Friday, 30 November 2007

Saturday, 29 September 2007

A Few Reasons Not to Miss Being Preggers

There is an excess of stupidity on this planet. You just have to get pregnant and this fact reveals itself.

"Really? You're not having twins?" (frowns uncertainly)
S's unspoken response: "No. But the ultrasound did pick up two penises. Its off to the circus now!"

"Wow! You're huge.. but like glowing and radiant" (lamely and belatedly)
S's unspoken response: Yes, it must be the puke glow

"Still not popped eh? Gawd, you've been like pregnant for ever"
S's unspoken response: (envisions bloody death by bludgeoning) Oh, I'll never tire of carrying 9 pounds of viking baby. haha. puke.

And the wierdest one yet from an almost-complete stranger at the University.

"Gosh! You're pregnant too?"
S's unspoken response: Me and? Your ex-girlfriend? The Queen? Rigoberta MenchĂș?


Dear lord, I will miss this. My body being an area of deep seismic activity. The poetic ripples of toes and knees and elbows. The hiccupping which always makes me giggle. The big fat head stuck into my pelvis like a 10 pound bowling ball. The secret communication through tummy braille with this little person who has been so much mine for these nine months.

I never wanted to admit this, but I don't think I'm done. Having babies that is. I'm quite willing to outsource the upbringing an' all (raise your hands if you're willing!) because that's the part I suck at.

Hopefully,this is all the gooey hormones speaking and quite possibly a couple of years of sleeplessness and kiddy illnesses and the fact that my children learn to deeply despise me will cure me of these urges. Amen.

Friday, 28 September 2007

Counting down to Big Brother

Just dandy! Like life isn't going to be challenging enough in a couple of days, I now have a son who looks like the Sid Vicious of the new millenium on a bad hair day. A came home with the self-confidence of a deluded superhero screaming, "Look Mamma, spikes! Spikes in red.. even PURPLE!"
Thanks soon-to-be-dad-of-two!

Almost Tragic Epilogue
We find A on the way out of the door, scissors and finger paint in hand, planning to cut and colour the hair of the neighbour kids - his faithful disciples. Thats what you could call a timely aversion of tragedy.