This pregnancy has flown by and we are now just five weeks away from meeting our newest addition. It feels like she’ll be here in the blink of an eye. Little Chop made her debut at 40 weeks and three days so I’m not expecting her baby sister to arrive early, and that’s fine by me as there is still so much to do before she arrives!
To mark our five week countdown, here are five things going on in my world right now.
Nesting – Nesting mode is in full swing now. I’ve been Sorting, organising, washing and rearranging like a woman possessed. The clothesline is currently covered in newborn singlets, swaddles and onesies, which is making me feel totally clucky about our new baby girl and equally nostalgic about Little Chop’s first weeks in the world – she’s so big now – sob.
Acid Reflux – This hot, burny liquid that sits in my throat twenty-four hours a day is really starting to get me down. I’ve had to give up all but the odd well-timed cup of tea and acidic foods that I crave like oranges. I also wake up multiple times during the night in need of Mylanta. I’ll be so happy when baby is here and I can enjoy a cup of tea without it threatening to repeat on me.
Sleep – I need it desperately but it’s just not happening, and for the first time in about twenty months Little Chop is not to blame. My aching hips keep my tossing and turning all night, the acid reflux is ten times worse when I’m lying down and then there are the vivid dreams. All this makes sleep uncomfortable and patchy at best.
Packing – My hospital bag is three quarters packed and nothing says ‘reality check’ like a packed bag waiting to be thrown into the car when the time comes. What? You mean I have to get this baby out? Packing my hospital bag has been really exciting but not without the odd moment of freaking the f**k out!
Crying – At. The. Drop. Of. A. Hat! Happy tears, sad tears, I don’t know why I’m crying tears. It just seems to sneak up on me. I was sorting through Little Chop’s newborn clothes to wash and ready them when I came across the socks she wore in hospital shortly after birth. The tears came thick and fast and all I could say was ‘They’re so small, they’re so small.’ Yep, I’m all gooey and clucky and hormonal.
That’s all for now. x
My wardrobe is peppered with clothing that once belonged to my Auntie. Much of it was handed down throughout the years and some I pulled from her wardrobe when she passed away a few years ago. My Auntie wasn’t old – not old enough to leave us. She was very glamorous, always fully made up. When I was a child she always wore knee-high boots and kept her hair long, straight and dark – she was a rock star in my eyes. She gave me some amazing leather pants and high waisted Guess jeans when I was young, which I culled over a decade ago – a decision that makes my heart ache and my eyes well with tears today because I wasn’t to know that she wouldn’t be physically present in my adult life.
My Auntie fought a long battle against multiple myeloma. She remained strong and positive through rounds of chemo, only to have the cancer return again and again. She could have fallen apart when it took her trademark hair, only to return it silver and curly, but she didn’t, instead experimenting with wigs. She kept working until the end – you wouldn’t have known she was sick. But eventually she grew weary. My mother, sister and I visited her at the hospital to say goodbye. She smiled and was calm. She asked my mother to paint her toenails bright fuchsia, then let the cancer take her.
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about culling and minimalism. I’ve been working on reducing the clutter in my house to make life easier when our second child is born in less than two months time, but when it comes to my wardrobe I’ve come to a standstill. A lot of the things that my Auntie gave me I’ll probably never wear – a tiny, leopard print, high-cut swimsuit for example – but I couldn’t possibly let it go. Whenever I come across a piece of clothing she gave to me, I lift it to my face, inhale the faint scent of the YSL Opium perfume she used to wear, and then return it to the wardrobe. Wardrobe clean out over, just like that.
I’ve been looking at minimalist blogs and websites trying to find out how to navigate sentimentality when clearing out clutter but what I’ve found is that there is no room for sentiment in the minimalist lifestyle. The minimalist says cull the clutter, keep the memories, but I have a problem with this notion. You see, memories fade. Sometimes we need a prompt to keep the memory alive, like a photo, a trinket, or a tiny leopard print swimsuit that smells of Opium perfume. So, while I’m happy to donate the tired looking jumper I got from Sportsgirl last year to St. Vinnies, I’ll be holding on to some of my ‘clutter’, because memories, unlike jumpers, can not be replaced.
As a stay at home mum, I answer to just one person – my very vocal 19 month old daughter. Little Chop’s language development is advanced and she seems to add new words to her already bursting vocabulary every day, but there is one word in particular that’s on high rotation at the moment. ‘No’. She says it with a little inflection at the end, like a question, which makes me giggle.
Me: Little Chop, do you want to watch The Wiggles?
Me: Yes! The Wiggles!
Me: But you love The Wiggles…
Me: You put your right foot in/ you put your right foot out/ you put your right foot in and you shake it all about…
Me: You do the Hokey Pokey and you turn around…
Me: That’s what it’s all about!
Me: Come on baby, time to go to sleep.
Me: Yes. Lie down please.
Me: Yes. You’re tired. Lie down now.
Sure, it’s not always the word I want to hear, especially at bed time, but I’ll take ‘no’ over a frustration tantrum any day!
Me: Come on LC, time to go. LC: No? No