not-so-triumphant returns.

I took a bit of a hiatus.
Things got hectic.
My head got foggy.
E got naughty.
E got better.
In-laws visited (no comment..for now).

But I’m back. And full of more words nobody wants to hear than ever!

We battled with sleep deprivation, post natal depression, career indecision, exercise, exhaustion, university, gym inferiority complex, feeling like a stranger in my own home, sweltering Aussie summer, boating, beaching, a miraculous couple of weeks of self settling…
All I’ve got is commas because I’m still so damn tired.

You’d think, given how hard things were in the early days, that the moment tthings started to improve that I’d take it easy.
Believe me, I thought so too.
I even thought that was actually occurring. Here I was, before writing this, thinking “Go back to writing, you’ve got time and you deserve it.”


E doesn’t cry all the time! In hindsight she was an atrocious baby. But so damned cute.
But every inch she’s given I’ve taken a mile. Started a gym membership, enrolled in university, built on my garden, worked HARD on my relationship and somehow I’m happy.
We have good and bad days with the baby but it seems like we’re out of the haze and seeing things clearly. We can’t decide when anything is happening but we’re going to get a house as soon as we’ve saved a deposit, a new car as soon as mine dies, a new baby NEVER (not really but I’m so over how clucky I was now there’s no longer any round ladies around me), and I’ve curbed my shopping habit.

That last ones not entirely true.

I’ll return when I’ve got brain power for more than commas. I do love an Oxford comma, though.


life sans the leaf

This is an old write up that for some reason did not post.
I thank you for your understanding of this technophobic dork, and hope your day continues on as it would had I never mentioned it. Wink.
Today .
A momentous day my friends.
December 12, 2013.
The very first day I spent longer than an hour away from my bubba.

It was lovely/torturous.

Lovely as I spent the majority of it absorbed in conversation with an impossibly delightful human being.
Torturous as I got NOTHING done that I intended to, was constantly marred by delays, was ever aware of how time poor we were, though featuring predominantly amongst my concerns was the realisation that I’m not sure exactly how many days it’ll be till I see that human being again.

Plus I’m still breast feeding so the distinct lack of Mothers Rooms spattered around the city have resulted in a sore, swollen couple of canteloupes. And! Due to a late and excessive express (the leaf was already in bed) there may not be enough left in the proverbial tank by the time she wakes for her middle of the night breast-fest.

I think there’s a different time zone you enter when you become a parent. I feel a bit elitist saying that, like it’s a special super secret cool club that has handshakes and personalised jackets.

For anyone that’s curious – we dont.

But I certainly feel that I operate entirely differently. When you have plans to be somewhere, you’re in the car and on your way at least fifteen minutes early. And you have all the planning and preparation done several days in advance.
There is no fault whatsoever to functioning any other way, but this is what works for me. And is essentially the polar opposite of my life pre E.

This also segues into another tale, that of The Death Of Polite Alex.

The worst part undoubtedly was the absence of five and a half kilograms of love from my arms.

I can’t say a whole lot more without being unkind but it was a disastrous day. I’m glad it turned out the way it did though, because I had my ever naïve eyes reopened (after numerous previous openings) and my heart sealed shut.

Poetic, no?

In reality I was (and please excuse my French) fucked around, and decided not to do it again, ever ever!