Day one – maternity leave

Firstly, lets go back a step.
Friday involved a farewell afternoon tea for me at work which I hadn’t wanted. It’s no secret that the last ten months or so at work had not been without their challenges and I had wished to quietly say my goodbyes and exit the building with minimum fanfare.
For those who know me at all, I can understand and begrudgingly accept how such an exit was just not going to do and was very much not like me at all … but just an indication of the road recently travelled.
Anyway, cue the afternoon tea and truly, it was the best way for me to leave.
Because I looked around at all these people from all different divisions of our organisation and truly realised that yes, I do love working where I work and there are loads of people I work with who I love working with, who I really like and indeed respect – and who in turn feel the same way about me.
It was absolutely lovely.
SaturSoccerday was even more manic than usual.
I didn’t go to soccer, I did a grocery shop that means we are stocked now to withstand well, the arrival of another baby. Seriously, if we buy anything other than fruit, veg and some meat (which I couldn’t get a lot of because of the crappy pathetic size of our freezer) then there is something seriously wrong with us.
The shop took as long as the boys were at soccer. And the same time plus some more again to unpack it all.
Then I had to make a birthday cake for Felix as his (belated) 7th birthday party was on in the afternoon.
Then I had a party of eight boys – eight fiercely competitive cheating boys – at putt putt golf.
It took two hours to do the 18 holes.
I had Jasper too. As well as my m.a.s.s.i.v.e. form, which hadn’t sat down since I had left to do grocery shopping at 8am.
Then there was the party afterwards.
What was meant to take two hours took three and a half.
I’m not kidding, parents came and left and came back again.
7 and 8 year olds boys are just CHEATERS.
This does not blend well with a competitive mother who is weilding power. I’m sure they think I’m an absolute cow, but it was kinda fun to scare them into thinking I was going to add to their score everytime they lied about how many shots they’d had.
When it was all finally over, I got to the car and didn’t have my key. (We’d taken two cars as Chef had to go to work about 20 minutes into the adventure.)
At the time I – naturally – blamed chef, but found it had fallen off my keyring when we – finally – got home.
I went to call Chef and go off at him for taking my key without telling me, but wheyheyhey, no phone either. It was at home on the charger.
I lumbered into the driving range office, where the guy behind the desk just looked scared.
He couldn’t ring my Mum’s number for me quickly enough.
Anyway, Mum came – as did my brother, who’d been visiting with my niece – and we all got home at about 6pm.
From a party that started at 2pm.
Jasper was thrown in the bath – with the worst nappy rash as he’d been sitting in a poo for the better part of two hours – because hello! entertaining 8 boys on a putt putt golfing party doesn’t equal any time or scope for changing nappies. Not that I could have because the bag was in the car and well, this is becoming the story that never ends. It just goes on and on my friends…
Everyone was hastily bathed and fed, I managed new deodorant and brushed hair and a change of clothes before I went out to dinner.
With adults.
Who are friends.
To chef’s new restaurant.
Where we ate, drank, talked, laughed and laughed and laughed until midnight.
It was
I was quite convinced it was result in labour but thankfully no.
Sunday was Auskick.
Then a picnic day being held by association that runs Jasper’s daycare – an organisation dedicated to early childhood learning and welfare, rather than money making.
The head office of which is based in Sydney’s inner-west.
There was sheep shearing, whip cracking, face painting, a sausage sizzle and all the rest.
Naturally all we required was the fire engine.
But the demographic of most using their services? Let’s just say it’s a lot more diverse than the Northern Beaches. There were t.h.r.e.e. separate occasions for me and Chef to remark to each other, “that little gir/boy has two mummies/daddies.”
Not that there’s anything wrong with that.
It was actually really refreshing and made me – once again – wish we lived somewhere I little bit more diverse and grungy. With cheap restaurants.
A gloriously warm winter’s day, but really, we were all rather knackered from the day preceding it, so headed for home.
And that was the weekend that was.
Which brings us to today, Maternity Leave Day One.
I sorted all the filing. The actual filing can happen tomorrow.
I just hung out with Jasper, as in, we played and read stories.
AND I had a nana nap.


tomorrow is my last day

I can’t really think about much else…

As you were.

The beginning of leaving

Today a group of us (kinda) spontaneously went out for lunch as my maternity leave approaches.

The air was fresh, the food fantastic and the people?
The people were just some of those who make my working world wonderful. Those I respect, who I laugh with and confide in, who know me.

Just lovely.

Today’s name is Maximus George.

Captain Cranky Pants

My GOODNESS I’m in a bad mood.
No idea why.
It’s like I’m premenstrual.
I’m watching The Choir of Hard Knocks and its making me cry.
Discovered tonight that Oscar wet the bed last night. Which I only found out about because I could smell wee in the lounge room – which was fermenting from his pyjamas which were on the floor, which is where the boys pyjamas always live when they’re not wearing them.

Pregnancy enigmatic moments and Nigella Lawson’s Mushy Peas

When the smell of bananas makes me gag (not helped by finally locating the smell in Oscar’s bag – a R.O.T.T.E.N banana) but I eat two banana toasted sandwiches for dinner.
How chocolate no longer holds any sway over me whatsoever. At all.
That – for the first time since Oscar’s pregnancy (there are two in between) – I can’t bend down or get on an angle to do up shoes.
Similar to Oscar’s pregnancy, if I stand for too long or “do too much” (read stand a lot, run around a lot, pick up Jasper a lot) I get early labour pains and have pinkish-brown mucus.
Sorry, I know that last point caught many of you off guard.
I have had three of these “shows” since Sunday week ago.
It give the tail end of pregnancy an interesting ‘edge’.
I am absolutely craving red wine.
This hit the spot last week – Nigella’s mushy peas

  • 300g frozen peas
  • 1 clove garlic
  • 3 tbl creme fraiche
  • 3 tbl parmesan, finely grated
  • salt and pepper
  1. Bring a saucepan of water to boil with the garlic clove in it.
  2. cook peas, drain and discard garlic
  3. puree peas w/ the creme fraiche and parmesan
  4. season to taste
  5. I added more creme fraiche and parmesan on the top at the end because I’m pregnant and I can.

Name updates:
I am (still) loving Grover (although now I’m leaning to Grosvenor as – believe it or not – I am conscious of the child being cranky about being named after a blue muppet, even though no-one EVER makes the Oscar the Grouch connection w/ Oscar or the Felix the Cat w/Felix) Sebastian, Theodore, Oliver, Baxter and Banjo.

Chef is adamant on George, in fact, last week announced “It doesn’t matter what we call him, I’m going to call him George.”

I finish work on Friday.
This fills me with so much excitement.
I feel like I will finally be able to be pregnant.
If that makes any sense at all.
Here’s hoping I don’t go into labour on Friday night as I finally relax.