my-speck

i'm pregnant and it's going to be a rollercoaster

Nine more sleeps… Until your first Easter. And you know what easter brings? March 26, 2010

Filed under: eating,Parenting,Raising a Child — rakster @ 10:00 am
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Yes, that is right everybody!

Easter brings EASTER EGGS!!!  And every child should get some from the Easter Bunny, else it just wouldn’t be fair now, would it.  And I know I’m already trying to teach you that life just isn’t always fair, but in some things we should strive for it to be fair.  And receiving Easter Eggs is one of those things  (another thing you’re going to have to learn is that your mother is a hypocrite and often contradicts herself.  Especially if chocolate is involved).

I’m thinking that you’re really going to love to get: (more…)

 

chocolate and to wax or not to wax? November 23, 2008

Hi Speck,

howsit going down there?  Your dad wants to know if you want to be baptised.  Since we’re not religious, and neither one of us are, to our knowledge, baptised, we’ve decided against it for you.  If you want to later in life, feel free.  Seems a bit premature.  Anyway, I think he was just more interested in throwing water at your head: the next question was “Can I squirt it with a watergun?”.  To which of course the answer is an unqualified yes, however I think he should note that children seem to like waterguns and as you get older you may return the favour.   But not in any religious sense.

The other strange conversation we’ve had today is about the state of my pubic hair when its time to go to hospital.  I have to admit, it was me that made a joke about hair removal when reading the hospital book ’cause it mentioned that you can get a hairdresser who comes to your room – but he then wanted to know if I am going to wax my fanny for when you come out.  Again, I was slightly mystified as to the reason he would ask such a thing – or even think about it – but apparently he is concerned that I might care what the various people who no doubt will see it will think.  Surprising, cause I’m not one to worry about that kind of thing at all! Sorry if I’ve embarrassed you, I guess you mum’s fanny is something no child (nor adult for that matter) really wants to think about for any length of time at all.  It does make you wonder though – do other women worry about the state of their fanny when they go into hospital: to hairy bush or to not?  Or indeed right the way through their pregnancy, all the scans, the OB visits??  Goodness, you could run a sideline business that was affiliated with clinics that specialised in ‘down there hair care’.

Too much.

Other weird hospital things:

  • why 7-10 pairs of underpants? Is this number arbitrary or does it suggest 2-3 changes a day for 2-3 days?  They don’t specify a style – is it nanna-knicker only or can you go with the kath&kim -style g-banger look?
  • camera, games, … jigsaws?    Jigsaws?  Do they mean jigsaw puzzles?  Cause to me a jigsaw is a SAW that you use to cut wood.  Surely they don’t want your dad to perform surgery on me if it all goes pear-shaped?  Urg!.   And if they do mean jigsaw puzzles, who really wants to play jigsaw puzzles after they’ve just had a baby?

Hope you’re well.  And enjoying my chocolate binge from yesterday.  I gave up on healthy eating for the afternoon.  A friend had a hangover and wanted a burger for lunch, but as we strolled along Darling Street looking for a burger joint, Adriano Zumbo’s new chocolate cafe just leapt out at us & we had to go in.  I had a chocolate milkshake for lunch, followed up with a few handmade chocolates that we shared.  Truly to-die for was the violet & *berry (there goes the short-term memory again, it wasn’t blueberry, maybe blackberry??).  Anyway, good.  I am going back another day.  I will miss Adriano when I move back to Brisvegas.  The cakes are to drool over – if you haven’t eaten / been there you MUST look: amazing cakes

and two reviews of the chocolate shop.

Have to run, we are going to buy a new baby book – your dad is almost as obsessed as me, which is fun.

bye!

love you.

get bigger.

mum