Shallow

Is it bad that as Ant's due date draws near, I am getting extremely worried about:

• making sure my hair is constantly "maintained" (facial and elsewhere *ahem*)
• making sure my nails are "did"
• what I will wear should I decide to jump in the pool for a water birth
• how to keep my straightened hair dry while having a water birth
• what I will wear should I decide not to have a water birth
• what I will wear for my first post-birth photo
• (I think you get the gist of it...)

Maybe it keeps me sane and distracts from the upcoming pain.

Or maybe I'm just vain.

I am getting excited though. Looking forward to seeing my boy and finally staying home from work and getting my normal bikini bod back. Guffaw!

Hurting hearts

Parenting can be such a mother ...

Like when you try to convince your 5yo that you are not making them wear the big blue jacket because you want them to be fugly, but because you know it will be a cold day and they've got bronchitis and asthma, but all you get in return is defiance ...

Then you discipline them, try to teach them the importance of obedience, the value of the advice of those who love you ...

And they look at you, their big old teary eyes filled with anguish, and say, "My heart hurts, Mummy. My heart hurts because you are angry at me."

Then you hate yourself ...

And you eat two whole packs of kekesaiga to make yourself feel better ...

And you just end up feeling fat, fugs and still a bad mother.

The necklace

Emma Thompson ... not getting a necklace

"Would you wait around to find out if it's just a necklace, or if it's sex and a necklace, or if, worst of all, it's a necklace and love? Would you stay, knowing life would always be a little bit worse? Or would you cut and run?"

99 Problems

1. Work is out of control busy.

2. I am super lost (i.e. aivalea) at my current work assignment.

3. Having a primary school kid and having to arrange your life around the fact that there is no more full time care for your kid during all your working hours ... it's a new discovery, a new challenge, and my goodness I feel so bad for all you other working parents out there! Let's get together and have a whine-fest (or even better, a wine-fest!)

4. I still haven't won Powerball. Obviously, or problems 1 to 3 would be resolved.

5. Ant is such a boy of a baby. He hasn't given me a smooth complexion, a "glow" or shiny/tamed hair like Lali did. Instead, he has given me a grand appetite for spicy bratwurst, bacon butties, churros and all else that is needed for getting elephantiasis.

6. I work in the middle of Wellington city. You would think that being surrounded by cafes galore it would be easy to find a date scone when you crave one, right? Wrong. I had to walk around in circles, visiting 5 cafes on a rainy morning before I could find one! Not impressed.

7. Our neighbour's visitor parked on the road in such that a way that impeded me from backing out of our driveway the way I wanted to. The hubby wisely volunteered to ask him to move, preventing a mad-preggo-lady altercation and possible charges for destruction of property ( though I would have only removed the rear bumper of his car ... that was part that was poking into our side of the driveway ... )

8. I'm sure I have about 92 or so more gripes on food and fat. Ugh. My sister takes photos from amazing angles that make me look a quarter of the size I am. People see them and say "You look so great! Upload more photos!" No thanks. I will only upload the photos that pass the "Pregnant But In Impossibly Great Shape" criteria. Hence why there aren't many.

9. Looking at Crazy Cakes and Just Desserts Facebook updates is driving me insane with cake cravings. I am refusing to do any baking right now though, because I can see it turning into a slippery slope ... of ganache and whipped cream and buttercream and custard!! Joy.

Two more months. I can do this. Just focus on the prize at the end ... that bowl of oka. Nommmm ...

The most hilarious video ever

I watched this last night and nearly pissed myself laughing (note to self: spend more time on the Keegels).

If you are Samoan, watch this. It will make your day.

The end of the road ... nek minnit ...

Pardon the outdated references, both to Boyz II Men and that Nek Minnit phrase.

I just came across this song today, and it will forever remind me of that time. At uni. This song was playing at the student bar. I was in the bathroom bawling my eyes out because I had broken up with my boyfriend again. For the millionth time.

Love hurts, huh. What a little moeps. Lol.

Well, there's no lesson in this post. Just a random moment to share. And I suppose if you're a young'un "in love", when things go pear shaped (notice I said when and not if), just remember they could always be worse. Although at the time it will probably feel like the sky has fallen on your Chicken Little head.

As fate would have it, I am now married to abovementioned on-again off-again ex-boyfriend. Lol. Now I'm thankful that we reached the end of that potholey auala galue, so we could later drive onto a road with stable foundations and a damn destination!

Cupid over and out.

Eating for two (dozen)

I came across my maternity book from the first pregnancy and in it I found some disturbing figures.

In 30 weeks of pregnancy (from Week 10 to Week 40), I gained a whopping whaling 30 kgs! Oh. Em. Effin. Gee!!

My weight was recorded at all my midwife or doctor appointments, so I could see the progression of the weight gain, and even during the earlier weeks when baby was quite small, I was piling on the pounds.

And I do know why. I ate like a pig. I was nowhere near as nauseous as sickly as this time around, so I ate  whatever and whenever I wanted, justifying it with the "eating for two" mantra. Although I knew at the time this phrase was actually nonsense, what I didn't know was that the extra amount I needed to eat a day to handle mine and baby's energy needs was the equivalent of 1 to 2 slices of bread. Eek. I was eating at least an extra 1 or 2 loaves of bread, and that is not even an exaggeration.

It took a long and unhappy 4 years to start shedding that weight, and this time around I am determined to be much smarter. Prevention is key, I guess. I keep the old maternity book handy now, and when I feel myself losing the battle of the will, I take a glimpse at those weights *shudder* and try to make a better eating choice.

Don't get me wrong, I will eat cake, so help me God! Except now I schedule a day of the week when I will bake or buy what I am craving the most, and enjoy that with the family.

I know that by carrying this alien, I will get fat. But there's no need to get any fatter than necessary, right?

A hippo's guide to surviving earthquakes

If you have been watching the news like a good citizen should (and if you live in a country where they give a winkling about the tectonic plates in New Zealand) then you may know that there have been some rather significant earthquakes around the Wellington region for the past couple of weeks now.

It has been unnerving each time the tremors hit, trying to locate the little shadow and then proceeding to dive under the unfortunately too-small kitchen table.

What we also came to realise (many, many natural disasters later) is that we have no emergency plan of action, no emergency survival kit, no real reason that we should survive if or when the mother of natural disasters (or the dreaded zombie apocalypse for that matter) hits.

So I've done some thinking, as you do, and have come up with some tips that may help other alien-carriers out there having to put up with frequent quakes:

1. Pee quickly. Unfortunately, the little alien inside you won't stop kicking your bladder or producing all that waste, so when you gotta go, you gotta go. But no more taking the iPad or Property Press in with you. Just do the deed, and get out. Coz if the house collapses around your little ceramic throne, well, gooood luck!
2. Prepare an emergency kit. Fill it with all your favourite non-perishable cravings / snack foods. Then guard it with your life, especially if there are little hands (or big ones too) that keep trying to sneak in to that particular section of the emergency kit. Have none of it!
3. Keep your smartphone charged at all times! This one is important. If food and / or water supplies run out, at least you will be able to Scramble or Candy Crush.
4. Get fit. If you reach full term and there are no major natural disasters where you need to evacuate and hike around the hills of Wellington, you will still have a fully grown alien to push out, and any physical strength will come in handy for pointing (the blame), gripping (to death) your supporters' hands, and then after the birth give yourself a mini-makeover for the all important first photo with baby.

There you have it. Extremely helpful tips that I'm sure you could not do without.

PS. Don't forget to pack your happy pills in the emergency kit!

Aegon

This week I have some fantastic news to share.

I had my halfway point ultrasound, and found out:

1. The alien seemed all anatomically there, i.e. the correct number of limbs, the expected shape, one head, etc
2. We are having a little prince. EEEEEKKKK!!!!

Though the first bullet point was pretty important, the second one is a headliner for sure. My family is a largely female dominated family (by number and by volume ... lol). So naturally, we are pretty darn excited by the knowledge that this little alien is going to be the first grandson ... on both his parents' sides of the family!

We shall name him Aegon. The prince that was promised. His is the song of ice and fire.

Ok, no, we're not really naming him that. I couldn't resist a geeky reference to the Song Of Ice And Fire books ;)

Could you imagine how Samoans would interpret and rearrange the name Aegon? Yea, exactly. I don't wish that on anyone. Let alone the Prince of Toamua himself. Lol.

Now to find out how on earth you change a baby boy's nappies. Eek.

A new low

Just when I thought I had cried at every stupid thing there was to cry at, I discovered today I was wrong when I found myself crying while reading birthday messages on Facebook. On someone else's wall. Because it was someone else's birthday ...

Thank you, hormones. Thank you very, very much.

Te real

I think this week is Maori language / Te Reo week.

Coincidentally, I received a call from a Maori network survey, which ended something like this (copied from my Facebook status):

So I just completed a phone survey for Maori language and media. Why do I feel like I failed? Lol. So I immediately turn on the Maori channel, and the first thing I see is that the news programme is called "Te Kaea". A'e.

I don't know what I was so worried about though. I just remembered that the Shadow speaks enough Maori on our family's behalf. I mean, she can count from tahi to tekau, AND she calls her developing sibling "Bubba".

Kapai, kapai.

We like to partay

That time of year is approaching again ... Lali Lady's birthday. And with it, of course, comes grand ambitions and plans for a party and cake.

Her royal highness had requested a princess themed party. My imagination ran wild, along with my Googling and Pinteresting, and it all started coming together in my mind ...

We would have a princessy bouncy castle. There would be a red carpet or some other royal entrance to the house, where the lounge would have pretty and delicate decorations. I would hire little furniture for the kids' meal and set it up all grand. There would a separate crafts area where they could make crowns or knightly swords. The conservatory would serve as the adults' retreat, where they could relax with some hors d'oeuvres (a.k.a heated sausage rolls from New World) and drinks. The cake would be a two-tier affair, one chocolate tier and one strawberry, made from scratch, not a box-cake in sight. I would learn to create fondant jewels and a tiara as toppers. All would marvel at my creative genius.

Yea right.

That plan has altered somewhat since I was kindly brought down to earth by my down-to-earth husband. The truth is, I will be a fat, nauseous, hormonal, lazy pig by the time the birthday rolls around (ha). Add the pressure of this grand party on top, and I would be a blubbering mess. So it looks like we will most likely settle for a party at an indoor play area, where you pay, turn up, party, go home. The End. So much simpler.

However, there is one survivor from the whole party revamp, and that is the cake. So I am now trialling strawberry cake from scratch, different frosting and piping techniques, etc. Exciting times! Next minute ... single layer "mud cake" from New World. Lol. Watch this space.

The cake my baby wanted, and will not be getting

Are you inertia?

My big baby now knows about the developing baby. We told her last week, when we woke up one morning to find her snuggled in between us instead of in her own bed. She is over the moon. She insisted that she stay home from school that day to await the arrival of her new baby sister or brother. Oh if only it was that quick!

Now that she knows what's up, she does random checks on my discomfort levels.
"Mummy, are you feeling inertia?"
"Yes, I'm feeling a bit nauseous."
"Ok, lie down and I will get Daddy to help you."

That's my big girl. She is relishing the thought of being a big sister. Her first words when she walked into daycare the next day, instead of the usual "Good morning", were "Baby in Mummy's tummy!" I guess she forgot the part where we told her not to tell anyone ...

And here it be. Our little alien.

Baby Tupou

Mouse dung

I am a bawling mess. These out-of-control hormones are causing me to cry at just about anything and at just about any time.

I'm already what you would call a "sensitive" person, so I have always been a crier. But this is a whole new level of crying.

I cry when watching TV ads.

I cry when I think of my 4 year old (like who does that??)

I cry when watching cheesy romance movies that I would usually laugh at.

I cried when reading this: http://thepowerofprayer.tumblr.com/post/40525128644/powerofprayer

I'm pretty sure I cried while watching the final episode of My Kitchen Rules.


Sigh. I fear that if any Damien Rice songs play on the radio while I'm driving, I might just be inconsolable and possibly crash the car.

I am reminded of a lady back in my wop wop village who cried at pretty much everything.Someone once commented, "Koe o le ki'o a le isumu e le'i kagi ai."

[Loose translation: "The only thing she hasn't cried about is a mouse taking a crap."]

I think that's where I'm at now. Just gotta find a crapping mouse to prove my suspicion.

Rebirth (of sorts)

Hello tumbleweed! I felt the sudden urge to blog today, then the urge to make a new start by creating a new blog to reflect the new person that I am today. The "urges" left me drained, so never mind the new blog. I won't even promise to reformat this one. If I have learnt anything during my absence from the blogosphere, it would be: underpromise and overdeliver. Not the profound insightful lesson you were perhaps expecting, right? I'm too old and too tired for insight.

So why the return to the blog world, I know this question is keeping you awake at night. Well, where else do I get to rant and rave and carry on like a lunatic, but here in my diary blog. And these days I have much to rant about, the main cause being the alien that has invaded my tummy (hip hip hooray).

Disclaimer
I just want to put out a warning: I am the most pessimistic alien carrier you will ever come across. If my mad rants will in any way affect your desire to one day carry an / another alien, then the next phase of posts is not for you. I completely blame the hormones and, of course, my dear husband.

To the next phase! *clink clink* Oh wait, nope, can't do that either. ARGH!!!