Roomy? Really?

Ok so we have decided that buying is not really a viable option for us as;
1. We want to build and that takes a minimum of 18 weeks,
2. We found out the auction is on the 5th of September,
3. I haven't started my job yet and its uncertain as to when I will be starting,
4. We don't want to jump into the property ownership without knowing exactly what we want and if we can get what we want for the right price.

So we have commenced scouring the websites for rental properties that fit the long list of requirements we have!

I found a property today that seemed to tick all the boxes, so I rang the Real Estate and the Rental Agent was going to be there in 20 minutes. So I hurriedly wiped the tomato sauce of Abbey's face and whisked her away in the pram to the house for rent.

Met the agent and as we went in she exclaimed 'This house is roomy, the master bedroom is nice and big and you can see the other rooms are a decent size also'. Ok, great I thought until I walked into the master bedroom. It was probably 2/3rds of the size of our current room. Hmmm keep walking, open plan lounge and kitchen, in total the same size as our current lounge, the rest of the bedrooms are tiny, the same size as Abbey's room now, which is a converted study. So I have come to the conclusion that when she said it was 'roomy' that she actually meant it had a lot of rooms, either that or she resides in a shoebox.

Ahh humour

If you don't have a sense of humour then I suggest this post isn't for you. I love bad jokes, dirty jokes, vulgar jokes and some of my best have come from my Mother and my Mother-in-Law. The following suggested 'sayings' came from the latter, it was emailed as a picture so hopefully it comes through okay...










And my personal favourite just for the internet...

Motherhood

I got emailed this by about 5 people when I became a mum so I thought I'd share it, but before I do the above photo is one of my favourites even though Abbey's eczema is quite bad (not as bad as it got though), her eyes are penetrating, she still gives me that look too ...

Before I was a Mum
I slept as late as I wanted and never worried about how late I got into bed. I brushed my hair and my teeth everyday.

Before I was a Mum
I cleaned my house each day. I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby. I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous. I never thought about immunisations.

Before I was a Mum
I had never been puked on - pooped on - spit on - chewed on, or peed on. I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts. I slept all night.

Before I was a Mum
I never held down a screaming child so that doctors could do tests...or give shots. I never looked into teary eyes and cried. I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin. I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mum
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put it down. I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt. I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much. I never knew that I could love someone so much. I never knew I would love being a Mum.

Before I was a Mum
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body. I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby. I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child. I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important.

Before I was a Mum
I had never gotten up in the middle of the night every 10 minutes to make sure all was okay. I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mum.

I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much...before I was a Mum.

Books

I've noticed some of the lovely ladies whose blogs I follow have posted about books recently. It made me think of the last time I read a book. It was over 6 months ago on holiday and that make me a little bit sad as I used to be a book worm. Mum used to take books out of the library and we would devour them. I left over 500 books in NZ when I moved to Australia. I was a collector of Pyschological Thrillers.
Now I have the Harry Potter series (yes I am a big kid we've established that previously) and a few other books I have picked up here and there.
My most treasured books in my possession are the Noddy series. The originals, you know Big Ears and Noddy sharing a bath and a bed, and of course there is the Golliwogs or whatever PC name they are given now.
They aren't in the best condition so I am giving (trusting is probably a better word) them to Paul and see if he can get them rebound for me. That way I can pass them on to Abbey when she is over her phase of tearing pages and eating them (she is a book worm too but literally devours them). I hope she will love them as much as I do.

Laughter...

It's really annoying me. It is. It's one of those things that just plays over and over in my mind. What is it?
This blog. That's what.
I have been reading other blogs and they amuse me, make me laugh until I snort, and sometimes, unfortunately, that snort is accompanied by coffee coming out my nose. But I digress, the reason this blog is annoying me as I long to be witty and amusing like the other ones I read. I used to think I was witty and amusing but maybe I'm not. Maybe like my dancing it disappeared with Abbey's arrival. Maybe I just over-think things.

I like to laugh, love to laugh. Abbey has just started to giggle. She thinks I'm amusing even when we are just playing a game of 'Hey'. The game is just that, I say 'Hey' and she giggles. Bless her, it doesn't take much.

I laughed last night. Paul and I were watching a DVD series of Outrageous Fortune (love that show!) and he put in the series 2 disc, I told him that we were up to series 4 and we'd seen this one. But noooo and then he told me I'd didn't tell him. I did. I repeated that I did and that perhaps (just perhaps) he wasn't listening. Like most 'arguments' we have this discussion was accompanied by giggling (yes we're 5 years old), he then decided to tell me that perhaps I was speaking another language, well I did, I told him in ENGLISH!

Laughter. Its great isn't it. Although I keep looking at the word 'laughter' and thinking I've spelt it wrong.

Abbeys post

She is desperate to type so here goes ...

tv .jikekekd; uljojpi pio ioyh piohhhhh;h aaf wiok

ydyhy5652ko rojni vot.rgrguibeuieirfl,rihrtjirt frt

Ok so I'm a bit worried that her first 'word' was TV but I'll deal with that later..

My little blogger

I wish I had wine

I do miss the olden days, but only because there was normally wine in my fridge. I do enjoy the odd tipple and in my past life, pre-child, I did topple over in many occasions from far too much tipple. So I thought I would share a couple of my favourite photos of me from when I had overindulged....


This was from Grape Grazing, we had made it to the last winery. Just after this photo was taken I asked the nearby policeman if they would 'arrest me' for a photo. They did, not my Mothers proudest moment but it was a great laugh at the time.


This was taken at the World Cup Rugby Semi-Finals between NZ and South Africa, I'm actually pointing to the scoreboard. I'd scored free tickets through work courtesy of Visa, so they were fantastic seats. There was a policeman involved in this night too although I just had a photo, no cuffs involved.
after we left the game, we headed home, Paul had to go to the bathroom so left me on a street corner and told me to wait there. I did. He didn't come back. He had my phone. I asked a stranger to borrow theirs, I was quite upset, Paul answered from across the street at the spot he'd designated. we continued on. Waiting at the lights I proceeded to fall face first onto the pavement "look Ma no hands", why I did not attempt to break my fall is beyond me. I cut myself or so I thought, we jumped in a cab and went home. Just a minor cut as I shoved a plaster on it. Not so much a minor cut when I woke up, Dr told me I should have had at least 5 stitches and my jaw was dislocated. Ouch. I now have a scar in memory of that wonderful evening. Oh and did I mention I was wearing trainers? Yip FLAT SOLED SHOES! Ah well live and learn.
So maybe its a good thing I don't have my wine rack stocked?

Cuddles

I'm getting more cuddles at the moment and they are snuggly ones. Is there anything nicer than when your baby first puts their arm around you or tucks their legs around you? I'm weaning Abbey at the moment and whilst it is incredibly hard on both of us, I think we are both enjoying the cuddles. She wraps her little around my waist, puts her head on my shoulder and gently 'deeleedelees' (translation 'tickles') my neck. Its something that almost makes up for the moment when she looks at me with tear soaked face and wide eyes as if to to say 'why aren't your boobs out?'...

to rent or buy

Our lovely landlords (also good friends) popped round yesterday and let us know that they will again be putting the house on the market. Argh! Its not really a surprise as we knew it would happen as we moved it to look after the house for them to get it ready for selling back in 07, we didn't count on me getting pregnant or the house not selling. So 2 years later here we go again. I'm not looking forward to it this time, especially open homes with a toddler. Last time it was tolerable, I was pregnant and the house was tidy. The real estate agent on the other hand was the sort of person that made you want to yell 'Dickhead' everytime you saw him. This man felt he had the right to a) comment on how my 'waddle' was progressing everytime he came around, b) turn up 15 minutes late for Open for Inspections c) PUT HIS HAND ON MY BELLY! Sorry but that last one needed a yell. and that was just our issues, our poor landlords had even more. Needles to say they wont be using that mob this time round and neither will we.

Now we have a conundrum do we take advantage of the first home owners grant and delve into the property market or do we continue to rent? If we buy we need to go full finance which is something I wanted to avoid, but the current grant makes up for what would have been a deposit.

So thats where we are at looking into finance, scouring rental properties and weighing up our options. This time we will move regardless of whether the house sells as we dont want to be going through this every couple of years!

My 6 Loves

Ok so the gorgeous Mummytime tagged me and now I'm 'it' so I need to post my 6 Loves and after my last post of 'Guilts' and 'A Rant' it is probably a bit nicer...

So lets begin
1. I have to state the obvious here, my number 1 love is shared by Paul and Abbey. so 1a)
Paul is my partner, my better half and sometimes my worse half. I am so incredibly lucky to have met a man like him (yes he will probably read this!). But really he is, so if your stomach turns at ramblings of professed love click the arrow above, you know the one its by the website address!
Anyway about Paul: He cares about me, 'ta da' no surprises there, but he Cares with a capital C. He used to worry when I'd walk home in the rain (insert witch joke here), he has cancelled boys trips and / or rushed home to be with me if somethings happened to me, however trivial it may seem later. So he's not the best at compliments, he gets 'the look' when I give him an opening, but I don't need compliments when everything he does proves his love. I love that his sense of humour matches mine, we both love a good fart joke and still giggle like pre-pubescent children when its minus the joke.
I love that he works hard so I don't have to and that he understands when I am too tired to do housework, or anything for that matter except care for Abbey. which brings me to Abbey. 1b) I've always loved children, but I never realised how much love (yip cliche) that you could feel when looking down at a small person you have created. Abbey's favourite thing at the moment is to turn away from me as I breastfeed her and then turn her head up to me to give me kisses. Nothing beats that not even a good nights sleep! I could go on and on here but will move on to the next 5 instead.
2. My family. My family all live in NZ, across the ditch from me. I miss them everyday and even more so now that I have nieces (2 of them), a nephew and Abbey. That doesn't mean I'm going to pack up and move back home just yet though (sorry Mum). I have two amazing sisters and they both gave me the most gorgeous nieces and nephew! Mum and I have a great relationship and some of my best jokes come from her (even the time I told the naked man joke in front of a nun aged 7, sorry) and she is always there for us, regardless. Dad is the best father any child could wish to have. Mum and Dad traipsed around NZ for the most part of my early teens to support me in my chosen sport. The greatest thing is his unconditional love and that I am his child regardless of the fact I don't share his genes. So to thank him I had Abbey on his birthday!
3. Friends, I love my friends, both those from my childhood who have remained in my life and the new ones I have made. I love the fact that some of my girlfriends and I can not speak for over 6 months and then its like we saw each other the day before. Or when we can sit in complete silence and walk away thinking it was the best conversation we ever had.
4. Hugs. Love em'. Simple. Whether its a child or someone you hardly know saying thanks. The best of them all are Bear Hugs.
5. Chocolate. Can you believe I used to have chocolate sitting in my fridge for months?! I was the child that still had Easter eggs in October (and refused to share them). Now, well lets just say that there were a couple of Family Blocks in my shopping on Friday and yesterday Paul asked if he should pick some more up on his way home!
6. Sleep. I miss it, I used to only function after 10 hours. Now I (barely) function on 4-5.
So there you go my 6 loves. Now I'm supposed to Tag the blogs I love, but alas everyone else has beaten me to it so... if you are reading this then tag you're it...

Mothers Guilt

There is a news article doing the rounds of some bloke (yes thats right a man) who thinks that woman should have drug free births. Great another thing to add to the list of Mothers Guilt. So I thought I would share with you just some of the things on my list...
1. Pregnancy. I HATED being pregnant. That's right HATED. And the worst part of my guilt is that I had a trouble free pregnancy. I felt mildly nauseous for a few weeks and had the obligatory pains when ribs shifted or when SuMo (as Abbey was known) stuck her bub up into my sternum but other than that it was trouble free. Now don't get me wrong, I LOVED the fact that I was pregnant. I loved rubbing my belly several times a day, and my heart skipped a beat at every Doctors visit and swelled with love when I heard her heartbeat or when she kicked me. Even those incredibly annoying hiccups caused me unbridled joy. I just hated being uncomfortable, not owning my body, not being able to sleep comfortably etc... So Guilt stage 1 and I wasn't 'technically' entitled to a Mothers Day gift yet.
2. Labour. I had drugs, yes all of them on offer during labour. I was induced and someone 'forgot' to turn down the drugs to kick start my contractions. So not only did I have my own contractions set in but also the drug-induced ones giving me a double whammy. Now for any medicos out there reading this, this may not be true but they did forget to turn the machine down and thats what it felt like. So I went from 'this is ok' to Linda Blair in the Exorcist. No I'm not joking, at one point my darling partner, Paul actually laughed at me, such was the contortion of face and body. I actually believed that thrashing about on the bed would ease the pain. Wrong. So I tried the gas, instant nausea, then Pethidine, instant sleep interspersed by being woken by agonising pain, all the while Paul is holding my hands telling me just to get past the top point of the pain. Supportive, yes, helpful, no. So I asked for the epidural, well begged really. I had 4or 5 (or 10) contractions while they tried to insert the needle. I don't remember the conversation with the Anaethetist but I did tell him I loved him, then quickly apologised to Paul. Then relief, Abbey arrived without fuss while I made my 'pushing face'. If you haven't experienced being numb from the waist down and told to push, close your eyes and pretend now, that face there the one you are making now.
So where was I, guilt that's right, I had a drug-filled birth and loved it, I'm planning on calling the Anaethetist to meet me at the hospital first when I go for number 2.
3. Labour again. Abbey arrived in 4 hours and 13 minutes. I'd been dilated for a week, hence the induction. Why do I feel guilty? What woman who has heard the horror stories of friends and family doesn't feel guilty when things go well and more importantly quickly. We've all heard of friends and family in labour for more than 24 hours. Enough said.
4. Post-natal. Abbey was left cold for 20 minutes. She was placed under the heater to bring up her body temp. Unfortunately they forgot to turn the heater on. Technically this wasn't my fault but do I feel guilty about it. Of course.
5. Drugs. Again. In my hurry to get the epidural, i didn't ask about the tape on my back. My hospital records showed I was allergic to plaster. Plaster, not tape. I am allergic to tape. So on the Thursday (I had Abbey on a Tuesday) I asked Paul what was on my back as it was itchy. His response 'You haven't noticed?' with an incredulous look on his face. Well no, thats why I asked. Looked in the mirror to see a lovely red raised, blistery outline of the epidural tape. Fab. Called the nurses, they called my ObGyn, on to anti-histamine. Abbey, two days old, slept through the night of course as they make you drowsy. Phenergan. If only I could use it now.
6. Eczema. Its atopic. That means its in the genes. That means I gave it to her. That means that she has a 99.99% chance of developing asthma or hay fever. Sure I could blame the maternal/paternal line but its my genes she got, a diluted version of theirs granted but they are mine.
7. Sleep. Abbey doesn't. Simple. The guilt comes as I breastfeed her to sleep. She does not know how to fall asleep on her own. I'd like to swap the breast with some Phenergan. Please.

Ok so I'm sure I could add to this but for now I'll just have 7 Guilts on my list and 507 in my head.

A Rant

Never before has a topic (or single person) infuriated me more than the Stay at Home Mothers (SAHM) vs. working mothers, and it’s not because I think one is better than the other. More one (maybe 2) woman's comments on a well read blog set my blood pressure to high and my teeth to clench. This woman, who I will not name as I have resorted to childish measures on Twitter and am now over it,does not have children but made the following comments:
"Staying at home is definitely easier than going to work AND looking after children. If you can afford it, good on you. You get to escape daily, mandatory commute in any weather, not ever seeing sunlight, the relentless grind of fixed schedules, performance anxiety, the requirement to continuously educate yourself in your chosen field...Whatever way you look at it, satisfying physical work around the house is not as draining as 12 hour working days. Note that all the working ladies still have their chores waiting for them at home." For the record not all mothers work 12 hour days, as they need to collect their children from school, care etc. I have friends who are mothers who choose to work and some who have to, good on them as it is what works for them. But as I pointed out this woman does NOT have kids! Unfortunately her quotes about us SAHM's not having a brain and being lazy was deleted so here's my 2 cents...

I am a SAHM and soon to be a part-time working mother. Why? Because I'd like Paul to be able to spend more time at home rather than feeling he needs to work overtime to support us. It’s a choice for me to work and I'd rather help with income so he can spend precious moments with Abbey and also so we can enjoy a holiday at Christmas to see our families.

As a mother the only difference I can really see between me and those who work full-time (whether by choice or necessity) is that I have more one-on-one time with my daughter. I don’t know if that time is more quality than the time working mothers get with their children. Why? Because I am not in their house 24/7, I can't see how they relate to their kids and nor can anyone see how I interact with Abbey. I have a brain, a rather active one, and I am using it to its full capacity when staying at home or out in the workforce. The only thing that has changed is the conversation. In my working career I often felt like the people I worked with were children and now instead of treating adults like children, I'm treating my daughter like a child but in a 'good way'!

One of the main reasons I became a SAHM is Abbey's eczema. To see your child smiling at you through bloody sores on their face, mittens covered in blood is something I will live with for the rest of my life. It is making me teary just remembering it and typing this. Eczema is a nasty affliction and Abbey's is atopic, that means it’s genetic. Great, another thing to add to my Mothers Guilt. Aside from the actual physical presence of eczema, it also has other characteristics, such as night waking. Think about it, you'd wake too if you were itchy and uncomfortable. So I get up to Abbey several times a night and she is breast fed, I tried controlled crying, only be told by the Specialist it was cruel due to the night waking, again more guilt.

Paul and I talked about me working, and as he pointed out at the time I could barely function around the house, how the hell was I going to be able to work? If you know me you know I am a pedantic worker, bordering on anal and a perfectionist. I don't like things to be half-arsed. So being sleep-deprived in a work situation was not going to benefit anyone, although looking back on my 20's I seemed to cope just fine! To give you an indication of how zombie like I was (I've become 'conditioned'), I once walked across a street with Abbey in her pram after I heard the 'clicking' of the green man. The problem was I was at a t-intersection and it wasn't my green man. Somehow there was no traffic, only a car far enough away for me to cross without incident, well not quite, I was verbally abused my the occupants in the car. The worst part is I didn't realise what I'd done until a woman at the other side of the lights pointed out that the lights were green. When you take a breath and the 'ding' goes off as to what just happened, I sobbed all the way home.

And as a SAHM I'm NOT lazy, just because it may seem that I have more time in my day doesn't make me lazier than mothers that work. My day is full.

My only grievance in this argument is those women (and sometimes) men who haven’t experienced parenthood who feel the need to comment on this debate, you haven’t experienced the wonders of being a parent so you cannot justify your arguments however sound they may be in your own head.

And lastly to all the Mums and Dad’s out there, whether you are working fulltime, part-time, from home, out of an office, in a field, or like me are at home, I raise my glass to you and thank you for raising my daughters future boyfriend (‘s? gawd), husband, best friend, team mates, Doctor, Nurse, Hairdresser, Garbage Collector, Teacher and my future grandchildren’s possible childcare workers!

So You Think You Can Dance

So you think you can dance huh? Are you a parent? If you are then the answer to that is more than likely a resounding no (unless you are Madonna and then well parenting skills are another debate). Did you ever look at your parents dancing and cringe? Yip, I did and now Paul and I have worked out that its our fault.

I used to bounce like Beyonce, "poppin' it like its hot as it always 'got hot in here' when I was on the dance floor. I was the white woman who could "jump, jump, everybody',ok so maybe I'm talking myself up here but I could dance.

Now Paul and I find ourselves doing the hip turn and 'wiggly fingers', why? Well cos thats how Abbey dances and we encourage her to the point that we look like that scary washing machine that sold on TradeMe during a nasty spin cycle.

In teaching Abbey to move to music, we've losing a part of us, the ability to be coordinated, legs go one way, arms another. So maybe Abbey shaking her head isn't a dance move after all maybe its a 'Noooooo not again'?

So I've lost my rhythm, not sure where I left it, perhaps in Frances Perry House. I might ring the midwife and see if shes found it cos I'd really like it back, please.

Perceptive little bugger

Ok so I keep meaning to do another post but everytime I go to come upstairs and type on the raggedy old computer, Abbey wakes, she throws a tantrum, she only wants her Mummy. Oh and its not just when I want to come onto the computer, its when I want to cook or clean (she's scared of the vacuum cleaner, but thats another story).

People keep telling me babies are perceptive, they know when you are going out, need time out, are dropping them off at childcare or just need them to sleep. I agree Abbey is perceptive but she also some sort of inbuilt mechanism that is purposely designed to make me go stark raving bonkers...

Right, 4 hours have passed since I started this so where was I? Ahh Abbey's radar of anything that Mummy is going to do that could possibly involve something nice. Hot cup of coffee anyone? Yes I see you nodding, thinking back when the last time you had a hot cup of coffee and managed to drink it will it was still hot.

Anyway I'm sure at one stage I will be able to go 'off radar' until then my dear Abbey you will be an only child.