Day 52 - 1.4.2012

I had another dream last night. In this one I was in hospital and had been told that the disease I had was terminal. I was in a shared ward with several other people, and decided that I would euthanase myself by taking the tablet offered. I was in a public hospital which offered this service in order to free up beds.

I swallowed the tablet and asked the nurse how long it would take before I was dead. She responded that it may take between one and twelve hours. I started to worry as I was anticipating hours of pain ahead.

I was also told that I may have to share my bed with two other people as they had none spare. We would all have to lie across the short length of the bed. 

I was not happy with this impending arrangement.

Meanwhile, my sister and husband had caught wind of the fact that I was going to euthanise myself, and came into the hospital. They were quite cross at me, as they had wanted me to die naturally so that we could share a maximum amount of time together. 

I then began to panic that I had made an incorrect decision, but alas, euthanasia is not reversible.

I did not see me die in the dream - apparently we never die in dreams and if we do, we die in real life. Or so I have been told, by someone very much alive.

Upon waking, this dream led me to scour the internet for methods on human euthanasia. It seems that a lethal injection or gas are the most common methods utilised.

Unfortunately one particular site I read went into great detail about animal euthanasia and how to undertake this task. I was appalled at what I read. In my opinion, the methods offered are for cheapskates who don't want to take their beloved animals to the vet as it costs money. 

I recently paid $250 to have a pet euthanised and would never have employed the method listed below. (Do not read ahead if you are a fragile pet owner).

http://www.freeinfosociety.com/article.php?id=138 suggests that:

'If you have to euthanize a pet that is seriously injured or ill, this method can easily be employed using a plastic bag and some household chemicals. The reaction of vinegar and baking soda produces large amounts of carbon dioxide. A pet's head can be covered with a loosely sealed plastic bag with a hose coming out of it and going into a second container. Inside the second container, the vinegar and baking soda is mixed, and it reacts, creating large amounts of gas, which is forced through the hose as a result of the pressure inside of the second container. The gas will fill the plastic bag (make sure that the extra gas has a way of leaving the bag so the bag doesn't explode) and eventually replace most if not all of the oxygen. Once the reaction is done, seal the bag off as best you can and allow the pet to inhale the carbon dioxide until it is safely deceased. The process must not be interrupted for any reason since oxygen deprivation is known to cause severe brain damage. The time that the process of euthanization takes depends on the concentration of carbon dioxide and the physical size of the animal.'

Just sickening!

Day 51 - 31.03.2012

I had the strangest dream two evenings ago whereby I was visiting a gentleman's house whom I do not know. It's also hard to remember what he looked like, as dream people are often a mish mash of those you know, or do not present clearly.

This particular man had several boxes of blue tissues scattered around his home, which was enough for me to notice that there was a distinct lack of any other variety.

The dream lead me to fondly recall the multi-coloured box of tissues that was available in Australia during the 1980's. I presume that Kleenex made them, and I hope they did, as I have just this moment written to them asking for the return of this particular tissue box.

The box was large and each sheet was of a different colour. The tissues came out in order, white, yellow, green, blue, pink, over and over again. I thoroughly enjoyed pulling the white, green and yellow tissues from the box, in order to reach the coveted pink and blue ones (peach wasn't invented back in those days). 

They made having a cold fun.

Now you must excuse me, I need to draft an e-mail to the Swisspers company asking for the return of coloured cotton balls.

And as for my dream man, I think he may have been a misogynist.

Day 50 - 30.03.2012

I was going to type about a little-fascinating dream, but then I went to the mailbox and things changed.

Do you remember me saying that my Grandpa's best friend will no longer go and visit him at the nursing home? Well, this man and his wife live around the corner from me, and today I received a congratulations card for Cup Cake in the post from them.

They actually posted the card.

The post box is one street behind me, and they live one street in front of me.

This means that they had to pass my house to get to the mailbox, and waste 60 cents to boot!

Meanwhile, I also received a hand-delivered piece of correspondence from the local Protestant church. Someone had carefully written my address on the (unsealed) envelope and popped it in my box. They also called me Victorio when my name is most definitely Victoria.

Thrifty.

They saved not only on postage, but on penning a full character.

Day 49 - 29.03.2012

Life is not very exciting when you're confined to the home for 6 weeks. 

Another 3 weeks to go and I can drive!

There is not much that I can report except to go into great detail about a typical day of mine.

It resembles this:

Wake up at 1am - feed baby.

A fresh start to the day! 

It has only been an hour since I last saw her. 

Approximately 4am - feed baby.

Another fresh start to the day!

And no, the newspaper has still not been delivered yet.

Another random time - wake up suddenly & listen for baby.

No baby noise? Jump out of bed and race towards kitchen for hot cross buns and iced coffee.

No time for bacon and eggs!

Time for ablutions.

When half undressed, and rather cold, the baby cries.

Re-dress.

Spend next three hours entertaining baby with food, play mat, meeting the post-man and watering plants.

Hop around when holding baby after drinking a 'real' coffee. (Yes I have turned into one of those people.) 

Answer the telephone when baby not screaming, type with one finger whilst dipping baby towards keyboard.

Baby dozes.

Race towards shower for the third time, turn on exhaust fan.

I hear nothing.

Jump in.

Realise hunger has struck.

Stare at clock. It is 4pm.

Eat toast and chocolate bar.

Have another coffee.

Baby screams.

Pick baby up.

Hold baby until 5pm.

If possible, nap between 5 and 5.30pm, otherwise put baby in a papoose, do dishes, make bed and stand at door with screaming baby, waiting for husband.

Forget husband is working late.

At 8.30pm, slide to the floor and order pizza.

Get confused as to what day it is and hurl abuse at television for playing the wrong shows.

Day 48 - 28.03.2012

Baby poo is not brown like adult poo.

It is dark green, the colour of a bad Oscars frock.

Surprisingly, it does not stay green.

As more slithers out of the world's tiniest bottom hole, the poo turns yellow. 

This I find fascinating.

Both colours resemble infected snot, un-furry caterpillars and house paint that should never be made.

Both Green and yellow poo scream 'stay away' to onlookers. They are not colours to be celebrated.

As a result, I would like to move a motion that the Australian Olympic team no longer wear or be known as 'Green and Gold'.

Tell the Herald Sun what you think of the new Olympic uniforms here:

http://www.heraldsun.com.au/sport/london-olympics/fashion-designers-less-than-wowed-by-new-olympic-uniforms/story-fn9dheyx-1226312585135

Further, I think that the Green and Gold Cookbook should be banned from all libraries and that holders be asked to burn copies in their local town square. If you do not live in a town with a square, then holders are asked to burn cook books on a convenient piece of squared paving.

Let's remove ourselves from the shit.

 

Day 47 - 27.03.2012

Friends and allegiances change over time. People say things that we don't like, which leads us to run for the hills and block our ears.

For a long time, I thought this behaviour was age (20's, 30's) and sex (female) related.

Clearly I subscribe to stereotypes, as yesterday I heard the most incredible piece of gossip.

I live on Ramsay Street, Neighbours Town. Everyone knows everybody's business and keeps dossiers on each other.

I am aware of facts such as whose daughter was expelled from school in 1976, whose son likes to wear feather boas to bed, and who committed suicide in their home (death by shotgun). 

NB - That house just sold at auction again. That's the second time since the old man carked it - I think it's haunted.

Living in such close quarters, it doesn't take long to hear 'news'.

Imagine my surprise when yesterday I heard that my Grandpa's best friend has decided not to visit him in the nursing home anymore as he 'does not like the way my Grandpa has treated one of the other Ramsay Street residents'.

I beg your pardon? He is 91 and you have decided not to visit him? You realise that the next time you see him will be at his funeral? Old people sometimes think they have more time on this planet than is destined. 

On the plus side, it means that I am not stopped for a chat every time I exit the home by these busybodies, as I am presently being ignored and didn't realise!

Here's a tip - if you are offended by something that is said, how about you speak up at the time, and not skulk off and hide for the rest of your natural life. After all, you could be in that closet for a long time.

Day 46 - 26.03.2012

My neighbour does continuous clothes washing at home. I hear the washing machine going non-stop all day, every day.

I am beginning to think that she and her husband, (both 50 odd), and their late 20's daughter, all pee the bed at night.

What other possible explanation could there be? OCD?

Perhaps if a human hand touches fabric, it sends her into a washing frenzy?

Alternatively, if a piece of clothing accidentally falls on the floor, or is caressed by the breeze through an open window, it must hit the water immediately?

Maybe her house is covered in fleas, and instead of using bombs, she washes the insects down the sink hole. They are hardy creatures though, and cling to the plug hole with all their might. When her back is turned to address a bubbling pasta sauce, they launch themselves back into the bed clothes.

But the most likely cause is that my neighbour has dribbled too much shit, and needs to clean up after herself.

Day 45 - 25.03.2012

Cupcake has given me more reason than ever before to do my two favourite household chores.

I'm really into doing the clothes washing and putting the rubbish out in the bins.

I think this stems from being young and not being allowed to use the washing machine 'it's a waste of water!' I was told, and being forced to hand wash every item of soiled clothing.

This is not very economical, as I make a lot of bubbles, and a lot of extra water is then required to wash away all of the soap suds. 

The rubbish bin frenzy also stems from when I was young and I was made to put the trash outside every night as my mother was too scared. She did not like the section of the garden where the bin was located as it was dark, and could only be lit once you were actually in the vicinity. 

So I was sent out instead.

But I digress.

I never knew that a baby would create so many dirty nappies. I am in and out the house like a mouse out of a cartoon hole, plastic bag of wet nappies in hand. If there are any bogey men outside, I am sure that one swift smack to the face with soiled diapers would send them running. 

And I can tell you, I am not hand washing every sheet and onesie that is vomited on or dirtied. 

It now appears that we have three outfit changes a night. I place Cupcake to bed in one outfit, and during the course of the evening, two more changes are had. This can be very confusing when a different parent arises to attend to the child's needs and finds baby in green when she was wearing red just hours before. 

The other household chore I quite like is mowing the lawn. To date, I have not found how a baby can make the grass grow any faster in order for me to undertake this activity more frequently. I suppose if I threw some of her manure onto the lawn, sections might sprout quicker?

Or it may just attract cockroaches. 

Day 44 - 24.03.2012

Help - someone has eaten my day.

I am living a life not dissimilar to a non-working dole-bludging person.

I am up all night, sleeping late, having a shower in the afternoon, nibbling on generic-branded potato chips and using full-strength coffee as a stimulant.

OK, so maybe the dole-bludgers don't have the 2K coffee machine, or the fancy beans, but we both sport track-suited bottoms, from K-Mart. And they're last season's.

The dole-bludger and I watch daytime re-runs of The Nanny, and look forward to 'cheap Tuesday' so that we can go to the cinema on a tight budget and order a pizza that we don't need, at a price which totals pocket-change.

Neither of us is reviewing the careers section of the paper, and we are avoiding our landlord at all costs. Especially if they want to come over and pick lemons from their tree, except we now describe the activity as picking lemons 'off of' a tree. Our grasp on the English language has disintegrated since we have had minimal contact with the outside, professional world.

I've stopped wearing make-up everyday. That's money saved, I figure. I also notice this makes me look younger (bring on the compliments) and more tired (bring on the offers of help).

Finally, like the unemployed, I now think it's perfectly reasonable to be the 'free' when a 'buy one get one free' voucher is utilised.

If only I could leave the house.

Day 43 - 23.03.2012

A benefit of having a baby can be the broken sleep. 
Take last night for instance, I actually dreamt for a change.


It had been several weeks since I last fell into a state of REM which allowed me technicolour dreams. 


But I didn't bank on last night's dreams.


In one, most of the population had been turned into zombies. These were not the usual kind that had rotting flesh dropping from them. They were sneaky zombies. You could tell that they were unwell, and that they wanted to kill you, although they looked human.


As a result, uninfected people in my dreams trusted the zombies and thought that they would come to no harm. The barriers that they put up to protect their homes at night were very flim-flam. A huff and a puff from a wolf would blow their little houses down. 


I was staying at a venue which was mixed species - both zombies and humans co-habitated. In my nightmare I was just about to get bitten when.....


CUPCAKE SCREAMED!!!!!!!


Tragedy averted.


In dream number two last night my grandfather was telling me off for not earning enough money. We were walking across the western parklands whilst discussing this. I began to get offended when....


CUPCAKE SCREAMED!!!!!!! 


So, twice last night she had me up when nightmares turned nasty.

Day 42 - 22.03.2012

During my pregnancy I attended ante-natal classes. These were held by the private hospital and run by trained midwives.

I used to go for the chocolate biscuits, even though I had diabetes.

The classes were boring, and gave a saccharin-sweet representation of birth and delivery.

Gems that popped out of the midwife's mouth during these classes included:

'You won't be able to have your pants on for the delivery'.

On what to bring to hospital: 'Bring in soft savoury biscuits... well there's not that many (on the market)'

On gas and the gas hose: '...we throw it in the bin (after use)... unless you want to take it home and use it as a garden hose'

(On your newborn): 'First babies can be quite mangled looking'.

Once these classes were over I thought I would not receive any more advice.

WRONG!

Upon giving birth (and hemorrhaging quite badly) a midwife said to me:

'If you were in Africa you'd be dead under a tree (from the birth)'

and

'Babies look like their fathers so they don't get eaten at birth'

and

'I've seen absolute train wrecks of peri's!' (Periuneum).

I'm not sure if she was trying to make me feel better, or if I was being included in this category.

Though I did wonder if I was a black or white woman under the tree, and what species it was.

And if there were any lions nearby.

Day 41 - 21.03.2012

I just had 6 and a 1/2 hours sleep in a row.

I panicked and thought the baby was dead, so I got up.

It isn't.

Cupcake (the baby) is just worn out from partying until 1am.

Having a baby has given me a whole new set of concerns.

At top of my list is:

1. Is baby enjoying the purple toy octopus hanging from it's crib? Further, can baby tell that it is a sea creature even though baby has not seen the sea? Should we go to the beach today even though it is raining, so as to give Cupcake perspective? Or would taking her to a fishmonger suffice? I need some tuna for tea anyway.

2. Does baby mind wearing boys clothes? Even when people comment on what a beautiful boy she is?

Refer yesterday.

Lady in shop 'Oh what a beautiful boy' (Cupcake had an electric blue singlet on)

Me: 'It's a girl'

Lady in shop 'Oh I couldn't tell, she doesn't have her eyes open'

Me: 'I usually check their pants to see what they are, not their eyes'

3. What happens if baby does not sit still long enough to have their nails clipped? Do we enter the Guinness World Book of Records in a few years' time for longest set of baby nails? And how does one invent categories to enter anyway?

Ooh I just sneezed and did not pee myself.

I think this is going to be a good day.

Temporary hiatus 15.03.2012

Victoria Sponge will write again... as soon as she comes to terms with life as a new mother.

Give me a week while I sort out a routine with 'cupcake'.

I promise to put the butter-cream icing back into your life.

Day 24 – 4.03.2012

Nesting is a real disease. I can vouch for it.

The need to purchase items and get everything in order before the baby shows its head can be very consuming.

I’m not sure that I am an average nester however.

My purchases have been a little odd, to say the least.

Of note are:

• 2 x leadlight lamps in the shape of the Eiffel Tower (in different colours)
• A copy of Better Homes and Gardens magazine (I don’t home or garden)
• A new pillow for a side sleeper (I am not one)
• A set of lemon-coloured towels with owls embroidered on them
• A calligraphy book
• A wrist watch in the shape of a love heart
• Slippers in three different colours, blue, green and pink, so that I can co-ordinate footwear to my sleepwear outfits
• Ten blocks of Cadbury Chocolate Mousse family blocks (they were going out for 99 cents each)
• Photo frames that light up and flash in various colours
• Strawberry muffin mix and a mousse tube of that fake pink 'frosting'
• A silver pedestal bin for every room in the house
• A blue fitness ball (If I ever run out of seating, it can be a quick fix for visitors)
• Birthday cards for the next six months’ worth of friends’ birthdays (and I have labeled who is receiving what)
• 48 rolls of toilet paper
• Sample pots of paint in beige, dusky pink and midnight blue, as they were $2 each
• An Elvis CD

• The same breastfeeding top in various sizes because I don’t know how large I will be post-labour
• A telephone address book – I’ll need to handwrite everyone’s details in
• A pair of hot pink sunglasses
• A set of red cocktail glasses etched with snowflakes (50% off)
• Eye-shadow in vivid electric blue and yellow (in case I am ever invited to an 80's party)
• A book of ‘puppy’ stickers
• Linda McCartney frozen meals – six in the same flavour: wild mushroom pie
• A really sad fairy tale book about a hungry & scared cat (I could only read the last page, it was so upsetting)
• Ten tubes of toothpaste as they were 20% off at Coles
• Walking trail maps of the Hills
• A bottle of Strega liqueur (I've never tried it)
• Four different night-lights so that I can chop and change between Mr Lion, Mr Penguin, Mr Frog and Mr Elephant
• Foot mats for every outside door
• A Scandinavian-English dictionary
• … and I have also completed my Easter Egg shopping (except I might go back for the $10 Red Tulip egg)

In retrospect, I think these items will be Kris Kringle gifts for the next 20 years…

Day 23 - 03.03.2012

Since we moved house two months ago, a lot of things have gone wrong.

Here is a running list of what we have experienced, which I think is a little more than average.

1. The cat died. 
2. Mr Sponge got electrocuted changing a light bulb. It was an old chandelier and the casing surrounding the globe was metal and it touched a live wire…… 
3. We are over-run with black ‘sugar’ ants in the kitchen. I think it might be sitting on an ant hill! We can't leave any food out.
4. We had to get the air conditioner installers back three times before the air conditioner would work properly. Now it's dead again. We will try another company for the fourth fix. Real nice when it's 36 degrees.
5. The sewerage system blocked up from the house to the street and we couldn’t use the toilet or the laundry or anything. It was rock solid chock-full of poo at the outlet in the street! There was poo coming coming out of our kitchen sink and in the driveway!! 
6. We had a very active wasp nest in the backyard. I called a wasp person that the council recommended and had to pay for him to throw some talcum powder on it (that’s what they use!) and take the nest away. I have since found another one out the front…. I think I’ll just leave it be! 
7. A neighbour has been throwing rotten apples over the fence! I caught her red handed doing this.
8. A particular relative has started writing crazy letters again.  
9. Mr Sponge's beer has been exploding in the outdoor kitchen.  
10. Tenants won't sign a 12 month lease unless we put new electrical work in an asbestos shed, we build a gazebo in the backyard, we install picture hooks for them and a few other things.
11. There is a big leak in the roof. I could hear water gushing in when it rained last week.
12. The hot water service stopped working.
13. My computer keeps malfunctioning.
14. Someone has opened their car door onto our new car, denting it.

Day 22 - 2.03.2012

Ethics: A set if moral principles or values (The Pocket Penguin English Dictionary). This week I find myself asking what are hairdressers’ ethics?

I have been attending a new hair salon during my pregnancy as they offer the option of an ammonia-free dye. The salon is in the city and as a result, not really convenient for parking. Last time I went, I parked the car in a 15 minute zone for 2 hours, and somehow did not get a parking ticket. Perhaps this is because I drive a 14 year old car that looks like a homeless person lives in it.

I have had a long-standing appointment booked so that my roots could get done before the baby arrives. The day before the appointment my hairdresser phoned to tell me that they had moved. I was a bit surprised as nothing had been mentioned at my last appointment.

The new location was to the north of the city. It was difficult to find as there was no signage on the shop-front window.

At some point during the session I asked about the move, and was told that the business I had been attending was still open! It appeared that these two hairdressers had broken away in a hurry and taken their client base with them.

I had been poached!

At least they wanted me. The waxer that worked in the same salon had left the month before, and did not call me. I had turned up for an eyebrow appointment only to be told that she was now working from home. My bushy eyebrows didn't bother tracking her down.

So do I go back? 

I'm not sure.

It’s convenient to change hairdressers every couple of years so that you can tell the same old stories and obtain good reactions.

Day 21 - 1.03.2012

I had a fright at the nursing home today. I went to use the toilet and after sitting down, I found that the toilet paper was covered in poo.

This means that the last person to use the toilet must have wiped their bare bottom with their hands, then reached out to grasp some toilet paper. They must have then decided that they didn’t need to wipe any further as they may as well go back to their room and buzz for a nurse.

I felt sick. When I stood up my worst nightmare sprang to life. The toilet seat was covered in blackish-brown ‘mud’.

And this is the visitor’s toilet.

I hope I don’t get dysentery. 

Day 20 - 29.02.2012

I used to think people at work were annoying.
I now see that the general public are worse.


I have recently encountered two more instances of rudeness.

In the first instance, I attended a suburban bank.

The car park was small, and an elderly woman could not reverse easily to exit. It was fascinating to watch her undertake a 20 point turn from my street position. I sat in my car and gave her all of the time that she needed.

Unfortunately other motorists grew angry at me for waiting, and started to gesticulate and carry on. I smiled and waved, and pretended that we actually knew each other.

One old man became so infuriated that he drove past me, swung into the car park, and blocked the woman from exiting. She was clearly upset by this manoeuvre, and I couldn't understand his hurry - he must have retired in 1980.

These morons forgot that we were all going to the same tiny bank. Upon entry I told the old man off for rudely making that turn and told another woman off for gesticulating at me.

Have they no patience and can they not see when a fellow human being is in trouble and needs a little space?

The woman then tried to be my friend and told me the oddest story.

Apparently her mother has dementia and recently found herself driving on the wrong side of a major arterial road. The old lady did not know how she got there.

The woman did not think that maybe her mother should give up her licence....

In the second rudeness instance, I went to dinner in a well-known Italian restaurant in the Port of the city. Upon entry, I found that there were 5 tables filled with diners, and 35 tables free.

There were two soft comfortable booths available.

As I am one and a half weeks away from giving birth, I asked the waitress if I could sit in one. She said no, as they were set up for four persons, not two. It just wasn't possible to take away two sets of cutlery.

I told her she had better hope that two lots of four diners turned up.

They didn't.

And what did I think of the food?

It gave me heartburn at 3am, and nobody likes an Italian sausage on repeat.