Full House

I'm getting really excited to meet our new little one! Each week seems to bring us frighteningly close to meeting Number 4.  Here is a picture of little Buzz in 2005:

I have enjoyed this stage of life tremendously!  Creating new little people, adding new little souls to our home!  Here is little Jessie in 2007:

Yes we have some strong-willed little people who are incredibly resistant to direction, but who doesn't like a challenge?  Here is little Woody in 2009:

And I know - obviously, I know - that 4 is a considerable number, a number that many families baulk at. But for us, it has seemed to be OUR number.  I could never say after Buzz or Jessie or Woody that we were 'finished' - on the contrary, we always felt quite unfinished.

And here we are, 9 weeks away from the due date of Number 4 (so, 6 or 7 weeks away from the actual appearance of Number 4, if the past is anything to go by,) and although these days things are quite difficult managing the older children while I am slowly falling apart physically, myself, I am really looking forward to meeting this new little one. I get the feeling that when Number 4 comes, I will have the feeling that we will have our Full House.  What a blessing, thankyou God!

Here's an annoying little FAQ.

Q: Do you have a name for this baby?
A:  Yes.  No.  I don't know.  I think so.  Possibly.

Q: Will your home fit 4 children?
A: Our home fits 4 children very well.  It does not, however, fit their egos in as well.   Buckingham Palace couldn't fit their egos in comfortably.  If the egos spill out the windows onto the lawn, that's fine by me.

Q: Will your car fit 4 children?
A: Our existing car legally fits 3 children, but in practical terms, it doesn't fit them very well physically (there are fights over arm rests and lots of physical aggression as a result) and in no way is it remotely adequate to fit their egos in as well.  We have been looking looking at 7-seaters since the birth of Woody.  And we still are.

Q: Is everything going well?
A: Yes.  And I feel outrageously blessed.  This pregnancy is turning out as low-risk as I could have hoped for, and so there's no reason why I can't have a natural birth this time.

Q: Are you excited about that?
A: I was.  Then I remembered my two natural births, and I started wondering if there were any other options for birthing a child.  Perhaps Mr de Elba could do it this time, for a change.

Q: Why have you stopped blogging?
A: Combination of factors.  I've got nothing to say, my social media itch is being scratched by the dreaded Facebook, and I really hate the new Blogger interface.  Really hate-hate-hate.  But that may be pregnancy hormones, who knows.  Ooh.  I've got to go and feed some hungry children.  Bye.

A Bad Bandicoot Situation

I don't know how else to say this, so I'll just say it.

Bullseye likes killing bandicoots.  Little rat bandicoots that obviously live in the forest out the back.  I think they are the pest bandicoots that are a problem in Asia and India, but whatever their status in Australia, they must be living in plague proportions in the forest, because there certainly seem to be many which venture into our yard at night.  Don't they learn their lesson, after losing to Bullseye?  Well, yes, one can assume that each individual bandicoot does learn its lesson about trespassing in our yard, but by then it is tragically too late.

I hate her killing bandicoots.  I disciplined her severely the first few times she did it, then I found a few dead rats around the place and praised her for killing those, then I got about as confused as she obviously was, and now I don't know what to do.

Well, there is one good solution and the best price I have found on the internet is $21.60.

Just for overnight wear in bandicoot season.  She has forfeited the right to go muzzle-free, I think.

Grandma disagrees.  She is a soft-touch, even when shovelling remains of  dead bandicoots into their resting places because Mr de Elba is at work from too-early til too-late, and I refuse to do the job.  "Oh no, you don't want to put a muzzle on her," says Grandma.

"Yes I do," I say.  And I figure that once Grandma shovels her first maggot-ridden, greatly-decomposed, mostly-melted bandicoot which has putrified after not being discovered during an extended rainy period, she may agree.