Archive for April, 2009

Little Pleasures of An Insomniac

After a few too many long weekends (not that I am complaining) my body clock has been thrown out of whack and I am struggling to sleep at night. So I have been occupying myself quietly while L sleeps and I found this awesome website.

I love “discovering” new music – and some of my favourites have been chased from a snippet I’ve heard in the background on some tv show, like this from an episode of Brothers and Sisters.

A good find at 2am on a Tuesday.

What is the Non-god Version of Godmother Anyway?

Well, whatever it is, we have one!

Not just any one, mind you, one that was 30 years in the making. T and I have known each other our entire lives – we tell everyone we met “in Utero” because our mums were pregnant at the same time. We were born 6 weeks apart – her first of course – she always does everything first!

When L and I first talked about what we wanted in a “godparent” we wanted someone kind and clever, who was funny and adventurous and brave. Someone passionate, and thoughtful and caring and totally amazing. We were just lucky that we already had that person there all along.

So L, J, T and I headed out to dinner – the 4 originals – and despite bad service and mis-communication between the french waiter, we celebrated how our friendship had begun and where it had taken us to. And with the help of a heartfelt card and the little willow tree figurine “Angel of Caring”, we found ourselves the perfect Godmother. Even if we don’t believe in god!

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First Birthday of a Different Kind

Last week was my mum’s birthday. She would have been 62 years old. It feels so surreal to think that because she never aged past 54 in real life. She died of cancer 8 years ago, right before Mother’s Day. Since then Mother’s Day, her birthday and the anniversary of her death have been some of the hardest days to get through. At Christmas and my birthday and other important days, her missing presence is less intense, and I can distract myself fairly easily.

Every year on my mum’s birthday I call my sister. We talk briefly about what has been happening in our very different lives and then I tell her I love her before I hang up. We never mention my mum, even though we both know what day it is and why I am calling. It is easier not to talk about what we are still grieving about 8 years down the track.

This year was different. L and I went to our Ob appointment and met up with our friend T for brunch. T’s mum and my mum were friends in highschool and I have known her my entire life. T, L and I chatted about the baby, work, family, health issues and other stuff. We love T – and it was just so nice for the three of us to catch up together properly.

The next day I realised my phone had been blocked because I forgot the pay the bill. So when I paid the phone and the messages came through from the day before I got one from T telling me she had talked to her mum who’d reminded her that it was my mum’s birthday and she was sorry she hadn’t said anything at brunch. Except that for the first time in 8 years I forgot too. I didn’t spend the days leading up to it with a tight feeling in my chest and something catching in my throat. I didn’t stare at the date every time I wrote it for work. I didn’t count down the hours until bed so the day would be over. I didn’t make the obligatory awkward phone call to my sister.

And I feel ok about that.

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I Don’t Even Like Birds….

So can someone please explain why I am nesting?

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Last week was our 7th anniversary – we celebrated by eating take away on the couch – both of us were too tired for anything else. I spent the entire weekend before working on my uni assignment- which I finally finished just before 3am on the day I needed to hand it in. Add an unexpected early morning phone call, several hours at uni and the rest of the day at work, and by night time I was almost comatose. Thankfully, L was quite forgiving of my lack of consciousness – she has trouble staying awake past 9pm these days anyway!

On Tuesday night J made his debut at our birthing classes. We were running late and joined the class as the tour through the birthing unit was starting. You could see a ripple through the group as they realised there was a new dad-to-be in the class….but seemingly no new-mum-to-be! Once we got back to classroom and the three of us sat down together, you could almost hear the communal “ooohhh” of understanding as they realised who he belonged to. L, J and I were the last to leave the nursery area during the tour – there was a tiny baby in a crib just near the window and the three of us stood watching through the glass. Totally surreal to think that the next baby we see through that window will be ours.