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Ch 29: And then I farted in the gym. Seriously.

Asleep – in bed for the night. Another day over.

Today I read an excellent article relating to how mothers, without realisation, scare the daylights out of their girlfriends by showcasing the array of low lights and frustrations of raising children.

The girlfriends are either mothers to be or they hope to be in the future. These friends have been caught up in what was described as 'mum bonding' sessions over coffee.

Whilst reading the article I found myself nodding, rolling my eyes and rubbing my face like I always do when I'm a tad stressed or anxious.

The reason? It flooded back memories from when the little master was cooking away in my oven – my first child, my first pregnancy, my first baby bump.

Rightly so, I had no idea what the future was to hold.

From the heavy belly stages of trimester three which included burping uncontrollably in work meetings, passing wind with any form of movement at the gym, through to the labour, bringing the little master home and not to mention grappling with breastfeeding and growth spurts.

It was my journey. Our journey. And we're still on it.

However as time has passed, I have grown..well to be honest, kind of pissed off at people, many of whom are mothers, who relayed the following sentiments to me, all whilst with a growing baby belly:

'Oh labour isn't painful at all!'
Said in a sarcastic manner then laughs and rolls the eyes. Thanks I'll sleep better tonight.
'Better enjoy your sleep now before the baby arrives!'
Right so you can bank your sleep and use it later yes? Thanks, real helpful.
'Gee, you're not very big..?'
Oh shuddap. We're healthy, the baby is growing great and is perfectly fine. Oh did you notice that I'm 5'0' and my husband is 5'8'. What do you expect me to produce? An NBA player?!
'Then when pulling him out they had to dislocate his shoulder.'
That's my personal fave, I was eight months pregnant at the time and the woman was drunk. I cried all the way home.

But it doesn't stop once the baby arrives. The focus simply moves from the bump to your bundle of joy. All real examples again:

'How old is he? Four months? Gee he is big.'
Would you prefer I starved him? Actually he is average weight, not an ounce above or below. Wish I could say the same about you, love.
'Oh he's not sitting up yet?'
No he rolls and rolls and rolls. He'll get there and I'm not worried. Are you?

The list could go on, but you get my drift.

So this is a call out to all the mothers, expectant mothers and women who would one day like to be a mother:

You look great, blushing in fact. I hope you have been keeping well.
You're doing an amazing job.
Well done to you, Mum and Dad! Keep it up.
Your baby is just gorgeous, perfect in fact.
Cherish every day – the smiles, eye gazing, finger holds and giggles are amazing.

Oh, and if you unexpectedly let off a bottom burp, I will happily join you in blaming the dog.

That is all.


Ch 28: Chocolate cake karma

Further to my post below, whilst woofing down three slabs of chocolate cake this afternoon, I was making the little master pureed broccoli for the first time.

It smells like off grass. 'Normal' apparently.

I think I'm going to sick up that chocolate cake..and the whipped cream. Yarrrrk!

That is all.


Ch 27: the joys of breastfeeding

That would be slice number three this afternoon!

Say wha? You thought this was going to be another article about how breast is best?

Sorry to disappoint.


Now where's that whipped cream..


Ch 26: For he's a jolly good fello..

Happy birthday dear husband, your first as a father!
P.S - sorry about the ugg boots...



Ch 25: Dear Winter - bugger off.

Dear Winter,

I'm pleased to advise that your time here is coming to an end. 

You have performed well in 2012 – short days, bitterly cold nights, frosty car windows, adequate rain not to mention a storm or ten. I heard it was a good ski season too..but I wouldn't know. The thought of frolicking around in the alps makes me want to kick a snowman in the head. Too much? Sorry.

However, we caught a glimpse of Spring today and to be honest, she's looking pretty good. The little master and I welcome the thought of not being so housebound for days on end and Buddy dog can't wait to lose his winter locks not to mention those comfort food kilos.

Plus, these two kids are getting sick of the sight of each other. Poor Bud copped a kick in the head today from the little master...out of pure boredom. Ouchy.

So Winter, enough is enough. We're done for another year. So pack up your thermometer and be on your way. You know where the exit is.

Oh and don't let the door hit your frosty bum on the way out.

Kind regards

Dear Spring,

Welcome! Oh how we have missed you!

AP xoxo



Ch 24: What's with the sour face?


Awake, kicking in his bouncer.

We have just arrived home from a lunch date to a new local cafe with our dear friend and bub.

And when I say just arrived home I meant it. Wha? You're typing already?

Yes indeed, I need to get this down whilst the steam was still filtering from my ears.

Girls, women, ladies, mothers. I ask – when did we lose the sisterhood?

When did we stop looking out for each other?

Ok, pipe down AP. Breathe..breathe. Fine.

As I said, the little master and I wondered off to check out a new cafe in town with his super cute mate, Mr F and his mother. Excited by the prospect of chowing down a hearty lunch with great views of the city, not to mention fabulous company, we had an extra spring in our step as we arrived.

Situated in a new housing development, it was relatively quiet for a Thursday lunchtime. Even better, me thinks. Quick service and we can have the place to ourselves.


The 'baby on board' stickers upon several cars parked out the front suggested we weren't the only mums getting out of the house today. Not a problem from my end, happy to coo over other gorgeous bubbas.

Yet my entry to the cafe was not met by the same warm welcome.

AP (standing in the cafe entrance, dear friend holding the door open for me): 'Excuse me, sorry can you please..umm excuussse me? Hello? I just need to pop past..excuse me?'

We've all been there right? Not that hard to move slightly to the side to allow someone to get past.

But did you experience this?

Sour faced looking mother eventually manages to glance in my direction, gives me a look that suggested I was a filthy whorebag and how dare I even attempt getting past with my pram.
How dare I.
And yes, I said whorebag.

Her response: 'You just need to move the chair..' (picture said sour faced mother condescendingly instructing me to move the chair which was actually right next to her and was also pressed up against a toddler. With reluctance, but still with a half smile on my face, I moved the chair. Sorry kid).

Stuck. Still.

AP (embarrassed, slightly frustrated but with smile still on face): 'I'm sorry, I still can't get through..?'

By this stage there were now three mothers pretending I didn't exist or need any assistance, rolling their eyes still refusing to budge or move another chair or, heaven forbid, touch their designer nappy bag.

Enter mother number four who has just ordered from the counter, on her way back: 'Here, let me help you as she guided the front of my pram through their marked territory'.

Unfortunately her tone also reeked of reluctance, abruptness and basically down right cat like behaviour to be completely honest.

With the smile still etched on my face and with dear friend behind me (there was no room for her to get past and assist...just in case you were wondering), we took the three whole steps past the group, who were now tucking into a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, and gracefully thanked mother number four for her assistance which was 'much appreciated'.

Unbeknown to me, but on the record from my dear friend, the cat like snarls continued to burn in the back of my head as we made our way to a table.

How sad.

Was it something I said? Something I did? All I did was turn up to a cafe with a pram, just like they did.

Although we were both shocked and quite pissed off by what we just encountered, we carried on and had a great lunch.

The service was lovely, the food was fresh and tasty and the coffee really hit the spot. Winner.

But what I shame I still managed to leave with such a sour taste in my mouth.

Asleep  now in his bed. Heavy rain outside, how timely as a thundery storm is about to pass.


Ch 23: What's for dinner Mum?

Asleep. Morning nap time.

In one week the little master will be seven months old.

But by the way he is devouring three meals day, plus feeds, you would think he was 17.

Aren't teenage boys, not seven month olds, meant to eat you out of the house?

I swear I caught him the other day hovering at the fridge, in his new Dunlop Volleys (cuute!), opening the door, sighing then slamming it shut muttering 'there's never anything good to eat...grumble grumble.'


Not quite. However he has managed to master the art of tapping his little boy hands on his feeding chair table demanding more potato, more pumpkin and yes please I'll have some apple for dessert.


I should be thankful, he hasn't been a fussy eater, has had no allergic reactions and he is a very content and happy little man.

I am thankful.

Besides, I get to dress him in his fabulous Super Mario inspired feeding bib! Joy!
(reliving the early 1990s playing our very hip Super Nintendo. Ah yes, Mario, Luigi, Yoshi, Bowser..*tear*)

Anyway, the bib is a necessity..pumpkin does stain you know..

So apart from one small but painful biting episode, all things in the food department are cruising along in leaps and bounds.

The downside – the countless hours of peeling, washing, chopping, steaming, blending, freezing and finally defrosting baby sized portions of fruit and veggie goodness. And you wonder what I do all day..*rolls eyes*

A couple of small items to help me along the way – hello Avent Steam Blender and many thanks to AussieFarmers Direct for their amazing box of goodies. Love!

Righto enough jibber jabber, I'm off to peel some carrots..in my Yoshi slippers.


Ah, actually make that awake. Timing..

And yes, I really do have Yoshi slippers.


Ch 22: Then he bit me

Well we have had milestones galore coming out our nappies over the last three weeks.

Some good, some not so good.

Remember our first cold? That was nasty.

But now we're goober free and sleeping much longer at night – bliss!

Then there were the reflections on the past six months. Not to mention the increasing array of pureed vegetable and fruity goodness now in the little masters diet.

Mr Potato is still prancing around with Miss Pumpkin AND Ms Carrot..(man whore..) and the little master is growing every day.

But behind the scenes something else was going on. Something pretty significant. Something I was secretly dreading.

When we were knocked down by our first cold, we introduced our new friend the Vicks Vaporizer to the household. As pleased as I am with the warm vicks like smells drifting through the house (insert reliving childhood here), I did have a rant (or ten) to my dear husband about how disappointed I was that it didn't seem to be making any difference to his night time wakings.

I was convinced it would cure the stuffy nose and help the little master sleep longer and re-settle easier of a night time, however comfort feed after comfort feed for ten nights, I succumbed to the fact that this winter bug had won hands down.

But I was wrong. Silly Mum. Here we go again..

It wasn't just the cold causing the pain.

A few days ago I caught glimpse of the little masters new mates. Two white sparkly teeth.

Yes, not one but two of the little fellas pushing through his bottom gums.

Well hi there! Welcome!

Finally, it all made sense. The grizzles, the crankiness, the night time wakings. The poor little thing had tooth pain.

With my proud and excited Mum hat on, I sat the little master up in his bouncer and like a zoo keeper prying open the jaws of a crocodile, I had to have a feel of the teeth just to make sure I wasn't dreaming.

Oh yes, there they are! Picture this - squealing AP dancing around the pissed off little master who was wondering what the heck is wrong with his mother and why did she have her hands down his gob?!

To repay me for the unwelcome dental inspection, the little master decided to give me a small gift the following day.

My first bite.

No, don't goo and gahh. He didn't bite me on the hand ok.. Ever heard of the term nipple cripple? Well times that pain by ten. Actually no, make that 20. Oh and perform the cripple with a set of sharp pliers. Get my drift? Oh yeah..I can hear you cringe from here.


Awake and ready for a feed...eeek!


Ch 21: Love at first bite

Asleep, it's an early morning nap today.

It's been another big week.

The last time we spoke, I had mentioned setting up Mr Potato with Miss Pumpkin.

Well didn't they hit it off! Forget all those other supercouples, Brangelina, Garfleck and TomKat ..ohh oops, my bad.

Let's give a warm welcome to TatyPump.

What a combination!

Well that was until a few days ago. Looks like the hype has gone to Mr Potato's starchy head.

Possibly influenced by the recent RobPattz and Kristen Stewart breakup, it seems as though he may have a wondering eye...especially for red heads, or should that be orange heads.

Ms Carrot has flashed her long pegs and has too struck up a friendship with her leading man.

Not only do they meet for lunch, they're having dinner dates too. Gasp! What a flusy..

But be careful ladies, there are a few teenybopper blondes lurking in the background...Missy Apple and Missy Pear.

Perhaps it's time for old cousin sweet potato to arrive and scoop up any leftovers. He is a little desperate and needs a little lovin' you know.

Awake, up time but it's Saturday so that means it's Dads turn.




Asleep – it's afternoon nap time.

You know your life is starting to get a little bit more back to normal when you can spend your Friday night with some dear friends who I missed so much whilst 'up the duff' – a couple of glasses of bubbly and our cherished softies – brie and crumbly cheddar.

Not to mention gourmet pizza, fabulous company and the footy on the TV.



Plus it was date night for Buddy and his curly haired girlfriend, Cookie. Aren't they cute.




Asleep on his side. First sleep for the day.

Well just as one friend exits the door (so long chocolate egg), another one enters.

Hello Mr Potato! Our new BFF.

Thanks to said new friend, this morning I have an extra spring in my step. Actually, make that about 80 new springs.

It has taken six months, one week and two days.

27 weeks and two days.

191 days to be exact.

191 nights of getting up from a range of six times to once a night. For feeding, settling, re-settling, comforting, managing vomit burps and nappy changes.

Last night was the first night that the little master didn't need me from when he went down at 7.00pm through to 6.30am.

Although I did wake at 3am and raced in to check that he was ok, his little snores assured me he was well and truly alright.

Who do we have to thank for this great feat? Aside from time, consistent routines and self settling techniques with much persistence, I think perhaps our new little starchy mate may have come through with the goods.

Mr Potato – we salute you.

Thank you for staying in the little masters tummy to keep him warm and cosy at night.

We hope you're not a one hit wonder and will visit us again night after night.

With time we may even introduce you to a few new mates too – Mr Carrot and Mr Pumpkin.

Or should we say Miss Pumpkin..yes?

Asleep. Still.

In the meantime, potaties for everybody!



Awake. Kicking in his bouncer.

What a sad day. It's still early on this beautiful Sunday morning but it is with a heavy heart I bid farewell to a dear friend.

So long chocolate egg.

We've had some great times. From chasing my siblings around the farm looking for you hiding in every nook and cranny on Easter Sunday, to enjoying you with a glass of red of an evening after dinner.

You have served me well, kept me sane at times and have provided me with a much needed reward after a long day.

But it's time to part.

Was it something I said? Something I did?

Who knows. All I really know is that it is over. For now.

Today started so well. The little master slept through to 5.30am. After his feed he went back to sleep until 7.15am.

Then it turned ugly.

The projectile vomit had covered the little master's sleeping bag, pyjamas, sheets and the cot railings. Not to mention in his ears. I know, how awful.

Why chocolate egg? Why did you have to target his little ears? So mean.

But how could a chocolate egg do such a thing you ask?

Let's take a step back. Now that the little master is feeding on solids, last night I opened an Easter gift containing a Disney Cars cutlery set with a chocolate egg.

With the bowl, spoon and cup now washed and in the cupboard ready to use, I eggerly, sorry eagerly, ripped open the egg and happily munched on the chocolaty goodness after dinner.

With my recent conversion to soy milk after learning that cows milk upsets the little masters tummy, I failed to realise that perhaps the milk solids in the egg may wreak havoc the following day.

Oops. My bad.

On a positive note, the little master is fine. Who would have thought he could vomit with such a big grin on his chubby face. And to get a bath first thing in the morning, well hasn't all his Easters arrived at once!

Anyway, back to my broken friendship. Hopefully one day, I can make peace with the chocolate egg and we can meet again.

But for now, it's over man. You mess with my little boy, you mess with me. Move on egg. 


Awake, ready for his morning nap.

Let's hope he wakes vomit free.


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