Author: Veronica

  • November Gardening + babies!

    I didn’t expect to have to cover my frost tender plants in early November, but it seems the seasons conspired against me and the first week of November saw me in the garden with sheets and towels, covering the plants that would have died if frozen.

    A week later, I’m hopeful that the frosts have gone for the year entirely, but I’m not holding my breath. In a small fist shake to the weather gods though, I have planted out some of my frost tender plants from their seedling boxes and crossed my fingers that the chooks don’t find their way into the new! shiny! big! garden.

    I’ve had a lot of things planted, including things that you don’t normally find available in seeds in Tassie, I’m experimenting with honeydew melon, rockmelon and water melon, as well as luffa and some giant pumpkins – amongst other things.

    After buying a load of seeds from here [side note, much recommended, shipping is fast and the seeds are amazing], I decided that my ‘small’ garden wasn’t big enough – at least, it wasn’t big enough after I planted the entire middle section with climbing beans, peas, kohl rabi and potatoes – we moved all the tyres from the tyre arena and created a garden, about 10m square (30ft thereabouts).

    One problem? The grass and soil in that area of the paddock is horribly compacted, from years of previous owners driving cars on it. So turning it over isn’t an option, not unless someone in Tassie has a machine to do it for me, for free? No.

    So, I got experimenting. I laid some cardboard to kill off the grass a bit and then covered it with horse manure, sheep manure and potting mix. It was a little bit messy and I wasn’t sure it was going to work – but I planted my corn in there anyway.

    Over the weekend though, I had an even better idea and just filled some boxes from the fruit and veg market with sheep manure and potting mix – without flattening the boxes first. This way the sides keep the soil in for the beginning, the bottom rots out slowly letting the roots through and the grass hopefully doesn’t get too strong a hold in amongst my vegies.

    Of course, I’m still waiting to see if this is going to work how I hope, so cross fingers for me, yes?

    My tomatoes and other seedlings aren’t large enough to plant out yet, so the ‘big’ garden only has basil, rockmelon and corn in it at the moment.

    And babies!

    I mentioned on twitter that I had a chook broody and I thought all her eggs were rotten. No, she proved me wrong when a fortnight ago she appeared with 4 chicks. These were my first babies out of my own eggs (from the rooster who attacked Amy and made delicious dinner) and I found it really interesting to see what colours they are.

    My rooster by the way was a Rhode Island Red X and the hens who laid the eggs were Australorp X’s and a Rhode Island Red X hen, so having 3 red/browny babies wasn’t a surprise. No, the surprise came with a black and white baby. I have no idea how a black/red hen and a red rooster produced black and white baby, but hey, it happened and I’ll be interested to see if it stays black and white.

    Plus, the ducklings I have left. The mother is marked for ‘no more babies, ever’ because she’s such a terrible mother. From 16 eggs we got 12 ducklings and 2 weeks later I have 5 left. Sigh.

    But they’re cute!

    And my ‘older’ ducklings are just getting their feathers, so they’re firmly in the middle of an ugly stage. However, they’re growing fast enough that if we’re really lucky, we might get a roast duck for Christmas.

  • Australian Blogging Carnival!

    And it’s that time of the month again! The fantastic Australian Blogging Carnival, as organised by us at Aussie Mummy Bloggers.

    AMB blog carnival button

    Here is our lovely list of people participating:

    Kelli from Kebeni is choosing to home school her children.

    Kristin from Wanderlust: If you read nothing else I ever post, read this. An aftermath of domestic violence.

    Marita from Leechbabe: Just a little OCD. In which I discuss dish washing and husbands.

    Nikki from Styling You: Spring Carnival. No matter how many times I write about what not to wear on Melbourne Cup Day, I witness some horror stories.  I’m hoping this year will be different.  (A girl’s got to dream, hasn’t she?)

    Lucy from Diminishing Lucy: Lush. A frank admission of past addictions….

    Veronica Foale: Lost Identity. The identity loss that comes with motherhood.

    Bianca at Bigwords: For my friend… is a blog I wrote to my best friend from my childhood. It was something I had to write. My heart ached when I wrote it and I feel really proud of it.

    Megan at Writing Out Loud: Twelve Years Ago. Twelve years ago, I met the man of my dreams. This is our story.

    This Growing Life: 10 things I love doing in the garden with my children. It’s spring, so time to head into the garden with your children.

    Lori at Random Ramblings of a SAHM: Getting Vlogging Wit It. A first time video-blog. with my husband being a moron in the background.

    This Comic Life: Pressure to be pretty exhausts me. Comedian Jenny Wynter takes an honest warts-and-all look at her own efforts to ‘scrub up well’.

    EmmaK at Mommy has a Headache: Recipe for Mr Right. Take a handful of muscle and two cups of wit. What have you got? A Recipe for Mr Right

    MumtoJ: But you said….. My little man is a literal thinker so I thought I’d share a few recent conversations that I’ve had with him, sooooo funny at times 🙂

    Anything, Everything & Inbetween: The Husband Survey. Anything, Everything & Inbetween takes a closer look at the male inhabitant of the household. Behold! The Guru…

    Be a Fun Mum: Sorry the house is in a mess. A friend dropped over. I knew this friend wouldn’t care about the state of my house but I heard myself say, “Sorry the house is in a mess.”  And it was!  It looked terrible. It’s not just me who says it. I’ve heard it over and over when I visit friends.  Why do we do it? Why do we apologise?

    This Mid 30s Life: Outsmarting the Heathrow Injection. I created this blog soon after moving to London with my husband and two small children.. My blog is about a little bit of everything. The only real guidelines I have are that I keep it positive (no bitching about a bad day, for instance) and I keep stories about my husband to a minimum – he made me promise!”

    Mm is for me: Loving memories. A good-bye to an amazing lady.

    Under the Yardarm: This moment. The moment I remembered why I do what I do.

    A Cajun Down Under: Touristy Tuesdays: Tailgating – Tiger Style. The most fun a Cajun girl and her Aussie can have without getting arrested.

    Maid in Australia: Stuff that shits me. Usually known for her good manners and sunny disposition, Bronnie Marquardt pulls on her cranky pants and gets all stabby. What pisses you off?

    Nellbe at Nellbe’s Gluten Free Kitchen talks about the tough gig we have as Mothers in her post Being a Mother

    From Toushka: Showing no cracks. Mums in the Christchurch Earthquake share their stories

    Farmers Wifey: A pile of crap. Farmers Wifey shares the trials and tribulations of living in a shed with limited space and storage.

    The Muffin Monster Bubbalug Blog: A new body shape. Move over apples and pears, there’s a NEW body shape!

    Moments of Whimsy: Cocktails at Naptime. My woefully inadequate review of Cocktails at Naptime – the book that shall be known in this household as a potential contraceptive device for my teenage daughter. ( Bless you Cocktails at Naptime.)

    Naomi from Seven Cherubs. Motherhood: Follow your passion. Following my passion of mothering – it knows where I should go.

    Jadeluxe. STEPB/-OE . An introduction to my job as a stenographer (court reporter).  Is this the ideal job for word-loving bloggers?  I think so…

    Make sure you share the love and visit and read these amazing posts!

  • When a good uterus goes bad

    It’s interesting to visit both a public ob-gyn and then go visit a private one and then draw your conclusions about the health system from there.

    I saw a new, private Gyn on Monday.

    Honestly, it’s been a while since I walked out of an appointment that was for me, feeling like I had a plan and that I’d been listened to.

    To recap, my last appointment in the public system was a bit of a shambles. My periods are very irregular, insanely heavy and very painful, I’ve been trying to get someone to take my claims of suspected endometriosis seriously, and fighting the system every step of the way.

    So I went private, just to see if paying for the appointment would help with the whole listening thing.

    And oooooh boy did it.

    I told him my tales of woe, we talked about EDS a bit – but he knew enough about it that it was a conversation about my specific issues, rather than an educational speech on my part and then we got to the question and answers.

    Both my children were conceived within a month of coming off the pill. I’ve never managed a pregnancy on my own – even my brief foray into possible blighted ovum territory had had some help from the pill. I have acne and body hair, lots of cramping etc etc etc.

    He thinks it’s very likely that I have Polycystic Ovary Syndrome. We’ll be doing some investigations to see if there is underlying Endometriosis as well, which is likely and he also thinks there is a good chance I have something called Adenomyosis, which is practically undiagnosable at 21, because our medical imaging systems aren’t sensitive enough to detect it in early stages.

    Which hey! I’ve always done health problems with style.

    Yes?

    Heh.

    He was lovely. I’ve spent so long battling the system to be taken seriously (7 years for an Ehlers Danlos diagnosis anyone?) that I had really forgotten that when doctors are good, they’re very very good.

    So, my uterus. It doesn’t work so well.

    I haven’t really talked about it here because SOMEONE is completely against the idea, but Nathan and I had been trying quietly to get pregnant. We had been trying since Isaac was about 5 months old and for anyone not counting, he’s 21.5 months old now.

    Almost 17 months.

    And nothing.

    However, when I told the public system that I’d been having trouble conceiving, they raised their eyebrows at me, looked at my age and the fact that I have 2 children and told me that there was no way, no how that I had fertility issues.

    When um, yeah, it’s sort of looking like I probably have some fertility issues.

    We’ve since stopped actively trying to get pregnant, Amy’s ASD issues and Isaac’s regression meant that we didn’t really have time to add another baby to the mix. But not actively trying and taking steps to avoid pregnancy are two different things. I still can’t take birth control and a latex allergy puts paid to condoms, so we’ve just been plodding along, waiting to see what happens.

    Which incidentally, appears to be nothing.

    It’s not surprising really, is it?

    So. Bloods have been taken to check for PCOS and I’ll have an ultrasound at my next appointment to check my ovaries (which at last ultrasound, sometime before I conceived Isaac, my ovaries were irregularly shaped and the sonographer asked if I’d been doing IVF, because they were much larger than they should have been) and various other things.

    Likely a laproscopy will be scheduled for sometime too, to have a look inside my uterus and see how it looks (I’m putting bets on black, gloomy and with little to no chance of sunshine) and then we’ll move on from there.

    And in the meantime, I’ll just try not to panic about how much this is all costing me.

    The private doctors might be good, but sheesh, they’re expensive too!

  • Sleepless Nights, now sleeker, more streamlined and squashed into a tiny little package

    I bought some shapewear. Otherwise known as spandex, tiny little figure squashing things that are infinitely tiny, or holy-mother-of-god-get-these-off-me.

    Take your pick.

    I’d thought about buying some for a while, but the whole ‘drop 2 dress sizes! look slimmer!’ thing turned me off. You see, as much as I’ve had 2 children and my tummy/hips/thighs look it – you can’t much see that under my clothes. I look okay, dressed.

    My issues is with my dislocating hips, knees and pelvis.

    So when I saw something advertised as being cellulite taming [which – aside, how do we tame cellulite? with a whip and a chair? train it to hang around on our boobs, not our tummy? I’m a little lost] I glanced at it.

    I was however more interested when I saw that this New! Revolutionary! material covered my kneecaps and entire hip region.

    Fuck it I thought and bought them.

    The first time squeezing into them, I wondered if they’d accidentally sent me an Amy sized pair instead. A quick look at the label told me I was wrong.

    I wriggled and I squeezed and I hopped around the bathroom swearing.

    All that effort, and they made it half way up my thighs.

    Amy looked at me quizzically.

    ‘Mummy. They won’t fit you.’

    ‘Yes. They will.’ [struggle struggle, hop, wiggle moan]

    Something that I’d bought to help stop my hips dislocating was rapidly in danger of dislocating the rest of me, getting it on.

    ‘They just need to‘ – pant pant, breathe, sigh –‘stretch!’

    Eventually, a few clicky finger joints later, I had them all lined up. The crotch was sitting where it’s meant to, the band at the top was cutting off my breathing and eating ability and I felt like I was being cradled in the grip of a killer bear, about to squash the life out of me.

    They were on.

    I turned around a few times and wriggled.

    Yeah. Totally sexy.

    Then, the ultimate test.

    Not like some people, I didn’t need to be able to fit into a certain dress and whilst my cellulite was definitely tamed, so was my ego – no. I needed to be able to walk without my hip clicking out of joint and subluxing about.

    And….

    Success!

    I can walk without my pelvis falling apart! Sure, breathing is a little tricky and it feels like I’m wearing a second skin that is 2 sizes smaller than my normal one – but my hips are staying in place.

    And that my friends is definitely something to celebrate.

    I just don’t know how I’m going to go taking the bastard cellulite taming things back off again.

  • I hatched a duck egg in my bra. No, really.

    My duck had her babies last week – sadly, 2 didn’t make it and died despite my best efforts.

    On Friday, she left the nest with her eight surviving ducklings in tow and I checked the eggs left behind. Only to find one just pipping, with an alive duckling still inside.

    I wasn’t impressed that she’d left it there and I’m too compassionate to let anything die if I can help it, so I brought it inside.

    After finding it rather hard to keep warm in a box with heat packs, I gave up and tucked it in my bra.

    Where the duck poked and prodded and eventually, started to emerge.

    A few hours later, the hole was even bigger.

    Well. A little bigger at least.

    The hatching was very slow going and at 6pm, I remembered that I had a broody hen, without any eggs. So I popped the duckling under her to keep warm overnight.

    However, the problem is, often chooks will peck to death anything that they hatch that isn’t a chook itself. Shame, but it’s how it works.

    So at 8am Saturday morning, I went and checked my duck.

    And it still hadn’t hatched.

    I picked it up, still in it’s shell, with a hole about an inch across and looked at it. Struggling strongly still, the shell had dried out under the hen and the duckling had no hope.

    A little bit of warm water, a few hours later and some serious help from me…

    SUCCESS!

    It did the final hatch in a box with it’s sibling. Before I went and stole the egg back from the hen, I found a duckling, supposedly dead in the shed. Cold and stiff, it’s foot twitched when I picked it up.

    I wasn’t sure it would survive, but tucked it inside my top to warm up, while I went about the morning chores.

    Coming back inside, I handed the half hatched egg to Nathan to keep warm and made up a batch of sugar water to hopefully perk up the 95% dead duckling that was unresponsive.

    20 minutes of heat late (some of it from the hair dryer), some sugar water and a warm box later, the duckling was looking like it might just live.

    They’re bloody tough.

    I left both ducklings in the care of Nathan while I went into the city for a twitter meet up and when I came home, they were doing brilliantly.

    Here they are Saturday night.

    We had some issues with the little one with the black dot on it’s head – the mother got them wet too early and I think it caught a chill. It’s needed reviving a few times, but it appears to be getting a bit better now.

    We’ll keep feeding them and babying them when they need it.

    I mean, how could I not?

    ***

    Unfortunately, we had a major problem with our ‘older’ ducklings – they managed to get into the big bathtub and couldn’t get back out again. I was appalled to find ten dead in the bath yesterday morning and angry with myself, because I’d meant to put a plank of wood in the bath and just hadn’t gotten around to it. I didn’t think they could make it into the bathtub yet.

    They managed to jump the 12 inches to get into the bath, but couldn’t manage the 3 inches to get out of it again.

    I’m so angry with myself still. The poor babies.

    Needless to say, there is now a plank in the bathtub, so any other babies finding their way in will be able to get out again. This joins the standard ‘bricks in the water’ that all the shallow and low down containers had to prevent drownings. Next time I won’t just assume that they can’t jump up to the bath yet. Because obviously they could and did and well, fuck. The guilt.

    Sigh.