Hey there,
I'm taking a break from housework. Housework, yay. The scourge of the housebound. Ah well, someone's gotta do it, and I know the male of the house isn't going to be the one as he suffers from a terrible, debilitating disease known as domestic blindness, an awful condition usually affecting the males of the species, in which they are unable to see dirt. At least, that's what he says it is. My name for it is 'hey fucker, get your arse up from that couch and do your share of the house work' itis. But, you know, potato, potahto.
Anyway, the reason for my blog today is mainly to get this thought out of my head. I was watching to telly the other day and saw that advert with the genie giving the woman an endless packet of timtams, and I thought to myself "that would never happen". What self respecting woman in her right man, sorry, Freudian, mind, would let that guy go? And for an everlasting packet of timtams? He's a genie, moron! He gave you shoes! He can get you all the Manolo Blahniks you could ever want, and what's more, being a genie, gift you with the rare ability of being able to walk in them! I don't know about anyone else, but I've often wished for a Carrie Bradshaw type ability to be able to run in a pair of stillettos. Then again, considering that the woman weighs nothing, the feat is maybe not so remarkable.
Back to the timtams. Yes, they are scrumptious, but so was the genie! Yes, you can nip off a corner of a timtam and drink chocolate through it..... hmmmm. The mind boggles at that parrallel. Anyway, the guy is a genie! My point is that you can the idea of the everlasting packet of timtams and send the genie down to the shops for a new one next time you have the munchies, and keep the genie to help you work off all those bloody timtams. That way, you can have your timtams and eat him too. Sorry, reverse that. Well, hang on..... haven't really thought that one through yet, but you know what I mean!
Friday, August 31, 2007
Monday, August 6, 2007
Save me!
Hey there,
Just read through the last post I made. Ack. Got a little maudlin towards the end there, a little Hallmark, a little sugary. Not that the kid doesn't inspire those feelings in me, but expressing them in that way is not a usual turn of events for me. Chalk it down to a late night and not enough bourbon in my diet!
At the moment I'm bored out of my skull, at home waiting for the other half to come home so I can scoot off to work. We have a tag team sort of arrangement, where he comes home from his job and I immediately bugger off for mine so someone is always home with boober. Meh, it keeps food on the table and usually keeps the debt collectors away from our door, so it's all good. Well, to tell the truth, it's a little bit of a drag, but we need the money so I'm not complaining (too loudly).
At the moment I have a small tabby kitty craving attention and making a nuisance of herself. Her name is Bundle and she keeps jumping into my lap and refusing to let me type. Say hello Bundle.
zsdxm
As you can see, she's not a very good typist.
God I'm bored! It's raining outside so I can't do gardening like I planned, I've done the washing up, vaccuumed the carpet, run a load of washing and folded another... it's just one of those days I guess. And now I'm spreading the boredom with this blog!
Sorry, sorry. I'm sure you've had days like this, too, when you're restless and can't settle to anything. I wish I had my best friend's creativity, she never has nothing to do. As an avid scrapbooker and brilliant artist, whenever she gets bored she just makes something beautiful. Cow (I'm kidding Mel!!!!)
Anyhoo, I think le kid is waking up, and I've gotta get ready for work.
Ciao
Becca
Just read through the last post I made. Ack. Got a little maudlin towards the end there, a little Hallmark, a little sugary. Not that the kid doesn't inspire those feelings in me, but expressing them in that way is not a usual turn of events for me. Chalk it down to a late night and not enough bourbon in my diet!
At the moment I'm bored out of my skull, at home waiting for the other half to come home so I can scoot off to work. We have a tag team sort of arrangement, where he comes home from his job and I immediately bugger off for mine so someone is always home with boober. Meh, it keeps food on the table and usually keeps the debt collectors away from our door, so it's all good. Well, to tell the truth, it's a little bit of a drag, but we need the money so I'm not complaining (too loudly).
At the moment I have a small tabby kitty craving attention and making a nuisance of herself. Her name is Bundle and she keeps jumping into my lap and refusing to let me type. Say hello Bundle.
zsdxm
As you can see, she's not a very good typist.
God I'm bored! It's raining outside so I can't do gardening like I planned, I've done the washing up, vaccuumed the carpet, run a load of washing and folded another... it's just one of those days I guess. And now I'm spreading the boredom with this blog!
Sorry, sorry. I'm sure you've had days like this, too, when you're restless and can't settle to anything. I wish I had my best friend's creativity, she never has nothing to do. As an avid scrapbooker and brilliant artist, whenever she gets bored she just makes something beautiful. Cow (I'm kidding Mel!!!!)
Anyhoo, I think le kid is waking up, and I've gotta get ready for work.
Ciao
Becca
Friday, August 3, 2007
And Introducing.....
This Sunday is the nine month anniversary of an event that many people, myself included, thought would never, EVER, happen. Nine months ago this Sunday my baby boy Seth Nathaniel was born, and my life was forever changed.
For the better? That remains to be seen, but so far he has been a constant source of enjoyment, laughter, wonder, exasperation and paranoia. The last is due mostly to the fact that I have a terrible habit of imagining the worst possible scenario of any situation ... watching reruns of E.R. each morning probably doesn't help either. Regardless, Seth is a gorgeous child, and I have never for one second regretted having him....
...well, after he was born, anyway. The lead up to the birth of little boober (as I like to call him), was a vastly different story. I don't know if anyone has ever come across one of those women who swear that they 'just loved being pregnant' (yarg!) but they must have been doing something I wasn't, because I did not like being pregnant. Take aching legs, heartburn and nausea, fluid retention up the wazoo, constant tiredness and high blood pressure and wrap it all up in a big ball of over emotional nutcase and you come fairly close to nine months of last year. On the upside, Aunt Flow buggered off for almost a year, and it's amazing how much a pregnant woman can get away with. I lost count of the number of fights I picked with complete strangers. I think I aged my partner about ten years ( forgive me a cruel chuckle bwah ha ha ).
The birth itself was THIRTY THREE HOURS LONG! Geeze! It's not like the kid had far to travel for crying out loud! And I, like the gullible fool I am, listened to too much propaganda decrying the use of epidural, so tried to go through labour without it. I was dilated to seven centimetres before refusing to go any further, and as those mothers out there who know what I'm talking about will agree, seven centimetres is a long time to go without pain relief.
I did have other pain medications. I started off with entonox, which is air and nitrous oxide. You suck it in through a tube and it makes you high. It worked for a while, but when those contractions really start to hit, there's not enough gas in the world to knock that pain out. I was sucking down that gas until my eyes rolled up and I started hyperventilating, which made my hands cramp into claws and my face go numb...interesting sensations, those.
The second pain relief I had was a shot of pethidine, which did SWEET BUGGER ALL. I have since seen a program on telly in which a woman was doing research on medicines delivered through intermuscular injections, and the fact that many do not get to the bloodstream because the needle is not long enough to penetrate the layer of fat in the place where most of these injections are given - the butt. What do I need, a fucking harpoon? How depressing to think that the pethidine didn't work because my arse is too fat for the drugs to penetrate! AAARGH!
Anyway....epidural. What a wonderful invention. I sincerely wanted to kiss the anaesthetist. I'd heard all sorts of horror stories about the dreaded epidural, including one from an earnest but ultimately gullible aquaintance of how a friend of hers could remember being born and feeling cut off emotionally from her mother because of the drugs. Apparently this woman had some prodigious kind of memory. Personally I thought she'd just inhaled to many exhaust fumes. All I know is that there was pain, and lots of it, and the pain would continue and get worse....and then epidural came along and took it all away.
My advice for anyone thinking about having a baby and worried about the epidural is this...you are not going to know if you need it until the time comes. I thought I was strong enough to handle the pain of childbirth, but what the hell was I basing that assumption on? My pain threshold had only been tested by some facial piercing and bikini waxes, not exactly the kind of pressure that contractions can place on the body. The point is that you can't know what you will need until you get there. Don't let anyone bully you or persuade you or pressure you into making a decision until you are ready (and yes, they will try. Doctors!) and don't feel guilty if it turns out that you do need it. Leave the macho, I can handle pain pissing contest to the men. Childbirth doesn't have to be the endless ride of agony.
Enough scaring the rookies. At the end of the thirty three hours, my baby boy was born, and it was all so worth it. As those of you who know me will attest, I had sworn black and blue for my whole life that I would never have kids. That damn biological imperative got the better of me, but it rewarded me with an absolutely beautiful child, and yes I know every parent says that about their child, but in Seth's case it's actually true. He has big blue eyes and a fluffy crop of blonde hair, chubby cheeks and a dimple in his chin that he inherited from his father. He loves it when I sing 'Close to You' by the Carpenters to him, and he has just discovered the fun to be had in squealing as loud as he can. He's so beautiful he makes my heart ache. The epidural took the pain away, but Seth has made the memory of the pain fade.
Ciao for now
Becca
For the better? That remains to be seen, but so far he has been a constant source of enjoyment, laughter, wonder, exasperation and paranoia. The last is due mostly to the fact that I have a terrible habit of imagining the worst possible scenario of any situation ... watching reruns of E.R. each morning probably doesn't help either. Regardless, Seth is a gorgeous child, and I have never for one second regretted having him....
...well, after he was born, anyway. The lead up to the birth of little boober (as I like to call him), was a vastly different story. I don't know if anyone has ever come across one of those women who swear that they 'just loved being pregnant' (yarg!) but they must have been doing something I wasn't, because I did not like being pregnant. Take aching legs, heartburn and nausea, fluid retention up the wazoo, constant tiredness and high blood pressure and wrap it all up in a big ball of over emotional nutcase and you come fairly close to nine months of last year. On the upside, Aunt Flow buggered off for almost a year, and it's amazing how much a pregnant woman can get away with. I lost count of the number of fights I picked with complete strangers. I think I aged my partner about ten years ( forgive me a cruel chuckle bwah ha ha ).
The birth itself was THIRTY THREE HOURS LONG! Geeze! It's not like the kid had far to travel for crying out loud! And I, like the gullible fool I am, listened to too much propaganda decrying the use of epidural, so tried to go through labour without it. I was dilated to seven centimetres before refusing to go any further, and as those mothers out there who know what I'm talking about will agree, seven centimetres is a long time to go without pain relief.
I did have other pain medications. I started off with entonox, which is air and nitrous oxide. You suck it in through a tube and it makes you high. It worked for a while, but when those contractions really start to hit, there's not enough gas in the world to knock that pain out. I was sucking down that gas until my eyes rolled up and I started hyperventilating, which made my hands cramp into claws and my face go numb...interesting sensations, those.
The second pain relief I had was a shot of pethidine, which did SWEET BUGGER ALL. I have since seen a program on telly in which a woman was doing research on medicines delivered through intermuscular injections, and the fact that many do not get to the bloodstream because the needle is not long enough to penetrate the layer of fat in the place where most of these injections are given - the butt. What do I need, a fucking harpoon? How depressing to think that the pethidine didn't work because my arse is too fat for the drugs to penetrate! AAARGH!
Anyway....epidural. What a wonderful invention. I sincerely wanted to kiss the anaesthetist. I'd heard all sorts of horror stories about the dreaded epidural, including one from an earnest but ultimately gullible aquaintance of how a friend of hers could remember being born and feeling cut off emotionally from her mother because of the drugs. Apparently this woman had some prodigious kind of memory. Personally I thought she'd just inhaled to many exhaust fumes. All I know is that there was pain, and lots of it, and the pain would continue and get worse....and then epidural came along and took it all away.
My advice for anyone thinking about having a baby and worried about the epidural is this...you are not going to know if you need it until the time comes. I thought I was strong enough to handle the pain of childbirth, but what the hell was I basing that assumption on? My pain threshold had only been tested by some facial piercing and bikini waxes, not exactly the kind of pressure that contractions can place on the body. The point is that you can't know what you will need until you get there. Don't let anyone bully you or persuade you or pressure you into making a decision until you are ready (and yes, they will try. Doctors!) and don't feel guilty if it turns out that you do need it. Leave the macho, I can handle pain pissing contest to the men. Childbirth doesn't have to be the endless ride of agony.
Enough scaring the rookies. At the end of the thirty three hours, my baby boy was born, and it was all so worth it. As those of you who know me will attest, I had sworn black and blue for my whole life that I would never have kids. That damn biological imperative got the better of me, but it rewarded me with an absolutely beautiful child, and yes I know every parent says that about their child, but in Seth's case it's actually true. He has big blue eyes and a fluffy crop of blonde hair, chubby cheeks and a dimple in his chin that he inherited from his father. He loves it when I sing 'Close to You' by the Carpenters to him, and he has just discovered the fun to be had in squealing as loud as he can. He's so beautiful he makes my heart ache. The epidural took the pain away, but Seth has made the memory of the pain fade.
Ciao for now
Becca
Wednesday, August 1, 2007
Hello sportsfans!
Don't ask me why I've used that heading for this blog, the only sport I ever participate in is the kind of bloodsports where you make fun of bimbo's clothes.
Come to think of it, would the person who decided that Ugg boots were a good fashion accessory please stand up so I can shoot you? Not that I really consider myself to be some sort of fashionista but seriously...ugg boots and mini skirts? No no no, people! It may work for Pamela Anderson Lee Rock Yada Yada Yada, but the world has given up on her and has issued her a full pardon as being beyond help. There is still a chance for the rest of us to reclaim good taste, it's not too late, you can do it!
Why are we having this resurgence of bad eighties fashion? Sure, there's nothing new under the sun, but that doesn't mean we have to resurrect the failures of the past and convince gullible young things that the sack dress is a good look for this season, I mean, that's just cruel. It's bad enough that the ra-ra skirt had a comeback, but the tulip skirt? The drop waist tunic? The off the shoulder top in sweatshirt material that was even rejected by Jennifer Beale in Flashdance for being too daggy?
Anyway, that's my rant for the day, I have to go down to the corner deli in my unitard with the dayglo legwarmers and chinese slippers. Bye!
Come to think of it, would the person who decided that Ugg boots were a good fashion accessory please stand up so I can shoot you? Not that I really consider myself to be some sort of fashionista but seriously...ugg boots and mini skirts? No no no, people! It may work for Pamela Anderson Lee Rock Yada Yada Yada, but the world has given up on her and has issued her a full pardon as being beyond help. There is still a chance for the rest of us to reclaim good taste, it's not too late, you can do it!
Why are we having this resurgence of bad eighties fashion? Sure, there's nothing new under the sun, but that doesn't mean we have to resurrect the failures of the past and convince gullible young things that the sack dress is a good look for this season, I mean, that's just cruel. It's bad enough that the ra-ra skirt had a comeback, but the tulip skirt? The drop waist tunic? The off the shoulder top in sweatshirt material that was even rejected by Jennifer Beale in Flashdance for being too daggy?
Anyway, that's my rant for the day, I have to go down to the corner deli in my unitard with the dayglo legwarmers and chinese slippers. Bye!
Monday, July 16, 2007
First Foray #2
Hey there,
That last one up there was kinda like a test run to see what it would look like, to get it started blah blah blah, akin to the guy standing in front of the microphone going 'sibilance, sibilance'.
Why am I doing this?
Coz Mel thought it would be a good idea!
Nah, I'm not a sheep, though Mel did think it would be a good idea. Mostly I'm doing it to do what the title of my blog says - I'm making space. I'm getting all the thoughts that keep knocking around in my brain out into some other place, putting them down into this media to make room for new ones and to give myself a chance to move on. Maybe that sounds deep, maybe it sounds stupid, maybe it sounds pretentious....or maybe I don't give a crap how it sounds as I'm the only person I'm writing this for and if you don't like it, don't read it.
Sometimes I remind myself of a bi-polar pit bull, one moment perfectly amiable, the next moment biting someone's head off.
One day I know I'm going to be a crazy cat lady; hell, I've already got three. Head start!
Anyway, ciao.
That last one up there was kinda like a test run to see what it would look like, to get it started blah blah blah, akin to the guy standing in front of the microphone going 'sibilance, sibilance'.
Why am I doing this?
Coz Mel thought it would be a good idea!
Nah, I'm not a sheep, though Mel did think it would be a good idea. Mostly I'm doing it to do what the title of my blog says - I'm making space. I'm getting all the thoughts that keep knocking around in my brain out into some other place, putting them down into this media to make room for new ones and to give myself a chance to move on. Maybe that sounds deep, maybe it sounds stupid, maybe it sounds pretentious....or maybe I don't give a crap how it sounds as I'm the only person I'm writing this for and if you don't like it, don't read it.
Sometimes I remind myself of a bi-polar pit bull, one moment perfectly amiable, the next moment biting someone's head off.
One day I know I'm going to be a crazy cat lady; hell, I've already got three. Head start!
Anyway, ciao.
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