Get Lost, Jack Frost!

Seriously, i'm over the cold weather already. Winter doesnt even officially start until tomorrow( ( and its not even " cold" cold yet )  but already im not enjoying having to climb into a cold bed at night and shiver around to warm up; rugging up before leaving the house in the morning; having to turn the heater on by lunch time so i dont get nippy; and definately not enjoying the sore throat that is lingering from last weeks common cold. ( the only thing i am enjoying is the hot chai latte before bed of an evening...mmmm .)

Poor little Flynn still has a runny nose and a sore throat aswell, and its a battle to keep him warm during the night because the little dude likes to wriggle and kick around - which means the sheets and blankets either go flying or, at the very least, end up around his ankles. Luckily he has a few pairs of soft, snuggly pyjamas so i can layer a singlet, a onesie and the pj's to keep him toasty.

We've had a spare mattress set up in a loungeroom for the past week because people have been sick ( ie me and Flynn ) and other people ( ie Mick ) have very kindly given us our space and thus saved their own sleep. However, i am contemplating leaving it out for the entirety of winter so Flynn and i can be warm and snuggly all day long, snuggled in under the quilt. It would probably look like we had squatters moving in, but other than that it would be awesome.

What would also be awesome? Spring. Only 3 months of crappy winter to get through!

My Inaugural Friday Flip-Off

Hello there reader-people. Today i take part in a great little initiative that i found via Sian at Pumpkin and Piglet ( although it is the brainchild of Gigi at Kludgy Mum ). Its called Friday Flip-Off - its basically a weekly outlet of rage. You know, so we dont take our shit out on our nearest and dearest. So sit back, relax, and enjoy my end of week rant.

To the common cold - you've managed to infect everybody in my house, including my little bubba. This has meant little sleep, lots of crying ( on my behalf aswell as bubs ) and itchy, scratchy sore throats... flip off!

To the selectors of the NSW rugby league team - i am sick to the death of you people. Seriously. Could you please stop picking players out of position and start picking some players with a bit of passion, regardless of their age ( wink, wink, nudge, nudge Nathan Hindmarsh ). If you persist in stuffing we NSW supporters around, i may just have to move to Victoria and pretend that i dont care anymore. And i dont want that to happen. So get your act together or....flip off!

To people who dont know how to correctly negotiate a roundabout - its not hard. Give way to your right; stick to your own lane; blink off when existing. The next time someone cuts me off or uses their blinker incorrectly, i'm going to give them the finger and tell them to ....flip off!

To my neighbours dog - stop shitting on my lawn. Stop barking in the wees of the morning and when i am trying to get back to sleep after a breastfeed. Stop scampering through my flower bed and kicking the wood chips everywhere. You dirty, mangy, fluffly little mutt....flip off!

To the washing - please stop piling up everywhere. Dirty, clean, doesnt matter - you are taking over my house. I know that technically this is my fault for being all depressed like this week and not being motivated enough to even contemplate washing/folding/putting away, but if you could just learn to wash/fold/put yourself away ( magically ) that would be awesome. Because right now, you're the bane of my existence...flip off!

P.S I dont know how to include the blog hop thingo, so if someone could help me with that for next week, that would be great.

P.P.S Head over to Blog This! and vote for me this week...

Pride ( In The Name Of Love )

Welcome to this weeks Blog This! challenge. On todays menu:
Tell us about a proud moment in life - of you, of someone else, when you made someone proud. Maybe you want to focus on an aspect of your life or someone you know that exudes pride?

Ok, yes, first of all - i totally stole the name of a U2 song for my post title. Second of all, the first person tha comes to mind when i think of the word " pride ", of who I am proud of, of who is proud of me....is my Dad.

Thats him - my dad. We've always been close, my dad and i, the kind of relationship where we can finish each others sentences, have inside jokes and generally just " get " each other. But in the past 8-ish years, since finishing high school and growing and maturing into adulthood, i've realised not only how much i love him but how proud i am of him as a person.

He's always done whats best for our family, regardless of whether or not it was good for him; he worked two jobs for years, existing on only a few hours sleep a night, to provide for us; when he could afford to cut back to only one job, the job he took on was physical labour. He was told by his doctor that this work would aggravate his back condition, to the point of paralysis if he let it get too far - but he continued to work regardless. For 10 years in fact, until he was told it was either a spinal fusion and rehab and cutting back on duties - or it was a wheelchair. He chose to take the surgery option and once he was back on his feet, he was back to work, doing the same job as before, because thats what he needed to do for his family. This persistance has paid off for him in the last two years - he was given a promotion which meant a better paid job with less manual work. 

His dedication to us knows no bounds. He came to most of our sporting games ( even though he admits to never liking netball ); he would let you practise your speech with him as your audience, so you werent so nervous when you had to give it in class; he listens, even now, to everybody's issues and doesnt expect anything in return but that you consider his advice; I'd never in my life seen him pick up a pen and paper to write a letter, but he did just that, and wrote me when i was living overseas; he's an amazing Poppy to his three grandkids, even though he tells them " stories " about how he used to be a doctor/cowboy/hatmaker ( and we kids know none of it is true ).

Basically, I'm proud of him because of the kind of man he is. He loves with his whole heart, which means he doesnt forgive easily when he's hurt. If you hurt him too much ( though he wont admit that " hurt " is the right word ) he'll cross you off his Christmas card list forever. Yes that may be stubborn - but it also means he doesnt suffer fools easily, and that he knows the key to life is to be happy. If someone doesnt make you happy, you dont bother with them anymore, and you take that love you had and focus it on the people who mean most to you. He does everything that he does for his family, and we love him for it. Though i know he's taught me many a life lesson and showed me, through example, how to be a good parent, he claims it was us, his children, that taught him to be a good father.

Which ever way it happened, no matter where he picked up his skills, he is a good father and a good man. And thats enough for me.

When Does Existence Count?

Thats the question that I, and many others in Australia, am pondering today? It comes on the back of the case of a couple who, after having been hit by a drug driver on Christmas Day, lost their unborn child at 32 weeks ( " NSW to review unborn child laws " ). This poor woman, who was hit whilst out taking a walk, had to endure the pain and suffering of having to birth her child even though they knew the baby, already named Zoe, would be stillborn - and now, because of laws regarding what constitutes " human ", she cannot even get justice for that loss. See, here in New South Wales, a baby is not considered human until it has taken a breath and, thusly, this drug driver cannot be tried for either murder or manslaughter.

This, frankly, is ridiculous. Is the law saying a baby does not exist until it breaths? So you can have a baby growing inside you, evidence of their existence available on any ultrasound screen, available to any passer-by in the street - yet, in the eyes of the law, that baby doesnt exist until it takes its first breath of air. What a load of rubbish! I know this poses all kinds of moral and ethical questions, but surely a baby at 32 weeks, that could be born that early and survive, which kicks its mother, and gets the hiccups, and can suck its thumb - surely that MUST count as human?

The problem, as its been described to me, is that it raises the question of when would abortion become murder? I dont know at what stage abortion becomes murder - and therefore illegal - in this state, but i'm damn sure its well before 32 weeks. Not that i want this to become a debate on abortion but, for the record, i consider myself pro-choice - although i dont believe that abortion is the right choice ( for me, or anyone else ), i do believe that each individual woman should be able to choose for herself. But abortion is illegal in this country beyond a certain stage because the law regarding abortion must recognise late stage abortion of a fetus as murder. Mustn't it? Otherwise abortion would be legal at any stage. So why is it different for the loss of a child through other criminal means?

I just dont get it. And i'm sure this poor couple mustnt either. My heart goes out to them, their living daughter, and their angel baby. I just hope this legal loophole can be rectified soon so that other families need not suffer the same....

Thank God For Sesame Street

Flynn isnt exactly up to the TV watching stage yet - at 5 months old he doesnt have the worlds longest attention span ( hello goldfish! ). However, i do put the kids channel ABC2 on for an hour or so everyday - he doesnt actually watch the programs but he enjoys the music and the colour, and that comes in handy if Mummy has to run outside and hang some washing or needs to go to the toilet. Dont get me wrong, i'm not going to be one of those mums who uses the TV as a makeshift babysitter, i just 5 or 10 minutes of distraction sometimes. So little Flynn doesnt actually watch the shows - I, on the other hand, being an adult, cannot help but pay attention ( even if sometimes i dont really want to ). And do want to know what i've noticed ? Some kids TV shows are just stupid. They dont even compare to the great shows I had to watch when i was growing up. You know, like " Sesame Street ".

" Sesame Street " is the bomb, baby. I should i say the baby bomb? Either way i loved it back then and i love it still. The characters are kid friendly, the puppets come from the fabulous Jim Henson Company, it gets the best celebrity  cameos ( Garth Brooks, Adam Sandler, Aretha Franklin, hell even Michelle Obama ) and they use music and colour and stories to help kids learn. " Sesame Street " is the kind of show i want Flynn to love. Suffice to say Mummy will put this one on when he's old enough to actually pay attention to TV. I've also discovered two other little shows that i dont mind, and would be happy to sit down and watch with him:

" The Hoobs " - this one is a British show about these aliens called Hoobs that travel around in the Hoob mobile, learning about things here on Earth. They call adults " peeps", children are " tiddly-peeps " and babys are " squiddly-tiddly-peeps". Cute! What i like about this one is that every episode is about something in particular and the Hoob go around and try to learn about that thing. So, for example, yesterday one of them had found a painted egg and they wanted to know what it was and it was for - queue learning that eggs come from chickens, humans eat them, and when theyre boiled and painted they are used for egg hunts. Also, this also a Jim Henson production so it gets extra points from me just for that. Hooba-licious!

" Chuggingtons" - this is pretty much the new, modernised " Thomas the Tank Engine ". Not thats there is anything wrong with old Thomas but this one is just a little more " hip". Its more colourful, there are human characters and the storylines teach a moral or lesson without being as clunky as Thomas tends to be. Mick and I bought Flynn a Chuggingtons showbag ( with a backpack and lunchbox, dinner plate and cute hat! ) at this years show so my fingers are crossed that he gets into this one!

I dont get the appeal of some of the other popular kids shows. " In the Night Garden " ? Its rubbish - i'm not too keen on kids shows that use baby sounds instead of actual language. I know babys might like being spoken to in goo-goo-ga-ga but i'd prefer Flynn to watch something where he is going to pick up actual words and language. " Yo Gabba Gabba " ? Those puppet character thingys are weird and freaky! The stripey green one doesnt even have elbows - whats up with that? And DJ Lance has one of those faces i just want to punch. So i'm thanking God for " Sesame Street " - as long as it remains on air i might have a little bit of sanity for the next 10 years of childrens tv watching!

Lie, Cheat, Steal - Or How Bludgers Make Me Mad....

I know i've already participated in this weeks Blog This! challenge, and usually i would consider one rant post for the week enough but, well, somethings just got on my goat and i want to rant about it. I found out this morning that a young mum i know is rorting the government and, frankly, this knowledge has given me the shits.

This new mum ( who i have mentioned previously ) is getting the maximum Baby Bonus* ( which i dont begrudge her - i get it too ) and is also claiming Family Tax Benefit A and B. Thats all fine, no worries. Because her partner is part Aboriginal she is also claiming all the Indigineous benefits she can. I dont want to get into all that but i'm not a big believer in being able to claim extra monies simply because of your race ( or hell, even one quarter of your race ). But whats really gotten up my nose is that this woman is claiming single parents benefits - because she's told the government that her partner does not live with her - and thats an out-and-out lie. She and her partner have been engaged for over 5 years and have been living together longer than that. So, she's lying to Centrelink so that she can claim all kinds of money she isnt really entitled to.

The rorting of benefits really gives me the shits. This woman is telling a bald-faced lie and, consequently, she is able to claim almost $500 more per fortnight in government benefits than I am. You might want to say that i'm jealous, but thats not it ( although a little more in my pocket each week would be nice ). Its annoyed me that Mick and I are being honest, we've paid our taxes in the past, and now that we need a little monetary help from the government, we get what we're entitled to based on the truth of our situation.... and then you have people like her, who lie and are able to get so much more than they need or deserve. I cant stand being ripped off, and even though the money is not going directly from my pocket to hers it may aswell be. I pay my taxes in the anticipation that they will be used properly and to good effect - and then there are money grubbing people out there who are a drain on the system.

People who claim disability benefits because they have a slightly pulled muscle in their back, when honest-living people ( like my father ) work for 20 years with a legitimate disorder, up until their doctors tell them if they keep going they may not be able to walk....and then those honest people have surgery and get straight back to it.
Women who have numerous babies to different fathers so they can live off the family benefits.
People who claim unemployment, even though they are perfectly able to work - they just have no drive nor desire to find work because why should they when taxpayers will keep them in the money?

I have no problem with people claiming government benefits when its legitimate - i am, at least while i'm on maternity leave - it just really gets my back up when people cheat the system. I have half a mind to go and dob this girl in, to have her investigated, and made to pay all the extra monies back - but i wouldnt want to seem spiteful. I guess i can just sit back and know that i'm doing the right thing and live knowing that my son will be brought up with good moral standards, because his father and I are setting hime the best example ( even though its the  hard way ) right from the start....

*NOTE* For those of you not in Australia, the Baby Bonus is a benefit paid to new mothers to help with the immediate costs of raising a child. The maximum benefit is just over $5000, paid over 26 weeks.

Mummy Meltdown!

I had me a little mummy meltdown last night. I'm not proud of it, but it happened, and i can admit to it. See, my bubba is still having the " tummy troubles " that i've previously blogged about and the challenges of trying to help him shake it are kind of getting to me.

We went to the specialist paedatrician on Monday who advised that i keep up the breastfeeding, give him water and prune juice after every feed and give him a double dose of medecine everyday. Believe it or not, the medecine part of that menu is the easiest. His medecine is super sweet so all i have to do is measure him out a spoonful, into his mouth and mmmmmmmm - he gulps it down. The breastfeeding and the water/juice part is proving to be a little more difficult. I love breastfeeding and i'm so glad that, despite a few hiccups at the start, Flynn and I stuck with it. Problem is that now, at almost 5 months, my milk is not quite enough for him ( which is why we tried a bit of rice cereal - which has seemingly caused the tummy issues - in the first place ). By early evening the little guy is wanting to feed every hour-ish and, before his bedtime rolls around, my supply runs low. This means a little " Mum, i'm still hungry!! " tantrum, before i can settle him down and get him to sleep.

The other issue is with the water and the prune juice. Two weeks of different medical professionals telling me try prune/carrot/apple/orange juice means that my son has developed a sweet tooth early - which means he's not interested in plain old water. He's also not interested in a bottle anymore. Since having all the different remedies shoved at him, he now HATES the bottle. He starts crying as soon as he sees and if you try and put it in his mouth? Screams! So consequently its either force the bottle in and make him swallow something ( while he screams and cries and splutters ) or, well, nothing.

So last night, i had my moment. My milk had run out, Flynn wouldnt even contemplate the bottle of formula i'd made up for him and Mick decided, after an hour of wailing, that it was time he hit the sack. Which left me with a crying, hungry baby, a supply that couldnt satisfy him, and a major headache. I gave him what i could of my milk and then sat with him on my lap, hoping for sleep. Two and a half hours and another feed later, Flynn was pushing out the zzz's.... and i was pouring out the tears. I felt like a bad mum because i'd gotten so frusturated; like i had the most difficult baby in the world but it was my fault because i should never have tried the rice cereal; like my head was going to explode if i couldnt get some quiet and some sleep soon; and i even felt resentfult towards Mick because he'd crept off to bed instead of staying up and helping me.

But fear not - i've moved past it today. I love both my gorgeous fiance and beautiful son to death, and i know i'm a good mumma. The last five weeks have tested my limits and i've had my crazy moments, but i havent ( yet ) completely cracked. Lets just cross fingers that the blood tests that my little guy had on Monday show up nothing serious and we can get a solution to his " difficulty " soon!

Ch-Ch-Changes!

Just quickly - you may have noticed that i've changed the theme around these parts.
I'm not entirely sure that i like it. I might even change it again.
What do you guys think?
Note: i actually have changed it since i posted this entry. What do you think now?

Modern Manners

Its time again for another Blog This! challenge ( i've missed the last two or three... ). This week its:
C'mon. It's time to shout out your cause, your gripe, your mission. Get on your soapbox and talk about something that really matters to you. Something you think about but perhaps don't talk about. Start a conversation, be heard!

Ok, so those of you who read me fairly regularly know that i dont grandstand very often. I like to keep things fairly light and fluffy and only get really opinionated when something is really important to me, and to others. You know, things like:
a) breastfeeding
b) blood donation
c) leggings as pants.
Important stuff. Seeing as i've blogged about these things in the past and you should, by now, know where i stand on those issues ( breastfeeding, yes; blood donation, double yes; leggings as pants, hell no ) i thought i'd get my knickers in a twist about something new for this challenge. Or rather something old and, apparently, frequently going missing from our society - manners.

Thats right - manners. I dont want to sound old before my time, but it seems to me like manners have kind of fallen by the wayside these days. I dont just mean kids, or teenagers - i mean basic manners from everyone. My son may only be (almost ) 5 months old but i'm already saying to him " Ta Mum " when he takes something from my hand, because a simple " Ta " or " Thankyou " is about the easiest thing in the world to learn, and amongst the most courteous to use. Its pretty simple - you say " please " when your requesting something and " thankyou " when receiving it; " excuse me " when you need to verbally or physically interupt someone;don't point and dont stare, its rude; no talking on your mobile at the checkout or at dinner; and, my biggest bug bare, you hold the door open for others when you are simultaneously using a doorway.

It really gets up my nose when people forget these most simple of things. Like the guy at the supermarket this past weekend who pushed in front of Mick and I at the self serve checkout. Even when i said " um, excuse me, there is a line here ", he just looked at me and then went back to scanning his bread. Not even an insincere " Oh, sorry, didnt see you there ". That guy ? Douche.
Or the middle aged man who, despite seeing me coming with my pram, rushed through door to the carpark and went on his merry way, even though he could have ( and should have ) held the door open for me. I was taught that if you're coming up to a door way at the same time as someone else, you hold the door open for them - and i do just that, whether i'm pushing a pram or carrying my bub or am by myself, and whether the other person is a man or a woman. Its just basic manners.
Or the people who get a friendly " have a nice day " from the cashier and dont even offer a " Thanks! " in return.Is it so hard to give them a one word answer? Uh - nuh.

So, blog type people, please go out of your way today, and everyday, to use your manners. I know your parents taught them to you so hold those doors open, smile and say thankyou, and make your children say " please " instead of stamping there little feet. And if you come across someone who forgets to use their manners when dealing with you, smile ever so sweetly and wait until they're out of sight before you give them the finger. After all, its bad manners to flip the bird to someones face....

Baby, Baby...

Flynn and i hosted mothers group at our house this morning - and, to my delight, it actually went well. See, i had this dream last night that absolutely nobody turned up, so i was panicking just a little when, 15 minutes after the scheduled start time, nobody had arrived yet. But - phew!- people were just a little late because little babies dont like to let you get anywhere on time. They're either:
a) still sleeping when you need to go ( and you DO NOT wake them up )
b) needing a feed ( and you cant hurry a feed or bubs gets grumpy )
c) they do what is popularly known as a Number Three ( poo poo blowout! )
or d) its actually you running late because your just a frazzled new mum.

We only had a small group today ( Flynn and I and four other pairs ) but thats ok because I only have a small house. We live in a 2 bedroom duplex which, although its kinda on the small side, suits us just fine. For now. Lately i've been daydreaming about the time when we can get a bigger place - a house instead of a duplex - and ( gasp ) having another baby. Yep, Flynn is only four and half months old and i'm already daydreaming about another bubba. Is that weird? Even with the trouble he's been having with his digestion ( which we are going to see the paedatrician for on Monday... ) the last four months have just been such a delight, i cant imagine having only one. And i've always wanted to have at least two, possibly three. Of course, when i mentioned all this to Mick he kind of went white.... thinking about another baby so soon kind of sends dudes into an internal mini-meltdown.

So watching my son interact relatively well with other babies ( i say relatively because he did have a little sook for a while there ) - the little people we already refer to as his friends - just makes me think what it would be like having two kids to look after. Two boys or one of each? How jealous would Flynn get? Would he be a good helper? Is he gonna share? Lord, the things that go through my head and, in reality, another baby is at least 2 years into the future. One thing i know for sure - that bubba is gonna be loved....

Mothers Day Recap

So yesterday, as you would be aware, was my first Mothers Day to celebrated as a mama - and i'm not going to hide it... i was kinda excited! How could i not be with a gorgeous little fella like this to call my own:

Gorgy smorgy!

So, here's how my day played out:

* Woken at 3am for a feed with Flynn. Mick gave me my present - a fluffy pink dressing gown/bathrobe. He later said i looked like Dame Edna in it ( i'm not sure if that was supposed to be complimentary or not ).

*Got out of bed at 7am, when Flynn woke for another feed. I was hoping for breakfast in bed ( whihc is wat i had been told i was getting ) but, due to Micks having " got his beer on " the night before, he kind of forgot thats what he'd promised.

* I got upset and had a little tear or two, at which point Mick redeemed himself by rushing out of the bedroom and apologising. Good man.

* Got read the Sunday paper in peace because Flynn decided he would have an hour long nap. Good boy.

* Showered and went to the mall. Bought a new fleecy hoodie. Since getting big milk-boobs, i dont have much warm that will fit me for winter.

* Subway, Eat Fresh!

* Watched a recorded DVD of this past weeks episode of " The Amazing Race ". I love me some Race, and this was on my wishlist of things i wanted to do on Mothers Day. Flynn had a feed and a sleep while it was on, and Mickey J took himself off for a quick bike ride.

* Went to my mums for afternoon tea ( we had been to Micks mums last weekend. She lives in another town so it was easier to split the visits ). My dad made a lovely zuchinni and sweet potato cake. Good man.

* My sister had bought a puppy and was also visiting my parents, with the puppy. I love puppies!

* Flynn got tired and had a nap on my dads lap which was awesome, seeing as he's been majorly clingy the last few weeks. Good boy.

* Got home and gave Flynn a bath - marvelled at how he marvels at the rubber ducks that he has in the tub. Too cute!

* Mick made me a lovely red penang curry fpr dinner. We figured out earlier that he'd forgot to plan dessert, so i made my own peach crumble. Tinned peaches to the rescue!

* Mick and I settled in to watch " Where The Wild Things Are " ( Flynn had already flaked it and gone to sleep ). It was a really, really sweet movie. Actually, you could probably even describe it as bittersweet. I dont really remember the book so much - although i do know that i read it once or twice as a child - but the whole melancholia of Max and the Wild Things and the beautiful rise and fall of their friendship really touched me.

* Gave Flynn a dream feed .... we've had a full week of him waking around 3am-4am for a feed, when he had been waking at 6am or 7am, so i tried the whole dream feed thing hoping it would get him to sleep a little longer. It totally worked. Good Mummy!

* Went to bed utterly exhausted. I had Friday at the zoo, Saturday at the show and Sunday out and about - by 10pm last night i was well and truely ready for bed.

I really enjoyed my day, even though we didnt do anything spectacularly exciting. I had breakfast, lunch and dinner all prepared for me; i didnt do a single load of washing; i got to take a shower by myself; and i got to snuggle up to my gorgeous fiance in a cuddly, warm, dressing gown whilst nursing my precious son to sleep. What more could a mama want?

Blah Blah Blah, No-one Cares...

So - you may have noticed that i did not blog yesterday, as i promised i would. Then again, you may not have noticed - i was hoping to have a big 300th blog post week and, frankly, its been a bit of an anti-climax. I loved blogging the suggested reader topics ( thanks to the guys who through a suggestion at me ) but i didnt get as much blog traffic as i was hoping for. Gawd, i know, that makes me sound totally shallow and selfish and wah wah wah but.... i like you guys! I like comments and new followers and knowing that people are reading what i've written. But dont get too mad at me - i didnt get all petulant and NOT blog yesterday just because nobody was reading. I'd taken Flynn out to the zoo with some of our friends from mothers group and, after 5 hours of pushing a pram around, i was completely buggered. Shagged. Cactus.

We've been to our annual show today - which cost $20 for two adults to get in, $14 for 2 dagwood dogs and a Coke and $23 for a showbag ( Chuggingtons for Flynn....not for me! ) - so i'm gonna cut this post short too. Very much looking forward to Mothers Day tomorrow so expect a gushing, lovey-dovey, gooey post by Monday afternoon.

Peace out people!

Very Superstitious....

Day four of " What the reader, wants the reader gets "/300thblog post celebration week. Todays post is courteousy of Kylie at The Rockgarden. She wants to know: Do you have any personal rituals or superstitions?

I had to kind of think long and hard about this one - i dont really have any personal rituals ( like wearing lucky underpants or putting on my left shoe first or whatever ) but i am a little superstitious. But why? Why have i picked up some superstitions but completely dismissed others? I suppose it comes down to how you were raised and who by - if you parents and grandparents tell you a certain superstition, i think you're more likely to stick with it.

For the record, i chose that there picture because i DO NOT  ever walk under ladders. I'm sure this one was passed down to me by my nan. Its bad luck standing under ladders you see ( for what reason, i'm not sure... ) so i dont even risk the wrath of the Universe. We quiet often have workmen come to my workplace needing to get into the roof, and the manhole happens to be right above my work station. Well, as long as they have their ladder open there i find something other than paper work to do, because i refuse to stand or walk under ladders, even for a few seconds.

I also:

1.  Never put shoes on the table

2. Cross my fingers when i'm in need of good luck

3. Fork my fingers when a black cat crosses my path and;

4. I was known to spend a good amount of time searching for four leaf clovers when i was young.

So no - no crazy personal rituals that i can tell you about, but a few odd superstitions here and there. Strangely enough i'm one of those folks that DOESN'T think Friday the 13th is bad luck - in fact, every Friday the 13th i go out and buy a lottery ticket, hoping to catch all thegood vibes floating around out there! So what superstitions do you guys believe in? Why ? And anything in particular that makes you feel lucky or unlucky?

Ooh, and only 2 days left of " What the reader wants, the reader gets! " so get your suggestions in!

The First Blush Of Love

Welcome back to my " What the reader wants, the reader gets! " week, to celebrate my 300th post milestone. Todays suggestions comes from Jaded Vixen of The Jaded Gym Junkie who wrote:
I'd love to read a post about your first love! They're always interesting stories! x

Aaah..... young love. I'm always interested to hear other people " first love " stories but, to be quite honest, mine isnt really all that special. My first love - if we're talking about that first boy you ever held hands with/kissed behind the toilets/ wrote " Mrs Amy Blah De Blah " on your notebook love - was a boy we shall refer to as K, and i was around 10 years old. We went to school together and it was of those situations where he got someone else to run up to me and say " K wants to be your boyfriend. Wanna go out with him ? " and i say " Yep. OK ". Of course, at 10 years old, " going out " means nothing more than eating your lunch at the same table, lending him your favourite pen, and walking home holding hands. All of which K and i did. We lived close to one another so we hung out on weekends too ( with other kids around ), down at our local playground and riding our bikes. We were friends. But, as happens with almost all first love, it eventually had to come to an end . I cant remember exactly what happened but i'm pretty sure it just came down to boys are still kind of weird and icky when your 10 years old. Eww, boy germs - gross.

As for my first adult love, well.... truth be told, during high school and the first few years of my twenties, i was a chronically shy and socially anxious kind of girl. I only had one boyfriend and a handful of dates here and there. I told one guy that i loved him but, in retrospect, that was completely misguided and i didnt really mean it ( although i thought i did at the time ). So, i'm happy to say, my first, proper, real, adult love is.... Mick.

                         

We met on an internet dating site, our first date lasted for five hours, i went away for the weekend to visit his family after only two weeks.... and now we're engaged and have a gorgeous, smorgeous baby boy. We tell each other " I love you " every day, several times a day, and i can tell you, for my part, that i mean it every single time its said. All thats left now for us is a wedding ceremony ( which could be at the registery office - its the marriage bit that matters to me ) and more bubbas!

Oh, and PS - if you havent already done so, leave me a comment letting me know what you'd like to see me blog about this week!!

A Labour of Love

So....in yesterdays 300th blog post - which mind you, has been a bit of anti-climax. Where are all my comments? - i asked for post suggestions for this week. Seeing as Brea of Brea's Befuddled Brain is the only ( yet ) to suggest anything, i guess she gets the honour of being todays " contributor ". Brea said:
As a fellow Mummy, I would LOVE to hear about your labour! Was it short, long, emotionally draining...? Did everything go to plan, or did something go wrong? How did Mick cope?

So here's the disclaimer: this post will definately be of the TMI variety. If you are easily offended by birth stories, do not need the mental image of me giving birth scarring you for life or simply do not care to hear about how my son was born STOP READING NOW. Do not read the post, decide you didnt care for it, and then bombard me with abuse in the comments section.

So, that being said - this is not an overly scary birth story. I didnt give birth in my backyard ( shout out to you Lori ) and i wasnt in agonising pain for days on end. Truth be told, i'm lead to believe my labour was on the " good " end of the scale. I'm not saying it was easy - uh, hell no! - but it wasnt as horrible as some other wanna-be-mummas have had to go through. For starters, my son decided that it was going to arrive 15 days before his due date, and contractions started spontaneously. By " spontaneously " i mean a) that i didnt have to be induced and b) they started in the checkout line at Target. Yep - i decided to hit up the post-Christmas sales, December 27th, 11am, and i'm waiting in line to pay for Powderfingers latest album and a set of 3 baby onesies and.... hey, wait, whats that little niggly feeling? Feels like the waistband in my pants has decided to shrink a little, like it wants to squeeze me to death. It wasnt overly painful, just uncomfortable, so Mick and I continued on to my brothers house for a visit.

It wasnt until we left my brothers house that i decided to let Mick in my little secret. I started timing the contractions - 5 minutes apart, lasting 30 seconds - and when we got home i called the hospital. The midwife said that if my water hadnt broken then i probably wasnt in labour, but if a shower didnt ease the pain i could come in. A shower ease the pain ? Uh, nuh. All the shower suceeded in doing was making me lose timing of the contractions and made me extra-squeaky clean. We got to the hospital ( which is literally a 3 minute drive from our house ) just before 1pm and i was 3 cm dialated on examination. I was definately in labour! We were moved into a suite and by this time the uncomfortable sensation was starting to become a little painful. I was still ok but Mick - aww, poor old Mick. He had said the whole way through the pregnancy he didnt want to be in the suite for the birth and i could see why - poor thing was as white as a ghost, and so far all i was doing was walking in circles rubbing my back! He called my mum and waited til she got there, then i sent him away to get himself some lunch, expecting that we would be preoccupied well into the night.

My mum rubbed my back and helped time my contractions, which were getting closer together. I had an " older " midwife come in, maybe in her early 60's and she broke my water - now let me tell you, for those who dont know, that having your waters broken for you is not fun. Its relatively quick, but it hurts. Once the water was broken, the labour stepped up a notch. I got into the spa and started using the gas but it made me feel disgusting - it made me light headed and i threw up twice. ( NOTE: I kind of lost track of time, so excuse the lack of time frame here ). Besides the nausea, the gas wasnt doing jack for the pain so i got out of the spa and tried walking around the room again. Didnt help. The midwife came back and told me it was only going to get worse and i should get back in the spa. Mick came back from his lunch just in time to help Mum get me back in the spa - after which my Mum sent him back out again because he looked like he was going to pass out.

Well - here's where my female bodies natural instincts took hold. It had only been around 4 and half hours since my contractions first began but something, somewhere, inside me was saying " Push! ". I climbed out of the spa, crying and wailing, telling my mum i was going to sit on the loo and i was going to push. She kind of got a little panicked and told me i couldnt do that, it would be hours yet, and i didnt want to hurt the baby. The old midwife came back in and told my mum - " She's being a bit ridiculous. You need to settle her down because its going to be a good while yet ". Ridiculous? Screw you, you old bag, i'm in pain and i'm pushing! ( ok, i didnt ACTUALLY say that, but thats what i was thinking ). After another 20ish minutes of me stalking around the bathroom grunting a young midwife came in and told me that, if i'd come out of the bathroom and hop up on the bed, she'd examine me and see how far along i was. So i did as i was asked, completely panicked and calling out for an epidural. It wasnt supposed to hurt this bad, this early, was it? Seriously, if this was only the beginning i wasnt going to able to cope!

My mum helped me up on the bed, my legs shaking as i let the midwife have a look..... She ducked her back up and said " Sweety, you're absolutely right, you do need to push. The babys ready so whenever you get the urge you push as hard as you can " ( you know, or words to that effect ).So - too late for the epidural then? The first thing i did ? I turned to my mum and yelled " I told you so! ".... and then it was on. I remember saying i wanted to go home, i couldnt do this anymore and, when my mum said she could see the babys head i asked if she could just reach down and pull it out for me. The midwife calmly got herself ready because she didnt think the doctor was going to make it back to deliver the baby, and, even though she said i needed to try and push without wasting my energy on making noise, i screamed and grunted for all i was worth.

And, finally, at 5:05pm i gave one final push and pop! there he was, my little bubba. I say " pop! " because thats the noise it made - i'm going to add in a " woosh! " too because it was like that little dude was coming down some kind of waterslide ( sorry about the mess Dr... ). The doc asked if i wanted to hold him and i was aware enough to answer, but stupid enough to ask " Me? ". Uh, duh, yea Amy.... its your baby. My mum called Mick in after the midwife had cleaned me up and he had the first hold after Flynn had been cleaned up a bit. My dad, with his impeccable timing, had turned up to see how i was getting along, so we let him in too, at which time Mick and I told them that the babys name was Flynn Charlie - we'd manage to keep the name a secret up til then.

So there you be - 15 days early, spontaneous contractions, 6 hours labour, and no stitches - one hell of a first labour if i do say so myself. All of which resulted in this little sprout:

 PS - my apologies to my mother for putting her through an 18 hour labour....
P.P.S Feel free to leave your suggestion for tomorrows post!

I've Reached A Triple Century!

Hello, and welcome to this special, 300th post edition of " New Adventures In Dreamworld ". Yes, thats right, i've reached my 300th post on this version of my blog, and i'm lead to believe this may be cause for celebration. So wooty woot for me!

I was hoping to get an introduction written by my oldest reader for this post, but it seems she may be out of reach ( or so i would be lead to believe by the lack of response. If your reading this Sheena, i still love you... ). I was also hoping i could get some big celebrity guest to pop by and tell you how much they love me - but, unfortunately, i dont actually know any celebrities and turns out i cant afford to buy Johnny Depp/George Clooney/Drew Barrymores adoration. And so, in lieu of having no celebrity spruikers and one missing-in-action reader, i thought i'd trawl through the past 299 posts and bring you my Top 5. These post are either my favourite because i enjoyed writing them, i enjoy re-reading them, you people seemed to enjoy them or they relate to a beautiful memory. In chronological order:

1. You Know That Album? This one was about my favourite album from high school. Music has always mattered to me, but it really meant something during  my high school years. This was also one of my first posts on this blog, and it got good reception from my (few) readers at the time, so this was a post that sticks out in my mind as a "good" one.
2. Amy's Hall Of Attractions A list of the five men i find attractive that illicit a WTF?!? Go on, click the link, check them out.....you  know your curious now. This post was fun to write and it got good comment action. Everyone loves a good list, and theres always debate who's included, who isnt, and who you'd pick instead...
3. International Relations A co-blog with Andy from WildARSChase. Co-blogs rock ( my services are available if anyone is interested... ) and could this one not? We had an American, an Australian and a whole bunch of stupid generalisations. Andy has since gone on to co-blog with much better writers than me but hey, it was fun while it lasted.
4. The Making Of Me: A 10 Year Retrospective This one is exactly what it says it is, so if you've only come to my blog fairly recently, click that there link and you'll learn a whole bunch about little 'ole me. I would have said that you'd learn everything there is to know, but thats not true - a lady has to retain some mystery. That being said, this was a pretty important blog post. It opened me up to my readers just that little bit more, and i think by sharing with you all, some of past lot a bit of its murk. So to speak.
5. How Was It? Can I Get A Woo Hoo! This post features my famous patented dating scale. Why would it feature a dating scale? Because this is the first post that featured my gorgeous ( now ) fiance. Yep, its the post that i made after my first date with Mick, who then went by the mysterious nickname of Mr Gil. And for that reason, this post gets to be in the top 5... it reminds of my lover-boy and everything wonderful thats happened since!

So there you be - check those out if you missed them the first time round. Now, i know its customary to offer some kind of giveaway for blog milestones and, in truth, i did think about it. But, unluckily for you all, i couldnt think of anything that i could get and give away as a prize so...umm...sorry people. However - i love you guys big lots, and i want to make you all happy ( see, thats the people pleaser in me, coming out again ) so.... i want your suggestions. I'm going to post every day for the next five - which, in itself, is unusual - but i want you guys to pick my topics. Take yourself down there to the comments section and leave me a comment with what you'd like me to write about this week. Big, small, scary, TMI...whatever you want!

Also, feel free to leave comments telling me how much you love... i like those.
Oh, and PS: if you can help me make it to 50 followers by my 350th post, that would be muchly appreciated also. Thats my new goal!