I went to put my drink down ...

... on what I thought was a round, white coaster.

Then I remembered we don't own any round, white coasters.

Turns out it was a used breast pad.

Crazy Times.

Gold Bunny

When we moved to this lovely house, I knew it was time to start growing roses - something I've always wanted to do. At our previous home, I couldn't get a shovel into the earth despite the fact that 50 years ago, our block and the surrounding land was an orchard.

Here, the earth is soft and rich, and smells all ... you know ... soft and rich. And earthy. Time to grow roses.

With the help of my Dad, I quickly put in 13 new roses, and there's space for 3 or 4 more. I've enjoyed seeing them shoot new growth despite the fact that I've been a bit out-of-commission with the Rest and the Caesarean and the Baby and all.

Here is our first rose - a Gold Bunny. It's a floribunda with lovely rich foliage and BEE-YOO-TI-FUL yellow blooms.

My Tiny Little GIANT

Yesterday was Joseph's due date. But instead of being born yesterday, he was 3 weeks 1 day old. My goodness, 40 weeks is a long time! I have never made it to 40 weeks before and I admire everyone who does!

When he was born, he was 3105g and now he's 3990g. This means in 22 days he's grown from 6lb 13.5oz to 8lb 13oz. I'm pretty proud of that. Sometimes you wonder if your baby is getting any/enough milk, but when you see them growing so well, you have to stop worrying.

I wasn't able to take fantastic pictures of Joseph yesterday, but here are some average ones of Joseph with his favourite big buddy:

Let the little children come ...

I have blogged before about some of the hilarious things I've heard while looking around for a church that our family might want to attend. In fact, the funniest thing I heard was at a church that was actually a pretty good fit for us - perhaps the second-best 'fitting' church we have visited in our time here.

There was another great moment we had at a different church, and I've forgotten to blog about it until now.

It was time for the children to leave for their own programs during the morning service. The man up the front was in a particularly jovial, grinning, hand-wringing, bobbing-up-and-down-on-his-heels mood, and if you've spent much time with Christians you'll recognise this particular caricature in people you've met.

As is common in churches, when the children leave the numbers are reduced to a half of the original congregation. Amid the bustle and murmur of children and attending adults all making an exit, the person up the front usually feels the need to make some comment on proceedings.

The jovial, hand-wringing man that particular day wished to comment positively on the number of children attending their programs.

Unfortunately, the words he chose, as he gushed enthusiastically with a huge grin plastered across his face were "Ah! Look at that! It's great to see them go!"

We were amused, and in some cases, ever-so-slightly in agreement.

Gymnastics (Re-posted)

Life with Joseph and his two big siblings is sailing along happily and uneventfully, meaning there is a lack of blog fodder for the time being. I am glad you didn't mind me re-posting one of my older posts last time.

Tinsenpup was kind enough to suggest I re-post her favourite piece of Killing A Fly which happens to be a sadly true account of my 2-year high school gymnastics career. When you start 2 years before retirement age, you can't expect much longevity in a sport.

I originally posted this during the 2008 Olympics as I was once again baffled by the level of achievement such young competitors achieve in such a difficult sport. I saw myself how I was able to improve and achieve quite quickly at gymnastics, but I realised how professional gymnasts must start in their sport so early and be so single-mindedly dedicated to training to perform to Olympic standards.

Added the next day: Initially I put out a call for a better way to end the post. We have a winner, so I will amend the ending and you can just be confused about the comments suggesting alternative last lines.

Olympic Sports that Baffle Me - Gymnastics
4 September 2008

I had a go at gymnastics in high school. I started gymnastics at the age of 15 which is about 2 years from retirement in the gymnastics world. It's also about twice the age of the gymnasts winning medals at the Olympics, so obviously, I approached the sport all wrong.

My favourite apparatus was the floor, working on the theory that you can't fall off a floor. I found though that you can sprain your ankle pretty badly and spend a week on crutches.

My concern with the asymmetric bars is that you could wind yourself or fall from a height and do untold damage. But the worst I remember from the A-bars was getting a wedgie in competition and being unable to retrieve the lost lycra until the end of the routine.

Retrieving wayward lycra results in a deduction of points in competition, and it is a measure of my [lack of] professionalism that my policy was always to forgo those points and get my butt cheeks out of public view ASAP. Anyway, it was my fault for forgetting to hairspray my cheeks before squeezing into those leotards. (And that's an awful lot of hairspray, in my case.)

The beam was the most terrifying apparatus for me. You can do a pretty serious injury to yourself on a beam, but even though I was scared silly, I never fell too badly. I wouldn't have much to report about this apparatus except that my sister remembers that once in competition, I fell and then I was deducted a further 0.5 because I swore. Well wouldn't you?

You might be able to hurt yourself on the other apparatus, but I believe that you can kill yourself on the vault. And since studies show that people fear public embarrassment more than death, I can say that my scary vault memory was even worse than that.

My run-up went wrong (as usual) and I baulked at the last minute. I sailed over the stupid vault head-first horizontally and landed on my tummy on the crash mat. My body, obeying Newton's first law of motion, kept sailing forwards while my lycra leotard, bothered by its own frictional coefficient, remained where it first made contact with the rubbery surface of the mat. And the physicists wrote a new law involving Collective Attention being drawn to the Point of Exposed Breasts.

Or something.

Meals At Camp (Re-posted)

I am having a lot of trouble thinking of what to blog about. Most of my typing is one-handed nowadays anyway, and on this little notebook I'm currently using, it's easy to mis-hit keys and accidentally delete large blocks of text that were very slow to type out in the first place. So there have been posts that have disappeared and then Blogger has helpfully autosaved the blankness, at which point I've decided to abandon the post and instead to re-read some of my old stuff.

I wondered if I should re-post some old entries, if only to have the same laughs a second time around. Here is my "Meals At Camp" skit - something I'd love to perform one day. Some of the material for this came from church camps held in some very old accommodation that became 'condemned' shortly after our stay; and some from camps in accommodation that perhaps should have been.

A la carte, a la tente
30 Jan 2008

Waiter: Good evening Sir, Madam, welcome to Dinner At Camp. Table for two this evening?

Him: Yes thankyou.

Waiter: Would you like to be seated in the Sun In Your Eyes section, or the Cold Food Served Last section?

Her: Mmm, they both sound good. We'll choose the Sun In Your Eyes section this evening.

Waiter: An excellent choice. Aerogard or Non-Aerogard?

Him: Aerogard.

Waiter: No problem. Please follow me. Now, would you like a drink to start with?

Him: Yes, please. We'll both have a Tank Water With Wrigglers.

Waiter: I'm terribly sorry Sir, due to Health Regulations the Water's been taken off the menu tonight. But I can offer a particularly good Weak Yellow Cordial if you'd be interested?

Her: That sounds lovely. Thankyou. (Waiter leaves.) Wonderful service here, isn't it?

Him: Yes, it is. I've never been seated in this section before. For lunch I was in the Downwind From The Barbecue Smoke section, and for breakfast I was in the Sitting At The Card Table Because I Was Too Late From The Cold Showers section.

Waiter (returns): Are you ready to order, Sir?

Him: Yes thankyou. I'll have the Gluggy Rice with Sloppy Meat ... incidentally, what meat is it?

Waiter: The chef said he's not entirely certain, as it simply says "tinned meat" on the side of the -er- tin.

Him: Never mind, it's just a minor detail. And can I have the Camp Toast with that?

Waiter: Certainly sir. How would you like it done?

Him: Tonight I'll have it cold, moist and leathery thanks.

Waiter: Very good sir, and for Madam?

Her: A very tempting menu. I'll choose the Gristly Chicken with Grey Watery Vegetables, that sounds nice.

Waiter: An excellent choice. And for dessert?

Her: We'll both have the Puddle of Melted Ice-Cream with the Children's Sprinkles, please.

Waiter: Certainly. Will you be having any other drinks with your meal?

Him: Yes, I will have the Lukewarm Tea with a Milk Arrowroot biscuit, and my lovely wife will have - what will you have dear? A Tepid Grey Coffee, thanks. International Roast would be perfect. And two anti-nausea tablets to finish thanks.

Waiter: Lovely. Now do you have any requests for music while you wait?

Him: How about 'The Superman Grace'?

Her: Oh no dear, I cannot bear 'The Superman Grace'. Could we have 'Thank You God For Giving Us Food' instead please?

Waiter: Absolutely, I'll go and tell the musicians directly. Enjoy your Weak Yellow Cordials. (Waiter leaves.)

Her: What a lovely evening. Pass the Aerogard? Thankyou. Could you please spray the back of my nec-

Musicians: THANK you God for giving us food! THANK you God for giving us food! THANK you God for giving us food! Ri-ight where we are!

Him: Oh, I've been meaning to mention how the lovely the decor in the amenities bloc-

Musicians: HAL-lelujah praise the Lord! HAL-lelujah praise the Lord! HAL-lelujah praise the Lord! Ri-ight where we are!

Him: Never mind.

Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

So log off, computer; Blog, go to sleep!
I'm playing with Joseph, and Joseph won't keep.

Some think we're crazy to have a third child, let alone refuse to draw the line at three (just yet, anyway.) They think parenthood is something to be endured.

Little do they know, parenthood is something to revel in!

Now this hasn't been easy, but I've told myself (please remind me if I ever forget!) never to wish away a single minute of my children's young days. I've tried to soak up every single drop of my children's childhoods, even the bad bits. There have been times when Nat and Anna were little when they have refused to sleep in the middle of the night, crying and screaming, sometimes feeding, sometimes not, and I have collapsed in an exhausted puddle of motherhood on the floor, weeping myself. Even in those times I've tried to soak up the experience, good or bad - because babies don't keep.

And here I go again!


How blessed. Thankyou God.

-------------------------------------------------
I'm thinking about all this today because this made me cry last night. If you're hormonal like me, you might cry too. Join the club.

Song for a Fifth Child

Mother, O Mother, come shake out your cloth,
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing, make up the bed,
Sew on a button and butter the bread.

Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking.

Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue,
Lullabye, rockabye, lullabye loo.
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo

The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo
Look! Aren't his eyes the most wonderful hue?
Lullabye, rockaby lullabye loo.

The cleaning and scrubbing can wait till tomorrow
But children grow up as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down cobwebs; Dust go to sleep!
I'm rocking my baby and babies don't keep.

- Ruth Hulburt Hamilton (1958)

Congratulations! Don't do it again, and who's the Dad?

The "Bounty Bag." Three free bags of baby-related samples, advertisers and magazines that you receive (a) at your first ante-natal appointment, (b) after the birth of your baby, and (c) when your baby is a bit bigger (I can't quite remember when.)

I'm always unreasonably excited to receive a Bounty Bag. Excited because it's full of goodies and free stuff, unreasonably because most of it's advertising rubbish that goes straight in the bin. But the free samples of nappies, cream, bodywash for the bath, baby shampoo & conditioner and powder always come in handy. When I was pregnant with Anna-Lucia, I got a 250g block of Cadbury chocolate in my Bounty Bag! Not bad, I thought.

This time, what's in there, apart from the usual?

A box of condoms. Ri-ight.

And an advertisement for DNA testing. That's right - paternity testing.

Yeesh.

Once you've expressed it ...

2007

2009

Spideranna, Spideranna ...

That's Grandma you hear in the background!