An Ode to Map Guy on our 5th Wedding Anniversary

You’re my tantrum tag teamer extraordinaire,
The ever patient stroker of my hair,
A tight jar opener and heavy thing lifter,
My wonderful Mother’s Day bacon rose gifter.

A cockroach hunter and scary spider killer,
My super awesome bedroom thriller!
With fabulous hands, you’re a top masseuse,
Plus you’re scrummier than a pfeffernusse.

My friend, my lover, my BFF,
Handy with the vac and a bloody good chef.
The dad that puts Mike Brady to shame,
And the man that sets my heart aflame.

The only one to whom I can tell all my stuff,
And the one who got me up the duff!
To find anyone better I’d be hard pressed,
Because these last five years have been the best!

How did you find out you were pregnant?

Hello, Bobbin!

I knew I was pregnant with Bobbin straight away. I'm talking a matter of days.

My sense of smell increased dramatically, I was tender and just felt... different somehow.

Bobbin was planned so, quite romantically, I knew dates and times of everything happening in my body so it was possible these changes were the very first signs. I even emailed a girlfriend and let her know that I suspected but that it was too early to check.

I waited what seemed like forever and took one of those fancy pants early pregnancy tests only for it to come up as negative. OF COURSE, I thought. I'm so looking forward to being pregnant again, I've actually just managed to convince myself I am. The changes are ALL IN YOUR HEAD, you bizarre, overly-clucky woman! Go cuddle a squishy baby and get it out of your system for another month.

I was disappointed so I tried my hardest to put it to the back of my mind, distracting myself with internet memes and what not.

A few weeks later I was laying in bed, almost about to fall asleep and realized the date. I whipped out my phone to confirm it - because my brain is such a sieve I require and app to tell me when my period is due. It was two days late!

Now we all know I'm not the best sleeper in the world, but do you know how hard it is to fall asleep when you're grinning like a fool because you're damn sure you're pregnant, your husband is asleep beside you and you can't pee on a stick until morning?! It is nigh on impossible, I'm telling you!

And that is how I found out Bobbin was in the 'hood.

I'm a sucker for any form of pregnancy story. Probably because I still think it is a little bizarre that two cells can join and bam, nine months later there is a baby. This week I have managed to hear some amazing stories and I neeeeeed MOAR!!

So tell me, how did you know you were pregnant? Did you suspect early or were you a candidate for "I didn't know I was pregnant!"?

I had SEX!

Quite the revelation to begin with, no?

The thing is, whenever I've told anyone I'm pregnant I feel like all I'm actually doing is declaring that I had sex. This made it particularly awkward when I told my parents. And MapGuy's parents. Last time I put it off for weeks. This time I copped out and got Tricky to tell them. I know, I'm weak. Getting a two year old to do my dirty work.

See the thing is, not only do I feel like I'm telling people I've had sex, but I think, just for a split second, they get a horrible visual of it.

How utterly ridiculous right? Why on earth would I think that? Well, um, because when someone tells me they're pregnant... I kinda automatically think that way of them. There, I admitted it. Am quite obviously a giant sex obsessed pervert.

Here is how my interprets relatively common pregnancy related phrases:

"I'm pregnant" = "I had sex... see?"

"I'm due in August" = "I had sex in early November"

"Yes, I have one son already, he's almost three" = "I had sex almost three years and nine months ago"

"Yes I know the sex of the baby" = "OMG I just said sex"

At DPCON I sat with the lovely Cassie from The Flying Drunken Monkey. It was the preggos putting on a united front and encouraging each other just in case soft cheeses were presented (she popped out the adorable Chloe about a week ago). At one point we were talking to Beth from BabyMac and I blurted out my conundrum. Which was met by both of them shouting "I'VE HAD SEX! SHE'S HAD SEX!". Which was, of course, completely ignored in a room full of bloggers who quite often randomly shout strange things.

I've never been backwards about being forwards with sexuality. I don't find it dirty or shameful. Get a couple glasses of wine in to me and I'll happily talk for hours about it. Yet the moment pregnancy is on the cards - the whole reason sex exists - I get uncomfortable with the idea of people knowing. Because if a preggo belly isn't a billboard for sex I don't know what is.

In the time honoured tradition of blogging about things that make me squirm, here I am shouting it from the rooftops. I HAD SEX. And all of a sudden I feel the need to go to confession.

Did you feel weird telling your parents you were up the duff?

My Mother's Day present involved destroying baking ware...

If you're on the 'Book and follow Where's My Glow? on there you may have seen this little snippet from yesterday:

I knew that Tricks had made me a handprint magnet and a bookmark at Day Care - because they were presented to me on Thursday along with some iced biscuits with a joyful "Happy Mother's Day. Can I eat them?". I died from all the cute. My first hand crafted Mother's Day presents were divine! But I had no clue what on earth could involve the destroying of a muffin tin.

Last night Map Guy tried to sneak his way to the shed, muffin tin in hand. It is impossible to sneak to the shed when I know there are presents involved.  My hearing becomes cat-like. I could have heard that shed key being picked up half a kilometre away.

I listened. There was banging around. Then... there was a drill. What the actual fuck?

I had visions of some bizarre art piece that would represent the trials and tribulations of motherhood. Or even a take on consumerism. Anything but what I actually received this morning when I was woken up for the best god damn breakfast in bed I've ever had:

A bowl of BACON ROSES, PEOPLE!!!! It does not get much better than that!

Here's how he made them:

• Buy a cheap muffin tin. Drill a small hole in the bottom of each section then wash thoroughly - metal filings don't go down so well
• Preheat oven to 190 degrees
• Roll up middle rasher bacon from the thin end to the fat end
• Place in the muffin tin and then in a baking dish - this allows the fat to leak out otherwise you'll just have a bacon rose sitting in a puddle of fat. Ick
• Cook for 40 minutes (allowing a gooooood sleep in!)
• Place on stems from fake flowers, or if you can't get to the $2 shop in time arrange them in a bowl
• Serve and receive the biggest brownie points of your life!

Thank you, Map Guy. Om nom nom nom nom. I declare it the Best Mother's Day Present Ever!

What did you get?

To sleep, perchance to... fuck it, just sleep will be fine

CC: Stevie.Gill

I've never been a good sleeper. Insomnia has been a rather constant and unwelcome bedfellow of mine. It has plagued me since my teenage years and until relatively recently I was getting about five hours of interrupted sleep a night. Interrupted because a certain toddler likes calling out then crawling in to our bed for cuddles then kicking me in the back until 6am when "Mum you wanna play cars?" is whispered in to my ear.

I do love his early morning enthusiasm, but I would love it a whole lot more after 8am.

For the past two weeks I've only been getting, on average, two to three hours sleep a night. No sleep makes Glow go something something, get out old typewriters, sit in giant unoccupied hotels talking to ghosts and write crappy blog posts.

The problem is that my brain will just not switch off. It takes hours for me to wind down and any minor disturbance like a dog barking, Tricky crying out mid-dream, a thump or kick from Bobbin, or my teeny tiny pregnant woman bladder making itself known and the whole process starts again from the beginning meaning some nights I don't actually end up falling asleep at all before it is time to get up and start the day. Those days are chock full of iParenting and Vegemite sandwiches.

It has gotten so bad that last week I fell asleep at the wheel momentarily on the way home from Pilates and a few nights later, as I lay in bed attempting to meditate, I started hallucinating. The whole room was filled with flashing white, red and orange lights as if hundreds of cars were passing by... on our dead end street that gets zero traffic. Well, either I was hallucinating or I was having my very own Close Encounters experience. Insert iconic five note melody and Richard Dreyfuss reference here. Actually, come to think of it, my mash potato did look kinda like a mountain last night...

I can't concentrate, my mood is slipping fast, the anxiety has come galloping in and I'm quick(er) to snap. All in all, I'm bloody fabulous to be around right now. Add the bags under the eyes and constant wide mouth yawning and I'm totally hot, too.

I've got appointments with my midwives and GP coming up this week and next but until then I'm running out of ideas that don't involve being smacked in the head with a bat (apparently concussion and sleep aren't the same thing. Who knew?!). I'm starting to worry because what the hell am I meant to do once I give birth? I have visions of falling asleep breastfeeding and crushing Bobbin with my massive boobs - the though of which, surprise surprise, KEEPS ME AWAKE AT NIGHT! 

So tell me, are you a fellow insomniac? Got a miracle cure for me? Or should I expect the little green men to be making more regular appearances in my boudoir from now on?