sauce for red-pasta. um.. how many cans will i need for this? was it 2 or 4? remind myself to amend recipe when i ask hubby.
• finish making everything for dinner.
  
• eat.
• tell child to eat.
• again.
• and again.
• and again.
• shower or bath for a sprog tonight?
• relax in front of TV/computer while hubby does the dishes.
• fall asleep.
• try to convince hubby i wasnt asleep.
• fail.
• go to bed embarassed.
• fail to sleep.

***some of this has already happened, some of it is my plan for the day, some of it i know from experience will happen.***