Bramwell's Book

I started work on this project some time ago, inspired by This Diary Will Change Your Life. This isn't a diary though, as the thought of doing a different page for each day would have killed me. Instead, there are 67 glorious tasks for Bramwell to do, and I've set up a blog for her to chronicle these tasks over at Bramwell's Book. I'm hoping she enjoys doing and writing about these tasks as much as I've had thinking them up for her.

Happy New Year y'all

2008 starts in about 7 hours, so thought I'd better set some goals or something. I like making lists and being able to tick things off, as you may have noticed if you're a regular Special K reader.

So anyway, what I plan to do with my 2008:

• Have a baby
• Keep baby alive and well
• Start some sort of writing project, a wee novel or something perhaps, that won't have anything to do with babies
• Spend more time with the cat - he's been feeling neglected lately
• Regain former supermodel figure
• Pick up my guitar to actually play it rather than just dust it, move it, etc

Not too much to do, surely?

You know what's awesome?

Though the days have been progressively more gruelling at work with me not able to handle the increasing size of my bump and keep my brain going at the same time, every now and then I am reminded of what utter awesomeness I have in my life, including:

• Chrimbo mince pies. I have become a convert. The very fabulous Ann Packer, a freelance writer for the Dompost and craft goddess, brought some in yesterday and they were amazing. Even more amazing with a hot cup of TLeafT English Breakfast blend.
• This morning I got my annual Muji care parcel from Craig in London. This year he's sent Hippo for Tiny and a bunch of other stationery goodies that I am eager to get home and pore over. Tonight I may do something totally nesty and make up the bassinet with Hippo in it. *deep sigh, as am unable to recognise the person formerly known as Kimberley Rothwell*
• Wee Huia Rose was born making my pal Susie Poole an aunty. Welcome to auntyness, Susie. It's ace.

• The Postie has started to pick me up from work everyday so I can avoid the hell known as taking the number 7 to Kingston at rush hour.
• Discovering that lying belly down on Charlie's bean bag is the best thing ever. It almost makes me feel like a normal person again and takes all the weight off me aching bones.
• Realising that after many years doing the whole 'seeking approval from others' thing, that I am surrounded by people who are pretty damn cool and aren't hell bent on making me feel small in comparison to them...

Life is sweet.

Just another random Monday

Oh my, it's my last week at work here at the glorious Dompost. Can I get through the next five days of sitting upright? It's a struggle, I tell you. But the finish line is in sight. One story to go and fingers crossed my lovely boss doesn't sidle up to my desk and ask me, can I do just one more?

Some random thoughts for a Monday:

• I've never seen brown grass in Wellington, so the crackly biege of McAlister Park in Vogeltown is quite an alarming sight.
• I didn't do as well at Craft 2.0 this weekend as I thought I would, but am really pleased with my designs and have birthday cards ready to go for the next two years.
• I met a postie on the weekend who was still working three weeks before giving birth to her daughter. She says it was hardly working because her run was only 2kms, but the other day I melted into tears because a walk from Boulcott Street to Manners Street almost crippled me.
• I have about a year's worth of features to paste into my clippings book. It's a crap job and have been putting it off. Though I will swear to keep my clippings book up to date from now on and avoid having to do a swag in one go, both me and the book know I'm kidding myself.

Yet again, plans for my birthday to slip by unnoticed are noticed

Yesterday was my 35th birthday - yes, I really am in my mid-thirties now. I feel like I am ticking off a whole lot of events that have been leading up to Tiny's birth - next on my list is Craft 2.0, finishing work at the end of next week and flying to Christchurch for Christmas. Then it will really be the final straight - just a lot of nesting to go.

Every year I vow to not really do much on my birthday, to just lay low and treat myself like a Queen, and this year my indulgence was to take the day off work. It was glorious. It went like this:

6.15ish The Postie gets up for work, the tui in the trees outside that's been trying to get some action starts his rather irritating mating call, and I roll over to find a hot cup of tea and the paper brought to me in bed. There's also a shiny papered thing, which I open to reveal a Motorhead g-string, size enormous, bought by P and Bramwell when they went to a Motorhead gig in Taranaki a few months ago. Thanks guys.

6.30-8.30am Sleep, glorious sleep.

8.30am Steve, a Canadian friend of P's who is staying with us gets up. He's arrived from Canada via Sydney the night before. I get up, laze over the sudoku chatting to Steve, who says aye a lot.

10am Send Steve off to town on the bus with that worried mother feeling that he may get on wrong bus, get hopelessly lost, be mugged etc. I attack the pile of presents P has left on the coffee table, including a fridge magnet from my mum that makes me all teary and a copy of Kate's Klassics. Work on a few craft items including a banner for my etsy shop which I am hoping to start up after this weekend's Craft 2.0.

11.30am P comes home from work, more tea is made.

1.30pm Lunch at Nikau with Natalie, Becc, Deb, Gus, P, Lauren and nine-month-old Zoe. So totally delicious. I hadn't really expected to do anyting with my pals this year, so this came as a nice surprise.

3.30pm My birthday tradition is to get a photo booth pic with someone special to me, so this year it's P's turn. We both prove to be hopless at operating the booth and look at the wrong camera at the wrong time, and I forget to include Tiny in this whole affair until the very last picture when I am captured looking like crazed woman lifting my shirt to reveal a vast moonscape of white skin.

4.30pm Home for a nap. Gentle breeze ruffles net curtains as I fall asleep with "A Suitable Boy" in my hands. Glorious. Steve and P go for a drive so Steve can see Wellington in all it's gloriousness.

6.30pm Surprise dinner. P, who has had one too many beers with Steve, directs me to drive to Kelburn and then leads me towards several resturants before entering Bistro Breton. I have a kir royale, beef fillet with gratin dauphinois on the side, and a pudding that can only be described a gluttonous. The waiter, who I am too shy to speak French to, tells me off for not finishing my main because I'm eating for two etc. I waddle to and from bathroom wondering if I will do a Mr Creosote and explode in the dining room.

9.30pm Home to bed and a dose of indigestion medicine. My parents call just as I collapse next to P who is rubbing his tummy and groaning.

A brilliant day.

But when will they do a Motorhead album?

Researching a story on music downloading, I got very off the beaten track looking at when Radiohead's previously downloadable only album was going to be available as a CD, and came across this puppy. Not only do they do a lullaby version of Radiohead songs, you can get Metallica, Nine Inch Nails and other vastly inappropriate bands for children transformed into songs that are the last thing your kids hear night.

Does this make me Mrs Claus?

Hot, hot Santas

Yesterday, the Postie, Bramwell, Melzer, and Mike did the Tour de Peak - a mountain bike race involving riding all the tracks on Makara Peak mountain bike park. They did it in teams - the girls Bramwell and Melzer and the boys P and Mike - with the boys dressed in what can best be described as asbestos/fibreglass Santa suits. P even had a sleeping bag cover inside his suit full of lollies to scatter, many of which I ate before the race even started.

About half way through his run, the Postie came through the finish line area, whacked his bike upside down and fixed something then fled off back into the park with bits of Santa suit trailing behind him. Someone said something obvious like, 'you must be hot' and in a high squeaky voice, the Postie said, 'yes, it's quite warm'. It was a haltingly humid hit 27 degrees. By the end, his suit was in tatters, the crotch of his santa shorts were ripped into a skirt. Very manly, Santa.

He and Mike finished their bits in 1 hour 37 and 1 hour 40 respectively, and came third in their class - they're veterans don't you know... Bramwell and Melzer came in a bit later, but Bramwell made an unexpected appearance at the finish line without her bike, wondering where the hell one of the tracks started - appears it had a 'wrong way' sign posted at the start of it and she was a bit confused.

Just as P returns from a quick dip in the creek after finishing his race, Bramwell crosses the line.

The piece de resistance was when Bramwell and Melzer's names were drawn out of the hat to win a child's seat that fits onto a grown-up's bike, called a Wee Ride. They generously gave it to us - so Tiny and P can go for rides together.

A very nice day, though by the end of it I was craving bed and today even my eye bags have eye bags.

Nine days of work to go!

ABC

For a little while I was mulling over making an alphabet frieze for Tiny's room, but then general malaise came over me and it's been abandoned. I'm really rather good at getting excited about projects, starting them, then finishing them off months or years later. So I'm trying to finish things off one at a time, and at the moment I still have Bramwell's diary and a little purple for cardi for Tiny in the works at the moment, so an alphabet frieze will just have to wait.

But if I were to make one, this is how it would go:

A is for Aunties
Your aunty Ange is looking forward to "going nutty over my nephew" as she puts it, and you have aunties Elizabeth and Billy to meet, as well as a swag of non-related ones; Chris, Nat, Deb ...

B is for Baking

One of your mum's most mumsy activities. If you're lucky I'll let you lick the spoon.

C is for Charlie
The black and white furry thing that sleeps a lot. He's a hit with the neighbourhood kids, and even let nearly two-year-old Leo poke his eyes out the other day before adult intervention was required. You and Charlie will be great pals.

D is for Dad

You're going to like your Dad, the mountain-biking artist and maker of things, with the crazy kilt-striped car.

E is for Early Nights

What Mum and Dad are into right now. However, the downstairs neighbour is not.

F is for Fishing

What you and Dad will probably spend some time doing. It's also for France, Mum's most favouritest place where the good cheese comes from.

G is for Golf
No pressure my love, but if uncle Matt takes you under his wing, you could be the next Tiger and make us all very rich.

H is for Holiday

A song by Madonna that Mum likes to do the housework to.

I is for Ireland
You are part Northern Irish. Like Liam Neeson and George Best.

J is for Josh

Your godfather, the tall smiley guy whose car keys you may be able to borrow when you're old enough.

K is for Kimberley

She's that person that you hung around in for nine months, kicking her bladder.

L is for Love

Which you get heaps of.

M is for Monique
Your godmother, the one whose job it is to teach you to rebel against authority, question the government and never take no for an answer.

N is for No
A word you may hear a lot of when you're a kid.

O is for Oyster catcher
A bird with a long, red beak and silly walk. Your Dad doesn't believe they catch oysters at all.

P is for Phnom Penh
One day we'll go there and ride motorbikes around the city. I promise I won't crash.

Q is for Queen
On Mum's birthday, she is one.

R is for Roskill (Mt)
Where your Graham Grandparents live, and where you'll hopefully spent lots of time running around doing kid stuff.

S for is Sweeney
He's your cousin. He's a pretty cool dude. You'll like him.

T is for Tokoroa
Where Mum grew up. This makes her very staunch indeed.

U is for Universe
and underwear and unicorn and umbrella. All good things.

V is for Vanya
Your nana. She thinks you're awesome, though she would use other words. Grandad thinks you're awesome too.

W is for Wellington
Where we live and where you are going to be born. It's nice.

X is for Xanadu
A very silly film in the 1980s starring Olivia Newton John.

Y is for You
You are awesome.

Z is for Zebra
A funny striped horsey thing.

Nesting

This may or may not surprise you fans of the Postie out there, but he is in nesting mode. Yup, not me, HIM. It's awesome. So far he has been fixer in charge of the practical big stuff, like putting the cot together, giving the second hand buggy we bought a service, re-staining the old dresser that's been in my family since I was a chillun, etc. Good old man stuff, while I deal with the clothes, the bedding, the baby-growing. But yesterday I got home to find he had not only cleaned our wee pad until it was blindingly shiny, but had organised the pantry, thrown out double ups of spices etc, changed the box in which we will keep the baby's hats by the front door (the colour of the box didn't match the stain on the cabinet in which it is kept, P said) and the piece de resistance - he made me a cup of tea almost within seconds of me walking through the door, huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf.

He's so awesome.