Childbirthing Perks

The other day I found myself actually wishing I was in labour again.

When The Accountant and I are travelling, we often listen to the radio. Sometimes the airwaves if filled with such rabble it makes me agitated and gives me a headache. At which point I will inevitably say, “What is this rubbish?” as I reach to change the station. The Accountant will then inevitably say, “That’s AC DC. I like it. Leave it on.”

The other day as this scenario was playing out during a road trip, my mind recalled when I was in labour with The Baby. While gritting my teeth as another contraction hit, I was not at all soothed by the sound of AC DC blasting over the radio. As I went to change it, making my customary comment about it being rubbish, The Accountant made his customary defense of the band, at which point I snapped, “You don’t get to choose the music tonight.” Instantly The Accountant replied, “Fair enough” and not a word was said as I turned a CD with Diana Krall on for the remainder of the journey.

So, as I listened under duress to that awful music the other day, I actually remember wistfully thinking about the power I had over the radio 2 hours before giving birth.

Continue Reading

Happy Campers!

I met The Accountant in 1996, and I think ever since the start of our relationship The Accountant has always been trying to convince me of the merits of camping. I’m just not a camping type of girl, my family didn’t go camping on our holidays and I like my creature comforts. The Accountant has many fond memories of camping with his family from weekends up at the coast fishing and four wheel driving to heavy duty camping for months as they travelled around Australia.

This weekend was a momentous occassion for our family. We bought a tent!

The Accountant’s reasoning for camping has been making more and more sense now that we have a family – particularly with two sons. We will be able to getaway more often for short breaks since we don’t have to pay hefty accomodation costs, very important to the Accountant. Most people I talk to who did camp as kids have many fond memories of the experience – unlike my memories – I think you just need to get into your camping groove. The J Bomb had picked up on the talk about tents and camping and has been super excited.

We decided to go camping last weekend, however because we have been so busy lately, we didn’t have time to buy a tent. Some would then reserve the weekend for buying the tent and postpone the trip. Nope. Not the Accountant. He has waited a long time for this event. We went into town, after The Baby had his sleep – The Baby is still sick, and not a particularly happy chappy. Bought a tent after going to two stores, then back to the first one. We decided to go all out, this was a long term investment after all! We got a three room tent with 100 denier fly, so it shouldn’t leak in the rain.

Went home, chucked clothes into bags and anything else we could think of, loaded the car up and headed to Caloundra! Setting up the tent went smoothly. The boys loved playing in the dirt while we were setting it up. They are starting to get to the stage where they want the same thing. There hasn’t been full fights yet, but The Baby certainly yells, cries, growls when J takes something off him. The point of contention was the little shovel with a pointy end. I don’t know why The Baby formed an attachment to it, poor J kept trying to substitute other things, because he was trying to dig, and the point was better. The baby refused to share though.

It was 5:00 by the time we were all set up, The J Bomb was keen to try out the pool, so Daddy and him had a quick swim, followed with a walk on Dicky’s Beach. After showers, we wandered across to a gourmet fish and chips store for a tasty meal of prawns, beer battered chips and fish. Mine was barramundi with a pesto and Japanese crumb. Totally delish.

Back home to our three rooms.

Not the greatest nights sleep, The Accountant had forgotten to pack the port-a-cot, so the baby was with us, and had a tendency for constant movement and wanted to cuddle up close. Of course he slept, well, like a baby. Mummy and Daddy not so much.

J Bomb and I woke up early the next morning, so we headed down and checked out the beach. Then we bought some muffins and juice from the bakery for brekky.

We had a lazy Sunday morning on the beach and in the swimming pool before packing up the tent. I had been worried about setting up the tent, and had not even considered the complexities of pulling it apart. I tell you, folding the fly was such a challenge! Our bag full of tent gear was considerably larger then when we arrived. No doubt we will perfect the process in time. While we were there folding it all up, while the boys played happily in the dirt. I looked at the Accountant and had a flashback of all the times I had played “Mummy’s and Daddy’s” as a girl. I had such a sense of contentment and awe that we weren’t just playing anymore. We were the Mummy and Daddy, and we I feel a profound sense of gratitude to God that we have been given these roles.

Lunch at the surf club at Kings Beach. The J Bomb had a play in the water spouts on the esplanade. Then onwards home with two tired happy little campers in the back.

So am I a happy camper after our debut family camping trip? Well, during the overnight trip, I did have many flashbacks of why I don’t like camping. Shared toilets/showers, (even if they were clean), noisy campsites, lack of privacy, guys spewing over walkways from the big night they had, lack of sleep, dirt… But when I looked at the happy smiles on my boys faces, (Accountant included) I think that the lack of creature comforts are a small sacrifice for the great opportunity to create family memories. So, my camping days have begun, and I’m actually looking forward to the next chance we will have for a getaway.
Continue Reading

Fish Update.

Mickey has a good strong constitution and has survived the water changing incidences. Since the breed is originally from Thailand (Siam) and used to warmth, I got the brilliant idea of putting him in the lounge room, which gets very warm thanks to the afternoon sun. He is not completely satisfied though and has put in a complaint that in my hurry to ‘save his life’ I put him in a bowl without dusting it. Am now considering how to change his water so he has a cleaner living environment.

Continue Reading

Get Better Betta.

A few weekends ago on 10/10/10 my cousin Jacquie got married. It was a gorgeous day and in the tradition of family weddings and funerals, a great time to catch up with the extended family.

We have a momento of the wedding now. Well, two if you also count which wasn’t the lovely coaster bonbonniere’s. The table centrepieces were a vase that contained a fish. There was a lovely letter next to the vase asking people to provide a home for the fish after the reception had ended.
My sister decided that the J bomb needed a new fish. I tried in vain to remind her the reason the fish tank was unoccupied at our house is a sad tale, that would have any innocent fish shuddering, and may possibly scar their 3 second memory. Then I claimed that we couldn’t take the fish, because we weren’t going home directly, but rather to Bundaberg and a 9 hour drive to get home would not be helpful for the fish. She kindly offered to transport the fish home. The fish looked lonely and unwanted. I gave in. Mickey was coming home with us. I have no idea who Minnie went home with.

I thought that perhaps Mickey may not get to reside in our place, my nephew became quite attached to him. Unfortunately the brother-in-law is able to resist my sister’s compelling arguments more than I can, and once the fish had the happy occassion of going to school for show and tell, he has now become a resident at our house.

On his trip home, we had a brief stop where I talked to my other sister who said the Betta fish – Siamese fighting fish – preferred warm water. Unfortunately our tank is not warm and cosy. Unfortunately I did not share this information with The Accountant in time. Unfortunately Mickey was deposited in the tank. I left him there for a few hours hoping that he might acclimatise. You never know, maybe he would grow an extra set of scales as a substitute for a woolly jumper. Alas, when I checked on him before bed, the fish was in what I now call “The Dying  Corner”.

We have had three batches of goldfish. They are all now deceased. First there was Bibble, Bobble, Bubble and Boo. Then there was Captain, Admiral, Skipper and Kamikaze. The last tank residents were the fish that we bought on the day of the 2010 elections. Farley, Gilly, Abby and Libby. Despite being blessed with such fabulous goldfish names they were not long in this world. We have checked Ph, water levels, put anti-biotics in the water, etc. But the reason for the appalling mortality rates remain a mystery.

So, last night when I saw Mickey in the dying corner, I was alarmed and decided to take immediate action, removing him from the cursed tank and putting him into warm water in his vase. It seemed that this move quite startled Mickey, and  he spent equal amounts of time swimming on his side (never a good thing) and trying to jump out. I then found an old fish bowl, so made the water a bit closer to lukewarm, and tipped him into his 3rd home for the night. After googling Siamese fighting fish in a panic and saying a prayer for his health and wellbeing I went to bed. Mickey has survived the night, so now I am contemplating our next move to ensure his longevity.

Continue Reading

Assault by Glitter

Sometimes, when I’m rushing around at night trying to get dinner ready by a reasonable hour, I will let the baby boy get into mischief, just to keep him out of my hair. Bub currently has an obsession with pulling things out of my handbag. It’s a pretty harmless past time, He pulls all my bits and bobs out, makes a huge mess, (particularly if he finds a packet of tissues), then crawls away. It can keep him occupied for up to half an hour, so this is a huge bonus. When I saw him checking out the bag during my dinner prep rush, I was relieved and continued crumbing the fish. The thing is, if you can get dinner ready by about 1815h, then you will leave plenty of time for the food to be consumed, the child’s teeth brushed, baby fed, books read, including the customary pleading, and eventual relenting, for “just one more”. So that should all go well, we OUGHT to have 2 sleeping boys by 1930h. The reward being grown up time for me with husband dearest.

This time, when the fish was crumbed, the vegies cooked and table set, I bent down to throw all the stuff back into bag and was very astonished, horrified, and a little amused to find gold glitter all through my hand bag. I had no idea how baby boy had got a hold of the glitter, I thought I’d left it up high, but instead it was scattered through the bag, covering every crevice and corner.

What was a lot less amusing was when I was out in public the next day searching for something in my handbag and glitter was puffing through the air. I apologetically said to the nearby person who just got a sprinkle of glitter on them, “Sorry, the baby tipped glitter into my handbag.” The glittered stranger started chuckling and being very forgiving. At that point, J bomb decided to get full credit for the glitter incident, and confessed that it was in fact he that tipped it into the bag. Whilst it was funny for the random stranger to watch the drama unfold, I was less than amused to discover that this was the antics of a four year old who really ought to know better. His only reasoning for the glitter gag was that he was bored.

Maybe it’s time to take him on an excursion, maybe a wedding where he can throw a lot of glittery confetti will suffice.

Continue Reading

Doctor's Office

The doctor’s office is inevitably places where all mothers end up at one point or another during our mothering career. This morning was our turn! The boys doctor is fast becoming my doctor also, since my doctor, who has been seeing me since I was 8 works on the other side of town and is hard to get in to see. (That’s the problem of having friendly doctors, everyone wants to see them!) Luckily I discovered Dr. Nick who is much closer, which is always better when you have to cart sick kids down to the medical centre. He has lovely smile wrinkles, which gives me confidence that he ought to take it in good humour if one day one of my children ever vomitted on him. He’s also a Dad himself, so he tends to be a bit more understanding than the doctor down the hall who yelled at my two year old once for switching the light on and off repeatedly. (What do they expect to happen if they make the light switches low enough for a two year old to reach, I ask you?)

So this morning I booked appointments for the two boys and myself as we just haven’t been able to shake a lingering cold. As is often the case though, I booked the appointment two days ago when my sinus was giving me such an unrelenting almighty headache, probably not helped by the nocturnal activities of the boys refusal to sleep since they too were unwell.

Poor old Dr. Nick was running late, as is the doctorly custom, so was trying to rush the appointment, without being rude. He gave up trying to rush after seeing my list and was nice and patient listening to all my concerns. J bomb and I were declared that we would be better very soon, (Hurrah!) The baby had a nasty ear infection so has antibiotics (Boo.) I have a referral to another dr, although Dr. Nick warned me that this referral will probably assist Dr. E. to put a downpayment on a new luxury car. (Eeep!) The baby’s penis is fine, it’s not infected, (Phew) and my skanky toenail has been clipped and scraped (EEEEWWW!) and sent to the lab to be diagnosed. Imagine if that were your job, to analyse toenail clippings. (Gasp.)

So thanks Dr. Nick, see you next month for Trent’s needles.

Continue Reading

Beware – Another Mummy enters the Blogosphere.

So this is it. My debut blog! Welcome to me! (In my head there is a gentle applause and lots of smiling faces murmuring that it is good that she’s finally arrived.)
There is just too much funny stuff that happens in life that ought to be reported on like the time the baby ate glass and the boy pee’d on the dog. Sorry. I agree, that’s not funny, that’s just scary and gross. Will report on funny at a later date… or I’ll just make gross and scary sound funny. Whatever works.
I am looking forward to the blogging experience and hope that I do gain an audience as I tell the tales of my life. Let the blogging begin!

Continue Reading