This motherhood deal is pretty sweet, if you don't count the nine weeks of emotional hell that came before the last couple of wow-i-love-this-kid, and what-a-gorgeous-smile, and you-are-really-joining-in-this-conversation! and fewer nappies! and more sleep!

I just have to keep remembering to call myself 'Mummy' when I'm talking to him, and not 'Auntie Anne'...

Any day now, 'cow'

Any day now, 'cow', you are so dead.

What, you have to photograph everything?

Yeah, I'm still watching you... and could you do something about this 'cow' please?

People. Ugh.

The world would be a better, if smellier, place if dogs were in charge.

Examples of human crapness from today's little errand-running trip into Enfield Town with Matteo in his sling:

1. Post office employee decides it's ok to keep a queue of 13 people waiting while he reads and then signs a card for a fellow employee, putting it back in its envelope before he calls the next customer. Actually, two of the cashiers did this. I only really noticed when my least favourite, exceedingly customer service-free cashier was involved. (Our local post office used to be staffed by knowledgeable employees who'd worked there for years. Then it was bought by Londis and turned into a supermarket with a post office section at the back. Now there are rarely more than three cashiers manning the counter, longer queues than ever before, and the cashiers were all new except for one. It took ages before any of them were up to speed with postal information.)

2. Man smoking while waiting for the same bus as me puts his cigarette out on the bus timetable stand when the bus arrives. How is that ever an ok thing to do?

Ah well, at least there's none of that in our house where I tend to be most of the time at the moment due to, I don't know, possibly the demands of a 9-week-old baby. Who just happened to sleep from 11pm to 5am last night - way to go Matteo!

So a gratuitous photo might be in order. Speaking of which, recommend me a reasonably priced, good quality digital camera with a decent length zoom? I'm happy with automatic everything else.



(This is the Superman pose he adopts when on his playmat and contemplating punching the stuffing out of poor Dylan the (not-very-much-like-a-donkey) Donkey. (Who has weird pink strings coming out of the top of his head. Do toy designers not think anything for babies should be vaguely realistic?)

He often does this while his nappy is being changed too. Maybe he just thinks he's so cool because he can just lie back while someone else takes care of the dirty work?

Internets (or at least those of you out there with children), can you help me?

Matteo is 8 weeks old on Sunday. During the day, when he's not sleeping, I talk to him, read to him a bit, sing nursery rhymes to him, and he has a bouncy chair with toys hanging down above him which I sit him in sometimes, and if I need to get something done I park him e.g. in the kitchen and try to remember to talk to him about what I'm doing while I do it. I try to get him on his tummy for 'tummy time' but he pretty much hates it. I'm thinking about getting a playmat for him, one with an arch and dangly toys for him to reach for. M is mostly working during the day (at home) but also sings to him and

I feel like I don't know what to do with him really - do you think at 8 weeks old he needs more? What did you do?

Belatedly announcing...

Matteo, born 9 November 2008. For an almost 8-week-old baby he's a pretty cool dude.

In other baby news

I am now 37 weeks pregnant, and I still look in the mirror every so often and think, How did that happen? It's crazy that it feels unreal at times - I mean, I have this huge protruding belly (not that huge, measuring a few weeks behind my dates, but still, huge) and I can't bend over easily, my legs almost fall off after walking up the stairs and poor M is relegated to the edge of the bed that I'm not taking up, my calves are a mass of thread veins (but not swollen, yay!) etc etc.

I may have to be admitted to hospital next Monday after my antenatal clinic appointment - just a precaution as the baby has not yet 'engaged' - which the internet tells me is not that unusual for a first baby at 37 weeks, so it's a bit annoying that I may have to spend a week in hospital doing nothing when I'm not ill, but I trust my doctor's instincts (a non-engaged baby is at risk of cord prolapse if labour starts). If the baby still hasn't engaged by the end of that week, they will keep me there and induce me - not my ideal scenario, but again, whatever is safest for baby. I am in a flurry of bag-packing, baby-clothes-washing and organising everything in case I only have until Sunday to finish it all.

On men

I've been meaning to write a post about how impressed I've been by all the 'menfolk' I've met at various antenatal classes since becoming pregnant. Maybe I've been labouring under the delusion that husbands and partners are all of my father's generation and not so involved as modern men might want or expect to be, but these guys are great. Of course, M has been wonderful, as I knew he'd be (I'm sure he would be excited to know that I told the internets he was a natural with the baby doll we had to hold through a five-hour NCT class last week), but somehow I didn't expect that every other father-to-be I met along the way would be so keen to know what happens at birth and how they can help their partners most, how to bath a baby and change a nappy etc etc etc.

And yet they are. Bravo men!

Internet housewife

I am a total internet housewife. Here I sit on a Friday night, ordering curtain fabric samples online. And enjoying it.

My life is suddenly so exciting.

Procrastination...

Why, why, why, why, oh why do I have such difficulty picking up the phone to interview the two doulas I've found, hoping to work with one? For goodness sake, I only have 5 weeks til my due date and I can't waste much more time!

I think I may not have to see my midwife again before the birth, (and she won't be at the birth) as it looks like I'll probably just continue to have 2-weekly appointments with my consultant in the antenatal clinic. Which suits me just fine... considering my consultant knows my name and face (and medical history) and the midwife wouldn't know me if she fell over me.

Unconscious

In my sleep last night, I apparently said, 'Ask M, he'll know what to do.'

Way to put the guy under pressure when he's trying to sleep!

Sometimes spam is just too amusing

Attention:Sir/madam, How are you today? Hope all is well with you and family?,You may not understand why this mail came to you.

(But wait, I do! It's called phishing!)

We have been having a meeting for the passed 7months which ended 2 days ago with the secretary to the UNITED NATIONS.This email is to all the people that have been scammed and defrauding any part of the world, the UNITED NATIONS have agreed to compensate them with the sum of $600,000 Dollars for each.

(No way! I'm finally going to get back that $600,000 some Nigerian phisher scammed me out of? Sign me up!)

This also includes all the foreign contractors that have not received their contract sum, and people that have had an unfinished transaction or international businesses that failed due to Government problems etc. So we found your name in our list and that is why we are contacting you, this have been agreed upon and have been signed. So you are advised to contact Mr. Jim Ovia of ZENITH BANK OF WEST AFRICA PLC, as he is our representative in West Africa, contact him immediately for your Cheque / International Bank Draft of USD$ 600,000. This compensation funds are in a Bank Draft for security purpose OK?

(OK!)

So he will send it to you and you can clear it in any bank of your choice or in your bank. Therefore, you should send him your, FULL NAME:....................? FULL CONTACT ADDRESS:.........? MOBILE PHONE NUMBER:..........? OCCUPATION:...................? MARITAL STATUS AND AGE:.......? BANK NAME:....................? Your correct mailing address where you want him to send the Draft to you. Contact Mr. Jim Ovia immediately for your Cheque: Person to Contact Mr. Jim Ovia Email: mr.jimovia75@gmail.com +23480-6017-33-25

(I know! How about I just send you my bank account details and you can deposit the money directly? Wouldn't you prefer that? Or maybe you're going to ask me for those when I'm a bit further into your net.... ok, I can wait.)

Thanks and God bless you and your family. Hoping to hear from you as soon as you cash your Bank Draft. Making the world a better place Regards, Mr. Koffi Annan. Former Secretary (UNITED NATIONS).

(Who knew that Koffi Annan used gmail!)

Accidental belly shot at 32 weeks

(this baby so wants its photo taken...)

Also!

I do not bake. Although maternity leave (pre- and maybe even post-baby) might see me venturing into the recesses of our new oven with flour and, um, whatever else makes cakes. Don't tell me to call it a cooker, I will beat you. I am Australian and it is a stove with two ovens. Ok?

But! I love looking at pictures of cupcakes! Thank heavens for all the delicious cupcake blogs around. I do miss Chockylits Bakeshop. Just look at this!

I find that shop-bought cupcakes (all cakes for that matter) never taste as good as those which are home-made. Someone prove me wrong.

This entry proudly brought to you by Exclamatory Remarks

Three weeks of work left until late October 2009! They interview for my replacement 5 weeks after I leave!

It felt good to be buying my last-for-a-while monthly Travelcard last week! I might try out bus passes!

I painted three radiators yesterday!

M is listening to a tacky 60's CD on repeat while he paints windows! But it has 'King of the Road' on it! Happy!

Today I am sanding windows and cleaning exterior sills.

The sun is shining!! (this deserves two exclamation points) When it's sunny these days my first thought is that it's a good day to hang the washing outside!

Not to be negative! But Obama is not going to change the world (or the USA's place in it)! IMO!

I am feeling fat! And too tired and breathless to exercise!

Wildlife and epidurals

The squirrel who visits our garden to eat our apples and pears (and brings his own pinecones to dismantle and eat on the little stone seat) leaves us occasional gifts of pears on the patio outside our back door. Up to now I had thought they were fruits he had started and not finished, and just left where he'd been eating, but the presence of a gorgeous, unmarked and un-nibbled pear today makes it clear that he is indeed leaving us gifts. Or, if I want to be more cynical, he's saying OK guys, I'm going to eat most of the fruit on this here tree, but I'll bring you a couple to keep you sweet.

In other news, thanks to ginormous Fred the fibroid, and my rogue antibodies, the birthing centre at the hospital have risked me out of giving birth in their relatively lovely low-intervention midwife-led environment. I'm disappointed, as it means a much more 'hospital' scene, but the labour ward downstairs still has a birthing pool and birth balls, plus doctors for emergencies and uncomplicated access to an epidural if needed. This reinforces my desire to stay away from the hospital until the absolute last moment.

Pregnancy files - 29 weeks

I swear, my belly is a mosh pit at times.

With just one very crazed little human running up and down and jumping and surfing the crowd of itself.

Now I know where all the Waitrose Baby Butter has gone

Waitrose sells out as women buy baby butter for facial moisturiser! *

I'm intrigued and want to try it (not necessarily on my face!) as their vanilla coconut massage oil is divine, and M and I have used it for massage for a couple of years. It's especially lovely on tired feet. But my local Waitrose is consistently sold out.

Enter ebay. There are pots and pots of the stuff for sale, exorbitantly priced as only ebay sellers know how to price in-demand items. Add in postage, and eager bidders, and you could easily pay £10 for what should cost you £2.49.

*NB, not made of real babies...

Little Chico *

That already, at 28 weeks and four days in utero, my baby is a chocoholic.

Don't give me any science about sugar or caffeine, this baby kicks like a donkey after I eat chocolate and I choose to interpret that as 'More Mummy, more!'

(*Chicos are actually kind of gross and probably very politically incorrect, but they are part of the Australian experience. Think chocolate jelly babies.)

Fox files

Our garden is a bit of a wildlife haven, it seems. We have a regular squirrel visitor, and another squirrel who gets beaten up by the other if they happen to visit at the same time. M thinks it's the fruit trees (apple, pear and plum) that attract them. I *cough* also left some nuts out once, but we won't mention that.

The overgrown nature of our garden - we have a strip at the back that we have left for years to go wild - has also attracted foxes, most notably a young pair of siblings, who were cubs when we first saw them rolling around together in the grass early one morning. A few mornings ago, I was surprised to see a large bright pink rubber bone in the middle of what we loosely call our lawn. I figured someone had accidentally thrown it into our garden. The next day it was closer to the house, with extra teethmarks, so we knew the foxes had been playing with it.

Today, M and I finished clearing out the shed, one of the many jobs M has set us in preparation for becoming parents in November. Seriously, we do not have a non-working weekend planned until mid-October, when I've told him I will be too pregnant to do anything (while attempting to drown out his mother's reminiscences about going into labour while she was working in the fields in Italy...) Rooting around in a shed that's full of spiders isn't nearly so daunting in England, where none of the little beasties are poisonous. Man, this country is so tame compared to Australia.

When he went beside the shed to clear what I hadn't even realised was a paved area (that's how overgrown it was) and stood in the cool darkness under the fig tree, he found a little den with more toys in it! A dog's ball, and some kind of plastic soldier toy. The foxes have been pilfering and storing their loot in our garden.

And I really am glad that they chose us. There's something very special about coming downstairs just after dawn (not a regular occurrence for me at the moment, but newborn baby here we come) and seeing rust-coloured beasts bounding around our garden, or hiding in the grass. We might be living in the country. And when, later in the day, the squirrel pops his cheeky head in and tries to get inside the house, then sits on a small concrete seat M made under the pear tree to nibble at fallen fruit, or seed pods, I feel very lucky to live here.

(btw, the paint colour in the nursery? Love it. It was just an initial 'that isn't identical to the swatch' reaction.)

Nursery painting

Um, that colour is way more blue on the walls than in the tin. M doesn't particularly like it. I am determined, however, to love it. Pictures to come.

Doesn't fresh paint make a room look so clean!