Pregnancy #1 gave me baby brain. Sleep deprivation made sure it stuck around. It lifted, momentarily, then I fell pregnant again. Pregnancy #2 made me more of a dullard than ever.
Pregnancy #2 Dullard Highlights
- I forgot my name. Several times.
- When I did remember my name, I called myself by my maiden name.
- I forgot how to use my ATM card. I stood over the machine, holding my card, certain I knew how to do this. The kind manager at Australia Post gently reminded me, to be rewarded with my pregnant embarrassed awkward brand of vitriol.
- I forgot what day it was.
- I once almost forgot to pick Millie up from daycare.
Now, I'm not pregnant anymore. A reflux-free life aside, I was looking forward to being able to remember such key important life skills as:
- My name
- How to drive the car
- and other such important matters.
I did forget how to drive the car the other week. That's not how I bingled it and wound up with a fancy hire car for two weeks, incidentally. That was a whole other fun story.
I've been blessed enough to accidentally get my first gig in 18 months for this weekend. I say accidentally, because I was at Playgroup, and the venue owner was there with her kids and said 'HEY AMY! WANT TO DO A SUPPORT SPOT FOR DEBRA CONWAY?' (We yell a lot at Playgroup. There's a lot of loud small kids around.) 'SURE!' I said. Forgetting that I hadn't played guitar in about a year, banjo for two and a half years. I figured when I said I wanted to be paid that they'd rescind their offer. But alas, they did not. Oops.
Muscle memory is a beautiful thing. My hands know how to play my songs, my voice knows how to sing them. My brain has ABSOLUTELY no idea of the lyrics. This is bad. I've spent a week or so feeling confident that I had this, that my head could remember the lyrics and we'd just keep singing. After all, that's what I'd done for five years on the live music circuit and my brain had always come through.
Instead of taking over and filling in the words as I open my mouth, my brain goes
'Winter comes, and I don't know his name, are charity and faith all just the same, if anybody asks do I still feel the same, I'm just waiting for the thaw.... And...uh, well, um. Shit.'
I worried quietly about this for the remainder of the week, convinced if I could just keep singing it I'd remember. I don't know if I've got those lyrics written down somewhere, and I panicked that I wouldn't be able to find them if I did.
Eventually I said to Mr S late one night 'Hey - do you remember the beginning to the second verse of Thaw? It's just that I can't remember how it starts, and I know it should be just there, and I'm sure I can remember it, but I haven't been able to do yet, I think it starts with the melody dum dum dum...'
He looked at me and said 'Did you listen to the CD?'
'Yes. Remember your second album? When you recorded that song?'
Wish me luck this weekend, be prepared for plenty of witty banter and potential humming.
'How are Toni & David today?'
'Toni is singing her greatest hits and David is banging on about Human Rights. I mean, quite rightly so, but he's particularly vocal today.'
Thankfully, Braxton Hicks contractions end when you give birth, so I didn't need think about them for
'Toni will not shut up with "Un-break my heart" and David is very shouty. Very very shouty.'
Or when one hits in public people around me start to look very concerned. I have pregnancy induced asthma this time around so the squeezing of my entire middle coupled with my reduced lung capacity often has me feeling a bit pale and breathless.
'Er, are you in labour? <nervous giggle>' I'm highly tempted to say yes, just to see what they do.
So for the next few weeks Toni and David will continue to sing on loudly and bang on about human rights, and then I'll give birth. And I will
I remembered that when I originally wrote this I hoped that same sex marriage would be legal in Millie's lifetime, but I really didn't hold much hope. What a change a year makes!
I enjoyed re-reading this passage, and I thought you might too.
If you want to know how you can help, GetUp have an automated petition on their site so you can send your support to your local MPs. But as I stated last year, one of the best things you can do to help is to talk about it. Start conversations in your community, go and chat to your MP and feel confident that by passing this legislation we're on our way to making an equal society where no one is discriminated against for their sexuality, race or gender.
Read on! Please share this post if this is an issue you feel strongly about. Let's keep the conversation going. Thank you!
What we want for you…
There’s a passage in my daughter’s Baby Book that is headed ‘What we want for you in this world’. It’s still blank because there’s so many things we want for her that I haven’t been able to articulate them.
I want Millie to grow up in a world where she has choices. A world that is free from poverty and disease. A world where she feels she can make a difference. Heady stuff. She’s already got a great start on this. She was lucky enough to be born in Australia, a first world country with many things.
Federally funded health care. Work equality. Freedom to speak her mind. The freedom to make choices about birth control. Running water in her house. A non leaky roof over her head. Parents that love her. Freedom to marry whom she chooses, for love is all you need. Wait one minute.
Before I jump on in, let me begin this by telling you that I am married. And when we married last October, the non-removable part of our vows was along the lines of ‘In Australia, The Marriage Act defines marriage as the union between a man and a woman.’ Because right now that is how our country defines marriage.
Now let’s rewind a bit. The big issue when my baby boomer mother was in her formative years was women’s rights and equality. The big issue when I was growing up was homosexuality. In my household it was no big deal. We spoke about it and my parents went to pains to make sure my siblings and I knew it was okay, a non-issue. I vividly recall a conversation between early teenaged me and my father - ‘What do you mean he’s gay?’ ‘Yep. He’s gay.’ ‘Oh. So <insert name here>’s his boyfriend then?’ ‘Yep.’ ‘Huh.’ And that was it.
It wasn’t like that for a lot of people, and when I was growing up to be called homosexual was still an insult. I can’t imagine that in many schools today that it’s still an insult and for this I rejoice.
It never occurred to me until years later that same sex couples were not allowed to marry. I’m proud that Millie will grow up in such a household where homosexuality is not a big deal. We may not speak about it, because it’s not a big deal.
Back to marriage. I cannot buy into the idea that same sex marriage devalues a traditional marriage. I cannot understand it. Why, on some level, are we still comparing ourselves as superior to others? It’s like saying African Americans can’t patronise the same bar as Caucasian people. Or saying Aboriginal Australians can’t vote. Thankfully we don’t advocate these backward ideals anymore.
I’m constantly avoiding arguments about same sex marriage within social & traditional media because I can’t believe it’s an issue. I don’t care if couples of the same sex get married. I simply don’t. I care that they can’t make a choice to, because I love the country that we live in and part of that love of our free country is the choices you can make.
- Vegemite or Promite? (As if that’s a question anyway? Vegemite always wins.)
- Buy a house or rent?
- Have more children or only one?
- Go to work or stay at home?
- Regular unleaded or premium petrol?
- Openly practice a religion or state your atheism?
- To marry or live in a de facto relationship?
I’m baffled by the time and energy expended by both non religious and religious folk in making sure the government decision for same sex couples to marry will be still a ways away yet. I’d like to know why other’s decision to marry offends your sensibilities. How does another’s expression of love change your expression of love? If it helps, my husband and I are not religious. We got married. And I was pregnant when we did. Does that offend your sensibilities? Why? What does it make you feel about yourself?
I hope we live in a time where my daughter grows up and feels confident about stating her sexuality and is able to marry whomever she chooses. And that should she choose to marry, she will not be applauded or made an example of, because I wish for anyone’s decision to marry to be a joyful one that can happen any day, to anybody.
That is what I wish for my daughter. Choice.
(There’s information over here, but the best way you can help is to talk about it. Start conversations and talk away.)
|I have never been so overjoyed to see a septic truck.|
My first 'DING DING DING' should have been when I heard Company B's offsider call out 'It's all done mate! Should I put the tank lid back on?'. I zoomed outside and said 'Yes. Yes you SHOULD replace the lid to the septic tank thank you.' (Really? Do people leave them off?)
Then I fell pregnant again. Are the two connected? I will never tell.
In my pregnancy with Millie I craved beer. I would (and still do) swipe sips of Mr S' beer but it was truly not the same. Let us not forget that even when I could drink beer, I wasn't really overly fond of the taste unless I'd just completed an epic hike and had a steak as well.
So, pregnancy beer craving it was, and is.
I mentioned this to Mr S Snr as we chopped vegetables for dinner one night this week, and the next day when Mr and Mrs S Snr went to the supermarket I asked them to pick up a can of Coopers non-alcoholic. Just to see what it tasted like. I'd never bothered previously... but I had the craving.
Bless Mr S Snr, he is a Very Good Man. (Clearly it runs in the family.)
The IGA did not have any non-alcoholic beer so he also went to Woolworths, but discovered that the Coopers had a low alcohol content.
I didn't let my lack of sewing skills stop me. I read the Apron Pattern (it's a Simplicity one) several times, sewed things, unpicked things, ironed lots and went slooowly. And that is quite a departure from my usual smash and grab crafty pursuits. This took time. And I loved it.
These are special christmas presents for special little people and I think they'll like them. Now, Millie certainly needs an apron, and I can think of other little people who do as well.
Aside from anything else about the aprons, check out the pleats above. PLEATS. I love them.
Someone pointed out to me that Etsy sell sewing patterns... oh dear. It's purses next I think.
What's your latest sewing/crafty obsession?
It turns out that checking Twitter at 2am perhaps requires a) more attention that I was giving it and b) one to wear one's glasses. Oops.
Luckily my friends are wonderful and all happily relocated to the Huon Valley where they knocked on the door and I was lying on the couch with Millie halfway through a nap. 'Hi, welcome! Err... I'll be up soon.'
But brownies prevailed and I was in sugar shock for the rest of the evening. Millie had a great time talking to her future husband Oliver and I cherished having a houseful of friends. Friends who bake.
Mel wrote a great post about it all over here... so without further ado I'll leave you to go and bask in the glory that is several brownie recipes.
I baked these brownies again, with the addition of white chocolate, dark chocolate and dried cranberries. I also didn't undercook them this time, so they were just brownies. But still - yum!
*may or may not have happened. But you get the gravity of my situation.
Schrieben. Construct. Compose. Create.
My highly talented brother Benjamin D Kendall has been sharing his journalism-style essays over here for a while now. Whilst his writing is sometimes sporadic, it’s always
I can write you a song that precisely dances around my feelings and leaves you often with an understanding of what I meant without actually saying it. But I can rarely tell you exactly how I feel without thinking that I’ve somehow muddled it all up somehow.
My big brother however - he’s just got a way with the written word. I love reading his posts and discovering another facet of his personality that fits so flawlessly with the public side that we see but remains so hidden, only to be revealed in his writing.