Sunday July 10

Reservoir Mum has just roused me. I’ve had my first sleep-in for several weeks in preparation for a trip to the country. I’m taking the boys for a few days to visit Mum and Dad (Gran and Pa). The neon of the bedside clock shines 8.00am and the sustained REM has allowed some dream recall.

‘You should write a guest post for Wednesdays from the Womb,’ I say, as she lies beside me.

‘Why?’ she asks.

‘Two reasons – because I’m not going to get much of a chance to write before Wednesday, and because the main song writer from Tear for Fears came to me in a dream and told me I was getting too much personal glory from your womb.’

Roland Orzabal?

‘Yeah, he kept quoting these amazing lyrics from ‘Sowing The Seeds Of Love‘ – Time to eat all your words, swallow your pride, open your eyes… ‘

‘Those lyrics don’t relate to you, or us, or what you’re writing about at all.’

‘Maybe not,’ I say, ‘but that sort of material’s gold and I’d hate to waste it. You should include it in your post.’

RM looks me in the eyeballs and says, ‘I just popped-off.’

‘Okay,’ I sigh,’ I’ll just include my dream in the intro I write for you.’

‘You won’t need an intro,’ she says, ‘because I’m not writing anything.’

‘I have a feeling,’ I tell her, as I raise myself from the bed and begin to think about all the things I’ll need to pack for me and the boys, ‘that this little challenge I’ve proposed will be too much for you to resist. Sometime between now and Wednesday my laptop will say ‘ping’ at me and I’ll find your post waiting all puppy-like in my inbox.’

‘What makes you so sure?’ she says.

‘Because Roland Orzabal came to me in a dream, RM,’ I say, as I turn to face her and drop my boxer shorts. ‘Roland Orzabal. From Tears For Fears!’

She looks me up and down in a way that makes me feel cheap and nasty before saying, ‘Are you sure it wasn’t Gonzo from The Muppet Show?’

gonzo

Tuesday July 11

PING!

Guest Post From Reservoir Mum

ReservoirMumWeek 27: The official start of the third trimester of our final pregnancy. Yep, definitely the final time I will rent out this comfy bedsit with all nutrients and oxygen supplied (aka my uterus). Unless of course I take up the challenge thrust at me by so many people when I inform them that ‘Rick Astley‘ is a boy, our fourth boy in fact: “Will you try for a girl?”

Try?

“Oh no,” I say. “I tried really hard the last four times and look what happened.”

There is, of course, lots of advice on how to increase your chance of conceiving one gender or the other. A patient of mine told me during my last two pregnancies that the problem was that RD has “too much testosterone” to father a girl and the trick is to have lots of sex BEFORE we try to conceive – just to empty it out a bit I suppose! I have kindly informed this patient on numerous occasions, without going into details of the pheromony that a lack of sex could not possibly be the issue here. But if that’s what it means to ‘try’, then bring it on I say.

Of course the insinuation that we will not be entirely happy unless we have an example of both genders in our family is aggravating, but has been dealt with before so I won’t bang on any more about it.

Back to the celebration of the final trimester.

Actually, my excitement levels are low since RD and the boys have escaped for a short holiday to the country to see some family and I have been on my own for the past 3 nights. “It will be bliss” said RD before he left. “You can sleep as much as you like, get some work done, read a book, whatever you want.” It’s true – it has been peaceful, relaxing, productive and calm. But I don’t like it.

For close to 7 years I have been surrounded by the chaos of my family and the challenges that this brings. I have not slept through the night once in all this time. I rush home from work and finish things off when the kids are in bed to make sure I have as much time with them as I can. I work hard for financial security for them, but harder to make sure I don’t miss out being part of my family.

14042010200The opportunity to have some time to myself over several days does not excite me. Sure, I’d love a bit of time to myself in the shower or toilet on the odd occasion, but an extended period is somewhat depressing.

The excitement of life is much simpler now with children. I had a momentary surge of excitement yesterday when I went for a walk and saw a taraxacum seedhead, until I remembered that I was walking alone and the boys were not there to squeal with delight, pluck it up and blow the seeds into the air before rushing to look for more.

RD and the boys will be home today and we can commence our journey together through the final stages of the pregnancy (perhaps I should get some more sleep while I can!). Look out RD, it’s been a few days, I might have to assist with some testosterone drainage.