A blue streak

Yesterday's post and comments got me thinking about swearing and my kids.

When I grew up my mum wasn't really a swearer, but my dad never censored himself, always enjoying a good expletive to express himself. I have a memory of my younger brother counting the swear words that came from my dad during a car trip, just for a bit of hilarity.

I don't think this ever effected me negatively. It was just something my dad was allowed to do, but I wasn't – like drive the car or drink beer.

Now with my own kids, it's a kind of similar situation. Skip doesn't censor himself, I let fly occasionally and the kids understand it's something that grown ups say and they can't. Swearing is definitely more common place now than it was when I was a kid. TV shows and music have far more swearing than they once did. It's hard to protect kids against it.

We also let our kids get away with 'toilet' humour at home as well. Mainly because I'm a complete juvenile and find it funny, but the kids are aware it's something they can do at home and not at preschool or other people's houses. Also, it's not allowed to be used in an agressive way toward anyone else.

Each family is different, I know. The family who was shocked by the use of 'damn it' that I mentioned, there was another playdate we went on recently and Goosey got upset at toy she was playing with I think she then said it was 'stupid'. The other mother gasped and said: "Did she say the s-word?" I assured her no, she didn't she just said stupid. The reply came: "That's the s-word in our house". I was a little surprised. I wouldn't like the girls to call each other or anyone else stupid, but I probably wouldn't (didn't) notice if they said it to an inanimate object.

It's kind of interesting the limits and the values that different people put on language. There's never a right or wrong, it's just interesting.

I have had an issue with the girls using the word 'hate'. They've started saying they hate me or they hate each other and they've been quickly told: "You can be angry, upset or frustrated with me. That's fine. I just don't want to hear you say that you hate anyone. How would you feel if I said told you I hated you?"

How do you feel about swearing? Are there taboo words in your house?

Playdate

With Lil-lil starting preschool this year, a new phenomenon has entered my life – the playdate.

Sure we've had plenty of playdates with people who are my friends and the kids get told: "These are your friends". They're fine. They're great. Our kids can play, I feel I can relax confident in my parenting style. I get to have a good chat or catch up with someone I like.

It's these new playdates I'm not so fond of. The ones that involve Lil-lil's friends from preschool. I've done a few and it always feel a bit weird. I have to make small talk with the parents, who aren't always people I'd choose as friends. I hate small talk, more than anything. There's always that awkwardness of how far can I go? I don't want to look like a delinquent parent and it seems that most of Lil-lil's friends have quite conservative parents.

Example: "Little XX came home from preschool the other day and said 'damn it'. I couldn't believe it."
I sat there wondering what the problem was, when I suddenly realised it was the 'swearing'. Then realised it was probably my kid who was teaching the colourful language and probably much worse.

Then Goosey usually ends up in some sort of altercation with the younger sibling of Lil-lil's friend. Which is embarrassing  and then you have to do that whole song and dance and the poor kid doesn't really want to be there anywhere.

If they're at my house, the house is usually completely trashed. There's always some sort of argument over toys. The whole thing is more hassle than it's worth.

The latest thing that happened this week was Lil-lil was invited over for a sleepover. Personally I think she's too young to stay over at someone's house I don't know well. It just doesn't sit right.

I write this as I'm procrastinating about calling a new friend of Lil-lil's who left a note inviting us over for a playdate.  As much as I'll dread it, I'll call and organise a time, cause Lil-lil will have the time of her life and this is what kids do. I'll suck up my shyness and loathing of small talk. Who knows, I might even strike gold and meet a parent who can become a friend.

Soon enough, she'll be old enough to do the dump and run. Then, of course I've got at least another five years with the other kids. Sigh.

Do you do the whole playdate thing? Do you love it or loathe it?

So not nesting

After my little hospital visit this week, I've started to think it might actually be time to get ready for this baby's arrival if it does happen to come sooner than we thought. I'm not really one for decorating nurseries or having heaps of 'stuff''. Babies really don't need very much when it comes down to it, despite what people like to tell you. Just somewhere to sleep (which is often my chest), some clothes, some nappies and that's about it.

We got a new pram, so that's something. Our friends our looking after our other bubba stuff so I'm not too concerned. The only thing I'm thinking I might need is a new baby carrier to go with the Bjorn, perhaps a sling. In reality, I'll probably put my head in the sand for another few weeks when I hit a sudden panic and organise everything in a day.

To be honest, I've been too busy planning outings, dinners and catch-ups with those close to me. Focusing on just hanging with the girls. Putting my feet up and reading a book. Enjoying quiet evenings while they last, in case I end up with a bub that loves to scream at witching hour. Things that will be a little harder or I'll be a little bit distracted from in a couple of months. Sure I know life doesn't end, but having a baby hanging off me and being super sleep deprived does make these things a little more difficult and little less enjoyable. I can always send Skip out for a packet of nappies once the bubba is here after all.

So today, I think, I'll dream about our summer holiday instead.

From holiday to hospital

Well it's been an interesting couple of days! From waking up in a hotel room on Monday morning to waking up in a hospital room this morning.

After a weekend of bliss, I was physically feeling rather average. Probably evident with my boot/crying incident at the airport. I was feeling so swollen, I was like Violet Beauregard in Willy Wonka, just not blue. And there were no Oompa Loompas to take me off to the squeezer.

I rang the hospital and went to get checked out. Before I knew it I was being transferred upstairs to be monitored by a kindly Shirley Valentine-type lady who lectured me about not coming in sooner. I wasn't too concerned as I'd been through the same thing with Lil-lil. At worst a couple of pills and I'd be on my way.

After tests, tests and more tests, my quiet room was suddenly invaded by two doctors, prodding poking, taking blood and inserting canulas. I was being admitted to the ward, administered drugs immediately and there was talk of steroids if I needed to deliver the baby this week. It was now that I started to get concerned.

"I thought I might just take some tablets and go home the next day?" I said to one of the docs. "With your blood pressure you'll be here days at least, and at worst you'll be delivering this baby," the serious doctor told me. Now I was really concerned.

Within the hour my blood pressure started to come down. All the panic began to subside. The doctors went off to other emergencies.

I'm still in a hospital bed, but with any luck I'll be home today, as everything is looking ok.

My hopes for a good night sleep were dashed by a cranky nurse who came in every few hours to take my blood pressure and feed me drugs. I think I prefer a sweet little person waking me up!


The worst thing about hospital? Having this canula in the underside of my arm, as they couldn't get it in anywhere else they normally would,




The best bit? Being brought tea and biscuits, even if the tea is aneamic and in a styrofoam cup.

I have to say, especially after my rant about the medical system last week, my experience has been great. The doctors and nurses have looked after me and listened to me and explained everything to me. My room is private and enormous. Can't ask for better care.

Now to get out of here!

Discovering Van Diemen's Land and Us

I'm back. Three days of bliss behind me.

I had the most wonderful time. Truly wonderful. One of the best weekends I've ever had.

We arrived on Friday morning after a flawless flight, picked up our hire car and arrived in Hobart to sunshine and surprising warmth. We drove into North Hobart in search of good coffee and found it pretty quickly. We kept pinching ourselves that we were here. In Tasmania. With each other. For three whole days. It felt quite surreal.

Checking into our hotel, the receptionist told us we had to go to MONA, after being the 100th person to tell us that we had to do it, it became our first stop. We headed up to the winery/brewery/restaurant/art gallery and weren't disappointed. It is an incredible place and it's a must-see if you're ever in Hobart. The art wasn't really our cup of tea, but the architecture of the building that houses the art is mind-blowing. We walked around and soaked in the grandure of the whole place.

We then settled into a sunny spot in the wine bar for lunch and kept pinching ourselves again at where we were and how lucky we felt. Unfortunately, the menu was filled all types of delicious things I couldn't eat like terrine, salami and soft cheese. I joked the whole weekend that Tasmania was the island of delicious things I couldn't eat.

Lunch in the sun.

Pinot for him, mineral water for me.

After lunch, we headed to the cellar door so Skip could do some wine tasting. Don't feel too bad for me, cause just sitting there and soaking in the view was pretty spesh.

After quick trip back into town for a bevvy near the waterfront and some people watching. The weather was gorgeous. We then went home for a rest to gear up for dinner. Before we got there though, we took a wrong turn and literally ended up in the bush. I kid you not. A wrong turn in Hobart's CDB and 10 minutes later we were in the bush! I loved that! Ten minutes on a Friday in Sydney peak hour and you'd be lucky to be 100 metres up the road. Dinner was sensational. Think scallops, abalone, bouillabaise, all so good!

Saturday, after a lazy lie-in, we wandered round Salamanca Markets, Battery Point and headed up Mount Wellington, where we saw – SNOW! We were so excited, even if was just piddly little amount, it was still snow. We both fell in love with Battery Point and dreamt of what it'd be like to live there.

Seriously, how gorgeous are these homes?

Snow!

That night, we huddled into a little wine bar in Battery Point. Skip sipped red wine, I sipped mineral water and we talked. We listened to a jazz trio. We just enjoyed being together, chatting, not having to be anywhere, that day or the next. It's so long since we could just be together and enjoy each other's company without being 'mum' or 'dad'.  Just being us, not having to look at the clock to get back to a babysitter or worry about being tired the next day. Worry about schedules and what the kids need. Just enjoy each other's company.

We then headed down to Salamanca and found another wine and tapas bar where we ate delicious food, listened to some more live music and giggled at the couple next to us who were obviously on a blind date.

After a super long lie-in on Sunday morning, we headed to Meadowbank Estate for lunch. We used to live in Meadowbank in Sydney and drank Meadowbank Pinot Noir, so it was a must for us. Thankfully, the scenery was spectacular, we had a sunny table looking over vineyards down green hills to the river. The food was incredible. Tasmanian mussles and lamb. A verjuice and soda. Super yum!

We then ambled up the road to Richmond for a meander. Skip lived here as a kid and it's such a gorgeous, historic spot.

We then headed back for afternoon tea at Battery Point and then an afternoon siesta. Luxury to the max.

Meadobank Estate vineyards.

I didn't expect blossoms and blue skies in August, especially in Tassie.

Richmond on a sunny Sunday arvo.

That night we had fish and chips from the harbourfront and an early night in front of Underbelly.

It was so indulgent and lovely and wonderful to be able to eat, drink, relax. So different from everyday life. The best bits? Just being with Skip. Just the two of us. Laughing until there were tears. Talking about our lives without being interrupted. Remembering what it was like before kids. Reminding ourselves why we embarked on this whole marriage, kids thing in the first place. Just being us. That was so, so special. I tried to soak in every moment, so in the coming months when we're all tired, over it and wondering what the hell we're doing (and I know there will be plenty of those times) I could remember these moments. These moments of pure bliss. The whole weekend we kept saying to each other over and over: "I'm having such a good time!" And it really was. One of the best weekends of my life.

The only downside? Was that physically I wasn't great. Heavily pregnant and I'm really, really swollen – hands, feet, ankles face. It was painful and cumbersome, no matter how I tried to ignore it.

This morning,  packing up to leave was terribly sad. I couldn't help but wish it was Friday morning and we could do it all over again. I was afraid to speak unless I cried. It was hard to say goodbye to the weekend, goodbye to Hobart and goodbye to Skip, who's staying on for work. Knowing that we wouldn't get an opportunity like this again for a long, long, long time. 

I got myself to the airport. At security checkpoint, they made me take my boots off. I burst into tears, a combination of knowing I would struggle to take them off and they'd be almost impossible to squeeze back on my swollen feet, being cumbersomely pregnant as well as the emotion of going home. I sat there at Hobart airport on my own, sobbing, struggling to put my shoes on and carry my heavy bag. People shuffled embarrassed past me.

I pulled myself together and got home without a hitch. It was so good to see and squeeze the girls. I had missed them.

That's the end of that little chapter. Onto the next...

My poor attempt at trying to take a photo of us.

Home again, home again

Well I'm back in reality after a truly fabulous weekend. I'll write a whole post on it very soon, once I get a moment to get my breath back.

In the mean time I wanted to announce the winners of the Stephen Joseph giveaway.

Random.org picked Super Sarah and Mama to 2 Boys.

If you can email me your addresses and I'll get your packs sent out to you.

Tassie devil

Not the Big Apple unfortunately, the Apple Isle.

This time tomorrow I'll be high in the sky, probably somewhere over the Bass Straight. Skip and I are leaving the kids at home and heading to Hobart. A last hoorah before the bub comes and who knows when we'll get time together again. Let's face it who wants to babysit three kids?

So for three wonderful days, we'll explore, wander, eat, sleep (snore). I won't be making breakfasts, lunches or dinners. I won't be giving little people baths. I won't be breaking up fights (or at least I hope I won't). I won't be wiping little bums. I won't cleaning up mooshed cereal from the floor. I won't be listening to Mary Freakin' Poppins. Oh yes, I won't.

I'm missing out on catching up with some of my favourite bloggers, but I'll be thinking of them as I eat and relax.

On Monday morning, I'll jet home to reality while Skip stays on for work. All those things, including Mary Poppins, will be waiting for me.

Have a fine weekend everyone. I will be!