Pandy and Andy create a baby...

Tuesday, October 24, 2006

A tale of three tellys


Week 17 and I've just decided. It’s a mad mad mad world….

Mistress P is preggas and that was all a natural process – or so we thought.

Stepping back several months and a friend/work colleague of ours (lets call him Shoni, cos, well, that’s his name) was about to head overseas/gotten married/bought a widescreen etc, and was offloading stuff. Lotsa stuff. Including 3 tellys (no, I don’t know why the lad had 3 tellys either: he liked sport). We got one. And a bootiful big 50cm jobby it was too, so in theory all my friends would come over to our place and watch stuff and not complain about eyestrain from our old mini-teeve. (They haven’t, so I’ll have to assume they just don’t love me anymore.)

The "new" telly worked fine (despite what people have subsequently assumed).

He also gave one to a girl in our Public Relations group. And one to a guy in Hydrology Section.

Now I don’t know if all his rabid sport watching had resulted in an excess of testosterone/ pheromones oozing over the damn things, or whether they were just your common or garden variety weirdo superpowered eugenic-tellys, but…

All three people are now expecting bubs within a month or two of each other. {Cue twilight zone music/yell "whats them odds?".}

Bloody Shoni!
(But I’m sure we’re all stoked.)

Friday, October 13, 2006

week 16 - spongepants time

We're into week 16 and all is still rosy.

Well, cept in the couture department. Poor young Mistress P has hit the wall in-so-far-as dacks are concerned. And work dacks at that. They no longer fit. Not only that, but t-shirts are also becoming somewhat revealing, as the belly leaps forth at seemingly random moments, so its long singlets-under-shirt from now on we're afraid (which is a bugger when you're having 37degree days in October).

The clothing bust appeared to be somewhat of a shock to the ever expanding Mistress P, as she had expected to be able to last out at least until the full 4 month stage without having to succumb to the fatty-clothes, but alas and alack, twas not to be.

Lucky for the mortgage a local maternity shop was closing up (cos, of course, the owner was pregnant and waddling and about to practice what she preached) so it was cheap buys all round. We'll now be able to measure the tikes girth by the number of sets of stitching P takes out of the "expandable" pants.

Mistress P has also had a bit of a spurt of energy... she checked out some gyms and bought a Swiss-ball - all in the name of helping out a slightly achey-breaky-back thats arrived out of the blue - but has decided upon Pilates for preggas people. Shes now perfected the art of standing for long periods and lifting her arms up and down. Yup.. that'll get the ole watermelon out quicker...

On the nausea front the puke-o-meter is down to about 1 or 2, food and sleep are still in too short a supply (but its getting easier), theres frequent bouts of itchy-belly, and the week 16 visit to the doc resulted in Mistress P putting a stethescope to her own tum and eerily listening to a heartbeat that wasn't hers...

Friday, October 06, 2006

14 weeks... or was it 12,.. or 15.....

Oh oh,...

I'd heard about it, feared it, expected it and am now starting to experience it.

Preggas Brain.

I realised the situation we were in at about 9:25pm, Melbourne Airport, when we met Jo.

Jo is our old housemate from years back - then a struggling PhD student patiently putting up with Mistress P and I canoodling on the couch at constant intervals, now a high powered public servant in Canberra, trying as she might to fix the problems of indigenous (un)employment. (She was also the only person brave enough to be an advisor to Peter "release the hounds" Reith AND be a trade union rep at the same time. i.e., She has balls.)

Anyway, Melbourne Airport, 9:25pm... no Jo to be seen. In fact the entire Adelaide flight had come, collected random luggage (as Adelaide bogans are want to do) and stalked off into the night. There was no one left. Even the people who'd lost their aforementioned luggage had wandered off to the complaints counters.

"Are you sure Jo was coming in at 9??
"Pos-tive" said Mistress P.
"From Adelaide?"
"Definately."
"Well where in the wide wide world of sports is she???"
"Dunno..."

Several more laps round the luggage carousels, taxi ranks and coffee shops (Lygon St habits die hard for Jo) and I was about to walk out and drive home and hope Jo hadnt been ambushed by Patrick Corps black hooded strike breakers for past sins when...

Along came Jo...

"What happend to you Jo?"
"Nothing... just got in. 9:15 from Perth."

Aww crumbs.

At least this wasnt as bad (though would have been if we had abandoned Jo alone at the airport) as earlier in the day when Mistress P phoned her BIG boss in Perth, and chastised him heartily for not sending her a report in time cos he had promised to have it to her by Friday afternoon and now it was getting too late for her to have any decent input and they really need to work closely on this and....

BIG boss: "Errr... today is Thursday"

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(This following post originally appeared on October 2 2006 at: http://windjunky.blogspot.com/2006/10/tupac.html)

All we wanted was some fish and chips.

Sunday night, AB arrives home shagged from a sailing session at Green Point (with new Combat Wave 5.0; wuvverly), and Mistress P staggers in from a 1-year old barfday party ("Im buggered!"); all seemed right and dandy for a fish and chippy slap up feed.

"I can't eat flake remember, its top of the foodchain and fulla mercury and stuff - can you get me some whiting instead?"

No worries my dear.

AB heads on down the chippie - which is actually a milk bar run by a nice but grossly overworked Asian couple who at first had no idea but now make some of the best fish and chips (and hamburgers) this side of anywhere.

Walk in the door and out from the back walks the lady, scoffing down some dinner of her own.

"I'll have a 2-pack please, and..."

"PACK 2 PACK 2" she barked at AB. (A "pack 2" is 2 flake, 2 dim sims, 2 potato cakes and a serve of chips. $10.50 Its not rocket science. Indeed, i always seem to call it a 2-pack, and this upsets her and her husband greatly when i have asked for such in the past.)

AB: "Errr.. yes, a pack 2 please, but can one be without flake - whiting instead?"

NiceAsianLady (NAL): "NO. Pack 2 only flake"

AB: "Ok, well can i have a pack 2 with whiting, and i'll pay the difference"

NAL: "No, pack 2 only flake"

AB: "You do have whiting dont you?"

NAL: "yes yes, whiting sure."

AB: "Ok then, i just want the same as a pack 2, but can we just add 50c or something for a piece of whiting instead of flake?

NAL: "NO. Pack2 only flake."

AB: "ok, ok.. well can I just buy all the same things as go into a pack 2, individually, but one piece flake and one piece whiting?"

NAL: "NO NO! No pack 2 with whiting only flake!"

AB: "yes, I know, I understand."

AB then looks up at the board to read what a pack 2 had in it. I then start to read it out...

AB: "Alright... can i have 2 potato cakes, 2 dim sims, chips for 2 and 1 flake and 1 { ...almost there... come on come on.. we can do this} whiti... {oh oh, shes onto me... no no please no...}

NAL: "NO PACK 2 ONLY FLAKE!"

At this juncture AB was about to leap over the counter and shove the bloody fish in the fryer himself. Plus flake woman for good measure. She sensed this.

NAL: "You get pack 1 {1 flake, i dim sim, i potato cake, chips} plus dim sim, plus potato cake plus whiting: $11.05"

AB: "DONE!"

(And i bet you a lobster the flake wasnt flake anyways...)

The things we do for love. If not a preggas Mistress P.