because quite frankly, this sleeplessness? then the tense sleep? the waking suddenly to lie there for a few hours? I’m not liking so much.
Last Sunday I took the boys to Sydney Aquarium at Darling Harbour. The Doodles gave us a family pass for a year. Pretty cool huh!
Well, it is cool.
Losing Oscar for oh, t.w.e.n.t.y minutes is not.
By the time I found him, the rising fear, the absolute s.h.e.e.r terror that someone had taken my Ogga-boy, that he had fallen into Cockle Bay and drown, that he had just wandered off and now couldn’t find me and had no way of telling anyone who he was, who I was, where we were going and so on and so forth – was too much to bear.
I eventually found him way around another whole part of the precinct.
Basically because after scouring the entire aquarium and loud speaker announcements I went back outside and just started s.c.r.e.a.m.i.n.g. his name. An English tourist said to me, “have you lost a little boy with calipers on?” (he had his super legs on) and then told me he was “way way around” the other side, sitting on a chair crying.
A staff member at the new Sydney Wildlife World saw me and my distress and just came with me – we found him being looked after by another young English couple.
He just sobbed, I sobbed and sobbed and we hugged each other so hard.
I thought my heart would never recover.
Felix, through all of this, had stood beside the stroller containing Jasper doing exactly as I asked.
I just hugged him, told him how proud I was of him looking after Jasper and doing what I asked. His reply? “Well of course I was going to look after him. I’m his big brother.”
I sat the boys down in a corner in the foyer, plied them with drink bottles and packets of Tiny Teddies to just regroup and give me a change to ensure I wasn’t about to have a heart-attack or spontaneously combust. Or something.
After all that the boys (and indeed I) had a lovely time.
I still can’t relay the story to others without crying.
Now, for those who read this who have known me for some time, they will read the following, tsk with a laugh, shake their head and mutter, “I can’t believe she wrote about that” but really? They won’t be surprised at all, and in fact will be relieved as it is the true revelation that I.am.back.
For those I have met through here and have expectations about what I write about and what is appropriate to write about, it’s probably a good time to look away.
For you see, the thing I am enjoying most about early second trimester pregnancy? Trumpet bottom. I am cranking out the loudest, the longest and the most pungent of bottom burps possible. It is quite frankly the most enjoyable activity I’ve done for some time. Well, there’s another one that has refound itself but that involves Chef and even I have some notion of drawing a line.
Funny hey, that I won’t go into sex but am happy to discuss my ability to fart long, loud and stinky and to do so with quite adegree of pride and glee.
today I felt the baby move.
I see this as a blessing, as up until this point I haven’t really felt pregnant, just tired, cranky, sleepless (yes this is a feeling), emotional, teary, emotional, tired, sleepless, I’ve just been scared shitless about how a. we have no money, b. we are going to need a bigger car, c. we can’t afford a bigger car, d. GOD I HATE living with my mother, e. we have no money, f. how the hell are we going to manage this, repeat in finitum to the end of the alphabet and over again.
Felix dances like me. This is worrying. Although on second thoughts of how his father dances, a true blessing indeed.
Jasper is such a drooling snot factory at the moment I’ve resorted to him constantly wearing bibs and simply wiping his nose on it rather than constantly seeking out tissues. Yep. White trash and proud.
If Oscar says to “Ogga eat” to me one more time I may well slaughter one of the other children and serve on toast and be done with it. Seriously, the child can eat. And eat. And eat.
Every day I have been on holidays I have had at least one 10-minute catnaps on the lounge. The record is three, the longest was for an hour.
I remembered the other day, that when I was young, I used to virtually live in our next door neighbours house (they were like grandparents to me). When their daughter was over (an elocution teacher I used to see as well) with her children, I would sneak in the front door, sneak upstairs, wake up the baby, sneak back down and then walk out into the kitchen at the back of the house and tell J the neighbour that the baby was awake – so I could cuddle and play with them. I’m being serious. How naughty is that. Only now, on having children, do I realise just how woeful this is. I have to restrain myself from walloping my own children if they wake a sleeping baby. The fact I did this every single week their daughter was visiting makes me love them even more – in that they never held me to account over this remarkable coincidence every.single.week.
We went to the Fox (now with it’s own website!) for dinner last night with friends. There’d been a massive downpour/thunderstorm that afternoon/evening so we had free reign – in one of the most busy kids parks on the peninsula, to not have to queue for the flying fox was AWESOME. Apparently. Needless to say, the boys were soaked from playing in the rain/subsequent puddles-lakes but really, quintessential childhood memories to be had, colds be damned.
I can’t remember where I was going with this story. Sorry.
The 2006 Edingburgh Military Tattoo is on the tele in the background as I type. I love bagpipes. LOVE. One (just one mind you) of the reasons I really really really want my boys to go to Knox is in the vain hope one of them will join the pipe band and play bagpipes. (I know, I KNOW – we can’t afford a bloody mini-van, we live with my mother, as IF we’d ever be able to afford private school fees for FOUR FREAKIN’ children! Let it go Kim, let it go.)
The Top Secret Drum Corps were amazing.
GOD I’m morphing into a senior citizen.
OK, it’s off now, some dude is singing the theme song from The Lion King. GAWWWWWN.
OHMYGOD American Splendor is on SBS, I LOVED THIS movie/docu-drama/whatever-it-is-you call those movies.
Maybe we’ll call it Harvey if it’s a boy.
Seriously, any boys names you guys have hanging around – throw them our way.
Chef has taken to calling the baby Colin, which is making me nervous. Felix wants to call him Saxon, Oscar has chosen Max (which is a frontrunner) and I like Grover.
Yes, I’m just trying to accumulate kids with dog names or start my own Muppets/Sesame Street sideshow.
So boys names, bring them on.
I really feel like mushy peas, mash and gravy from Harry’s Cafe de Wheels. Really.
So grim am I feeling about our financial plight, I read this and seriously think it is a solution…
That is all.
My sister-in-law had a baby girl yesterday.
A pink one! We went for a visit tonight.
She’s TINY (3.2kg – Jasper was 4.2, Felix 4.3 and her son 4.6kg!) and incredibly fair.
Her husband is half-Chinese are their son has the most divine olive skin, black hair and dark eyes.
Not only have they produced a pink one, she’s got fair hair and blue eyes! Ain’t genetics amazing.
Isn’t it wondrous having a new little person in the clan.
Last night I watched March of the Penguins. I think the script was a bit forced, but the footage, and what they would have had to go through to compile it, and the story itself were remarkable and incredibly touching.
I am in that zone of exhaustion where you physically feel ill and have thoughts of just sitting down in the middle of busy city footpaths as you just can’t go on. It turns out at 11 weeks Colin, as we’ve nicknamed the sprogget (apologies to all Colins out there, but the Nigels have had enough of a hard time), is having a massive growth spurt and so I should feel extremely tired. I love it when I am complete textbook.
You know, when you’re pushing maximum density and then embark on your fourth pregnancy, you look about 5 months pregnant when you’re not even three. Nice.
I can only imagine the rumours starting to circulate at work. All the people who need to know do, one of which let their head hit the table when I told them. It was pretty funny and kind of flattering (in that they were pretty upset I was pregnant again because that means another round of maternity leave and GOD knows what that does to the spreadsheets).
I’m still really stressed about our financials and they haven’t improved.
I’m still waiting for someone to give me a complete rundown on the series of Lost because I just can’t commit to watching however many episodes there are to understand why a) there was a polar bear on a tropical island, b) what was that buried submarine/spaceship/bunker thing and c) do they ever get saved or do the cute ones start breeding in some sweet homage to Blue Lagoon?