Lost & Found....

Being pregnant dishes up all sorts of weird & wonderful things that your body doesn't normally do, some of them horror-story-esque... others, just eye-rollingly, head-shakingly ridiculous.

OK sure, we all know your boobs do their thing... preparing to become a human milk truck is pretty taxing on the puppies and they, well... grow. Without getting too technical, and mindful of TMI,... during pregnancy you are advised not to wear underwire bras as they can interfere with the whole process... which leaves you the (not-so-fabulous) option of the soft cup bra.

Anyway - pointless as it may seem, one purpose the soft cup bra has surprised me with in the past 8 months is the fact that they double as a bonus pocket/pouch/wicket keeper's glove. So handy if you're out & about & need to stash some change for the parking meter, your mascara & mirror, or half a cheese sandwich for 'ron.

Actually. this ain't far from the truth... I can list 10 things, in total honesty that I have discovered in my bra, much to my surprise, and mirth.

1. A Chicken Twistie - a nice big one, not just a crumb.
2. A Lego Block - Piffed across the room from me by a 2y/o with fantastic aim.
3. An Olive - it came off a pizza, I caught it, - look mum no hands - truly awesome.
4. A missing jigsaw puzzle piece. Turned the house upside down looking for it, and voila! Of course, it was in my bra - why didn't I look there first?
5. A Cheese Twistie. I love Twisties.
6. The lid to my eyeliner. - This one was just a good catch on my behalf. This pregnancy has also bestowed upon me a bad case of butterfingers. I am dropping everything, and anything dropped from head height will absolutely, no question, end up in my bra. - My eyeliner lid... she shoots, she scores... 3 POINTER!!
7. Popcorn. Go to the movies, there is no way half a bucket of popcorn wont end up in there. When half the box is gone, no problem, have a rummage, there's plenty left down my top.
8. Waterbottle lids in the car. Butterfingers-Me drops more water bottle lids in the car than is imaginable. 90% of them end up in my bra. Ba-doiing! Howzat!
9. Hair Ties. Trying to 'do' a wriggling protesting toddler's hair in the morning is challenging at the best of times, let alone when you have swollen hands and are rendered immobile under your 9-months-pregnant belly. - So when that hair elastic flicks off your fingers sling shot style backwards towards you, there's only 1 place it's going to end up. In your bra. - This happened to me today. Except I didn't know where it had landed, and found it 12 hours later, over dinner, "What's that you say? You need a hot pink hair elastic?! WAIT! I have one right here. It's your lucky day."
and 10. Ice. It's 3 degrees, it's a frosty morning, I have to drive the car. I have to remove the ice from the windscreen first. Crank up the heater on the windscreen, turn on the wipers, get the bottle of water (with lid, because I found it in my bra) undo it, pour it over the windscreen.. and SLOOSH... - a sloppy frozen icicle sweeps from under the wiper blade, goes flying through the air, slo-mo style and slaps me in the chest. And slides. To its oh-so-warm resting spot.
iiieeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!! Good morning neighbours, good morning dogs 4 blocks away, (yes the screams set them off) good morning Rubbish Truck Man copping a perve at the mental pregnant woman riverdancing with her head down her top grabbing at her boobs trying to remove the slurpee from her chest on a frozen Melbourne morn.

Any woman knows soft cup bras are completely crap at their intended job. However, as a multi tasking super mum with 25 things on the go at once, it's nice to know that my bra is looking out for me & helping me out with a few things I can't quite get my hand on. Popcorn anyone?

Big Head

34 weeks pregnant.
Had a scan just to check the progress of the little one inside. fabulous. wonderful. all looks good. OK, now let's measure her...

Here it comes... the 2 words you don't want to hear when describing your unborn child...

BIG.

HEAD.

AAARGHAAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAARRRGH.

aaand 6 weeks of growing to do in there as well.

Other words bandied around on the day included, nice fat rolls, chubby, nice round tummy and yes, the words etched onto my brain, Big. Head. (the other words might've been describing me... not sure, I couldn't hear much past Big. Head.)

Oh yes, now don't get me wrong, I am so thrilled that my 'Little' One is doing so fabulously in there - and I have the knowledge that apparently the 2nd time is easier because everything is pre-stretched... but a big head is a big head, and they come out head first and the head is the biggest bit and this head is particularly, big. Big. Head.

Right. I can only hope that Evie had the foresight to leave instructions in there. - Or in Evie's case, what NOT to do... (thanks Evie...40 degree day, 11 days overdue, Induced, Posterior, Not Engaged, Gas, Pethidine, Epidural, still not engaged and 18 1/2 hrs later, snip snip & helped out with forceps.) The instructions Evie left should read like this Little One... spin your head around the right way, & out we come easy as you please - nice brief 3 hour labour, hospital room with a plasma screen, no stitches and glass of champagne for mummy and high fives all round.

Seriously, somewhere in my mind, I actually believe this is possible.

Evie has been so fabulous with the imminent arrival of her little sister. (she calls her 'The Baby') She cuddles my tummy, lifts up my top to say hello to the Baby and always kisses the Baby goodnight. The other day she found my phone and proceeded to call the Baby. I asked her what she wanted to say to her little sister and she said,- like it was the most obvious thing in the world: "I Love You." awww (sniff, sniff, the gorgeousness of it all).

However, just this week, whilst cuddling her unborn sibling, head resting on tummy, tiny hand gently patting my super-stretched skin, her younger sister booted her in the head. - Evie recoiled and looked at me - eyes wide as saucers... the expression could only be described as "WTF Mummy?!" and I explained in simple terms that the baby had moved, and stretched out her legs and well... kicked... you... um, in the head. (eek)

Evie took a step back and stared at "her baby". The sudden realisation that OMG THERE IS ACTUALLY A BABY IN THERE dawned on her. - I could read her face - and it said... "I thought this was just a nice game we were playing... la-la-nice-baby, funny, doesn't look like a baby, thought mummy was a bit bonkers, just went along with the baby thing to keep mum happy, always thought it was actually just a tummy, but NO it's ACTUALLY A BABY! - I was born to a family of freaks. FREAKS! There' s a person in there!! THERE'S A PERSON IN THERE!! - AND IT HAS A BIG HEAD!!!!! - Good luck with that mummy, I left no instructions, but you should be right..."

Oh Dear.

It all comes back to those two words.

Big. Head.

Losing it at Northland.

Ohh dear. 25 weeks pregnant and I'm mad as a cut snake... (like one of those Natural Confectionery Co snakes, not one of those nasty Taipan types.) Vague? Yes. Forgetful? Ooooh Yes. Emotional? Oh yes. And most certainly carrying a very fine trip wire that can send me into the hormonally bonkers zone quicker than the Large Hadron Collider.

A fine example of this Temporary Emotional Insanity happened today.

I went to the local shopping centre to do a few chores, post some letters, buy a couple of bits & pieces and deliver on a babycino promise to my Little One.
We also had to buy a new drawing book, for Evie to demonstrate & hone her budding Matisse skills. We went to the art shop. The bright blue, plastic covered A4 visual diary cost $9.99. OK, no problem, here have my eftpos card... The 'delightful' sales assistant said - "Oh no sorry... there's a minimum $10 spend for eftpos".

Are you joking?
IT'S NINE DOLLARS & NINETY NINE CENTS. IT WILL BE ROUNDED UP TO TEN DOLLARS ANYWAY.

"ohh sorrrry. It just has to be ten dollars."

"SORRY BUT, IT IS TEN DOLLARS!"

meh.

You can't fight store politics with a narky arts student on Uni holidays working for $15 bucks an hour.

I hate to say it but she won. (but not before she copped a forlorn "Mummy where's my book" look from a Two Year Old.... followed up by a look of death from a pregnant mum who was livid and incredulous at the 1 cent knock back.)

So! We hightailed it to the newsagent. (With a stern mental note written in capitals and permanent texta never to return.) By now the babycino promise was wearing thin...
Newsagent.
Found a fabulous A4 green covered book.
Perfect.
$9.50 (HA! 49 cents cheaper! Take that narky arts student!)
Strode up to the counter.

"Oh sorry luv, if you want to use your card it has to be TEN DOLLARS."

Biting tongue, holding back steam from pouring out of ears, (actually holding back tears from pouring out of eyes at this stage)

Again: "ARE YOU JOKING? No I don't want some chewy. No I don't want a chupa chup. No I don't want ANYTHING ELSE BUT THE BOOK! - here - I'll give you 50 cents to round it up to ten bucks" - rummage in purse, spill coins, heart rate skyrocketing. (Wriggling toddler in pram was as over it as Mummy by this stage)

"No sorry luv, it's the boss' rules, there's nuthink I can do about it".

('Luv'. 'Nuthink.')

I have no words.

OK. Exit stage right, steer pram wheel into discounted Easter card basket, oops, blink blink, chin wobble, oh dear, the irrational pregnant hormones kick in right...... here.
(why can't I think of an amazingly witty (& cutting) thing to say? Why am I losing the plot? This is SOOOO NOTHING!! - So so so not worth the tears!)
Bleary eyed through food court, make no eye contact, look down, oops tears, why wont they take my money? It was 1 cent for God's sake. Sniff sniff. Keep it cool Kath, this is NOT worth crying over - oh man I used to be so together, GET A GRIP! The thought crossed my mind at this point, "If I run into someone I know now how on Earth will I explain why I am upset??!! - ohh boo-hoo-hoo the lady wouldn't let me buy the book?" From each of my friends, cue: Hysterical Laughter.

And through the insanity comes the sweetest little voice - "Mummy - can I have a babycino please?"

Ahh such beautiful manners. So much nicer than the two mindless morons we have just encountered.

So babycinos it was, and a nerve soothing margherita pizza with big fat (crave crushing) kalamata olives to share.

Truly though, the temporary emotional insanity that comes with pregnancy is baffling! I am a strong, secure, confident woman. To be reduced to tears in Northland over something so paltry completely rocks me. (Although it's probably not as bad as last time. When I was pregnant with Evie I cried buckets when Kate Ritchie won the Gold Logie.) Truly devastating. I have never even watched Home & Away.

However, after the dramas of the morn, the tale ends happily ever after, as on the way home, we found the same book at Officeworks for $4.95. And Evie performed a fabulous jumping rendition of Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (Daddy Bought a Motor Car version) to many Officeworks admirers, as a special thanks for letting us use an Eftpos card for a purchase of under $10.

Nestiness.

All kinds of crazy stuff is supposed to happen to you when you are 'with child' - ahh yes, the usual cravings and fat feet, but there are other surprises too... For example, how the "Nesting" Bug 'bites' affects us all differently. I banished the thought of Nestiness as a load of old wives' tales & hogwash - Pffft, I'm not feeling all cozy and nesty - bugger off with your Nestiness! - The Nesting bug won't bite ME! I suppose I should've been wearing Aerogard that day.

The most common bug of all, is the Cleaning Bug. The neat-freak cleaning bug is supposed to attack with such fervor, that your house is likely to be deemed unrecognisable by friends and relatives alike. Many of my friends swear they have turned the house upside down cleaning, scrubbing the benchtops til the Caesarstone is worn down by a centimetre or two, washing external windows 10 metres off the ground by climbing up a drain pipe and balancing with one foot on a balcony balustrade (at 35 weeks pregnant), polishing floor tiles with a toothbrush, vacuuming the shower, repainting the ceilings, cleaning bugs out of light fittings... in the exterior sensor lights... and of course, investing in a Dyson. Look, if you're going to be a pregnant clean freak - you should do it properly ok??!

I have had no such visit from the Clean Freak Fairies. In fact, last pregnancy I was rather taken aback (at first) to discover that quite the opposite fairy moved in with me... the Sloth Fairy. The Fairy who climbs up your shoulder - (after much heaving, puffing and complaining) and whispers in your ear, "It's ok, open the other packet of Tim Tams now and watch that drivel on TV, YES I can see the dishes in the sink too, pffft. Dishes, schmishes, you're pregnant lady, the baby WANTS YOU TO PUT YOUR FEET UP. (I love Sloth Fairy, we are so well suited.)

My Sloth Fairy, however, has a weakness. For Linen.

I suppose this kind of fits, Sloth Fairy encourages me to lie down, to rest, to sleeeeep, so really, she's just looking after my best interests. In retrospect, when I was pregnant last time, I really did get quite addicted to bed linen. And the maddening hunt for the ultimate 'Set'. Last time I drove 85 kilometres to pick up a matching pair of Esprit pillow cases, that have graced my bed, um... twice in nearly 3 years now? - (Orange Paisley. Glorious. Well Glorious-ly, um, bright. And TOTALLY worth it at the time, I just HAD to have them, it was the excitement of the hunt, the thrill of the chase, the mad dash down the Princes Hwy to snaffle them before some other mad pregnant woman did... - The junkie must have her hit.)

The other morning, at 23 weeks pregnant, I was minding my own business, wandering through a homewares store, and who should come clambering up my hoodie, puffing and panting but Ms Sloth herself. She thought she'd show her face again...
"Oh Hello Kathy, good to see you again... Shopping are we? Ooh just looky-looky at that queen sized quilt set, - It has a rather fabulous Orange Paisley on it, hmmm, I know someone who has some pillow cases that would look really quite fantastic with that quilt cover... on special you say? - Well it really is good to see you again Kathy... you're looking a little tired though, best stop in & get some Tim Tams on your way home"....

She's back.
The linen monkey is also back...on my back.

And the realisation dawns, perhaps I DO get "nesty" when I'm pregnant, and it manifests itself as a doona addiction. I'm fine with that.
(To be honest I've just had a shocking reminder that I actually bought a quilt cover set about four weeks ago, - it's gorgeous. Mulberry, textural, luxurious, deep warm colours for winter - mmm cozy) - and this purchase was made without a single thought or fleeting flashback to my previous pregnancy addiction... I THOUGHT THAT IT WAS JUST AN INNOCENT PURCHASE!... but apparently... not.)

And just for the record... I didn't purchase the oh-so-enticing Orange Paisley Quilt Cover the other day... but it HAS been a week now, and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it... Who's to say what will happen when Ms Sloth visits next? - Damn her for having such good taste. I just wish she'd stop by and bloody do my dishes.

Wonder vs Easy

It's well known that Bonds have a product out there called the Wondersuit.
And it truly is a wonderful thing. Currently they're designed & made in Australia from delicious soft & fuzzy cotton and I think you could put just about anyone in a Wondersuit and you'd just want to cuddle them senseless, truly they are the snuggliest thing. A Wondersuit has lovely long sleeves to keep baby warm, with cuffs that fold over to cover little fingers & to keep razor blade baby nails tucked away - because we are all too terrified to cut them.) - The Wondersuit features covered-in feet bits to keep those tiny tootsies toastie, and basic studs to do up from neck to knee, that anyone with 2 opposing thumbs can operate. ...And without sounding toooo much more like a commercial... they have just launched a new style - (no more daggy collar) - and a hyper-rainbow of fab new colours for winter, including the most excellent hot lolly pink - (which I have purchased in a teeny 000 for Number Two, who is now just 18 weeks away!)

It was during the purchasing process that I was reminded of an issue I had blocked from my mind.
Bonds also produce something called the EasySuit.
I ventured out of my way to my Bonds Shop Of Choice on two occasions to buy the lolly pink loveliness, (the 1st time, it was sold out, in all sizes! - 0000 - 2! and in most colours as well...) and there was a laaaarge hole in the stock where the Wondrous Ones once were... snapped up by other manic Bonds fans - such as myself.
Right next to the Wondersuit Section, was the EASYSUIT section... racks heavy with EasySuits in new colours as well, ahh but you can't fool me with your cute micro stripe Bonds... - (and it is just delectably cute,) When it comes down to it, the EasySuit, aint easy.

I stood there looking at them - (perhaps hoping that one of them would materialise into a Wondersuit Wonder Twins Style - "Form of a Wondersuit, shape of...a pink newborn triple 0") - when I noticed just to my right, a poor sleep deprived new Daddy, looking as forlorn and confused as can be, he turned to me, unshaven, bleary eyed and happy - (ahh new Daddies are so cute,) and confessed in fluent bloke - "Y'know these Easysuit things... - well I can't work 'em. We got 3 of 'em for presents and I'm bloody hopeless, I just can't work em."
Cue: Counselling session in the back of Big W... "It's OK, it's not you, it's the suit. None of us can work them, - here, have the last remaining Wondersuit, it'll change your life."
We went on to discuss now IMPOSSIBLE it is to calmly remove the suit from a crying baby with a disaster nappy (sorry it gets graphic here - poo up the back, down the legs, - nightmare) and how even though babies are remarkably bendy - it just looks plain uncomfy wrangling your bub into one.
When Easy Suits were launched, my babe was 6 months old and in a wave of hormones, sleep deprivation & doe eyed new mumminess I gooed and gaaaed at the adorable TVC for the new Easysuit, I caved. I simply had to have one. (wait through the flash intro, then click in the top left corner of the window where is says 'watch the ad'... grab tissues if you are a new mum, it's just gorgeous...)
The Easy Suit is an All-In-One suit with no studs or buttons, it makes visual sense and looks... well.... easy. The tricky bit is, um, putting it on.

Ok, I'll think about this in adult terms for a sec... Imagine if you had a top that had built in pants. An All-In-One body suit that you pulled on over your head, stretched it waaaaaaay down to your feet, put your feet in, then pulled the pants on over your bum and wriggled the rest of the top down your back. There it is. - Hopefully you have been going bonkers at Bikram for 4 years to achieve this or you are a Russian gymnast, then A- HA! Then you might understand the appeal... (until you have to go to the loo)
However, back to baby reality... if the idea of fiddling around in the dark, changing the 8th ballistic poo nappy in a row at 3:30am, after no sleep for a fortnight leaves you thinking there has to be an easier way... well for me... there is. It's a beautiful basic Bonds Wondersuit.
Easy. As. That.

Babycino Etiquette 101

Evie, the fabulous 2 year old in my life - is rather discerning when it comes to Babycinos. In her albeit short career as a Babycino connoisseur, Evie knows what she likes and what she doesn't. (What can I say? The girl has good taste.)

Evie's preference for the frothy stuff goes like this:

1. It must be about 50/50 milk to froth ratio.
2. A babycino must be in an espresso cup of sorts, (small latte glass is fine, small cup is also fine, served with spoon, on saucer, with 1 marshmallow please. Pink or white, both are acceptable.)
3. A babycino must have cappuccino chocolate dust on top.
4. A babycino must not be too hot - definitely not steaming thanks!
5. A babycino must not have CHOCOLATE SYRUP in it! (some bonkers Baristas think it's ok to slurp a large shot of pure choc into a 2 year old's 'cino... sheesh bring on the ballistic sugar rush!! "If I want a hot chocolate I'll ask for one thanks!" says Evie.) - err, and Mummy.
   
6. And most importantly, a babycino must leave a Dali-esque chocolate moustache from the edges of the lips and curling up the cheeks, created by the chocolate dust. - (This must also be almost impossible to remove with baby wipes. Maximum Moustache Staying Power please!)

Today Evie experienced a babycino of the worst kind.

It was:

1. Served in a takeaway cup, even though we were sitting inside the cafe.
2. With a PLASTIC spoon,
3. It was JUST FROTH,
4. No Milk,
5. No Chocky Dust,
6. No Marshmallows,
7. No Moustache,
   
8. And certainly, no love from the Barista at all.

Evie in her 2 year old wisdom looked at the froth cup, and then at me, then at the froth cup, then at me, put it back on the table after stirring it disinterestedly and asked... "Mummy go to the shops and buy some eggs?"
Either she is a genius, (yes darling, it does look like meringue) or she'd had enough of 'Cafe Dodgycino' and was outta there!

We didn't buy eggs, but we did hightail it without any further ado, to avoid the 'Froth-Wrath' of a discerning Toddler with the highest of babycino standards.

To Bacon or not to Bacon?

Boy is that a dilemma.

When you're pregnant the list of taboo foods is kilometres long. It starts off with your obvious ones: brie, camembert, sushi, potential dodgy leftovers, or Chinese take away that's been sitting in the bain marie for days.

The exclusion of a soft white cheese from my diet for 9 months is the cause of some grief, but to be honest, I'm not that bothered by it. I miss sushi, but no real tears there. Dodgy leftovers, well... I can fore-go 3 day old Spag Bol, ....and slightly congealed Chinese takeaway in a foodcourt bain marie? I wouldn't have gone there anyway.

But there is one thing on the list that breaks my heart. Every. Single. Day. Smallgoods. The food of the Gods. Hot salamis, mild salamis, pancetta, mortadella, kabana, prosciutto, - oh my goodness I miss prosciutto - shaved ham, baked ham, champagne ham, honey ham, smoked ham, ham on the bone, ham off the bone, I even miss twiggy sticks. (well, not really but you get my point.)

There is, however, a slightly grey area, that I have guiltily taken advantage of. No where on the taboo list is bacon.
I know that any person with mild intelligence and a slight appreciation of pork products will know that bacon really ain't that different to ham... But the silver lining, the listeria loophole that I'm hanging on to, is that you get to fry the crap out of bacon and cook it til it's smokin' hot. See-ya later salmonella!

Bring on the BLT!
Eggs & Bacon for brekky? - Yes please!
Bacon bits on a salad? - (can you eat salad without bacon? That's the real question here!!) Bacon on pizza?
Bacon on cornflakes? (I'll give it a go!)

Ration me with rashers and I'll be happy as a pig in... well, maybe the pig reference isn't appropriate in this situation...

Yes, I plead guilty to the Smallgoods Police. I have eaten bacon during my pregnancy. Not a lot to be honest, but if a little bit pops up in my pasta dish, I'm not going to cry about it.

However, it is possible that you might see a pregnant woman with a mad look in her eye, crying at the fabulous Italian deli down the road, (and possibly licking the windows.) If you do, you can always lure me away with the promise of a crispy steaming hot rasher of that salty smoked bacony goodness.