We were meant to be

Last night, Husband said probably the most romantic thing ever to me.

He told me: "Babe, we were always meant to be together"

We were driving home from our touch footy game; our two boys in the back, talking about how other people handle their relationships. He made some comment about how he had never been in a relationship where they broke up and got back together.

I looked at him - "But we did....."

~~~~~~~~~~

July 2008
Husband had been living and working in Fiji for about a year. We'd been taking turns to visit each other for a long weekend about every 10- to 12-weeks, but our relationship was mainly conducted via telephone, texts and emails.

My last visit to Fiji hadn't been a good one. In the few weeks leading up to the trip, contact with Husband had become less frequent and, when we did talk, it was very strained.

I spent the majority of our weekend at the beautiful Wananavu resort (quite possibly one of the most romantic places in the world!) with leaking eyes.... We were tense and stilted.

The dreaded phrase 'it's not you, it's me' had reared it's ugly head.

By the time I left, we had come to some sort of strange impasse. We were in limbo. No "issues" had been  discussed, we just knew that something wasn't right.

About a week later I got an email at work: "Call me when you get home, we need to talk."
Well you just know that isn't going to be a good conversation.

A few hours later, I hung up the phone in floods of tears. Whilst we hadn't actually broken up, things were not looking good.

During our hour long phone call, Husband had told me that he didn't know what he wanted anymore; he wasn't even sure if he wanted a relationship.

Of course, looking back, and after subsequent conversations with Husband, it's clear to me (us) now that he was a man nearing a crisis. He was just 30; living away from family and friends, and a newly appointed GM dealing with some of the most stressful workplace issues he'd ever come across, all without any "on hand" means of support (from his employer as well as family and friends)

Somehow (and to this day, I still don't know how I managed it! I put it down to the counselling course I had completed a few year previously), somehow I found the courage inside to tell him that it was ok.
I told him that I loved him, and I wanted what was best for him. I told him I could ease some of his stress by giving him breathing space; I wouldn't email or text or call until he told me he was ready.

He had already booked a flight home for the end of August. So we agreed to see how things went until then. He thanked me for being so loving and understanding; he thanked me for being such a good friend.

We both cried. My heart broke.

During that time, as hard as it was, I was true to my word; I gave him space. Though every day my heart ached, and I wondered if we would make it.

It was Husband who initiated all the contact... In fact, during that time he emailed or texted me more than he had in the previous 6-weeks. I tried to keep it light; I didn't want to give him anything more to run away from.

It was a rough time, no denying.
And unlike me, I knew that he had no-one to talk to; no-one to vent about his stresses, no-one to talk through his thought processes... He ended up doing that with me, in regards to work, as we had done for the last 18-months. But I knew there was no-one for him to turn to personally, and it made me so sad for him.

He hadn't told his family. I was still having weekly dinners with them, and his Mum would always ask if he was ok. Three weeks into the ordeal, I finally broke and told her. Of course, she knew something was wrong, but he was resolutely avoiding the topic with her

Even his friends didn't know what was happening. Weeks later he told me that he hadn't said anything to them, because he knew they would give him a bollocking.
I knew that too, which was why I hadn't said anything to any of his friends. I just told them that he was a bit stressed and could do with a friendly ear.

I wanted him to work through it without people pressuring him....

I wanted him to choose me because he wanted to be with me, not because his friends and family had told him to be with me.

Soon. it was the day of his return. I went to the airport to wait for him in a state of turmoil; I was excited to see him again, but terrified as I knew that this was make or break.

Then I saw him, and he looked happier than he did when I had last seen him in Fiji.

And then he saw me; and his face lit up, and in that one brief moment, I knew, JUST KNEW, that we would make it.

~~~~~~~~~~

"It was just like the old saying: 'If you love something, set it free. If it comes back to you, it's yours...'" I said last night. "In order to keep you, I had to let you go, even though it broke my heart to do it."

And that's when he said: "Babe, we were always meant to be together"

Bonus recipe included!

I've recently gone on a baking and cooking frenzy. I've never been one for trying new things - I have my dishes that I know I can cook, and I have stuck to them. Never venturing beyond what I know I can do.

For some reason, since the arrival of my Even Littler Monster (who ain't so little now!), I have become a little bit of a domestic goddess; especially in the kitchen.

I've downloaded the Taste.com.au app, and it has changed my (and Husbands!) culinary world. I've become more adventurous with dinners, and am ready to try pretty much anything in the kitchen.

But at the moment, I have a sweet tooth that cannot be denied. And so my time spent baking has increased ten-fold... Chocolate chip cookies, maple syrup muffins, scones (with lashings of jam and cream!)...

But last night (a huge thanks to Trishie at Under Lock and Key for the inspiration!), I made the most delicious banana choc-chip bread in the world...ever!!

I had some spare bananas lying around, and went on a "foodporn" odyssey on my favourite food website, Foodgawker, to find a recipe

After drooling my way through a number of recipes, I finally decided to use this one from Family Friendly Food.

Banana nut bread

Using 8-1/2 * 4-1/2 inch (21*11 cm) loaf pan.

1 3/4 cup flour
1 1/4 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup sugar
1 stick (115 grams) butter, room temperature
2 eggs
2 tablespoons milk
3 small (about 1 cup) bananas*, mashed
1/2 cup chocolate chips – optional
1/2 cup walnuts, chopped

Preheat oven to 350 F degrees. Grease loaf pan with butter (place parchment paper on the bottom of the pan – optional).

Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. Set aside.

In a mixing bowl, beat the sugar and butter until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Scrape the sides. Add the eggs and milk, and beat until smooth. Scrape the sides again. On low speed, add the flour mixture and bananas alternately, beating until smooth.

Fold in the chocolate chips, if using. Pour the batter into the greased pan. Scatter the nuts on top.

Bake for 1 hour or until done. (Start checking after 45 minutes. I think I baked it for 45 minutes.) Cool in the pan for 15 minutes and remove to a platter to cool completely, that is if you can resist not eating it right away…

I made a little tweak of my own (no nuts - I'm not a fan), and it ended up cooking for 55 minutes in my oven.

Husband and I had a slice with vanilla ice cream for dessert ... and we both went back for seconds!! (Thank goodness for breast feeding; I can fool myself into thinking I can get away with such indulgences! hehehe)

If you do nothing else with your left over bananas today, try this recipe - you won't regret it!

Whats your favourite after dinner indulgence? Feel free to share the recipe with me!

The birth of my Even Littler Monster

{Warning - this is a bit of a novella! The whole thing is still very fresh in my mind, so I remember all the details!}

11 weeks ago, I welcomed my second son into the world.

I had had a very uneventful pregnancy (the best kind!), and was expecting a very uneventful delivery. After the birth of my first Monster, I had even more desire to try for a natural water birth... I was convinced that with the right mental attitude, I could do it.

40-weeks came and went with no sign of things kicking off. I had my appointment with my midwife who did a stretch & sweep to see if we could move things along. We also discussed induction, but I politely declined. I had maintained throughout my pregnancy that I did not want to be induced, unless I absolutely had too.

41-weeks came... and went, again with not even a hint of Baby making an appearance. Once again I headed off to the midwife, who, once again!, did a stretch & sweep. Again we discussed induction, and this time I thought long and hard before declining... I certainly didn't want to be pregnant any more (I was a whopping 122cm around!!) but I really wanted to give Nature a chance to get things started before I let the medico's take over.
As per hospital policy, my midwife booked me in to be induced the following week, but we were both certain that Baby would come before then. In the meantime, I was trying all sorts of alternatives - acupuncture, acupressure massage, spicy foods, long walks (or waddles really!) and even sex.... nothing.

So Tuesday morning I woke, knowing that it was my last morning as a mother of one. I dropped the Little Monster at daycare, and cherished the last cuddle with a belly between us. I also had a little weep as I walked home, knowing that his world was about to be turned upside down.

As Husband drove me to the hospital, I felt little twinges; nothing too painful and I put it down to nerves.

After a six hour wait, a midwife finally induced me and announced that I was already 1cm dilated... so those twinges were probably the start of things to come!

About an hour later, I told Husband to go home... the gel wasn't guaranteed to work straight away, and even if it did, I wanted him to be well rested in case it was another marathon event like the last time!

At 10pm, the contractions kicked off. Somehow (probably because of the panadine forte!) I was able to sort of sleep between them, and dozily moan the pain away. At about 5am, they were coming much quicker and were far more intense. It was during one of these contractions that I was moaning like a... well, like a woman in labour!, when a midwife came in to check up on me because of the noise; apparently they hadn't heard me all night, and assumed that the gel hadn't worked and that I was asleep!

After a quick check, she declared me to be 6cm dilated and ready to go to the delivery suite (because I had been induced, I wasn't able to have my preference of the Birth Centre; but I had been assured that a water birth was still possible). At this point I called Husband, and told him to get his arse to the hospital pronto!

~~~~~~~~

The three minute walk to delivery suite took an age, and I had three big contractions on the way. As soon as I got into the room they suggested I have a shower to help manage the pain. I don't think I had ever moved so quickly in my life! I was stripped and in the shower in seconds flat. And I have to admit, I was amazed at how much relief the water gave me - yes it still hurt like buggery, but I felt that I might be able to cope.... Two minutes and two huge contractions later, I changed my mind.

I turned to Husband  and my midwife and told them I wanted an epidural. Whilst the midwife got the ball rolling, I asked Husband to coach me through two more contractions, just to make sure that an epidural really was what I wanted... and it was!

I managed to waddle to the bed and somehow climb on it so the midwife could check my progression. During the hour that I had been in the shower, I had gone from 6cm to 8cm and was starting to show signs that birth was imminent.

My midwife suggested that as I was so close to pushing, it might actually be quicker for me to give birth naturally (an epidural could have slowed things down)... As a natural birth had been my initial desire, I thought why not - let's power through this! So she broke my waters as a way of helping my body move things along.

Then midwife told me that Baby had done a poo, and that she was going to check Baby'a heart rate. By this point, an Obstetrician had come in (the same one that delivered the Little Monster! A coincidence, and very comforting to me) and he was poking around and checking things out.

All the while I am lying on the bed contracting and writhing in agony, desperately regretting that I did not insist on an epidural.

Then the midwife says that she can't differentiate between my heart rate and Baby's. I assume that it's because my heart rate is so high, thanks to all the work my body is doing.... Nope. Baby's heart rate is dropping to somewhere between 80-90 bpm. Very not cool, when they consider a baby with a heart rate of 110 to be in distress.

The OB looks at me and says "Baby has to come out now. We are going to do a vontouse delivery". That's ok, I thought, I've done this before I can do it again.

My midwife offers me the gas, and I start sucking for all I'm worth. This time, thankfully!, it works - probably because I know it's all the pain relief I'm going to get, so I make it work.

The vontouse is fitted, the OB pulls whilst I push and.... the vontouse pops off Baby's head. The OB apologises, and they try again.

Once again, the OB pulls with all his strength whilst I push with all of mine and... the vontouse pops off again.

There is a discussion, and it is agreed that Baby's shoulder is stuck behind my pubic bone. So they ask me to push through the next contraction, whilst someone is pushing on my pubic bone trying to dislodge the shoulder.

Suddenly, Baby's heart rate drops again. An emergency button is pressed and all of a sudden there are 10 people in the room (not including Husband and I!)

The OB looks at me again. "Melissa, we have to get Baby out as quickly as possible. I am going to do a forceps delivery. I am so sorry, but this is going to be very painful."
I nod and say "do whatever it takes", then suck on the gas like it was my lifeline.
(After the birth, I was told that his head was only 2cm from being born when this happened, so an emergency cesarean was not an option)

I cannot begin to describe the pain of having the forceps "installed" whilst contracting, and my whole body pushing and pushing, trying to get my baby out; I felt like I was being ripped in half.

The OB coached me through the next contraction, and the whole room was telling me to push and yelling words encouragement. Husband was holding my hand with tears on his face, and cheering me on the loudest.

The OB tugged on Baby's head, a midwife pushed down on Baby's shoulder, my body convulsed.... Still nothing.

Next thing I know, I have two midwives haul my knees up to my ears. A midwife is still pushing on Baby's shoulder, the OB is pulling with all his might, and I scream as I contract and push.

My Even Littler Monster is finally born!!  (From my waters being broken to my Monster being born, 30-minutes have passed... all of this drama has taken a mere half an hour; it felt like a lifetime!)

He is put straight on my chest and, fearing a tragedy, I cry "Is my baby ok? Is my baby ok?!"

Then he screams at me, angry at having been ripped from his comfortable room.... And it is the best, most beautiful sound I have ever heard.

He passes his Apgar test with flying colours - he scored 9 at both 1 and 5 minutes.
The OB says to me that he cannot believe how good my baby's vitals are after such a traumatic entry into the world. He tells me that if my baby hadn't been such a big boy (he was 4.325kg!), it could have been a very different outcome.

The OB, bless him, apologises again for my body being subjected to such a delivery without an epidural; "we would never normally do a forceps delivery without an epidural - there was just no time, we had to get him out."
I tell him I don't care; he did what he had to do in order to get my baby out safely, and alive.

I have been cut and have a 2nd degree tear, I have lost about 800mls of blood, but my baby boy has a set of lungs on him that are amazing. And despite his rather dramatic and almost violent birth, he has only a small mark on his cheek from the forceps and no marks at all from the failed vontouse attempts. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet to be holding this precious little boy.

~~~~~~~~

11-weeks on, I have healed physically.

Occasionally I have a memory of his birth, and I wonder how I managed it. I had a natural birth, but certainly not the way I could have ever imagined it!

Only a few times have I thought about "what could have been"... I look at my little boy and I start to imagine how different I could be feeling,
But I stop myself. Why bother distressing myself with an image of something that never happened?

Instead, I focus on my beautiful baby, who has added another depth to my being (as in "be"-ing). He rocks my world.

And no matter how many ways he will find to tick me off over the years to come (and if his big brother is anything to go by, there will be a myriad of them!), I will always be grateful for his safe delivery - and the people who made it happen

The birth of my Little Monster

It all started on the 4th of October...
I woke up early in the morning with a new and different pain in my belly... I knew straight away, that this was it - Baby was on the way. What I didn't know was that it was the start of 3 & 1/2 days of pre-labour - lucky me!

After 24 hours of contractions, I called my midwife to let her know that I thought I might be heading to hospital soon. Boyfriend and I camped out on the sofa bed with my hospital bag at the door, but the contractions slowed right down during the night, and I was able to catch a few hours sleep. The same thing happened again the next night... talk about frustrating!!

On the Wednesday morning I went to the hospital to see my midwife, who did a stretch & sweep (once again, lucky me) and announced that I was 3cm dilated... which was very pleasing, as I didn't want those three days of pain to have been for nothing! She then sent me home with some panadine forte and told me to try and get some rest.... FAT CHANCE!! Within 30-minutes, my labour started for real ("Ahhh so THAT's what a contraction feels like!!"), and I spent the next 7-hours wandering around our flat wondering what the heck I had got myself into!

At 6.30pm, with contractions coming every 3-minutes, I made the final call to the midwife telling her to expect us in the hospital within the next 30-minutes. As soon as I was showered and ready to go, Boyfriend pulled me into the nursery and asked me if I was ready for what was about to happen; to which I promptly burst into tears and said "no!"... He then asked me to marry him - to which said "yes!" :) (heck, I would have said yes to anything at that point!! hehehe)

And then we were off!

All throughout my pregnancy I had hoped to have a natural water birth, but I had maintained my feminine right to change my mind at any given time and use all the drugs available to me ;)

I started off well. I spent a about an hour in the bath and tried to relax and go with the flow. But the contractions were getting stronger and faster, and at about 10pm I asked for the pethadine - I had now been in some sort of pain for about 80hrs with not an awful lot of sleep, and I was exhausted. In our ante-natal classes, we were told that some women can almost sleep when they have pethadine... unfortunately for me, that was not the case. Every time I tried to lay down and close my eyes, another contraction would hit me and I would have to get up, pace the room and moan with pain.

The pethadine also made me feel a heady combination of overly hyper, very woozy and pretty sick - and it's not easy to be heaving over the toilet and get through a contraction at the same time! The pain relief was minimal, and about an hour later I decided to try the gas.

At this stage (according to Husband, I don't really remember), I was making some pretty scary/weird sounds - my midwife said I was starting to transition. I couldn't get the timing with breathing the gas right; probably because the contractions were coming in fast a furious, and the pain was pretty much unbearable, so I requested an epidural.

I had to wait for about another 10mins before they could get me into a delievery suite (it was a busy night apparently!), but by golly it felt like years!!! Finally I walked the 20m to the delivery suite - stopping for two contractions along the way!

I then found out that I was 8cm dilated, and my body was spasming with each contraction. I had to argue with the anesthesiologist as to why I should have an epidural; she maintained that I was too far gone and wouldn't be able to stay still for long enough for her to give it to me.

My wonderful amazing midwife stood up to the silly cow and told her that I was not too far gone, and I thought that I could stay still for long enough. So after explaining the risks to me, AGAIN (I'm in labour lady, not stupid!!) I finally got the drugs (staying still and contracting wasn't easy, but I wanted those drugs, and I wasn't moving for anyone!)... and it was almost instant relief  :)

But when they put the monitor on, the Baby had a "non-reassuring heart rate", so they called in an obstetrician who decided that rather than doing a blood test from the scalp, it needed to be delivered straight away... and at 1.58am (on his due date, the clever little man!), my Little Monster was brought into the world by ventouse delivery.

Not my Little Monster - but almost as cute!

It was love at first sight, and every day since then he has found new (and usually very entertaining!) ways to make my heart sing.

{images from here, here and  here}

It's a gusher!

Not my cupboard, but possibly it's twin! :)

I'm supposed to be cleaning out my tupperware cupboard... there's years of random plastic things in there - with and without lids!

But here I am; Newbie is asleep, and rather than sit on the kitchen floor, I've decided to make the most of the quiet time.
What can I say, Procrastination is my middle name!  :)

Today Newbie is 8-weeks old.
The other day, the Little Monster described him as a happy and smiling baby to his daycare ladies, and he was 100% right.

Sure Newbie cries, and I often wonder what on earth for - he's been fed, changed, burped, cuddled, swaddled, etc, etc, etc... But generally he is a happy, smiley baby.
And he is {mostly!} a chillaxed baby, which I put down to Husband and I being much more relaxed this time around. I don't panic the moment he cries, and I don't freak out when he won't go to sleep when he's "supposed" to.

Newbie has been less of an intrusion on Husband and I's "couple time"; and I don't mean that we are doing the horizontal mambo all the time!
Rather, we are able to see past each other as just a "mother" or a "father" - we can still see each other as an individual, as the person who the we fell in love with.
For me, when the Little Monster came along my world was so intensely rocked that I just didn't know how to be anything other than Mummy, let alone to be "me" again or a lover ... I certainly couldn't imagine how Husband would ever see me as a sex bomb again!

Then there was the factor of loving someone other than Husband... The shock of an unconditional love that was so intense, right from the get-go. I still get that heady, vertigo like feeling when I look at my Little Monster; and I feel exactly the same for Newbie

One of my biggest fears during this pregnancy was how on earth I would be able to love another child the way I love the Little Monster. Parents with more than one child would tell me "You just do, there is the space for it", but without explaining how there was that space... and it really didn't put my mind at ease.

Then Newbie arrived. It's like suddenly my heart is the size of the universe... unfathomable and never ending. And I realised that I SO have the capacity to love more than one child  :)

It still amazes me, this crazy little thing called love; and the capacity the heart has for such different types of love...
For example, I LOVE chocolate. But that is such a feeble version of the love I have for my (and Husbands) family. Which in turn is a vastly different kind of love for my Husband; whom I love and adore with every fiber of my being.

But the love I have for my little boys.... it's overwhelming, it's soul defining, it's pretty much indescribable and bigger than I could ever find the words for.

All I can say is, I am one lucky lady to have such amazing love in my life  :)

{images from here and here}

It's been a while....

But I have some good excuses, I've had a pretty busy time of it recently...

I moved house at 32-weeks pregnant with a 2-year old in tow (not recommended!);
I've transferred said 2-year old into a new day care (which went infinitely better than I could ever have hoped for, he's a champ!!);
and I eventually gave birth (2-weeks overdue!) to another little boy, who didn't make it the process easy for me (but that's a whole 'nother post)....
Oh and in about 2 months time, we're moving once again!


I think the twitter hash tag for such a paragraph would be #firstworldproblems

And finally I am able to sit quietly at my computer, with my Little Monster in safely in daycare and my 6-week old Newbie fast asleep.
And finally I feel like I might have found some room in my little world and under used brain to let my creative juices flow again!

So watch this space.... I might not be blogging daily, but I will be blogging again! It might not be the best thing that you will have ever read, but it will be me - the whole sleep-deprived-cracking-very-unfunny-"dad jokes"-and-lucky-to-shower-3-times-a-week me.

Thank goodness you can't smell on the interweb!

A dawing realisation

I've been a bit slack with writing in my Gratitude Book...
I was having so much fun during our Christmas holiday that I kept forgetting to write in it.

Every night since we've come home, I look at the book sitting on my bedside table just waiting for my return.
And every night, I turn off my light without making an entry.

It's not like I don't have anything to be grateful for - if anything, there's too much to even begin to mention.

But this morning as I walked into work after dropping the Little Monster off at daycare, I suddenly realised exactly WHY I should start writing in it again...
I am 28 weeks pregnant, and I need to be writing down everything I feel about this pregnancy; the good and the bad.

At around 9-weeks, staving off yet another wave of nausea (and a week after I realised that being pregnant again meant I was going to have to GIVE BIRTH again - eek!!), I turned to Husband and stated, "This is it. Two is enough; no more children..."
To which Husband agreed.

About 3 weeks ago, I hit the I'm-so-totally-over-being-pregnant phase (only 11 weeks early!) and claimed to Husband, "Ugh. I'm sick of being fat. I want my body back!"

Again, to which Husband agreed.... not to the "I'm fat" part!, but that he wants me to be back to normal, back to being me. Which I'm guessing doesn't involve me being a host to a not so tiny parasite, or inhaling my food without taking a breath, or falling asleep on the sofa at 8pm....

But this morning, I had a far more profound realisation - this will most likely be my last pregnancy.

This realisation made me both sad and determined.

Sad, because this will probably be the last time that I carry and grow a baby.
The last time that I feel the first flutters through to the full on belly stretching of movement.
The last time I will ask my body to put itself through the paces that nature intended.

Determined, because I have not been as appreciative of this pregnancy as I was the first... I have been almost blase about whole thing, really.
And because despite all my whinging, I do love being pregnant.

I love feeling the baby move and guessing what baby body part is poking me where (usually a double whammy of a punch to the bladder and a kick to the lungs).
I love the freedom to go back for seconds without caring what other people think.
I love my maternity jeans!

I love watching my LM kiss my belly, and whisper "Morning Baby".

So, rather than complaining about how I can't walk 20m without huffing and puffing like a steam train; or how badly I am sleeping because the Baby keeps moving; or the agony of waking up with a leg cramp in the middle of the night...

Instead of all of those things, I am going to embrace the remaining 12 weeks of my pregnancy:

• I will cherish each internal kick and punch.
• I will celebrate the fact that my body is so freaking amazing at the job it does of growing our Baby.
• I will write in my Gratitude book every night, of just how lucky and grateful I am that I have a beautiful healthy son, and how excited (and terrified!) I am with the imminent arrival of our new child.

What sudden realisations have you had recently? Were they enough to change your way of thinking?

 {images 1, 2 and 3}

Saying goodbye

Today, Husband's world lost a little ray of sunshine. His wonderful grandmother passed away, at the amazing age of 93.

It was expected, she was very ill, but it is still a very sad loss.

We last saw her on Australia Day, and spent a fantasitc couple of hours talking to her about her life. She told us that in all her years, she had no regrets... and I think that's pretty darn amazing.

Rest in Peace Gran (aka GG), mother of three, grandmother to nine and great-grandmother to seven (very soon to be nine!). You were a wonderful woman and the matriarch of such a beautiful family. You will always live in our hearts, and I know that you will be watching over us all as your family continues to grow.

I've hit the wall...

At first I thought it was 3.30-itis, but then I realised, nah it's just pregnancy.

I am now in the "I can't get comfortable enough to sleep well" phase.
Y'know, the phase that lasts until the baby comes out (when you then move into the "My newborn won't let me sleep" phase. But that's a-whoooole-nother ballgame!)

Thankfully my Father-in-Law is picking up the Little Monster today, I don't think I could actually manage the 25-minute power-walk to daycare to get him... It's going to be hard enough to walk the 250m to the bus stop today!

Anyway, enough of my complaining!!
If my tiredness is the worst thing I have to worry about today, then I am doing alright.

And to look on the very bright side - tomorrow is Friday (YAY!), and I will be spending the weekend down the coast with the in-laws! Fingers crossed for a lovely sunny weekend  :)

{image from here}

How has your day been?

Dear Universe - I want a new home!

We are looking for a new home to accommodate our growing brood (long story, will bore you with it in another blog!)

We thought we had found it - scrap that, we HAD found it, but so had 10 other interested parties and for the first time in my rental life, I didn't get the place I wanted.

Obviously it wasn't meant to be.... though I still dream about the house, and how my life would be in it....

So in order to find our dream home, I am throwing my heart open to the Universe and asking for a little help (hmmmm, and not dissimilar to the letter that conjoured up Mary Poppins... Imagine this letter is being sung to a jaunty showtune!)

Dear Universe

I don't often ask for help, and the few times that I have you have listened and provided.

Husband and I need and want a new home. We don't want our children to be apartment children. We don't want to always be worrying about the noise levels, and how it affects our neighbours.

 Please, please, please help us find our dream home.

It must have:

• 3-bedrooms (although 2 large bedrooms and a sunroom would be equally acceptable)
• A separate living/dining area (although a large combined living space would do just as well)
• A garden for my Little Monster and #2 to safely run crazy in, with a shady tree to have picnics under (must be low maintenance - I need to be eased into the whole "gardening" thing....)
• A shower and a bath (combined is fine with me - I just need a tub I can soak and relax in!)
• A lock up garage (or at the very least off street parking)
• A decent sized kitchen (eat-in is fine especially if the living space is combined.... and I'll go out on a limb here and ask for a dishwasher - hope that's not being too greedy!)
• Be secure, so that Husband won't worry about us when he is at work
• Accept a cat

Most importantly, it must be within our price range and have a landlord who doesn't put the rent up every six months; if s/he can wait til I go back to work before putting the rent up, that would be good... If they didn't put the rent up for a couple of years, that would be awesome!

Thank you for listening Universe. I patiently wait your response...... although I do need to be moved/settled by the end of April!

Well, I've asked. Now to keep looking and hope that the Universe is listening.... Watch this space!


{image from here}

Arghh F**k!

So there I was, 5am, fast asleep; trying to make up for an already distrupted night's sleep... (thanks to Little Monster believing that our bed is actually his)

When BAM!

I awoke in agony, with my leg nearly perpendicular to the bed, toes splayed wildly, and a cramp in the middle of my calf.

Needless to say, I swore like a sailor for the few minutes it took to regain control of the muscle.

Unbelieveably (well, at least to me!), when I was telling Husband about the reasons behind my broken sleep, he had very little sympathy for the cramp incident.

Instead he told me that given that the Little Monster had been in bed with us at the time, my language had been less than desirable, and that I might want to tone things down the next time I woke with a cramp....

Seriously.

Am I going to have to watch my lanuage whilst giving birth?!

I mean I get that there was a child in the room (not by my choice) and he shouldn't be subjected to some of the bluer words spouting from his mother (which by the way, he completely slept through).

But when someone is unceremoniously woken up in unexpected and breathtaking pain, instinct takes over and common sense does not always prevail...

A girlfriend at work suggest that I wake him up in the middle of the night with a swift kick to the bollocks and see if he manages not to swear.

And as I hobble around the office with a bruised calf, I can't even begin to tell you how tempting that it sounds.

Does anyone else have a Husband/Wife/Partner/Significant Other like mine - sometimes the most caring and loving person, and sometimes the most cold and unfeeling bastard?

Grouchy

You know when you're grumpy for no {really} good reason?

You know when one minute you're feeling up beat and happy, and you want to just chat the day away with any one who will listen... and then the next minute you are channelling Oscar the Grouch, and just want everyone to bugger off and leave you alone??

Well that's me today.

This morning, despite a very broken night of sleep thanks to Husband, the Little Monster and the Bump!, I woke up in a pretty jolly mood.

I managed to get the Little Monster to daycare on time {the bus gods were smiling on me this morning}, and more amazingly, I managed to get into work ON TIME! Such a rarity; such an achievement!  hehehe

I had my performance review at work, which went really well - yay!

AND I have found a replacement daycare spot for the Little Monster whilst his usual lady is away on holiday.

So all in all, it had been a very good morning.

Then it all changed.

To be fair, I know exactly what set the Grump off; it was getting caught in a torrential down pour whilst walking back from the replacement daycare place.

I did have my brolly with my, but it's one of those cheap Two Dollar Shop specials that doesn't actually offer much protection.
So, my jeans are soaked from the knee down.
Because I wore my thongs for the walk, my feet are frozen.
And because I'm starting to feel really pregnant, I am now tired and sore from the long walk.

So really, I'm pregnant, tired, sore AND grumpy. What a delightful combo...

My advice? Steer clear of me until tomorrow!!
Or at least until I've had a kilo of chocolate  :)

How do you combat the Grumpy Monster when it unwittingly rears it's grouchy head? What are your coping mechanisms? {maybe I can borrow them?!}

{images from here and here}