Last year I started a vege garden. It is something I've been playing with for years but was incompatible with owning a dog, even if the Tank was getting on a little. He would still deposit big doggy landmines in the middle of freshly planted seedlings and leave large footprints in freshly toiled soil. So the patch of soil designated had been nurtured for a few years. An apple tree had been planted, had done poorly and never fruited. Some herbs had been attempted but trampled. I'd realised I needed to fence the space but there was always something more financially pressing than fence wire and posts.
But for a couple of reasons last year the vege garden finally became more than a side project and became properly established.
One of these reasons was happy.
One was very sad.
When I started my teaching career with a posting to the regions of WA my boyfriend of 12 months had a job he loved doing with people he loved working with. But after six months of a long distance relationship he packed up his life and moved to the dusty red Midwest to join me with little prospect of finding work in his chosen career. Instead he fell back on the skills he'd derived as a fruit picker in the Perth Hills and worked on plantations tending bananas, grapes and mangoes. I love that he did this to be with me. He made some pretty big sacrifices that most men would have never made. He gambled everything for love and it paid off. This man is now the Husband. Last December we celebrated 10 years of putting up with each others neuroses.
When we came back to Perth he came back to an entry level job in an attempt to re-establish his career. Within six months he'd been promoted up and last year he reached his short term career goal of management. He did something that most people don't do; he applied for promotion whether he though he was ready or not and he moved his way up the food chain. As it turns out other people though he was ready. Now he works for prestigious University doing important customer support work and getting taken seriously. Its a long way from packing mangoes in a hot shed in the middle of summer. I'm pretty proud of him.
So we financially got ahead and we had money to spend on luxuries like manure, fence wire and seedlings. I didn't have to worry about the debt on the credit card before buying a couple of fence poles. I could get some good organic soil improver and still have a few takeaway meals. So the garden was started.
Then came the sad thing.
In August last year I had a miscarriage at 10 weeks. I had a bit of spotting and went for an ultrasound to see what was happening. I knew when we weren't initially shown a heartbeat that things weren't good. When the sonographer wouldn't comment I started to breakdown. Then a doctor told us the thing we were thinking but didn't want to hear. The next hour was a blur as we went from the ultrasound to the obstetrician then to the pathologist. Then we had to tell our family.
I knew my mum would be hit pretty hard. She'd been waiting for second grandchild, patiently in the wings as she does. So we drove the 20 minutes to her office to tell her the bad news.
Then we had to tell the Bright Spark. He'd just turned 3 and knew that mum was growing a baby in her belly. The Husband knew what to say, how to explain it. It just wasn't the perfect baby for us, for our family. We had to keep trying.
So as we progressed emotionally and I recovered physically I needed a distraction. A project to keep me moving and thinking and planning. The garden was it. I planned and I nurtured. I read books and magazines. I started a gardeners journal full of ideas and planting plans. I set goals of summer salads. I harvested and enjoyed the fruits of my labour. I grew seedlings from seed and nurtured then through cool spring. The rain kept coming, the wettest spring in years and everything grew. The apple tree produced flowers and then fruit for the first time in five years. Things grew. I felt pretty clever about the whole thing. Out of our loss came a pretty productive few months of toil. By the end of spring I was pregnant again and had a thriving garden as a response to my grief.
Although the hot summer took it's toll on the garden and the new pregnancy set up a few road blocks to further work, it is still growing. The rats raided the apple tree and took the fruit, so we missed out this year. The zucchini's grew and flowered but never set fruit. The beans were quite prolific and the Bright Spark enjoyed the spreading the drying seeds around the yard in the late summer (we have beans popping up in random places now). The herbs are still producing and I'm loving being able to pick them fresh when ever I need them in the kitchen.
Last week after being given the all clear from my obstetrician to get back to normal duties, I planted a winter crop. Carrots, peas and lettuce seeds are waiting for some more rain to get them going. Kale, broccoli and spinach seedlings have their roots into some rich soil ready to give us all the greens we'll want for winter. I'm hoping to stretch the budget for the week enough to get some leek seedlings and a new dill plant. The garden looks productive again with golden pea straw mulching the newly planted beds.
I'm looking forward to spending warm winter days harvesting and tending the garden with the Bright Spark at my side and my newborn resting quietly in his rocker or being carried in a sling. I know in reality I'll be encouraging the Bright Spark to play elsewhere to stop him from trampling the seedlings and the baby will probably want to feed as soon as I put my hands in the dirt. But most of the hard work for the next few months is now done and I look forward to the fruits of my labour yet again.
Saturday, May 26, 2012
A little Kingdom for a little King
Six years ago the Husband (who was then the fiancé) and I were living in Carnarvon, a regional town in the outback of Australia. I had received my first teaching post in this coastal community three years before and after a six month long distance relationship the Husband-to-be took a gamble on love and moved to Carnarvon to be with me.
We started a family of fur kids in Carnarvon. There had always been cats in the house as I was growing up and I was given my first cat for my 12th birthday. When I moved away from home for the first time to go to Carnarvon I didn't have a cat to take with me, so a few days after I'd arrived in the town I went looking for a puppy, only to end up with a cat; a rather surly, slightly overweight grey tabby, who I named Falcon. About a month later I acquired another cat, Serendipity, a little bobtailed tortishell who'd been living rough in the school garden. So I was becoming a bit of a cat lady at this point but I was enjoying having furry bodies to share my little home with.
When the Husband-to-be joined me he saw the move as an opportunity to branch out into pet ownership himself. He was moving out of a small studio apartment which he shared with an axolotl (Mexican walking fish) and saw the change as a chance to become a dog owner for the first time in his adult life. After visiting a couple of dog shelters a Rottweiler German Shepard cross named Tanka chose him to be his new owner. A few months later Tank was joined by Badger, a rotti staffy cross puppy. Our fur family was complete.
When we were planning our return to Perth six years ago, we'd decided for several reasons that we would purchase our own home. The long term financial security was the main reason, but in the short term we were looking for a home for our fur family. Although we'd been allowed to keep our reticulation eating, carpet scratching fur-kids in our government rental in the country, we doubted the generosity of private landlords back in the big city. So a home we searched for.
With the help of a buyers agent we found our little piece of suburban paradise and purchased it sight unseen at a slightly inflated price (it just so happened that we were buying at the peak of a massive property boom). We'd become home owners and had ourselves a little 3 by 1 in the suburbs of Perth with a decent size back yard for our dogs.
Over the years our family has changed. We still have fur kids, but now our real kids, born and unborn, are the love of our lives. Since we returned from Carnarvon both of the cats have passed away and we had to re-home Badger because he and Tanka were no longer buddies. Late last year after the death of Serendipity we adopted a pair of ginger tabby brothers, Jupiter and Bird, from the Cat Haven. A few weeks ago we let our old man Tanka go to doggy heaven after he was found to have a large abdominal tumour. We're still reeling from his death. I expect to see his happy dance every time the I arrive home and I'm still saddened by the realisation he will dance no more. I miss you big dog.
But every cloud has a silver lining and as a born optimist I always look for the hint of sparkle in the shittiest of situations. Although our initial reason for a house with a yard was for our dogs, the Bright Spark now for the first time has an access all areas outdoor playroom. Tanka was a big boof head of a dog and could easily have knocked our little man over in a fit of excitement, so contact between the two was limited and supervised. Our fur child would be inside when the Bright Spark was playing outside. The lawn usually had a few doggy-landmines to dodge and the water bucket was always a source of cold wet mess which our son was drawn to.
Since Tanka went the great kennel in the sky the Bright Spark has had unlimited access to what is now his yard. A place where I don't care about mess, where he can run and yell. A place where he can explore and be creative without mummy listening for signs of mischief all the time. His trike has been a fire truck, a dump truck and a cement mixer over the course of the week. His cubby is a shop, a house or a sailing ship, whatever fits the game of the moment. The other night after arriving home close to sunset he insisted I help him into a jumper so he could spend the last half hour of sunlight outside. I eventually had to call him in when I could no longer see him playing as it was too dark.
At a time when he is about to undergo the big change of becoming a big brother, this new found freedom is giving him a space of his own. We have plans to get another dog, a female golden retriever if I get my way (too many boys in the house already). But with a newborn due in the house any minute and the budget tight new puppy is a plan for the future. So for now the backyard is the Kingdom of the Bright Spark and he is enjoying being the King of all he surveys.
We started a family of fur kids in Carnarvon. There had always been cats in the house as I was growing up and I was given my first cat for my 12th birthday. When I moved away from home for the first time to go to Carnarvon I didn't have a cat to take with me, so a few days after I'd arrived in the town I went looking for a puppy, only to end up with a cat; a rather surly, slightly overweight grey tabby, who I named Falcon. About a month later I acquired another cat, Serendipity, a little bobtailed tortishell who'd been living rough in the school garden. So I was becoming a bit of a cat lady at this point but I was enjoying having furry bodies to share my little home with.
When the Husband-to-be joined me he saw the move as an opportunity to branch out into pet ownership himself. He was moving out of a small studio apartment which he shared with an axolotl (Mexican walking fish) and saw the change as a chance to become a dog owner for the first time in his adult life. After visiting a couple of dog shelters a Rottweiler German Shepard cross named Tanka chose him to be his new owner. A few months later Tank was joined by Badger, a rotti staffy cross puppy. Our fur family was complete.
When we were planning our return to Perth six years ago, we'd decided for several reasons that we would purchase our own home. The long term financial security was the main reason, but in the short term we were looking for a home for our fur family. Although we'd been allowed to keep our reticulation eating, carpet scratching fur-kids in our government rental in the country, we doubted the generosity of private landlords back in the big city. So a home we searched for.
With the help of a buyers agent we found our little piece of suburban paradise and purchased it sight unseen at a slightly inflated price (it just so happened that we were buying at the peak of a massive property boom). We'd become home owners and had ourselves a little 3 by 1 in the suburbs of Perth with a decent size back yard for our dogs.
Over the years our family has changed. We still have fur kids, but now our real kids, born and unborn, are the love of our lives. Since we returned from Carnarvon both of the cats have passed away and we had to re-home Badger because he and Tanka were no longer buddies. Late last year after the death of Serendipity we adopted a pair of ginger tabby brothers, Jupiter and Bird, from the Cat Haven. A few weeks ago we let our old man Tanka go to doggy heaven after he was found to have a large abdominal tumour. We're still reeling from his death. I expect to see his happy dance every time the I arrive home and I'm still saddened by the realisation he will dance no more. I miss you big dog.
But every cloud has a silver lining and as a born optimist I always look for the hint of sparkle in the shittiest of situations. Although our initial reason for a house with a yard was for our dogs, the Bright Spark now for the first time has an access all areas outdoor playroom. Tanka was a big boof head of a dog and could easily have knocked our little man over in a fit of excitement, so contact between the two was limited and supervised. Our fur child would be inside when the Bright Spark was playing outside. The lawn usually had a few doggy-landmines to dodge and the water bucket was always a source of cold wet mess which our son was drawn to.
Since Tanka went the great kennel in the sky the Bright Spark has had unlimited access to what is now his yard. A place where I don't care about mess, where he can run and yell. A place where he can explore and be creative without mummy listening for signs of mischief all the time. His trike has been a fire truck, a dump truck and a cement mixer over the course of the week. His cubby is a shop, a house or a sailing ship, whatever fits the game of the moment. The other night after arriving home close to sunset he insisted I help him into a jumper so he could spend the last half hour of sunlight outside. I eventually had to call him in when I could no longer see him playing as it was too dark.
At a time when he is about to undergo the big change of becoming a big brother, this new found freedom is giving him a space of his own. We have plans to get another dog, a female golden retriever if I get my way (too many boys in the house already). But with a newborn due in the house any minute and the budget tight new puppy is a plan for the future. So for now the backyard is the Kingdom of the Bright Spark and he is enjoying being the King of all he surveys.
Tuesday, May 22, 2012
Are we there yet?
So tomorrow we get to 36 weeks. The day after that we get to the gestational milestone of the Bright Spark 36+1. We're entering new territory here, the final weeks of pregnancy which I missed out on with my first born and I'm not sure what to expect.
So far my pregnancy has been relatively comfortable. I've gained about 12 kilos, about the same as my first pregnancy, a good amount of weight as I'm usually slim and have trouble putting on weight (yeah I know what a great problem to have). I lost all my extra weight after the Bright Spark was born within twelve months, so even though I was a little self conscious about going from size 10 jeans to size 14 the first time, I'm a little more confident that I will once again fit back into my old pants in a year or so.
One thing that I have found very tedious is people telling me how small my bump is. My bump is just the right size. It fits my correct size for gestational age baby in, with his head wedged firmly in my hips and his bum and feet up under my ribs, very similar to his brother at this stage. My bump gets in the way when squeezing through tight spaces, kneeling to play with the Bright Spark on the floor and sitting up to meals. It forms a convenient shelf for a cup or plate. I'm sure when people tell me my bump is small they mean that as a empty comment or a complement, but I'm over it. The husband has taken the other extreme. He who knows my body almost as well as I do regularly reminds me how beautifully pregnant I look. Although he is yearning for my non-pregnancy form to return (mostly so he can share a bed with me without being woken several times a night be the truck driver snore I have again developed) he reminds me that my bump is just right, sometimes by commenting how huge I look compared to the first time. It's nice to be told I'm huge by one person at least.
As for the irritable uterus, it has bounced us back and forth from the nice people at our hospital several times over the last couple of months. At 34 weeks our obstetrician declared that he no longer cared about my irritable uterus and to carry on as normal. At 34+3 we had a late night dash to the labour ward after an hour or so of crampy contractions every 6 minutes, only to see they'd stopped and having to return in the morning (on Mother's Day) to have a repeat CTG due to a non-reactive trace the night before (at least someone was sleeping). Since then things have been pretty quiet, except for the regular tightening that have been plaguing me since January. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones that has painless contractions, but they keep me on my toes as they are getting stronger as the weeks go on.
As we go into the final weeks I'm starting to wonder whether baby number 2 will come early for us. He seems quite comfortable where he is and I'd really like him to stay put until at least the end of the week so I can get out house a little tidier and more organised. The first big push on nursery preparations only happened a few days ago and has left us with boxes of stuff under our pergola awaiting sorting before it rains again. We have consolidated our library (formal lounge) and office into one room but a lot of stuff remains without a nook to live in and I've spent the day sorting little things into little places. Apart from the fact this has given me chance to reminisce as I open forgotten boxes of treasures (I found the box of wedding things including the delicious menu from our reception) it is a tedious task that can only be done when I'm without the company of my beloved first child. But headway has been made today as I rediscovered the computer desk and cleared an arm chair of clutter. Tomorrow I'm hoping to get a few more shelves sorted and plan an Ikea trip for more storage boxes.
I'm not sure whether this is nesting as I'm always trying to remove clutter, but it is quite cathartic to be able to get on with it this time. With the Bright Spark I worked up until the day I was put on bed rest and then went into labour before I came off it. I didn't get to sort and nest and found it so frustrating. My husband tells as wonderful story about how he told me to pack the hospital bag the day before I went into labour. He'd been kicked out of the house for some downtime and my Mum came to help me and keep me company. The last thing he said as he left was "get your Mum to help your pack your bag". I got my Mum to tidy the laundry that had been driving me nuts for days. The bag didn't get packed. Early the next morning my waters broke and we had a mad scramble to pack the bag between contractions and calls to the hospital. The whole ten days I was in hospital with our little preemy the husband was bringing in not quite the right things.
This time the bag is packed (I've been living out of it for a couple of weeks) and the laundry has been tidied and reorganised (some weeks ago). It would be nice to get the house organised but as I learnt from the Bright Spark, babies will arrive when they're ready, so we'll just have to wait and see. Oh for a crystal ball.
So far my pregnancy has been relatively comfortable. I've gained about 12 kilos, about the same as my first pregnancy, a good amount of weight as I'm usually slim and have trouble putting on weight (yeah I know what a great problem to have). I lost all my extra weight after the Bright Spark was born within twelve months, so even though I was a little self conscious about going from size 10 jeans to size 14 the first time, I'm a little more confident that I will once again fit back into my old pants in a year or so.
One thing that I have found very tedious is people telling me how small my bump is. My bump is just the right size. It fits my correct size for gestational age baby in, with his head wedged firmly in my hips and his bum and feet up under my ribs, very similar to his brother at this stage. My bump gets in the way when squeezing through tight spaces, kneeling to play with the Bright Spark on the floor and sitting up to meals. It forms a convenient shelf for a cup or plate. I'm sure when people tell me my bump is small they mean that as a empty comment or a complement, but I'm over it. The husband has taken the other extreme. He who knows my body almost as well as I do regularly reminds me how beautifully pregnant I look. Although he is yearning for my non-pregnancy form to return (mostly so he can share a bed with me without being woken several times a night be the truck driver snore I have again developed) he reminds me that my bump is just right, sometimes by commenting how huge I look compared to the first time. It's nice to be told I'm huge by one person at least.
As for the irritable uterus, it has bounced us back and forth from the nice people at our hospital several times over the last couple of months. At 34 weeks our obstetrician declared that he no longer cared about my irritable uterus and to carry on as normal. At 34+3 we had a late night dash to the labour ward after an hour or so of crampy contractions every 6 minutes, only to see they'd stopped and having to return in the morning (on Mother's Day) to have a repeat CTG due to a non-reactive trace the night before (at least someone was sleeping). Since then things have been pretty quiet, except for the regular tightening that have been plaguing me since January. I guess I'm one of the lucky ones that has painless contractions, but they keep me on my toes as they are getting stronger as the weeks go on.
As we go into the final weeks I'm starting to wonder whether baby number 2 will come early for us. He seems quite comfortable where he is and I'd really like him to stay put until at least the end of the week so I can get out house a little tidier and more organised. The first big push on nursery preparations only happened a few days ago and has left us with boxes of stuff under our pergola awaiting sorting before it rains again. We have consolidated our library (formal lounge) and office into one room but a lot of stuff remains without a nook to live in and I've spent the day sorting little things into little places. Apart from the fact this has given me chance to reminisce as I open forgotten boxes of treasures (I found the box of wedding things including the delicious menu from our reception) it is a tedious task that can only be done when I'm without the company of my beloved first child. But headway has been made today as I rediscovered the computer desk and cleared an arm chair of clutter. Tomorrow I'm hoping to get a few more shelves sorted and plan an Ikea trip for more storage boxes.
I'm not sure whether this is nesting as I'm always trying to remove clutter, but it is quite cathartic to be able to get on with it this time. With the Bright Spark I worked up until the day I was put on bed rest and then went into labour before I came off it. I didn't get to sort and nest and found it so frustrating. My husband tells as wonderful story about how he told me to pack the hospital bag the day before I went into labour. He'd been kicked out of the house for some downtime and my Mum came to help me and keep me company. The last thing he said as he left was "get your Mum to help your pack your bag". I got my Mum to tidy the laundry that had been driving me nuts for days. The bag didn't get packed. Early the next morning my waters broke and we had a mad scramble to pack the bag between contractions and calls to the hospital. The whole ten days I was in hospital with our little preemy the husband was bringing in not quite the right things.
This time the bag is packed (I've been living out of it for a couple of weeks) and the laundry has been tidied and reorganised (some weeks ago). It would be nice to get the house organised but as I learnt from the Bright Spark, babies will arrive when they're ready, so we'll just have to wait and see. Oh for a crystal ball.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)