Another day of exploring with little people. Namely, playgroup little peeps. This week our adventure was in our own town, Geelong. The city by the bay with wooden figurines, surfboard shaped sculptures and an old skool Carousel. The day itself was looking a bit sorry for itself but it made a pretty picture!
Happy days 
From the creators of this irresistible cuteness:
and this:
Comes a new lovable production of double trouble.
See in production sneak peak pictures here first:
Megumi: 26 weeks pregnant and me, 28 weeks
Grandchildren come into this family in two’s. Megumi and I are sisters by marriage. We married 2 brothers. We had our first babies within 4 months of each other and now we return to the preggie state again, together, with just a mere 2 weeks apart.
Our pregnancies are both healthy and yet different. Megumi is a typical preggie who endured nauseating morning sickness for the first trimester, she gets back ache, uncomfortable Braxton Hicks and then there’s me, who with a bit guilt says this – gets none of it. There are days when I have been envious of her Braxton Hicks… I mean, what do they really feel like? And moments that I wished I could just take a days worth of morning sickness to ease the burden even if just momentarily for her.
In Japan, Megumi’s home country, a woman is expected to only gain up to 5 kg’s during her entire pregnancy. I know, I know… crazzzzzy hey? Megumi at times wishes she could keep to that strict norm. I, on the other hand eat 5 kg’s of chocolate a night and replicate a motto a little like get fat and get beautiful during pregnancy. I’m not always a good influence.
It’s special bringing new additions into a family together. We regularly check in with one another. Talk symptoms, birth, parenting conundrums. We became Mothers together. We empathise together. We learn together.
Little Vick and his cousin learn together too. They have a special bond. They’re so close, in age and in heart and now they will face the challenges of welcoming a new sibling together. Siblings who I hope will be bonded just as the first pair are in time to come.
So now, we are taking bets about who will have their baby first! Little Vick put his feet up and stayed put (he arrived 2 weeks late after being induced) and Megumi who had a BIG baby first time round may need to be brought on early…so who knows who’ll get to meet their babe first :) We often joke we could be in the birthing suite together. Yes, that would be a bit freaky.
Here is our latest & probably final preggie bump shot together:
So who’s your money on?
Today I am linking up with Essentially Jess via the #IBOT linky party
How Knocked Up: 37 weeks. Full term technically (baby would be happy and competent if it decided to launch).
A Knocked Up Thought: I can’t help but hear the 1980′s hit “The final Countdown” do do do doo, do do do do dooo in my head. You hearing it too? Although I suspect it is probably a couple of weeks premature, but hey, stranger things have happened right? There is definitely a building sense of excitement in our household. It’s nice. There’s nothing ordinary about our existence at the moment. There’s a sense of anticipation, a building climax. There’s preparations. It’s pushed Mr Vick and I into talking about stuff. The denial about the imminent change is being forced to unveil a little. We’re talking about what we would have carefully considered and contemplated months ago with my pregnancy with Little Vick. Things like birth preferences, a carer for Little Vick during birth, what life is going to be like…. ya know, pretty important kinda stuff. We’ve been feeling super cool and relaxed, which I think isn’t a bad thing.
The nursery is in development. Finally. Mr Vick reluctantly gave up his man cave for this bubba in belly and I’m now trying to find homes for things that once occupied our spare room/Mr Vick’s man cave. It’s fair to say it doesn’t yet look too much like a nursery but it feels like a space for the baby and that is keeping my nesting preggie contented (and quiet). I’ve started the wash up of teeny tiny clothing and I was delighted to see such mini me things on our clothes line once again. I’ve even packed up my hospital bag. In honour of this I had to stock up on some things that I haven’t seen for nearly 3 years. I can’t say I was that stoked to be perusing the breast pad section once again. Sigh.
Also I’ve noted how I am an elderly ladies best friend suddenly. For the most part they haven’t wanted to know me until now. Now that I am the goddess of fertility and it’s all out on show I’m like a magnet to the old. You can guarantee our conversations go a little like this: you musn’t have long now? No, just a couple of weeks. Is it your first? No, I’ve got another another. Boy or girl? Boy How old? 2 and a half Oh well…. you’re going to have your hands full then aren’t you?! Their warmth and obvious sentimentality for this time in their life is endearing. I do like the old ladies. It reminds me what a special time in my life this is.
A Knocked Up Feeling: Oh don’t worry my mental state is rock solid. Kinda. Picture this. Me hitting a curb whilst parking the car, and bursting into tears ’cos Mr Vick gave me the slightest (and I really do mean slightest) WTF kinda looks. Complete emotional break down was had on my behalf and Mr Vick did not even say a single word to cause it. So we sat in the car, me sobbing, Mr Vick looking desperately concerned and perplexed about what he’d done to cause such a catastrophe. It passed and we got on with it. Nothing more was said about it.
The Knocked Up Physical: I have gotten to the point where I can’t remember what it’s like to not be knocked up. To just have my body to myself. To not share it. To not look and feel like Humpty Dumpty. To not be restricted bending over, getting up, seeing my lady bits even. I am looking forward to the relief that will be brought about after getting Baby Vick vacated and once again having ownership and perhaps it’s not too far away???? A visit to the midwife nearly 2 weeks ago informed me that Baby Vick’s head has started to engage in the pelvis. Woot! This got me excited (Little Vick was induced 13 days late) about the possibility of a naturally occurring labour. Apparently the baby is almost half way engaged which could mean something or nothing for my imminent labour.
I’m happy to report that some of the physical bothers noted in my last wrap up post have let up a bit making me actually well and without complaint. I know. That shouldn’t happen. Isn’t it supposed to be getting worse for me at this point? No self induced back ache from over eating, no mad weeing dashes to the loo during the black of night, no puffiness, no lack of space for food consumption. All smooth sailing. It’s true. One of my talents is pregnancy.
Knocked Up Foodie: I somehow have convinced myself that Cadbury Snack chocolate should be a daily addition in my diet.
The Babe in the Knocked Up Belly: There is a mighty fine circus performance going in there pretty much full time every day.
Favourite Preggie Moment: We have the nappies ready to go. The newborn, itty bitty, unbelievably mini nappies that seem way too small to fit any little toosh into. I opened up the box with Little Vick and we both were overwhelmed with goo’s and gah’s at how unbelievable adorable they are. Little Vick too had a moment of realisation about just how small his sibling is to be. It was a lovely moment shared.
Knocked Up Bump Watch:
Here’s the heifer lump… looking all round in her glory…
We ventured down to Pomboneit earlier in the week to stay with my parentals (don’t bother asking where that is – it’s nowhere). They live in a beaten up, dry as a desert, farm existence which they’re gradually transforming into their retirement dream. It’s a true country experience. Little Vick has country running in his veins, despite his suburbian roots and I couldn’t help but singing moving to the country, gonna eat a lot of peaches... for our entire visit.
I just can’t get enough of that little carrot eating face! Happy Wednesday
I’m no pushing veteran but I’ve learn’t a thing or two after birthing and becoming a new Mum. You only need to do it once for your entire reality and perspective to alter like a whole universe worth. I think I’ve summed how it all changed for me right here:
1. I won’t be so mortified when I have to lift my breast feeding knockers and throw them up over my shoulder to dry underneath them after a swim or shower.
2. I will never be deluded enough again to think pushing a baby out is as easy as just breathing down the birth canal. How about my blood shot eye balls nearly blowing completely out? Thanks soooo much for that misconception Hypnobirthing book.
3. I definitely won’t be boasting about how a new baby won’t stop me from going camping to fellow parents who know too well that it’s never going to happen and I’m exhibiting the voice of complete ignorance displayed only by a first time preggie (it took us 20 months to get our campee back on with a toddler in tow). Embarrassment plus in hindsight.
4. I concede, I won’t attempt to go to yoga with Hello Dolly Parton breastfeeding knockers without wearing a bra. Some things will just never return to the way they were. Period.
5. I won’t get excited when I feel an endearing little flutter and be deluded enough to think it might just be a contraction. Be damned it is. I will D.E.F.I.N.I.T.L.Y know when the time has arrived. No woman, not even Wonderwoman can mistake the big moment when it finally revs up.
6. I won’t be taking Baby Vick to his/her first professional music theatre show at just 8 days old with sleep deprived, dazed, over protective parents who ultimately will start an argument with the usher and I’ll end up blubbering through the entire show in the back row. Why did we think we could still live as we did?
7. I wont be shocked when midwives moments after that momentous thing called birth, clasp their paws all over my nip nips and start squeezing away without hesitation or permission. Was I not traumatised enough? Breasts are public property post birth and privacy departs in the moment of that first contraction. Deal with it.
8. I now know why I got so many face washers at my baby shower. Those poop wiping, vomit scooping accessories are the bees knees. I will never under value the mere, humble face washer ever again.
9. I wont think little wee leakages are reserved for the over 65′s. Doing Kegel exercises once a month will not be enough to maintain my bladder and muscles youth. Pregnancy no. 2 is certainly proof of this.
10. I will not be surprised when Ural becomes my best friend. Those who have already had babies vaginally will know what I’m talking about here and if you haven’t, then you’ll see. Or rather feel.
11. I will not fall into the trap of believing any pregnancy compliments in the form of oh you’re all baby. Let me tell you I did not give birth to an 18 kg baby. What those people who are giving momentarily ego boosting compliments don’t tell you is that it’s going to take the next 18 years to shed every bit of those 18kg’s.
12. During labour no one should be surprised when I feck off Hypnobirthing mantras and start shouting things like forget an epidural, just give me a cesarean! (of which I got neither)
What things did you learn by the second time round??
Today I’m linking up with Essentially Jess for the #IBOT Linky Party!
Litchfield National Park was our final destination on our great Northern Territory camping shenanigans and glad-fully so (previous posts about this adventure can be read here and here). It had been a week of camping NT style. It was fair to say the small confines of a tent, the rusty coloured dirt getting into even the smallest of cracks and sharing each others company for 24/7 was starting to grate on us all. Don’t get me wrong we were loving it, but there was a growing amount of don’t fecking bother me kinda moments starting to appear so at large we spent the time in our own daydreams, not saying that much, just laying around really in a leave me alone kinda way.
Litchfield is popular. It’s only a 60 minute drive out of Darwin city making it very accessible for day trips which seem particularly hip over the weekend. This is why you need to get in and claim your camping spot pronto. First thing if possible. We breezed in around lunch time at Wangi Falls (probably the most popular site in the park) thinking we were keen bee’s and should have pick of the entire space. Nup. It was full. Nothing left except an awkward area were we couldn’t park our car with us and we couldn’t really get our tent pegs into because the ground was so stubbornly rock hard but we made those tent pegs get into that ground (somehow) and we set up camp no.4 on our little adventure.
We were 300 metres to the falls. The sound of the water gushing over that waterfall was our camp soundtrack. Quite something. The falls were even better to look at.
See. Not just a dam hey? Plenty of swimming space here for the bus loads of keen water splashing visitors.
This was not Mr Vick’s first visit here. He had been (without me – how disgusting) about 4 years ago. He kindly informed me that the last time he visited it was closed to the public due to the waters being infested with Crocodiles. Nice to know when you’re dangling your feet in the water finding the courage to lunge in. So the entire 2 days I was there I loved the water, but looked very hard under the surface constantly for sharp teeth. I was a scaredy cat, it is fair to say.
People dig the waterfall. They bask underneath it and on the rocks around it. I didn’t go out that far, the chicken, croc searching weakling I am. For some reason in my head there were more Crocodiles living over there. No stopping Mr Vick of course. He was all bravado and it paid off.
See the little guy standing next to the falls? That’s my Mr Vick.
Litchfield has numerous swimming holes and walks you can do and some impressive looking ant holes
Our time at Litchfield was quiet. We didn’t adventure out walking too much or exploring the park. We had done that for the past week about Kakadu and now we just wanted to make the most of our last few days sunning and snoozing, toddler allowing of course. We ate up all our food, read our books and watched Little Vick play in the dirt. Packing up our tent for the final time was a bitter sweet moment. Mostly sweet because I was sick of the putting up, packing down process. We were longing for a normal bed and shower and a fridge and vanilla slices and all that modern living stuff which we had wanted to escape. It’s good to miss it thou isn’t it? And we wouldn’t give up our time at Litchfield for anything.
Today I am linking up with Essentially Jess for the #IBOT party!
I’m so glad to have you back Mr Vick keeps telling me. It is said with such relief and yet I keep thinking haven’t I been standing beside you all along? Where exactly have I been?
The idea of being somewhere and not actually present, that seems to be what this is about.
How long have I been missing in action? Was it preparing with tunnel vision for our wedding that made me absent? Did I mentally and emotionally clear out upon Little Vick’s birth almost 20 months ago? It’s got me wondering.
I see the importance of just being. Of standing completely still. Even just for a little while although it’s a concept I’m at large uncomfortable with. Momentum and project goals have always been apart of my life so much so it just feels like my natural make up and course of action. But that is where Mr Vick is good for me because he reminds me such projects can only be successful if you take the time to be still for a bit. To touch in as we refer to it and I don’t mean some kind of couple touchy feely kinda thing. I’m always in trouble for not really succeeding at it. Fake touching in…. where it would appear I am taking time to reboot and connect with my family, only to be secretly doing something else at the same time. But isn’t that the art of being human? A woman? A mother if nothing else?
Right now I have no reason to be working towards anything. No pressing projects. I simply have to just be. Breathe and only breathe. To connect into the roots of my family. Make it ALL about them. Nothing can make Mr Vick more happy than me sitting on the couch with him for an afternoon or evening eating a naughty treat and sharing a DVD together. Nothing is better for him (well maybe one other thing….). So I am giving in and complying, I think. It’s called quality time I’ve heard. It doesn’t hurt actually. Just stopping and giving in and allowing myself to breathe in the simplicities. I remember how I used to dig it when I was child free. It was my way of life. It was all leisurely indulgence. How did I get so pre-occupied with motherhood that I forgot about how to do nothing? To think I thought I was going to have so much time to watch TV when I was going to become a mother. Such a thought could only be had by a first time, deluded, pregnant woman.
And whilst I don’t think I ever stopped, I am taking particular care in noticing my beautiful boy and all his charming and sweet qualities. I see how endearing and affectionate he is growing, how he dislikes mess on his hands, how he would kill to get into the garage and beat the drums to match that of his racing heart beat. I am noticing how hard my husband tries to say the right things, to be positive when I’m a complete grouch, to do everything in order to make his 2 favourites content. What beauties I’ve got right beside me. How could I have left them?
So for now my job is to just breathe. To breathe and open my eyes and take it all in. Simple as that.
*Picture Source*
Yesterday I had a bit of a birthday. I was 29 on the 29th. A golden birthday or something like that, so I was told. It seemed like a once in a lifetime kinda thing anyway but what birthdays aren’t?
I had been feeling so non plussed about it. I mean birthdays, they happen and happen again. More quickly than hoped sometimes. I am totally into birthdays. I am the one who makes sure something rad is happening for everyone elses and an awesome present is provided in awesome wrapping paper and all the trims etc etc Generally I relish the attention of my birthday. This year I wasn’t quite my usual enthusiastic self and it’s really got nothing to do with the fact that next year is the big 30. It doesn’t scare me but I was so BLERRRRGGGG…. for some reason.
Probably didn’t help that yesterday morning I woke up with the biggest dose of pregnancy Thrush one could have. I would have happily swiped my whole poonarni right off. It was baaadddd…. and there’s nothing better to induce a serious dose of the grumps. Mr Vick had a tough morning to try and convince me that it was going to be a happy birthday.
We went shopping. I wanted stuff. Stuff I wanted to choose so like a good husband Mr Vick took me, agreed the items were nice and just handed over his credit card without complaint. Needless to say, I’m happy with how my husband training is going so far. So I bought pretty stuff. That helped my morale I’ll admit.
Then, we were walking passed a cafe and my besties heads happened to pop up in the window. They’d driven quite some distance just to say the words Happy Birthday! The day was improving!
We ate. Decently.
The day ended with less itchy and scratchy and more contentedness. My visitors and the effort Mr Vick had obviously gone to organise it all put a little glow in my heart AND I bought new plants for my veggie patch. There’s something healing about buying green things isn’t there?
I realise that last paragraph was a little random so I’m signing out and saying…. Goodnight!
My Playgroup is mixing it up at the moment and we’re having some little adventures together. Today we visited Fairy Park in Anakie (1 hour south west of Melbourne). It was built in 1959 and I don’t think anything has been altered or upgraded since then. It certainly hasn’t changed an inch since I visited as a child some 20 or so years ago.
The park brings to life the world of the classic fairy-tale & myth, so it’s excellent if you actually read them to your child. Think The 3 Little Pigs, Pinocchio, Little Red Riding Hood, Hansel & Gretal, Snow White etc etc Each fairytale is bought to life through figurines and a recorded story telling. It’s a little magical, but in truth bordering on eerie. There’s something not right about the place (the numerous gnomes or toadstools staring at you?) and yet the kids if not won over by the fairy tales, will definitely be rockin’ the playground. So really if you want a win it’s a go to place especially for the under 8′s who hopefully haven’t been too warped yet by screens and the realities of the world which can dash their whimsical imaginations.
And I’ll never get enough of this selfie:
I have a thing for hoops. As in embroidery hoops. Op Shop found ones at that. It’s one of my bazaar fetishes which perplexes Mr Vick.
I blame Pinterest. It steals away my brain and warps it into some creative universe which makes me believe I am actually going to create the crafts that I pin. Hoop craft desire has gone as far as collecting a whole shit load of hoops. Exhibit A:
That is only some of them.
At first they were hard to spot and at times they were a bit pricey, even for the op shop, but then I found a bundle of a zillion for $1 and my heart was so ecstatic I could have danced with a ….er, hula hoop. This elated state was only dashed by Mr Vicks judgement of my loopy hoopyness (I know, I’m loving the hoop references a little too much).
Anyway, I think we can conclude here that I have hoops. Plenty of. So now it’s down to the nitty gritty of crafting with them. That’s where you come in. See, Pinterest is so wonderful that it’s confusing my preggie mind (not difficult) about which creative project I should be doing. There are many an option. Care to take a look?
I was initially thinking hoops for a baby room was a fabulous idea. Adorable and I have plenty of op-shop scored material which would rock it.
Are you getting my drift? It’s super cute, am I wrong? My problem here is… what materials do I use that would be unisex? If I have a boy is it a bit too girly?
Then I found other ideas which has only opened up the possibilities far too wide but I like them too. Very much.
Embroidery in an embroidery hoop… who would have thought? But I like the idea of using an old doily or someones handy work (like my Grandmothers) to be featured.
Or something a little more contemporary?
Photo Source
Earrings or brooch display. Photo Source
And some placement ideas….
I’m fairly in love with that last one actually but would Mr Vick allow me to have material hoops above our bed??? Mmmm… He has been heard saying - why would you do that to hoops? It doesn’t seem practical. What about home decoration is ever practical? Tsk, tsk.
I wonder how practical he would find this one?
This is super arty farty isn’t it? I think I would be kidding us all if I said suspending hoops dangling in our house with 2 kids knockin’ about was a great idea.
And now I just don’t know. *Vicki shrugs and sighs*. They’re all hoop-liscious right? Care to share your thoughts and favourites to help de-clutter my feeble, preggie brain???
Either way, I think we can agree I’m onto something:
(If you wanna follow along with Knocked Up & Abroad’s creative daydreaming on Pinterest you can here)
Photo Source