The hardest part about attending MONA FOMA and all that it entails, is coming back to real life afterwards. The transition from blogging photos of rock gigs, back to everyday life conversations about how are calves are born (hang on kid, I’ll youtube a cow birth for you) and why is that bird dead (the cat tried to eat it, but the dog stole it instead) and can I poke it (please don’t, it probably has lice, but if you want to watch it finish dying, go ahead. Maybe we can get the cat back to speed the process up).
That is the hard part.
Of course, any morning that has an entire conversation about cow vaginas and how babies get out of their mummy’s tummy can’t be counted as terribly boring. I suspect that Amy is going to be That Girl in class this year, because I let her know that babies arrive via vagina and she’s not one to practise quiet tact if Boy A is telling everyone that doctors cut your tummy open to get the baby out. (His mother had a caesarean – I expect it’s a slightly easier conversation to have than the vagina talk.)
Real life is where it’s all at however, and while I might be bemoaning the lack of rock concerts in my future, eventually the children will get older and there will be more concerts and less morning sickness and nappy changing.
In the meantime, we go from this:


To this:

I think I’m okay with it.
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