Kindy Fail

It's no secret that I enjoy baking.

And cooking.

And eating..... all the foods.

But yes, I bake, usually at least once a week.  For the lunchboxes.

We always have baked goods in the house, some sort of muffins, usually banana, biscuits, lately cheese scones, this Mama likes cheese scones.  Usually a sweet and a savoury item.  At present we have mini cheese, corn and bacon muffins and we just finished off a double batch of choc chip oat cookies.

On Wednesday's I start work at 8am, so it's always a rush as Juffin and Mushroom are loathe to get out of bed before 7am.  Yes, you read that right, 7am!  Most of the time, I have to wake them up and get them out of bed.  Of course on the weekend, Mushroom will be up at the crack of dawn and there will be no sleeping in whatsoever, oh the irony!

This morning I was hustling, hustling, hustling.  You know, shouty Mummy, hurry up do this, hurry up do that, get this, get that, get off the toilet, get on the toilet... blah blah.

We race out the door 15 minutes later than I would have liked and get to kindy with no minutes to spare.  I am greeted with Good Morning Max!  Are you excited for the Easter party today...

UM FUCK!

The FUCKING EASTER PARTY IS TODAY.

I have a big piece of watermelon and sheepishly put it in the fruit basket in the fridge.  I cram the lunchbox in there, looking for a quick escape, I can see plates of food to share that other parents have bought in on the bench.

I literally have no time to go to the shops and they don't bloody open until 8 anyway!  I'm trying to avoid the educator's eyes as I cuddle Mushroom goodbye.  I can't come back over at 9.30 for the bloody party and bring food then either as we are swamped at work and seriously, it's my last day tomorrow.

Oh the shame, the humiliation!  I actually have muffins I wanted to yell, I can bring them in tomorrow!  I'm just totally shit and totally forgot!

Do you think if I make something tonight and he takes it in tomorrow to share that that would ok?  I feel awful!

Mushroom with the Easter Bunny
I put a rabbit over the other child's face... because privacy

Heat

Things are going to get a bit TMI in this post.  I'm sorry, I can't help but overshare all my shit.  It's just who I am.

Today after Juffin and Mushroom left I lay down on the bed to check facebook and fell asleep.  For an hour!  An hour!!  I woke up at 10 to 9 and had that gaspy OMG moment because I have to be at work by 9.30 and it takes 15 minutes to get there... despite this I still got in the shower and put make up on but I can't show up to work without warpaint on.  It just doesn't happen.  Everyone asks you all day if you're ok, and if you're feeling alright.  It literally makes you feel like shit.

So you're kinda up shit's creek if you wear make-up on a daily basis and then don't.

Because people will ultimately assume that you're having some sort of mental episode or that you're very unwell.

Woah, tangent!

Anyway, as I squashed myself into my uniform, I marvelled that yet again it's no pants weather and it's 9am.  I'm still having cold showers twice a day.  I've lived in North Queensland a long bloody time, but I'm astonished by how disgustingly hot it still is a week out from Easter.

I drove past the Tyre Right carpark thermometer this morning and it said 32c.

32c at 9.20am is fucking disgusting.

When it's this hot, you have to use words like moist.  And I hate the word moist.  But fuck, it's moist.

I sweat all the way to work, then by the time I get cool again I have to get back out in it...  Then I sweat all the way back to pick up Mushroom, I sweat sitting by the pool for swimming lessons, I sweat when I get home and start cooking dinner... Sweat dripping down my back, boobs rubbing, thighs... ewww... face uber shiny, skin constantly filmy. and my vjayjay is itchy as all hell as the hair is starting to grow back and I just want to cry.

So please, God of whatever, if you exist, please, please, PLEASE!!! TURN THE FUCKING HEAT DOWN.  My itchy ass vjayjay and the heat rash on my boobs would be so fucking appreciative!

See, the Mushroom's not even moving it's so HOT!

Outing

Last night I went out.

In a dress.

That was entirely too small.

Which you have to do when you're 36 weeks pregnant.

It's still fucking 33 degrees in my town and honestly, I feel like I am cooking internally 99% of the time.  It is hell.

It was the local election and I dragged myself down to the school to vote and there was a million people there.  A million.  The thought of standing there, with people, in 33 degree heat, was really, really offensive to me.

Can I also just take a moment to say that it is 2016.  How is online voting not a thing yet?  I believe in compulsory voting, I believe in democracy.  I DO think we need to make a few changes.  Online voting needs to happen.  ASAP.  And maybe they could not make it compulsory to vote until you're 25.  So you can register and vote if you want to, you just don't HAVE to until you turn 25...

Anyway, I went and got a frozen coke instead and came home to my empty house, the boys were out, and I put the air con on and I looked at the washing and watched Netflix for three hours.  Ok, 4 hours.  Then I realised that I was supposed to get ready and go out and I spent 40 minutes rushing around like a lunatic.

I had to squash my enormous boobs into a proper bra, squeeze into a pair of granny pants, as they're the only ones that go over my belly without cutting me in half, pour myself into a dress that didn't even fit me before I got pregnant and try to apply makeup to my red, swollen face without it melting off almost immediately. I way overapplied the eyeshadow and instead of trying to remove it I thought fuck it and just left it.

I felt really attractive.

Not.

Despite it being hot, my arse needing a wide load sign, and I'm wearing more eye make up than Ru Paul, I'm excited.  This is my last evening outing before Baby Beet comes!  I get to eat food that I didn't prepare!  I won't have to wrangle a three year old and yell at a 35 year old to get out of the toilet.  Woo!

I got to speak to adult women, I listened to music, I ate jalapeno poppers, I drank a fruity drink that looked like it should have had vodka in it but didn't.. and despite having sweat dripping down my back and pooling underneath my boobs, I had a fabulous time.

Let's not get carried away. I was home by 10.30.  But I went out.

Go me!

I forgot to take a belly shot so you could see the wideload

Ps I also managed to vote before I went out.  I'm a good law abiding, democratic citizen.

Special

I guess I'm not the only one who thinks I've been pregnant forever. The Mushroom is also wondering when Baby Beet will make their appearance.

When you having the baby Mum?

Is the baby ready to come out yet?

Your belly is very huge Mummy.

Is the baby beet ready yet?

How will it come out Mummy? Out of your puku (belly)?

And my absolute favourite one so far... Look at your big bum Mummy. 

Little turd.

In light of the difficult questions re Baby Beet's entrance into the world, we thought we'd better have a conversation.  Cue awkward parental explanation here....

There was some talk about when the baby is due and how long it takes for baby to grow, we watch the babycenter videos, we talk about why boys are different to girls... it all comes back to the doodle. Eventually we get down to it.

Mushroom and Daddy have a doodle but Mummy doesn't have a doodle.  Mummy has a hole instead. Yep, we said HOLE.  So when the baby is ready, in a few weeks, Mummy will start getting a sore back and a sore tummy and get very grumpy and then she'll have to go to the hospital and push the baby out and then we can meet the baby and have cuddles and it'll all be wonderful and gorgeous and grand.

He was taking it all in and THEN the Mushroom said:

So the baby is going to come out of your SPECIAL HOLE Mummy?

My special hole.

And can you make a cat in your belly Mummy?

Give me strength.  

Here I am putting ice-cream into my OTHER special hole

Wrong

So today I finished work and went for a wander around Kmart.

And I didn't buy a single bloody thing!!

In Kmart!

The magical, wonderful, emporium of fabulously cheap homewares and clothing!

Not one item.

This feat alone deserves a medal.  But then...

I also WALKED STRAIGHT PAST THE CARVERY AND DIDN'T GET CHIPS AND GRAVY!

Me! The overweight, pregnant woman.

And I can tell you that those chips and gravy are up there with the best damn chips and gravy in the entire universe.

Something is very wrong people.

Very wrong indeed.

35 days to go!

Another day, another Mum singlet and a filthy bathroom mirror

Brazil

A little background.

I love waxing.  I have waxed on and off since I was a teenager.  I cannot stand shaving in any capacity and would rather have hairy pits than shave them.

Seriously. 

I'm like a Neanderthal. 

You can see where this post is going right?  

So until recently I would wax my legs, armpits, brows and bikini every month with my kickass Roller Derby playin', potty mouthed, waxologist.  I may have made that word up. Anyway, Cin is seriously the shit and I love her, but would you believe that that fucking moll decided to leave town?  2 years into our waxing relationship and she just ditches me.  For her family no less.  The nerve. 

At first I am stupid enough to believe that I can do this myself.  I'm flexible, I can save money and wax my own shit. 

Um no. 

Legs possibly, but underarms?  Bikini?  That's a resounding no.  Not only am I pregnant, I'm also short and apparently not as flexible as one would think.  I was finding wax in places that I hadn't even applied wax to for days afterwards.  

Disaster is one word to describe it. 

I then decided to stop removing hair altogether.  I mean why?  I'm not single, Juffin doesn't seem to care, I need to save money.  After a few weeks I started looking like an extra from Planet of the Apes.  A pregnant one.  And it was gross.  It felt unclean having inch long hair covering my legs.  Being a stubborn so and so, I still can't bring myself to shave. 

Like a miracle, a friend on facebook put the call out for waxing volunteers for her beauty training, yay!!  Free waxing and she was totally awesome!  Yay for Lis! My underarms and legs are once again hair free, now to tackle the rest. 

I started doing some facebook research and stumble across a page that I liked a while back AND she's offering half price waxing if I book on Wednesday, um SOLD!  

I message her and advise that I'm just after a bikini and a brow wax.  She's free at the time I'm free, I can't believe my luck.  She then asks how much I have off.  I let her know that I'm pretty pregnant and only want a tidy up, you know, just trim the hedge so to speak.  She says let's see how we go... I'm nervous. 

Thursday afternoon rolls around and I'm ushered into a beautiful home salon space and given a disposable g-string to put on.  She asks me again how much I'd like to have off and I say that I've never been to Brazil before and not sure if my vjayjay can quite handle an overseas trip right now.  She laughs... still nervous.

She pulls some gloves on and goes to work, chatting away as she ruthlessly removes my pubic hair. 

She puts my leg here, other leg here, lean this way, lean that way... As I flinch and grit my teeth, she checks in to see how I'm doing and praises me like a toddler.  At this point I realise that she's seriously going to remove all of my hair.  Like every single strand.  I again say that I'm happy to have a 'landing strip' but she cheerily says that it's almost all gone now anyway so why don't we just take it off so it's super tidy and clean for next time. Wow.  This is really happening.  I'm 34 and my vagina will be naked for the first time in a long time. 

At this stage, I'm numb.  Like actually numb.  I literally just had all my pubic hair removed at 33 weeks pregnant.  I'm a tough ass bitch. 

She does my brows, which look fabulous.  Puts some amazingly cooling cream on all my bits and sends me packing. 

I sit in the car marvelling at what I have just done.  I wonder what Juffin will think.  

I get home and check myself out in the mirror. 

What once looked like this:

image courtesy of mentalfloss.com

Now looks like this:

image courtesty of findpictures.com

A week on and I'm still not convinced.  I feel weird.  IT feels weird.  Showering and washing down there is super weird. Sex without pubes is also totally different, not that you guys want to hear about it and I'm not divulging details but yes, definitely Different with a capital D.  I don't know if it feels any cleaner either. Which I have heard people say before. I think I'm still trying to get used to it!
Pretty sure that I'll be opting for keeping SOME hair next time but hey, I've done it now and like they say in the hairdressing biz, it'll grow back!

Here's to trying new things!  

Loss

As my due date approaches, I keep thinking about what we lost last year.

We lost a baby last year.

A baby that I would have been a part of our lives by now.

There a few reasons for my not talking about this until now.

I feel guilty calling our loss a baby.

I feel guilty thinking about it because at the time, there was so much shit going on, that I didn't really think about it really being an actual baby until recently.

I feel guilty because people lose so much more, try so much longer, never fall pregnant at all, lose children, get cancer...  the world is a crappy place for lots and lots of people.

I turned 34 on June 3rd.  On June 4th I found out I was pregnant with our second baby.  We had been tracking, trying, testing, counting and hoping for baby number two for 18 months.  I was ecstatic.  It was a Thursday.  Juffin and I couldn't stop smiling.  I called my GP and booked an appointment to confirm but I took 3 tests.  I told a friend at work who was also newly pregnant, excited was an understatement.  The next 9 months stretched out in front me, a February baby, yay!

On Friday morning I was feeling crampy and tired.  Not unusual for the initial stages of pregnancy.  I went out with my Mummy friends in the morning then came home and lay down on the couch. Mushroom was scooting around doing his thing, I was tired, I felt weird, I can't really remember.

Some time that afternoon I went to pee and noticed some spotting.  I just sat there for a minute, did a quick google search and thought, it's ok, totally normal, don't freak out. I sent Juffin a text message, put a pad on and took some paracetamol. I felt like I was getting my period but was trying not to get worried.

As the afternoon went on, I felt worse and worse.  I had a lot of pain in my lower back and the bleeding got heavier.  And brighter.

I called Juffin in tears.  He wanted me to go to the hospital straight away but I was hesitant.  I hate going to the hospital, feeling like I'm wasting people's time, thinking that I'm over-reacting.  To be fair, no-one at the hospital has ever made me feel like this but you know how you get it into your head that you're just being silly?  That's how I felt.  And maybe I just knew that something wasn't right?

That being said, and me being me, I did nothing.  The bleeding got worse, the pain got worse, I was up half the night with stabbing pain in my abdomen and it felt like a hot knife was cutting through me. Except worse.  Juffin again wanted to take me to the hospital but I refused.  I'm not sure what my argument against it was this time but probably something about not wanting to worry the Mushroom, and it being the middle of the night.

In the morning, I went up to my local GP clinic to see if they could shed some light.  I wasn't in anywhere near as much pain as I had been the night before.  Just uncomfortable and achey.  He advised that I was probably having a miscarriage and referred me for a scan.  He did say that because I wasn't doubled over, then it was probably just your run of the mill miscarriage, nothing more.

Let's be clear, I had been in A LOT of pain the night before but it had dulled and I probably didn't convey that clearly to the Doctor.

I got home and called the xray place who told me that I'd require $250 if I wanted my scan today.

$250!!!

I booked the appointment, hung up, and broke down.

Juffin then said for the umpteenth time that he wanted to take me to the fucking hospital.

I finally agreed, and called my Mum.  And cancelled the $250 appointment.

We dropped the Mushroom off to my parents and went to emergency.  Lo and behold, I was taken through to be examined straight away.  It had already been an awful night and so began a long day.

What's your pain level out of 10?
What was the date of your last period?
How much blood did you pass?
How would you describe the pain?
What's your pain level out of 10?

I answered as honestly as I could but at that stage it was just a dull ache.  Maybe a 4, possibly a 5?  I mean there's a grown man crying next to me, I wasn't quite on his pain level!

I had test after test after test.  I had to pee in a cup several times, ultrasounds, no food, poked and prodded, drugs given.  After another scan, an MRI, I told Juffin to go and check on the Mushroom. We'd been there all day.  It was late afternoon and I was worried about him.

Of course after Juffin left the Doctor came back and told me what we'd known all along but were hoping against hope wasn't true.  I had been pregnant, however the egg had imbedded itself on my tube instead of the uterus.  Stupid egg.  As a result, my left tube had ruptured and now I was bleeding internally.  They had to get me into surgery asap.  Apparently this is enormously painful and because I seemed to be coping with this quite well, they had previously ruled out an ectopic.  And here I was thinking I was a wuss.  It also seems ironic that it was the same side that I had a massive ovarian cyst removed the year before.

Reality hits, I lose my baby, I also lose my left tube, and our chances of conceiving are reduced yet again.

It was all too much, I started to cry.  I hadn't cried since we had arrived at the hospital but it all seemed so unfair.  I didn't get to see Juffin before the surgery.  He had taken my phone and all my stuff with him as who knew where I was going to end up.  I called him on the hospital phone to let him know what was happening. I felt so scared.  Before having Mushroom, I'd never had a bloody operation, here I was facing surgery for the third time in as many years!

I remember waking up in recovery and it was hours later.  Like 5 hours.  A nurse was yelling at me asking me what my blood pressure usually is because it's very, very low.  Honestly, who knows what their usual blood pressure is?!  I just wanted to go to sleep but there were nurses shouting and carrying on and then suddenly I was talking to Juffin on the phone but I have no idea what was said.

Total blur, like drinking a whole bottle of vodka but without the bad dancing.

The next morning the nurse told me that my blood pressure had bottomed out completely and they had to give me drugs to bring it back up.... whatever that means.  I have no idea.  Surgeon came in and let me know that my shit was fucked up.  Took forever to clean up and they may have knicked my bowel in the process.

Awesome.

I spent the next two days in hospital.  On liquids, so that they could make sure that my bowel wasn't actually munted. I stared out the window a lot. Slept.  My Mum bought me some books to read and the Juffin forgot my toothbrush.  The Mushroom came to visit and ran amok. At some stage they said I could eat some proper food and took my catheter out.  And then I could go home.

Even now, writing about it 9 months later, it still seems totally unreal.  It had taken months and months for us to fall pregnant and within two days, it was all over. Maybe we weren't meant to have another baby.  Maybe this was my uterus' way of saying enough is enough woman. Maybe we're just too damn old!

Obviously we know that that is all bullshit because I literally had one period after losing that baby and then I was pregnant again.

But I lost a baby.

And I'm hoping against hope that this baby will be okay.

Expanding - 34 Weeks
Mum Singlets for the win! 

Crack

This post is not about my arse crack.

Or the front crack.

It's about my baby.  Who is clearly on crack because it's 11.05pm and I'm fricking exhausted and I've been trying to go to sleep for nigh on an hour and the STUPID BABY will NOT STOP MOVING!!

STOP MOVING BABY!!

I have tried talking to it, rolling back and forth, singing, different sleeping positions, it's still just bouncing around in there having a grand ol' time.

Or it has hiccups as a result of delicious ice-cream that I ate earlier but either way, it's annoying as all hell and I want to go to Bedfordshire.

I don't remember the Mushroom carrying on with this bullshit.

If this is a sign of things to come, I'm very, very concerned.

Screw you Baby Beet!  Mama needs to sleep!!

Bloody Beachball

In other news, today I read an article about a woman who masturbated during labour.  Yes, masturbated.  You can read Em Rusciano's hilarious take on it here.

I have to say that I'm intrigued, yet not entirely convinced.  Whilst birthing is highly intimate and personal, I'm not sure that I could cross THAT line and start fingering myself in front of my midwife mid-contraction.  Just sayin.

More power to you Ang.  You rock that orgasmic birth!

Ps, thanks to all the well wishers after yesterday's drama.  I'm all good now and obviously baby is still inside where it should stay for a few more weeks... I love me some drama.  Phew.

Bed

Foreword - This post is not for the squeasmish. 

I'm writing this post from my sick bed.

Yes, you read that correctly.  Sick bed.

Again.

For goodness sake.

I have been struck down with the dreaded diarrhoea.  Or as Juffin likes to call it, the arse pissing.  Delightful I know, but strangely apt.

Last night I felt fine.  I watched my fave shows, MKR and Downton, and then I went to bed.  Channel Seven has not paid me for this post but they should.  I love MKR and Downton.

I was woken abruptly by the Mushroom crying outside our room trying to get the door open around 1am.  I got up and let him in and baby Beet started jumping around.  I lay on my side for a while as I got crampier in the guts and thought, maybe I just need to fart.

Instantly realised that I definitely didn't need to fart and I made it to the toilet just in time.

Also I should note here that our ensuite toilet is not working at present so I had to dash down the hall to the main toilet.

Heavily pregnant hallway dashing at 1.23am is fun ya'll.

So began my long night as my bowels evacuated themselves in a torrent and, in some sort of sick coincidence, the heavens also opened up and we got buckets of rain.

This morning it was ongoing and I can tell you something, I'm fucking over it.

Hydralite, water and a potato are all that have passed my lips and I still feel twisty and gross.

Weird thing is that on Saturday night I took myself to bed early as I was having stabbing pains in my nether regions and my vjayjay felt like it had been kicked by a mule.

On Sunday morning I felt an overwhelming urge to scrub our ensuite from top to bottom on my
hands and knees with a toothbrush.  In the nude.  As attractive as that imagery is, it's prudent to remember how much I hate cleaning.  Like so much hate.  Is this nesting?  Already?  Because it's way too fucking early for that shit.  (You should see the ensuite though, sparkling!)

24 hours later, it's the diarrhoea.  Bowels spontaneously evacuating themselves can also be a sign of pre-labour.

Now let's not jump to any hasty conclusions, but I am so not ready for this baby.  It cannot in no uncertain terms come out yet.  I still have three weeks of work left and 6.5 whole weeks of baby growing left!  I haven't washed anything!  I haven't put up the hammock or the change table.  I haven't washed the carseat or installed the new one.  I haven't settled on middle names and I am not ready to do this ALL OVER AGAIN!

Also, my midwife is on holidays until Easter.

This baby is staying in there until then.

Can someone please tell the baby that?

I'm freaking out.

Freak out Face