It's one of those moments that you remember forever, when you tell your family and friends that you're expecting a baby. I still remember the warm and genuine embraces I received from my mum, dad and sister. I recall visiting friends with the sole purpose of breaking our news and thinking to myself 'they know exactly why we're here'...and of course, they acted surprised even though they weren't. Recently one of my dear friends and his partner broke the news that they are expecting their first baby and I can't tell you how happy Quigs and I are to hear the news. There's so much we want to tell them but I don't want to bore them shitless with war stories about my experiences as a father. Instead I decided to write my great mate a letter, one that he can refer back to when the time is right, and you never know, perhaps he'll write me a letter in twenty years time saying 'you were right'...actually, he's more likely to write a letter in twenty years time telling me how I could done the job better myself. But that would be OK, that's how he is and we love him for it.
Wife A has gone into hyper nesting mode. Only 4 weeks left and it’s all systems go on about 20 renovation jobs. It’s either hyper nesting or block fever, whichever it is, life has turned into a tiring mess of spac filler, paint and screwdrivers.
Being in the final 6 weeks of a pregnancy is a bit like the last 5 kilometres of an Olympic marathon. We have hit the wall.
When you're a parent or a parent to be you have some great days and some shit ones. The last 24 hours were, in a word, horrendous. Right now I feel like I need to crack open a beer and watch some footy.
As I put Kid X down to bed at 12.30am I saw the tired, grumpy facial expression that said to me, just wait til I decide to wake up early tomorrow, I’ll get my revenge.
