Day 82 - 1.5.2012

It's been 8 weeks since I had the baby, and I thought that my 'baby brain' would have disappeared by now.

This afternoon I did something so incredibly stupid that I think I need to be assessed for brain shrinkage.

I went to Target to do a little browsing. 

NB - I don't buy as much there as I used to, contrary to popular belief.  If you ask me, Target seems to have gone a little too upmarket.  These days, it's like a Portmans for people who don't mind wearing ill-shaped clothing.

But I digress, whilst I shopped for baby suits (all the ones at home have vomit on them, best to keep buying new $6 ones, it's cheaper than washing), the heavens opened up.

By the time it came for me to leave, it was absolutely bucketing down! I could barely make out where I had parked the car. Of course I got soaking wet and my cereal now needs to be eaten immediately, as it has turned to mush. That's OK I thought.  I can't loiter at the shops any longer, as it will be like this for hours and the babysitter has other things to do.

So I switch on the car's ignition and Elvis springs to life (a CD, I have not named the car Elvis).  I amble out of the car park, desperately trying to see in front of me. I have not seen rain this heavy since last winter. I have my lights on and the windscreen wipers are going so fast that I am worried that they will jettison like a passenger on a dodgy roller coaster. 

It's only a few kilometres until I get home, I think to myself.  

The traffic is bumper to bumper, but surprisingly no-one is going under the speed limit, except me. They are mad! I think to myself. I have never been in fog so thick. It is at this point that I wish I was in my 1990's vehicle which has fog lights. I am panicking that someone will rear-end me at the up-coming traffic lights. 

I fiddle with the stereo as I am not fond of the track 'Don't be Cruel' as it now reminds me of Cheap Trick.

I am getting a little warm. I expect it is nerves, so I switch the air conditioning from mid-range to cool. I am almost home. 

The fog suddenly lifts.

I have been driving with a fogged up windscreen since I left the shops!!  No wonder everyone else could see where they are going!

What a flipping idiot!

Day 81 - 30.04.2012

People are always commenting on my baby.  They appear in dress shops, pop out from behind sticks of celery, or comment whilst I am choosing a dvd.  Typically they ask me if the baby is a boy or girl before launching into inane commentary. I have learnt to decipher their 'compliments'.

This is what I now hear:

'Look at that beautiful baby'

Translation: It's better looking than the mother, and that's not difficult to achieve!

'Is it a boy or a girl?'

Translation: What the fuck is that thing?

'Your baby has very chubby cheeks'

Translation: I bet it has cellulite on it's arse.

'Does she cry much?'

Translation: I hope you get one hour's sleep per night.

'What a gorgeous smile'.

Translation: Where's the teeth? She is developmentally behind!

'Did she weigh much at birth?'

Translation: You put on a lot of pregnancy weight!

'Will you have another?'

Translation: Are you having sex with your husband yet?

'Where did you get that outfit?'

Translation: I hope you didn't pay too much for that ugly pink onesie!

'Did you get many hand-me-downs from relatives?'

Translation: You look poor.

'I bet the Grandparents are proud!'

Translation: Love is blind.

'She likes to talk!'

Translation: Shut that thing up - I'm trying to eat in peace!

'Does she like going for walks?'

Translation: Can you take her for one now?

'Her hair looks blonde'

Translation: Are you the parents or was an embryo donated?

'Someone is going to fall in love with her unusual eye colour'

Translation: What a freak!

Day 80 - 29.04.2012

Today CupCake and I visited the nursing home where my Grandfather lives.

As usual, she slept through the whole experience, leading him to believe that she is a cherubic child. My theory is that she is used to hearing us wax lyrical, as she travelled to the nursing home several times a week whilst in utero. 

CupCake's listening skills do worry me. What will her first words be? I have taken to saying 'bok bok chicken' to make her burp. What if 'bok' is her first word? And is 'bok' a word? 

She may say 'Liquorland', as my Grandfather is prone to doing. Or she might be more left-field and replicate the shrill sound of the alarm clock?  Time will tell.

I go to the nursing home to receive 'Don't tell the midwives anything if you are feeling depressed - they will take your baby away' advice. I also go to give 'Don't threaten the staff with knives or they might detain you under the Mental Health Act' advice. No-one else can make my Grandfather and I stay on track.

Today I was offered a few extra pearls of wisdom. One related to child-rearing. My Grandfather stated: 'The little kids are like dogs, when you talk softly to them they listen. It doesn't work all the time - you have to have an occasional smack.' 

The other related to security. 

I questioned if my Grandfather was afraid of being broken into. He said no. When I queried why not, he said: 'Number one, I learn karate and I know how to chop, and number two, I can throw the knife'.*  

He even had actions, and pretended to chop an imaginary person in the throat.  I am worried about the knife though. His throw is not good - it is more like a drop. Therefore his own feet would be at risk if a burglar broke in. Perhaps he needs a samurai sword. That way the tip will land away from him, and may trip over an intruder.

* My Grandfather is of indeterminable ethnic descent. Choose your own accent when reading this in broken English.

Day 79 - 28.04.2012

Help!

I am being held to ransom by a terrorist cell. One of its members has moved into my spare bedroom.

Members are easily identified by their lack of teeth, bald heads and inability to speak the English language.

They communicate by screaming unintelligible words and sounds, and by shaking their fists in the air. Do not get too close, as they kick like a mule. I myself have suffered a blow to the stomach this very morning whilst preparing the terrorist's attire (at their consent) for the day.

Beware of their toilet behaviours too. Members will relieve themselves anywhere at anytime, soiling many outfits in their wake. They also have an unappealing tendency to vomit after meals whilst at the dinner table. 

Remember - they are not your friend.

They are babies.

Day 78 - 27.04.2012

I went to a baby settling class this morning.

During the class I learnt that babies see pastels as shades of grey. This made me wonder why so many baby clothes are produced in pale pink and blue. Surely they are looking around their buttercup yellow (grey) nurseries in utter disdain.

I used to have a workmate that was colour-blind. He had devised a clever method for clothes shopping over the years. He would scan the tags in shops, and if they stated navy, blue, aqua, turquoise or marine, the item would be bought. As a result, he was always colour-matched, but looked like a Chinese Communist.

He missed out on a lot. It was hard for him to complement his dates when attending weddings, and to compliment a co-worker on her shade of lip colour. They all looked grey to him. I suppose when black and white TV was in fashion, this would have made little difference as we all saw people this way. Think of the Munsters. If we all were colour blind, we would be free to have the black lip colour of Lily.

A world steeped in greys would probably mean that greater emphasis would be put on the cut of clothing, rather than on dazzling hues. The standard of clothing has dropped significantly since the 1970's, and I blame the introduction of colour television in 1975.  

Another boon of shades of grey - we would not bother to dye our hair as we aged. And the only accessories we would need would be a white string of pearls.

Day 77 - 26.04.2012

My grandfather is in his 90's. He won't last forever. He is at that stage in life where if I have something to tell him, it's best to spit it out. Once over 90, every micro-sleep could be the final one.

A few things have been plaguing me, so I decided to have a tough conversation last weekend.

My grandfather had told us repeatedly for 30 years not to put too many items upstairs as the floor might collapse. He repeated this again to me again a week ago. Curiosity finally got the better of me. I asked, was the workmanship so shoddy that I may fall through the ceiling at any time?

No he said. He just didn't want too many books upstairs. 

Glad I waited to ask that one.

I have often been told that I was the naughty baby and that my sister was the good one. I decided to ask about my sister as a youngster, to see if there was any correlation between her behaviour and CupCake's.

I was told a startling truth. My sister was good during the night. When she was asleep! During the day, and I quote; 'She was a pest and always wanted me to to read her stories'. Clearly I must have asked to be read Cinderella 24 hours a day to qualify as a full-time irritant.

I've been gathering advice from my Grandfather over the past few years. The elderly have a lot to share. This week's pearl of wisdom was:

'When you see a white label on a scotch bottle, you know it's rubbish'.

Previous quotes have included: 

On insomnia: 'Have whisky at 3am'.

On voting: 'Write shit on you and put your ballot paper in the box'.

On shopping: 'Take 25 cents, go to the shop and buy yourself a coke'.

On restaurants: 'I only go because you pay, otherwise they are a waste of money'.

On Jackie Collins: 'I never knew a woman could write eff, eff, eff! She is very filthy'.

I feel I have really learnt something from him over the past 12 years.

Regardless, I have decided that when I die, I will shout out one of the following famous last words (whilst Bon Jovi's 'Blaze of Glory' is playing in the background).  They are almost as good as my Grandfather's quotes.

Either that wallpaper goes, or I do.
~~ Oscar Wilde, writer, d. November 30, 1900

Get my swan costume ready.
~~ Anna Pavlova, ballerina, d. 1931

I should never have switched from Scotch to Martinis.
~~ Humphrey Bogart, actor, d. January 14, 1957

Day 76 - 25.04.2012

Dawn French is currently advertising a new 'fly buys' package here in Australia.  She is sporting a new asymmetrical hair-do and seems very excited about the plastic card and its benefits.  Dawn urges us to sign up to the programme as soon as we receive our new card. I did this today.

Whilst doing so, I was surprised to find that Coles supermarkets keeps a dossier on my purchases.  In an off-shoot web page, Coles told me what I buy on special, spend the most on, and buy most often.  I was 'shocked' to discover the following (drum roll please):

Products you buy when they are on special

Whiskas Cat Food 400g packs

Cadbury Block Chocolate, Old Gold & Bar of Plenty 100 - 220g packs

Creative Gourmet Fruit 300g and 500g packs

Pantene Shampoo and Conditioner 350mL packs

Nutella Chocolate Hazelnut Spread 220g - 1kg packs

  

Products you spend the most on

Whiskas Cat Food 400g packs

Tomatoes

Nutella Chocolate Hazelnut Spread 220g - 1kg packs

Strawberries and Blueberries

Sanitarium So Good Milk Soy Long Life 1L packs

  

Products you buy most often

Cadbury Block Chocolate, Old Gold & Bar of Plenty 100 - 220g packs

Tomatoes

Mushrooms

Capsicums

Sanitarium So Good Milk Soy Long Life 1L packs

I need to ask myself the following:

1. Why am I continuing to buy vast amounts of cat food, when he has been dead 4 months?
2. Why do I buy strawberries when they are out of season and at their most expensive?
3. Do I not need toilet paper?
4. Are the frozen fruit the same varieties as the fresh fruit?

I can also conclude that:
1. I stockpile nutella when it is on special as I do not buy it 'most often'.
2. If you come to my house for dinner you will get a platter of Cadbury Old Gold chocolate, some blueberries and a salad made out of mushroom and tomato. I will also offer you a milk drink, will attempt to wash your hair and will give you a take-home sachet of cat food.
3. I am a creature of habit.
4. Mr Cake must be buying all of the sensible food at another time.


Ahhh Nutella, we always say yes to Nutella!

Day 75 - 24.04.2012

I am rapidly gaining weight. I got on the scales today and I am almost where I was in January 2011. This is not a good thing. I must get out and exercise. And I must stop eating crap. And I must not have wine time each evening.

What is holding me back?

1. It's raining.
2. I don't know where the rain hood is for the pram.

3. The baby always seems to be fussing.

Where am I going wrong?

1. I am no longer able to jump out of bed at 6am and go for a saunter - at that time I may only have just got back to bed from a night feed.

2. I am eating too many chocolate bars because the baby does not give me any time to boil an egg during the day.

3. I am still wearing my maternity jeans so I think I am thin.

Why will I make a change?

1. It will be my birthday in a month and I'd like to weigh a bit less.

2. I don't want to look porky in all of the baby photographs (and regret it).

3. I don't want to keel over from a cholesterol-induced stroke.

When will I start?

1. Tomorrow.

2. Day after tomorrow.

3. After the weekend.

Day 74 - 23.04.2012

The home-care baby nurse has offered to put my name forward for a position in the crazy house.  They have places for ladies who have had babies that don't sleep.  My problem is that it is not just the baby that is not sleeping, but me too.  I am increasingly finding myself awake when I should not be.  Repeats of the 'Love Boat' simply are not that scintillating.  But tell that to my 3am brain.

I am loathe to take the nuthouse position as I do not want a record of my being bananas. This could be used against me in any capacity at anytime.

Does this train of thought put the baby at risk? Only if I collapse from exhaustion whilst holding her I say.  So for the next few weeks, I will dress CupCake in a Sumo suit. Better safe than sorry!

Day 73 - 22.04.2012

Migraine today. And I hadn't been drinking.

It was the kind that makes you see double and spots, and came on all of a sudden.

I had to pull over at the side of the road when driving, and ask Mr Cake to come and get Cupcake and myself.

I couldn't be trusted not to pass out on the way home. Bedtime now.

I need eye-ball rest.
I am unable to touch type, as I learnt tech drawing at school instead.

Day 72 - 21.04.2012

I like orange. Not oranges, just the colour orange. In fact, I don't like Cointreau, so if we ever got to a bar together, don't get me a B52. And definitely don't buy me a blue lagoon. Blue Curacao is an orange abomination.

I think my love of orange stems from a citrus baby blanket I once had.  The formative years can be blamed for a lot. Although I prefer red-based oranges, not those that err on the side of yellow, I now have a football team to follow - the new GWS (Greater Western Sydney) Giants team. 

They look young. I suppose when you are that age you are used to running around. Young males spend a lot of time running after a sex partner and opportunities, and running away from cab drivers and responsibility.  This makes them good on sports grounds. 

For a fan, an orange team is economical. You can go to any discount variety shop and pick up high-visibility clothing and socks, and voila! Instant team colours. Likewise, come Halloween, fans would have an outfit pre-prepared.

I quite like the GWS song too. It's in the old fashioned 1940's style, and makes me feel like going into battle. You can listen to it here:

http://www.gwsgiants.com.au/theres-a-big-big-sound-from-the-west-of-the-town.html

Sing along and wave an orange witches' hat (pick up one from your local council depot) around chaps:

 

Well there's a big big sound
From the West of the town
It's the sound of the mighty GIANTS

You feel the ground A-SHAKING
The other teams are quaking
In their boots before the GIANTS

We take the longest strides
And the highest leap
We're stronger than the rest

We're the Greater Western Sydney GIANTS
We're the biggest and the best

And we will never surrender
We'll fight until the end
We're greater than the rest

Day 71 - 20.04.2012

After several days, my new dry cleaner claimed that they could not wash any of my items. 

On a whim, I passed by my old cleaner (based in a petrol station) and discovered that they were open. The had not shut as I had previously thought.

I picked up my items today. The teddy bear was still unclean. Not to be dry cleaned, they said.

The shop-keeper (the father) gave me some advice on how to brighten the bear. Apparently I am to use some brake fluid on the stuffed toy. I need to spray this on with a paint gun, leave it to dry and then brush the residue off. I need to then repeat this process with water. He claimed to have worked for the Hilton Hotel, and cleaned their curtains at a cost of $200,000 over a twenty year period. I think he was talking about a single set of curtains, and the Hilton Hotel may have been a pub in the suburb of Hilton. It was a little unclear, as he does not speak English and I do not speak Arabic.

Enthusiastically, he led me to the sales rack of car products. I shook my head politely at all suggestions.

Please note, this same shop sells Mars bars for $3.85 and Cadbury Crunchies for $5.50. I believe these are the prices of the future (2040!).

In other news, I no longer have diabetes - rocking roll! I celebrated by having a chocolate spread sandwich for lunch today. This also explains why I am large again. Diabetes was good for one thing - it acted like a tapeworm and ate all of my body fat. 

Perhaps I need to have another baby in order to return to thin.

Day 70 - 19.04.2012

I have saved the River Murray!

The Obstetrician says that I no longer have to have two salt baths a day.  Sitz baths they call them.  Probably because you sits in the bath *boom* *boom*.

I've never been a fan of baths, so sitting in hot water for extended periods of time has been a trial.  I kept thinking of all my breaking capillaries.  And the newspaper kept falling in, mid-read.

But on the plus side, I finally got to use my duck with devil horns, and shaved my legs in the bath like they do in the movies.  I suppose this is a more elegant than shaving in the shower.  There I resemble a flamingo with Parkinson's disease.

I have lost my hearing though, as the exhaust fan sounds like it is powered by a diesel-run generator.  It turned the bathroom into a cone of silence, which made it an excellent hiding spot from a crying CupCake!

Day 69 - 18.04.2012

Usually you can see the person you are talking to. Unless you are on a landline, are blind or have your eyes shut due to an alcohol-induced migraine (but you want to hear who you did last night).

This morning I had an unusual experience. I was standing in CupCake's room, making all sorts of baby noises so that she does not fail to learn goo and gah. Unusually, the fence next door is approximately three feet in height, built on the cheap. Or for pervs. This makes walking around in the nude an impossibility, or at the very least, an offence.

When I hear a cry, before I rush to the baby, I always grab my boobs to make sure I have a top on. (I don't want a recurrence of the topless rubbish disposal incident of 2011). 

But as per usual, I digress.

So I heard my neighbour ambling along the corridor alongside her home (I can just see her over the 'fence' as she is 5 feet nothing. She could stand in for Kylie Minogue as a stunt double). It's clear that she has heard me as her head turns like a Magpie in nesting season. I call out 'Hello!' We then proceed to have an entire conversation based around the benefits of chamomile. This conversation is bi-lingual and involves old wives' remedies. As she was in the sun and I was in the shade, I could see her, but I doubt she could see me.

This lack of privacy reminded me of living overseas, and being in very close quarters to neighbours.

Victoria Sponge, making the uncommon usual.

Victoria Sponge, now wearing pants at night time!

 

Day 68 - 17.04.2012

Today I was drawn towards giving a harmonica player $5. Usually I walk past the beggars (they rotate the spot - sometimes it's a guitarist) with the flock of other urban workers, rushing to get to our desks to check Facebook.

But not this time.

I sat on a park bench (that has probably been urinated on by countless drunks), ate a pastie with sauce out of a paper bag and waited for my sister. During this time I listened to the harmonica and watched every single person walk on by without stopping or throwing their change.

I had no idea that we all did this. I felt ashamed.
Are we all so dismissive? I presumed someone else was throwing coins.

It appears we have all been so hard hit by the GFC, that unless the beggar was willing to give us a tax receipt, we were not going to part with a cent. 

The beggar must have really thought we liked his music, as my sister also gave him $5.
And this was her donut money.

He didn't look like a drunk. Or a drug addict. Or a robber. Perhaps he was just trying to scrape together enough change for a Cafe Primo $9.90 meal. Glad we could give it to him. 

Day 67 - 16.04.2012

Do you ever find that your the one always apologising, or keeping the peace? That's me. We could be friends,  fight and race to make amends.

Today I waved an olive branch, and it was accepted. This is ironic, as most of the fights my friend and I have had are about trees.

How did I apologise today?

Me (when passing ex-friend):  'Hello, don't you talk to me anymore?'  (Set to accusatory tone). 

An opening line, not well thought out at all. 

But that's all it took. 

Maybe now it's your turn? 

Don't throw away 25 years of friendship like we nearly did.

Day 66 - 15.04.2012

I can handle the lights in the lounge room and kitchen turning on and off of their own accord. I can cope with hearing the bathroom cabinet being roughly opened and closed (and I am the only one home).

But what I cannot cope with is seeing white orbs flying across the baby's room whilst watching the baby monitor! This happened on Friday night - several times. I noted that on all occasions, the baby was wriggling and unsettled. When baby was still, no orbs appeared. 

We had no lights on in the room, this was all captured via a night-vision camera.

Perhaps baby is being kept awake by these flying spirits? Regardless, I won't be reporting this to the midwife on Wednesday, lest she think we are the Addams Family.

Day 65 - 14.04.2012

My dry cleaner has closed down! I discovered this horror today when I dragged my summer quilt cover and my sister's teddy bear to the venue. (CupCake has now claimed ownership of the bear that once fell into a garage sale pile).

The dry cleaner was actually an agent that worked out of a ridiculously expensive petrol station. I always thought the business was a front, as it was so dishevelled and the dry cleaning so cheap. This too may have been a ruse. Perhaps the owners did nothing more than run a Big W purchased garment steam cleaner over items. 

In order to obtain cheap dry cleaning though, I had to endure an element of sexual harassment. This ranged from the son declaring 'I love you like my cousin, I love you like my sister, will you be my girlfriend?' to being told that I am a very pretty lady and where did I live? When I got engaged  last decade, the father was furious and told me so. I always hoped the mother was working when I dropped in, even though she had a bad case of alopecia areata. I never looked her in the eyes as I was always staring at her shiny bald head.

Regardless, I managed to get a quilt cover, two long coats and a satin dress dry cleaned for $15 every time. 

And it's not the first time I've put up with sexual harassment to save or make myself money. As a youngster, I was subjected to a boss who loved nothing more than to press his sixty-year-old flesh up against mine (as he placed a fifty in my palm). To this day, I look for a random touch on pay day and often find myself riding in peak-hour trains just to try and emulate the experience. And I live seven kilometres from the nearest train station.

So to recap, I am now in the market for a cheap dry cleaner, and quickly. I have the teddy bear in the baby capsule, and I need to use it on Tuesday. 

Day 64 - 13.03.2012 FRIDAY

This is the day where bad things happen. Supposedly. Well, I can report that I have had an altercation today without leaving the front yard.

I stepped outside with CupCake, and a large dog (I'll say HUGE even) came bounding forward, aggressively barking at me. I am a cat person, so I did the first thing that came to me - I screamed a big lady scream!

I was scared of this big hulk of a dog. I thought it was going to eat my little baby. 

As we live along a walking trail, I wasn't sure whose dog it was. I then went into round two of instinct. My rant went a little like this (loud enough for people a kilometre away to hear):

GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME YOU FUCKING UGLY DOG!

In retrospect I wish I had not said this. Not because it turned out to be the apple & pasta thrower's dog (neighbour), but because I said the word fuck too often. It loses it's impact if said repeatedly.

What I should have said was:

GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM ME BEFORE I RAM A STICK UP YOUR ARSE YOU UGLY SON OF A BITCH! AND IF YOU ARE A GIRL DOG, YOU WILL NEVER HAVE A BOYFRIEND! AND TELL YOUR OWNER TO GO EAT A FEIJOA! SKIN AND ALL.

I need to re-live the moment.

Day 63 - 12.04.2012

The baby does not scream because it hates me.

The baby does not yelp and cry because it hates my touch.

It is more than likely that the baby has reflux, a home care nurse has told me.

A pamphlet featuring persons from a low socio-economic group was thrust into my hands yesterday.  I failed to identify with the cover couple, but due to family history, have been classified as high risk. This means that I could go tropical bananas at any time, or throw myself off a footbridge due to post natal depression. To date, the only thing I feel like doing at a bridge is feed ducks stale bread.

Regardless, a panel has decided to track my progress over a period of two years. I feel similar to a shark that has been micro-chipped. My travels to the local K-Mart will probably show up on a radar *blip* *blip* *blip*. I suppose they need some success stories to keep the programme running. Cupcake and I will be this.

I just hope the baby whose place we have taken stays safe.

Day 62 - 11.04.2012

How can a diet of caffeine and chocolate be good for me? This is what I have survived on for the past 5 weeks. These delicacies have kept me going during 1am, 3am, 5am feeds and throughout the sleepless days.

I was very 'proud' of the fact that during my pregnancy I only ever gained 6 kilos. Due to gestational diabetes and the accompanying diet, I think I lost weight. Now I am putting it all on and more.

I am unable to exercise for one more week (the 6th week, under doctor's orders) and am increasing in girth. Soon people will be asking me when I am due, not how old my baby is!

But until I fall into a diabetic coma, I say LONG LIVE LINDT!

Day 61 - 10.04.2012

CupCake and I went out by ourselves! 

In the car! 

Unsupervised!

I even managed to engage and disengage the pram by myself.  (I trialled this last week, and used the 'bashy bashy' method to open and close it. NB- 'Bashy bashy' has resulted in broken PC's & other household goods in the past).

We feel so grown up.

Because the environs smelt different and there was a lot of noise and movement, CupCake hardly cried at all. We even had our bottle 'takeaway' lunch  while out. 

Next stop - Westfield Shopping Centre!

Day 60 - 9.04.2012

They say that women carry everything but the kitchen sink in their handbags. This may be true, but I can reveal that new mothers carry a lot more in their dressing gown pockets.

This morning I found the car keys in my pocket. What were they doing there? Had I been out for a midnight jaunt and forgotten?

Digging deeper, I also discovered a glow-in-the-dark dummy, a pink-ink pen, a tube of paw paw lip balm, a $5 note, a torch, a birthday card and a tea bag (not used).  

Last Friday I was packing an Easter Rabbit, a pair of sunglasses, clean black knickers, a flannel and the TV remote control in my dressing gown.

Lost the salt shaker? Can't find your camera? Looking for last week's Sunday paper? Better check my pockets! I have become a walking bower bird that pitifully declares 'Can you help me, I seem to have lost....'

My mind.

Day 59 - 8.04.2012

Housewives have hobbies.  Some knit, some crochet and others smock.

I am severely lacking in these handy-woman's skills, but have decided that I need an outside interest.  I require an activity that will stretch my mind and give me a mental escape from the baby.  After much thought, I have decided to collect paper serviettes from shops.

Here is my first one:

I must now create a sign asking guests not to use the napkins. They will have to wipe their hands on toilet paper instead (unless of course I begin collecting rolls from restaurant toilets).

Day 58 - 07.04.2012

Baby's first trip to the Barossa Valley and cellar doors today (at 4 weeks old and 1 day).

We started at Lou Miranda winery and then travelled to a bakery where baby had a bottle (don't tell Mr Cake that the hot cross buns I bought cost $9.35 for six).

We pushed on to Gibson Winery where CupCake had a nappy change in the car boot - like a homeless person's baby.

We strolled into Eldercare Wines* - despite it being famous, I'd never visited before due to a conflict I had with the business' son in the 1990's (i.e. it was clear he disliked me for being too goth / weird / introverted / lacking wine knowledge). I bought wine.

We then travelled to Hermitage* Wines where the cellar door gentleman raved on and on. He was the kind of person that has taken the job out of chronic loneliness. The type which tells you their life story in great detail, but has little interest in hearing yours.  Sound familiar? These people usually dismiss your troubles 'it will pass' and are jealous of your success 'oh you were in the right place at the right time'. 

Purchases made, we drove to Layback* Wines where some French tourists refused to try any wine 'we're driving' and bought two bottles of the cheapest plonk they could find in the sale bin. I sensed this was a 'present' for a host family.

I ended up purchasing bulk port and muscat for my barrels at home (it will be winter soon, and I'll be bunking down with CupCake and an open gas fire). I also bought some expensive port as I was co-erced into tasting an un-released, new and exciting product. It was so revolting, that anything I tried immediately afterwards was naturally going to fall into my shopping trolley. Perhaps this is a marketing ploy. Feed the customer crap, then something passable, and they will purchase.

Screams started to emerge from the back seat when we were an hour away from home. I turned around in my seat and breathed some fortified fumes in CupCake's face, hoping that this would assist her to settle. It's not suggested in any baby care books, so I will pioneer new methods and publish a book in due course. It already has a working title - 'Babies brought up on booze from birth.'

* Names changed.

Day 57 - 06.04.2012

They predicted gale force winds today, with winds expected to reach 50 kilometres an hour.

I think they did, judging by the amount of feijoas that were thrown from my tree today.

We also had many items sailing around the back yard of their own accord (i.e. ladders). I now understand why my Grandfather used to tie them down with rope.

Anyway, despite the unwieldy weather, at 2pm I overheard the neighbours using a leaf-blower in their backyard. I'm not sure what they hoped to achieve, as the blower would never be able to compete with nature. Perhaps they were assisting the leaves to soar up into the tornado-like suction of the heavens, and trespass over into adjacent yards.

I just hope they didn't fall into mine. 

Not that I could tell one species of leaf from another.

Day 56 - 5.04.2012

One thing that terrifies me is someone asking me to take off my pants when I least expect it.

This happened to me today. At the physio.

I was also given an internal examination to check my pelvic floor.

To say I was surprised is an understatement.

What if there was a tiny piece of toilet paper stuck to my lady bits and the physio saw it?

Quelle horreur!

Furthermore, from a waxing point of view, I was a full moon.

Perhaps I should have said 'can we do this next time?' (this echoes of me at the dentist, being told that I need a filling). There is no point. I would probably be as ill prepared in the future as I was in the present.

And what of my floor?

I need to visualise that I am drawing the sides of my vagina in together. And I need to lift my anus up towards my pelvic bone. 

Apparently I can do this anywhere, even on the bus.

*lift* *squeeze*

... and release....

Day 55 - 4.04.2012

The neighbours are such avid weeders, that they form a congo line to do so each weekend.

Mother, Father and Son each take a pole position at the start of their front lawn and methodically work their way towards the kerb, picking out weeds as they go. If other relatives are visiting, they also take part.

This activity starts at 8.00am and finishes no later than 10 (the backyard must be weeded from 10am).

The trio carry a plastic bucket each, colour co-ordinated to their gardening outfits. One wears blue, one red and another yellow.

Although I have no evidence of this, I am fairly confident that they also place the ants, black beetles and ladybirds that they come across into their buckets. 

They really like to control nature. So much so, that each day at 4pm the front lawn is raked of leaves. You can set your watch by it, then race inside to watch 'I Dream of Jeannie'.

Nothing has changed in 40 years. Except we now have AstroTurf and leaf blowers. Perhaps I should place some brochures in their mailbox? They could allocate any time saved to their gutter maintenance programme.

Day 54 - 3.04.2012

Interesting facts:

My plastic chopping board smells like a combination of vomit and Parmesan cheese that has been left out in the sun. I am throwing it out.

I am on the same stool softeners as my Grandfather. Our stools are different colours though as mine are black from taking iron tablets (his are yellow from eating too much pasta in an ethnic nursing home).

Small, solid Easter eggs are currently at the top of my food pyramid. Unwrapping the foil slows me down a little, so I eat less food. You should try the 'unwrapping diet' too. That means NO FRUIT AND VEG - they are too easy to consume and will make you pile on the kilos.

There are fifteen free to air television stations, and nothing on tonight. The shows I did want to watch were on last Thursday, and the baby screamed through them.

Until recently, I thought coleslaw was pronounced 'coldslaw'. My error was only discovered when I went to look up a recipe and was led towards cold sore treatment in lieu.

A vapour trail has never begun where I stood. Nor finished. Unless it is my own.

I have lost all of my pregnancy weight within 4 weeks, even though I am housebound and have not done one iota of exercise.

I am scared of looking in mirrors. I still think my reflection might move or another person appear behind me. 

I have 13 seats in my lounge room, and another 9 in the adjoining dining room. But I am yet to have more than two people over at any one time.

I have never used the word usurp in a sentence. I think that might be because I am politically apathetic.

I bought twelve hot cross buns at a school sale today. They are very salty. Sodium aficionados please note - Kytons bakery at Daw Park made them.

I did not think any of this through before typing. I was panicked that I might forget to add to Victoria Sponge today. Please, if I ever do, come and drag me out of the Easter egg aisle of the local supermarket. I'll be there until Sunday, rendered motionless by coloured foil.

Day 53 - 2.04.2012

At this time of year, you will often find me with my arse up in the air.  I do this in the front yard, in full view of all neighbours. You see, it is feijoa season, and they are only edible once they fall from the tree.

Approximately 2 kilos fall each day. I find myself endlessly outside, bending at the waist instead of the knees, exposing my bulbous rear end to passers-by. Luckily for viewers, the choice of knicker is rarely a g-string.

The feijoas do pose a minor problem, as I cannot eat all of the produce. Likewise, as they are an acquired taste, people are reluctant to try or adapt to them.

Sure some taste fermented and others bitter, but every now and again you hit feijoa perfection. And don't be fooled by size, bigger does not always equal best. 

Last year I found that supermarkets charged $1.50 per each feijoa! Based on that, I must be eating $10 worth each day.

So if you want some, please come and collect. I'll show you how to pick them up, old ethnic lady style!

PS - Wear a helmet - they hurt when they drop on your head. Oh and don't park under the tree unless you want feijoa dents on your bonnet.