Blossoms
In late August, Canberra turns to a fuzzily blossom-filled town in pink and white. It’s a great time of year.
*resisting the urge to tag this “cthulhu pics”*
Crouching broccoli, hidden zucchini
Due to a combination of skipping one zofran pill and eating some steamed broccoli and zucchini-containing lasagna, I was hideously ill this time last week. I was so sick it kept me awake (I moved a chair into the bathroom), and then was feeling marginally better in the morning so I had a few sips of water – then lost them. For the rest of the day I had basically nothing. Yurk.
But I improved day by day and yesterday was simply fabulous. I cleaned the bathroom, hung out washing, brought in washing, emptied out a bookshelf so it could be moved from one room to another, and went to a baby shop for – believe it or not – the first time.
Of course the baby shop was a thrill. I carefully psyched myself up to avoid buying anything, even though the shop was having a sale. We’re big fans of Choice magazine Australia, which does a lot of product testing (often focusing on safety, which is want you want in baby stuff), so there were specific brands I was looking for. None of them were there, but I did see pretty things, like these cots:
A lady at the shop seemed very knowledgeable and told me that, because of the time taken to test brands, Choice-recommended products are often unavailable soon after the time the tests are printed. So I put an equivalent brand on hold and went home.
Then I turned to Mama Google for further advice.
I immediately found the precise cot I was looking for, and for less than the price quoted by Choice. But I like the lighter-coloured wood (that the lady in the shop told me was almost impossible to get), and curved ends. So I surfed here and I surfed there, and I discovered that another one of Choice’s top four happened to have a curved top and to be available in light-coloured wood – and for a similar price to my first option (which was my first option of the four because it was drastically cheaper). I discovered the only existing one in Canberra, and further negotiated the price over the phone (to the tune of a $200 mattress free).
I totally win.
Now, concerned citizens may be thinking, “But why is Louise shopping for new things, when she has sworn on a pile of catalogues not to buy a single baby item?”
The answer is simple: parents.
Also, I have a baby shower coming up. I have spent literally hours scouring magazines and online stock lists figuring out want we want, what we need, and what we’d really like – and often where is the best place to buy them (many of our friends are single and childless, and have literally asked me, “What do I buy you?” I’m so lucky in my friends and in the straightforward nature of Aussie friendships.)
One of my super powers is getting the maximum benefit out of present-generating events (such as Christmas). For example, I’ve found the perfect stroller on sale and will pay for it, then let people know that if they give me cash, that cash is going towards the stroller. If there is change, I will secretly spend it on boring things like safety gates (that no-one will want to buy). Also, I’ve asked that people don’t buy me clothes, books, or toys – because I already know I’m getting huge amounts of those items secondhand. See? Cunning. Cunning like a slightly tactless and grasping fox.
Presents are AWESOME. Not only do I feel like I’m achieving some progress financially (a happy illusion), but I also get shiny things. Shiny things are the best distraction for the four months of nausea still lurking in my immediate future. In some ways, shiny things are more exciting than a new baby.
Don’t get me wrong, a baby is the point of the exercise (and entirely worth it). But right now the baby is a long, long way away – and presents are happening week by week. Also, a baby is a complicated and messy blessing (phrases like “Your life is over” and “You’ll never sleep again” are especially difficult when I’m already in physical difficulty) – whereas presents are a very simple and straightforward blessing. They’re pretty much guaranteed not to throw up on you.
So I’ll say it loud and proud: until the baby actually emerges, presents are the best thing about pregnancy.
But in the meantime, here’s Louisette sucking her thumb:
I wish she was already here. She’ll be even cuter in colour, 3D, and surround sound.
Watch him cook
It never, ever gets old for me.
I find it bizarre that any adult would be unable to at least follow a recipe. Fortunately I married someone who is perfectly competent at any household task.
*pause to applaud my flawless taste*
Pick a Name
Looking back at the “place your bets” entry where readers guessed Mini-Me’s gender, there were two votes for “boy”, several votes for “indeterminate/neither/cthulhu” and one vote for “girl”.
Which says a great deal about my readers.
It also means there is a clear winner.
STEFFI, you may collect your prize of Personal Satisfaction from the downtown office at your earliest convenience. Congratulations.
In the meantime, I need a name. No you mad fools – not a REAL name! CJ and I will work that one out ourselves. But since our daughter will one day be a hot 16-year old, we won’t ever be using her real name online.
So what I need is a name that says “daughter” to the casual reader. Sort of like “Junior” instantly tells you that a man is so-and-so’s son.
Or just a handy name to use online. Throw your suggestions in the hat!
Pick your own present
CJ and I just received an electricity bill which is $380 more than usual due to my pregnancy (not being able to eat meant I was extremely cold, and of course I barely left the house). That’s depressing – and I’ve also lost around a grand in income, and another two grand in medicine.
This is one expensive baby.
Which is why it means a lot when I get AWESOME FREE STUFF. This dress was particularly special, because I picked it out myself (but didn’t pay for it) and deliberately chose something ridiculously female (since we now know she’s a girl) and wildly impractical (because I can).
To give a better sense of the teeny tininess, here is the dress again, draped over my friend’s one-year old:
Our pile of free stuff is growing by the week, and I’m loving it.
Steal your neighbour’s rubbish
Our bathroom didn’t come with a mirror. Peculiar but true. So when I spotted a large mirror in our neighbour’s recycling bin (which is wrong, incidentally – ordinary glass is actually not recyclable), I stole it at once, and duct-taped it to our bathroom window (which happens to be over the sink – hence, no built-in mirror).
For the first time, I could merely glance upwards as I washed my hands and know instantly if I had a cat on my head.
The duct tape added a certain thrill, because it meant the mirror could fall down anytime from today to three months from now. And so it was that CJ and I discussed with his Dad (aka Macgyver with better hair) what we should do to improve things.
Also, the mirror is really old and streaked with brown lines.
Also, it was blocking the tiny amount of sunshine that gets into the bathroom.
The logical thing to do was buy a darn mirror. My fundamental budgeting strategy is, “Don’t pay for anything except rent, bills, petrol, food, and non-negotiable social obligations” but even I saw the sense of it.
Then the mirror was mentioned again – this time to CJ’s aunt. She happened to have a mirror that she’d been given as a gift, and had hated for decades. I liked it at once, and found it peculiarly well-suited to our existing bathroom decor.
Also, it’s as good as new.
Also, it can go on a hook beside the window.
Ta da!
The moral of this story is: never buy stuff. It will come to you.
Eventually.
Break up a fight
The other night, CJ and I were woken at 3:00am by a chorus of animalistic screams. CJ leapt from the bed, thinking our two cats had finally decided to fight for real. Would there be blood between the ancient enemies at long last?
Nah. In actual fact Ana (above) was screaming and hissing through the cat door at an impertinent neighbourhood cat. Or, to put it another way, she was being a good girl and defending us from a home invasion (the kind that is likely to involve cat pee on the carpet). CJ chased off the other cat while I watched Indah in our room, hoping she wouldn’t go and fight Ana due to all the excitement.
Indah is thirteen years old and grumpy – and there was honour at stake. She walked to the bedroom door, ready to join the fight. She stopped, and walked back towards the cupboard (her safe place). She walked to the door. She walked back. She walked to the door.
She jumped up into the cupboard and didn’t come down for twelve hours.
When the going gets tough, the tough. . . hide.
Professionalism
I’m well enough now to appreciate what I have in life and to take advantage. As a pregnant woman, I have a natural deadline to sort out my life – or in my case, my various manuscripts. Over the last couple of weeks I’ve been sorting out who should be in the first group of people to see my steampunk novel, what I can improve in books I haven’t looked at for a while, and where I should send each of my manuscripts next.
Publishers, editors and agents all love their work in much the same passionate, not-financially-secure way that writers do (the idea of the wealthy publisher gleefully throwing brilliant books in the rubbish is simply not true). For the most part, I’ve had positive experiences with all of them. On the other hand, passion, courage, and hope are traits that often don’t go hand in hand with reliablility, efficiency, and realism. Which means that sometimes, publishers take far longer to make a decision than they should.
It’s flattering that so many publishers spend so much time with my books, but right now one of Austalia’s largest publishers has had a book of mine for almost THREE YEARS – and another of the top five Australian publishers has had just the first three chapters of another book for eleven months. I’ll be contacting both of them towards the end of this month, but honestly I’m not expecting much. (If anything, this is a cautionary tale about making contacts in the biz – both of these are publishers at which I’ve made personal face to face contact. In my experience, the slushpile is much, much faster – and with just as high a rate of full-manuscript requests.)
Which is why I’m so delighted with Publisher A. Publisher A has always been my first choice of publisher (another of the top five Australian companies), and they’ve read about eight of my books in full (usually when closed to submissions), and given me extremely useful feedback every time. Whenever I email my contact (who I’ve never physically met, although I’ve introduced myself to someone who works with her) she responds enthusiastically within 24 hours, and asks me to send the latest full manuscript. (This happened again yesterday, inspiring this blog entry. Then she replied again – within 24 hours once more – to say it had arrived safely and to thank me for giving them the chance to look at it.) They almost always reply within six months, which I consider a pefectly reasonable amount of time for several people to read a book and make a decision. When one of my books was passed on to the acquisitions meeting, my contact was so excited she emailed to tell me. (It didn’t pass that final hurdle, but oh well. I agree with their reason for refusing, and have since fixed it. That’s the same book I’ve been waiting on elsewhere for three years.)
I’m also delighted with America. So far, every single person I’ve spoken to (via email) about my steampunk novel has responded promptly and positively. The positively doesn’t surprise me – the “promptly” certainly does. To be fair, it’s not Australia’s fault that it has slower response times – the American system is simply different (for one thing, agents in America almost always have assistants, whereas Australian agents don’t earn enough and need to deal with all their myriad tasks alone). But from where I’m standing, it’s a beautiful thing.
And now I’m off to have a different kind of professional take a good long look inside my belly. See you!
PS Today is the first day of Spring! Yeeeeeeeehah!
PPS I am forming plans for a small but awesome zombie walk within the next two months. Details soon! (And of course there will be MANY pictures for those who can’t join in.)
Bra shopping
The pregnant body does all kinds of peculiar things, and the expansion in all directions can be difficult to deal with. There’s one area of growth that is welcome, however.
And so it was that a voluptuous friend and I went shopping for bras, and discovered I am now a D cup. This made me very happy.
I was less happy to discover that I now need size 18 underwear, but oh well. It feels good to be wearing the right size underwear and bra for the first time in ages. I bought maternity bras in hopes that they’ll still be the right size when I need front-opening clasps for breastfeeding.
I also bought an outfit that I’m hoping will fit for at least another month –
PS Reader Stuart has bet that I can’t resist spending at least some money on baby-related items. I would argue that buying new clothes for myself doesn’t count – but, for the record, I spent $65.
Felicity Banks 