Thursday, July 26, 2007

holiday harvest





Theres been a teeny tiny harvest at the Mogantosh ranch. Carrots, rocket and pak choi all ready to eat, and oranges dropping in vast numbers off the tree. Must be all that worm juice. We bought a new fridge this week too, so it's all about the menu these days. In this pic Keith is cleaning the filter for the greywater tank - it's not a happy face.

A new butcher has arrived in town. His name is Dazza and he introduced himself, ordered us some organic meat, and weighed Ivy on the meat scale - she came in at 8 1/2 kilos (or a good shoulder of beef).

I'm writing another story for Parents magazine - this one is on the social capital of mothers groups - so any thoughts, anybody - please email me. On Keith's first holiday surf he took half the skin off his hand so no surfing this week. Instead, he's teaching himself a bit of carpentry by building bookshelves for the kitchen. We found some groovy old timber with old brass name tags attached at Coasties Big Shed and they are looking spectacular already.

The thoughts turn to spring... the weather has been beautiful this week and Ivy is a constant delight. We feel very blessed to be living so well right now.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

the knockers were angry that day, my friends




...but the rest of me was happy.

Dropped another feed from Ivy's schedule, so she's down to 2 breastfeeds - one morning, one evening. Ai, ai, ai, the pain, the pain. I could sing like a castrato at about 6pm and 6am - but it only lasts a couple of days. Amazing machine, the human body.

We're just back from a great Saturday morning trip down to the park. Bacon and egg rolls, excellent coffee, oversized Herald, some swinging good fun (the family-friendly kind). Ivy is still making her 'brrrmmm brrmmm' noises constantly. It's like living with a tiny outboard motor.

Holidays this week! The soccer schedule has allowed Keith to take a week off (yes, I'm serious). We're going to do the house projects that we never get to - start building bookshelves, put lights up, weed the vege garden, share the care and maintenamce of our little outboard. And go out for breakfasts on the cash we save on Canberra-petrol.

Wizard!

Tuesday, July 17, 2007

learning about gods porpoise





Isabelle was christened on the weekend. She was very good and didn't cry when they poured the water on her. (Unlike me when I emptied a bucket of cold water down my ugg boot on a recent frosty morning). Also, being in church made me regress to my eight-year-old self. I found it very hard not to crack jokes (and couldn't resist the one about God's tortoise. But at least I didn't get in trouble like one husband who, when the priest asked what name he gave the baby, answered 'Damien'. His wife gave him a look of ice).

I took Ivy to the eye doctor yesterday- we have been worried she is cross-eyed but he gave her the all clear. No tiny specs with brown-paper lenses for this little bunny. Fat, bald and speccy...luckily she has a winning personality. Still, beauty is a curse too - just ask Keith. He has struggled with its heavy burden for thirty-five years.

Keith has had a paper published in this edition of Applied Physics B. It's called 'Theoretical comparison between square-planar and cylindrical luminescent solar concentrators'. (Say that three times quickly). He tried flogging it to New Idea first but they said it would only work if subtitled 'Britney tries to dance - sans pants'.

What else is new? There's been some wild dream action lately. One where I dreamed that Keith was on an adventure with a giant and a dwarf named Eeny-Weeny. He was having an affair with Eeny-Weeny but then she left him. Just as I woke up Keith was undressing the giant to see if it was wearing Eeny-Weenys underwear.

Sorry - this entire post has been ridiculous.I'll look for where I left my sensible side and try again later.

Thursday, July 12, 2007

the pain of pitching

what you say:

'Hi, is this [insert editors name]? My name is [insert your name] and I write for [insert your best gig]. I have an idea for a story about [etc etc] and thought it would suit your publication. Is now a good time?'.

what editors hear:

'Hi, is this the big massa boss lady? My name is Total Loser and I am a talentless hack who writes for You've Never Heard Of This Magazine. I was wanting to pitch you a stupid story idea so that you could shatter my self-esteem. Is now a good time?'

ah, the humanity.

Tuesday, July 10, 2007



I have finished the draft of my article and will send it to the editor tomorrow. I took my Dictaphone to see friends last week (go, girl reporter!) and taped them talking about their baby experiences. Went to play it back yesterday and found I had taped over the whole interview. The tape now played my phone interview with a Tresillian nurse – not her end, just mine. It goes something like this:

So what’s the difference between post-natal depression and baby blues then?
(pause)
Oh, right..
(clattering typing noises)
(pause)
Oh, so...
(Long pause)
(clattering typing noises)
That’s interesting.

Etc, etc.

Mum and Dad made a mammoth effort to come down yesterday and look after Ivy while I worked. ‘We'll catch the train’, they decided. ‘Lovely, scenic trip...’ Three hours later, they arrived. The train had been replaced by buses, rain and wind was pelting down and they looked miserable. Above and beyond the call of grandparent duty. Still, Ivy was very excited to see them both and and I managed to get lots written.

Thanks again Mum and Dad- you are the greatest.

Mum also helped Ivy start drinking formula from her cup - so now I've dropped a breastfeed from her day. My boobs haven’t yet got the message to slow production though. This morning they woke me painfully at 6am. I looked like Victoria Beckham after she’s been on ‘holiday’ and come home ‘refreshed’.

Keith is playing 12 games of online chess at the minute. Last night he spent an hour deliberating over one move. Ivy has starting making 'brrrmm bbrrmmm' noises...maybe she will be a revhead? A feminist revhead? A feminist revhead musical theatre star? One can only dream.

Friday, July 6, 2007

karma don't celebrate no birthday




Had a great birthday yesterday. Visit from the family for lunch (except Sammy and tribe who couldn't make it). Mum and I put my new sheets on the bed (1000 thread-count, like sleeping on Ivy's fat little thighs). Some wonderful pressies - a great casserole dish, a bush-basher stroller for track-walks, an Ipod from Keith, Ivy and Banana. Exciting packages in the post from Lucy, Shirin and Lolo and lots of lovely phone messages.

I felt very lucky. Unlike Keith, who has been smacked across the back of the head all week by the karma fairy. His tent got nicked from the campground on Tuesday night, so he slept on his office floor with his head on his trackie dacks. Then today he went for a surf in the best swell of the year (Brickies was, like, pumping: 6 foot overhead and offshore. Which is, like, good). Caught one wave and then the next one snapped his board in half. He trudged in the door looking very forlorn.

Tomorrow he has to change the pan in the Rota-Loo - I hope his luck has changed.

Wednesday, July 4, 2007

tea for two

Ivy spilled hot tea across her hand yesterday. I knew exactly how much it hurt because I spilled a cup down the back of my neck in the bath that morning.

We were sitting on the rug, me with my tea, her with formula in her sippie cup. I was trying a new trick - let's both have a cup of tea, just cool, no pressure, look! your cup is just like mummies cup - when i turned away and back to see her lunge at the tea. Bad game - Mummies cup is the good one, of course.

There was a second's pause while we both took in the carnage, then an almighty wail from Ivy as I scooped her up and ran to the tap. I held her poor hand under the running water for about ten terrible minutes as she cried and cried. I could see the burn wasn't bad, but she was having a awful time being tortured under the cold tap. In the bathroom mirror she could see my face. I watched her looking back and forth between mummy and mirror-mummy, wailing, and could imagine her brain laying down a lifetime of emotional love-maps: 'Mummy is hurting me! Why? Mummy loves me! So people who love you hurt you? Never trust anybody! Never love anybody!'

I took her next door to see Helen the GP. Ivy had stopped crying by then, but Buce the retired anthropologist and full-time beardie-wierdie opened the door. Ivy, calm by then, took one look at Bruce and burst into tears again.

What a night for little Naughty Buttons.

Tomorrow is my birthday - no Keith, but the family coming down for lunch. Keith will be home at about 9. I think I will lay out clothes for him. There is a month every year when we are of different ages - he turns 36 in early August. Our system is that for that month he must wear what I tell him to. I see cardigans in his future....with great big buttons.

Sunday, July 1, 2007

a festival of babies





Lunch at the St Clares today. Babies, babies everywhere (including one still living in the bump). Pancakes and pears (which have never featured so strongly in my life before). Tristan is building a whole new room in the crawl space of his roof - very impressive. Tamsen made fun of my taste in books. Come on! I just finished a bio of Diana written by her aura-cleanser which was penetrating and insightful.

Met little Z too. She is too tiny to be real - could Ivy have ever been that small? It's like holding a bundle of crumpled newspaper. Very, very cute, and very exciting.

I got my birthday haircut on Sat - first one in about a year. I'm surprised there's any hair left. Breastfeeding makes you moult like a sheepdog in summertime. It was fantastic to go and get my hair done though - it inspired me to take off my uggies and put on some eyeliner.