Saturday, June 21, 2008


Life is busy here at the ranch. We're madly trying to get organised for Banana's imminent arrival. Just 6 weeks to go - and we're not at all ready. Our neighbours have given us an old caravan which we plan to turn it into Keiths office. Some major transformation magic is required - at this stage the van has the smell and appearance of a dosshouse where a dozen winos partied, died, and lay undiscovered for several weeks. Check out the builders bum in the foreground of the picture.

Still, its a challenge, right Mum? Mum?

I am feeling the weight of my third trimester. Banana is all well, still playing a lot of tummy soccer, but perched often across my sciatic nerve, so my hips and legs are waddly and sore, and my back is angry at me too. Keith has to live with the gas... but so do I - and you know you're really in trouble when your farts even offend your own nose. I am desperate to take the baby out and keep him in my handbag for just a few hours. As my belly grows, my brain shrinks. Last week I tried to pay at BiLo with my Medicare card and then left without my shopping.

Eating chocolate in the bath for at least an hour a day is keeping me sane.

Pics attached of some recent vistors - Tris, Tam, Talia, Shirin and Gabe, plus cuzzy Azura's 1st birthday was a blast too - featuring a rabbit cake for the lovely little Rabbit.

Monday, June 2, 2008

in which the sky clears, and the sun breaks through

Ivy has an unerring knack of knowing just when she's pushed Mummy to the edge (where, among other signs of madness, Mummy starts referring to herself in the third person). Ivy can then retreat, secure in having found the boundary. She also gets at her most ratty just before she breaches some new developmental phase - learning to crawl, or walk, or hide the car keys.

Two whole days now, and no head-banging, food-throwing or unconsolable wailing. We've had a tea party with pikelets, made muesli bars and yesterday, we had a whole, actual conversation. It went something like this:

Me - Are you still hungry?
Ivy - Jess.
Me - What would you like to eat?
Ivy - Teesh.
Me - Cheese? OK.
Ivy - OK.
(minutes later)
Ivy - More?
Me - Some more food?
Ivy - Jess.
Me - What would you like?
Ivy - Dos.
Me - Toast? OK.
Ivy - OK.

It's Brecht! It's Shakespeare!I'd like Cate Blanchett to stage it at the STC! Things get better too: tomorrow there is a cleaner called Louise coming for the first time to help out for a couple of hours. Keiths socialist heart is breaking, but me...! Lets just say she'll be lucky to escape without a serious tongue-pashing.