Category Archives: Laughs

What happens when you get scanned by Aussie bloke sonographer…

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What happens when you get scanned by Aussie bloke sonographer…

Finally, I reached full term last Sunday (37 weeks). My last bub was born at 37+4 after my waters broke at 37+2 so I was madly preparing for a potential early labour after finishing up work 2 days prior. Having had a bad case of painful shingles over the Christmas period which saw me unable to even have the air from a fan touch my skin without pain while a record breaking heat wave raged for days on end, I had done precious little to prepare for bubs arrival.  Luckily I didn’t have too much to do having been given a huge about of baby clothes and other bits and pieces, which I was really appreciative of. One advantage of being an older mother is that you know lots of other people who know for sure they aren’t having any more kids and are more than willing to give things away to you.

So luckily I was finally prepared and not surprised when labour seemed to threaten to start early in the week (Mon/Tues) with a lot of cramping, back pain and a few scattered contractions, but it never actually went anywhere. In fact it stopped altogether, even my long term semi-regular Braxton Hicks tightenings disappeared. I spent the next few days waiting impatiently and distractedly in front of the air conditioner with hospital bag packed, but nothing more. Zip. Nada. Zilch. Zero. The idea of starting another binge watching series on Netflix made me want to cry. I’d go to the supermarket just to be able to walk more than a few metres at a time somewhere where there was air conditioning

So despite thinking I would never need it, I ended up going to a scan that was rebooked from when I had shingles, i.e. it was supposed to be three weeks ago at 34 weeks but was now at 37+4. And it’s a guy sonographer. Well, more accurately if you are familiar with Aussie lingo, it’s a bloke.

The guy started off with a lecture: fibroids don’t excite him, after a certain age every other woman has one, it’s not a big deal. Women come in and it’s “my fibroid this and my fibroid that”, but honestly, the chances he’ll even be able to see it at this late stage are so slim he’s already called the supervisor to come in to have a chat to me about it, ok? Just for a second opinion, to make me feel better, when he can’t find it.

I shrugged. I had actually called my doctor earlier and asked if I REALLY had to go, I didn’t want to. She made me go.

So he starts the scan, with his slightly patronising but well meaning voice still going he shows me the baby’s head, explaining that despite being full term she’s not even engaged yet, I’ve got ages to go. Then there’s a pause, followed by an exclamation “Wow, would you look at the size of that! You know how I said fibroids don’t excite me? Well that’s a fibroid that excites me! No wonder it’s not engaged, how’s the baby’s head ever going to get past that? … [Pulls himself up] …But I mean that’s a question for your doctor… [ Doesn’t last long] …Seriously though, that’s like the alarm going off in this room and both of us trying to get out that little door with the Incredible Hulk standing in the way. You know what I’m saying?”

Yep, loud and clear. Cheers mate.

So there you go. I’m booked in for a c-section after all.

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My new friends

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My new friends

I’m really enjoying living further out in the Australian bush. It’s an ideal location, not quite rural, but far away enough to feel you’ve left the city behind. It’s tranquil, but I wouldn’t say serene. No, in fact, you are never quite alone out here, thanks to my new friends. Not that I mind a bit! The native parrots may be demanding when it comes to being fed, but they certainly are entertaining and beautiful to have around. I’ve captured a little for you to see what I mean.


“I know you are there, I can see you! Hey, look at me, it’s important, the food bowl is empty!”

By the way, that fake owl he is sitting on is sold here as a bird deterrent. The previous owners must have been a bit disappointed with it’s performance! 🙂

“Finally! Hey everyone, FOOD!”

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Beautiful, aren’t they?  From left to right there’s a Brown Cuckoo-Dove, Rosellas and a King Parrot. The big white bird in the other photos is a Cockatoo. Both the Cockatoos and the King Parrots are often friendly enough to eat out of your hand.

Moves to stop the dance floor

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Moves to stop the dance floor

Master10 went to his first disco at the new school last night. When MrZ heard this was happening he became quite animated; there is always a lot of mucking around and banter between those two to my great entertainment. Insisting that he has some great dance moves that Master10 must absolutely learn MrZ jumped up to demonstrate “start the mower” and “feed the chickens”. Before too long the two of them were dancing about the living room ridiculously as I looked on, both laughing and cringing at the same time.

Master10 went to the disco with a friend and when he arrived back home we questioned him as to how it went, MrZ asking specifically if he had stopped the floor with his new found dance moves. Yes, he’d showed them, Master10 told us after a moments hesitation, all the boys caught on quickly and were doing it all around the dance floor. This sent MrZ into fits of delight and self satisfaction that he had in some way influenced the entire event. I was watching Master10’s face however and realised there was something more to the story. 

At my promoting Master10 elaborated, they had, um, interpreted the feed the chicken move in a bit of a ‘bad’ way he admitted, going a bit red. MrZ was oblivious, still enjoying his win and self congratulating. What did he mean by bad way, I asked, as it started to dawn on me where this was going. Master10 stood up to demonstrate the feed the chicken move, modified slightly to become something quite obscene (or a back and forth hand motion in front of his crotch). I watched in horror for a moment, which quickly turned to delight as MrZ’s laughter trailed off to silence as he raised what had happened. It was my turn to laugh animatedly, mostly at MrZ’s sheepish face, “Oh yeah, you influenced the whole disco for sure, and I bet the parents and teachers just LOVE you!”

Things that go bump in the night

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Things that go bump in the night

I haven’t spent many nights alone in this house that backs onto the bush. I generally do feel quite safe here but I have to admit I have had an occasional nervous moment. Like last night, when I could hear repeated sounds coming from downstairs like someone walking around. Of course it’s the wind, I thought to myself, causing the laundry door to gently knock, I just need to go and close the latch. Soon. I’ll go soon. 

I did eventually go out the back and down the stairs to the area under the house where the laundry is and pull the latch closed. Not scary at all. I’m an adult, it’s all fine, I do these things. It’s like the ocean and our irrational fear of sharks, because we can’t see what’s under all that water our imaginations run wild and we picture it full of all sorts of dangers which aren’t really there. Just like looking into all that deep dark bush, and imagining it full of all sorts threats. Although there have been an awful lot of shark attacks recently…

I had forgotten about all of that though as I lay on the lounge room floor watching Netflix, grateful it was Friday night, until I heard a rattle at the back screen door. What on earth could that be I wondered? I’d had a pregnant possum that used to come to the back door looking for cat food leftovers at a previous place I used to live, it must be something like that I thought, although it was never that assertive, and I don’t feed the neighbours cat anymore, I don’t feed anything out there. What if it is not an animal? But what else could it be, I don’t know anyone that lives around here, let alone anyone that would come to the back door. Be the adult, there’s nothing that is going to hurt you out there, I scolded myself, and walked to the patio door and pulled back the curtain. I could see nothing but my own reflection in the glass. Quickly, before the animal could get away without me ever knowing what it was, I flicked on the lights, but they are the type that need a few seconds to warm up so still I could see nothing. I pulled back the glass door to eliminate the reflection, scanning the ground for signs of life. 

I did see signs of life, yes, in the form of mens shoes and jeans legs. Startled, I jumped back as if my worst fears had been realised, only just managing to stifle a scream as my eyes scanned upwards to see MrZ’s grinning face. While I couldn’t see out into the night he’d been watching me (and texting and calling my phone) for minutes. Shocked I opened the door and willed my heart to stop pounding as if it might burst through my chest.

“Surprise”, he said. “I’m back”.

Mini weekend staycation

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Mini weekend staycation

I’m really quite lucky, every second weekend the kids go to their dad’s and I get Saturday afternoon to myself because MrZ goes to work, and then Sunday is ours to spend together if he’s not with his own kids (there is actually a lot of difficulty and heartache there but that’s his story not mine). Over the past few months none of this time was spare time however, it was time to do everything that I needed to get done without the kids around and was exceptionally busy and tiring in itself. With the move behind us and being fairly settled in now though I get to use some of this as time to myself again. I consider myself pretty lucky as most mothers in intact families don’t get that recovery and regeneration time. Truth be known I would rather be in one of those intact families struggling to find time for myself but it didn’t work out that way, so I’m just looking at the positives.

This Saturday I spent some time shopping around for some furniture to create a peaceful outdoor space on the lovely balcony we now have, although I didn’t find quite what I wanted, not enough to part with any hard earned cash anyway. That was followed by my haircut, in which I had about eight inches chopped off and resulted in a major case of ‘that didn’t look like the picture’ panic! To be fair I showed her a picture of a woman with wavy hair, because that’s what I wanted mine to look like when I curl it, but without that effort it is dead straight and flat, never more so than when it has been combed down repeatedly while being cut! I had a big night in planned for MrZ that evening so I tried to calm the panic while I rushed home to put that curl in it, although a few long, smiling glances I got in the supermarket and bottle shop on the way home suggested it wasn’t as bad as I thought. I need some practice with my new hair but I did manage to do ok that evening, MrZ was certainly appreciative of my fresh new look, joking that he didn’t know who I was there in the kitchen but he was going to dump his girlfriend immediately for me!

It helped that when MrZ arrived home I was preparing a four course dinner, music playing, drinking sangria and dancing around the kitchen as I worked. I felt light, carefree and happy and he was delighted! The rest of the evening was ours to relax, have fun, be a bit silly and enjoy some down time, just the two of us; we needed it. The following day the hint of spring was in the air and we drove around our new area in the mountains with no real agenda, just stopping when we saw something interesting including some some craft markets where he bought me a lovely handcrafted pendant, before it was back to pick up the kids and the usual Sunday afternoon work week prep. After dinner I even found some time to play a fun game of Monopoly with the kids while MrZ studied. All in all it was a fantastic weekend and I feel closer to MrZ than ever for it.

The anti ‘man-flu’ type man, a blessing right?

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The anti ‘man-flu’ type man, a blessing right?

Many of you would have experienced the man-flu ridden man. You know, the type that can get the bug that you just had but they get it a thousand times worse, you couldn’t possibly have been anywhere near as sick as his is, he’s close to death don’t you know? Sigh. When faced with this spectacle you might find yourself wishing terribly for a tough guy type, one that can suck-it-up and take it like a man (Rambo style, not man-flu style). Not so fast, there’s a downside to these types. Not only do they never get sick, but nobody else does either. Understand? Yes sir.

MrZ, as you might have already guessed, falls into this later category. He might, on occasion, feel a bit ‘muzzy headed’, he’s not 100% but he’s going to be ok, he’ll beat it, he works in alternative health care and he’s a man that looks after his health, he simply doesn’t get sick. Luckily I’m not too different, I do generally look after my health and, particularly after a number of years as a single mother, I’m quite a ‘just get on with it’ type. I have been known on several occasions to power through the morning routine, getting kids to school and me to work, only to sit down at my desk and finally relax and discover oh boy, I’m not well, I really need to go home. For me that was the lot of the single mother. That doesn’t mean if I’m feeling a bit under the weather that I don’t need sympathy however. Just a little acknowledgment, a bit of recognition that I am doing it a bit tough, a cuddle and a show of support. Faced with a anti ‘man-flu’ man however you’ll be lucky if you mange to get anything but a dismissive ‘you’ll be right’ out of him. Put your neediness aside ladies, he’s a tough guy, no sympathy here.

One of the worst situations in my home is when one of the kids declares themselves too sick to go to school. They are normal kids, this happens quite a bit, and for the most part I herd them out the door regardless. Occasionally though, I recognise this as genuine and let them have a day off, which inevitably meets with derision from the man: of course they are well enough to go to school. In the last two weeks however, both of the boys have had the flu (blood test confirmed), and both had five days off. The level of tension in the house grew with each day and I was actually relieved when MrZ spent a couple of days looking after his parents place, I could mother my sick little monsters – I mean kids – in peace!

Today though, after a rough evening and worse night, I woke to declare myself flu ridden. I had not escaped after all, and I felt like death warmed up. MrZ rolled over and cuddled me. I commented that I felt feverish, he replied that no, no I wasn’t hot at all. Hmmm. Eventually I got up to begin to herd the kids to school, begging them to be self sufficient because I didn’t have the energy to chase them and argue with them today. They were doing ok considering, as well as could be expected. I took my temperature – 39 celsius – a moderate fever. I defiantly showed MrZ the thermometer only to have him comment dismissively ‘Oh, it’s slightly up’. Hrmph.

Sitting on one of the kids bean bags so as to be close to the heater, still in my pjs and clutching the coffee MrZ had made me, I directed the mornings operations as the world spun sickeningly around me. Eventually MrZ came and sat nearby on the lounge. After a moment’s silence he offered helpfully ‘Would you like me to drive you to work?’.

What? I know he does this to the kids, but me? Was he really doing it to me? I opened my eyes to glare at him. ‘It’s 8:05am, I would have usually been getting ready for work for the last hour, I haven’t showered, I’m in my pjs, I have a fever, do you really think I am going to work?’.

I can see you aren’t going to make your train’, he replied, ‘so I was being helpful and offering to drive you to help facilitate operations. Do you want some of that medicine you gave the kids for your fever?’

I looked at him a bit longer, incredulously. ‘Can you see me?’ I asked. ‘Am I invisible? I. AM. TOO. SICK. TO. GO. TO. WORK’.

It was then that MrZ apparently did see me, and realised he was in very dangerous territory. To his credit he got up and took over herding the kids and even drove them to school and made a cup of tea for me on his return. Now that’s more like it. It did however come with a lecture about how he’d been coming down with something lately too but he’d sweated it out yesterday, his body had simply not allowed him to become sick. Of course dear, of course.