Month: September 2005

As I write, Kim may be going into labour on the Manly Ferry. Or not.

But if she is, I’m sure we all wish her a safe journey and a joyous return.

mtc
Bec

how can couscous taste so good?

Tonight’s dinner – when I finally got home at 8 – was couscous, a lime juice/olive oil dressing, diced zucchini, capsicum, tomato and snow peas and mint and coriander, with a tin of Sirena tuna in pesto. Divine.
The boys had one of their top 5s – honey soy chicken wings w/ steamed rice and broccoli – with Mum and my Uncle (about the only sane one in her entire family – you know, the cool groovy uncle you grow up thinking is God – that one) so they were happy.
But couscous, oh divine multi-skilled couscous. I could eat you each and every single day.

As I indulged the minutae of life by watching the first instalment of the latest America’s Next Top self-obsessed supertroll (I can’t tell you how much I LOVE this show and all the hideousness it represents in remarkably shallow bitchy I’ve-come-from-a-hard-life-where-my-mom-didn’t-buy-me-everything-I-wanted subculture of American women) you’re gonna make me have to THINK???

Far out.

What about the following options:
a) Two women, six kids. You work it out.
b) Tired, cranky and mildly obsessive. . . two women striking that work/life balance
c) Two women over thirty, six kids under ten. . . going mad since 1998.
d) Glamorouse: when well educated intelligent women go bad.
e) Glamorouse: when looking good means the clothes are clean.
f) Glamorouse: sleep deprived since 1998.
g) Glamorouse: when a good night out is really a good nights sleep.

just a starting point.

I know this seems pretty bloody obvious now that we’re somewhere between a few hours and five weeks from the birth of Kim’s One For The Country, but very soon we’re not going to be the tired, cranky and retail-deprived working mothers of five-and-a-half kids, are we?

I love that catchline, Kim. I really love it. It appeals to every writerly and PRflacky impulse in me. It makes me smile every time I read it, even now. It has charm. It has cadence. It has quirk. I really, really, really, really love it.

I’ve been in denial ever since you hit the six month mark and so put us past the five-and-a-half kids and well into the five-and-two-thirds. You see the problem, don’t you? It just doesn’t work.

Then came the five-and-three-quarter kids, then the five-and-eight-ninths… I’ve been trying to tamp down this panicky feeling but it’s really taking me to – Kramer style – a baaaaaad place, Jerry.

Then you say to me today that judging by Felix’s overdueness you’ve might have another five weeks to go and for a few minutes that five weeks actually felt like a long time.

But it’s not, Kim. It’s not.

If you run through to 42 weeks, and I’m rounding off here in all calculations, that still means you are putting us currently at five-and-nine-tenths children.

Tired, cranky and retail-deprived as we are, we need to talk.

I can see only one solution. You know where I’m going here, don’t you?

You just have to hold it in, hon. Use those pelvic floor muscles like you’ve never used them before. Midwife says push, you say, hell no.

It’s a good catchline, Kim. It would be a shame to lose it for a little thing like birth.

mtc
bec

The fish. They have white spot (thank you oh Internet, fount of all wisdom). I went to scoop Gus out today but then he swam away. I figure I should give him the benefit of the doubt.

Anyone who has any suggestions (as for the third day I am sure Chef will not do as I request and go to the fish shop for guidance/water treatments/life-saving-measures-for-the-fish) or experience in this regard feel free to share.

Sleep – apart from now waking to turn over and going to the toilet twice a night, regardless of fluid consumption in the, oh, TEN hours before going to bed – I am feeling much better this morning.

I raised the shelf location with Chef and he – naturally – thought that was where I wanted it. (the concept of spite is completely lost on this man.)

You all do realise that I really don’t care where the shelf is (Chef is putting it up on the wall – ie BUILDING something for heavens sake, as if in a sane mind I wouldn’y just be sitting back marvelling at the miracle that is) so thank you all for indugling my need to just be a cranky tired teary pregnant woman.