A Pregnant Pause

As I write this post, I realise that my laptop has tiny smeared blobs of dried chocolate on it.

The last time I used it was on Friday night in Lancefield, while sitting up alone in a double-bed, propped up comfortably on four fluffy pillows, nary a child nor husband within screaming distance.

That's right dearest reader (Hi Mum!), I ate chocolate in bed while writing a story on my laptop, away from home, and I LOVED IT.

If you look really really closely at the centre of this picture, a little drenched bird is sitting on the rosebush, just surveying the scene of the torrent and having a bit of a whinge.

Thank you Sewjourn, for once again letting me remember to just please myself (err... above the Cesarean scar, thank you) for a couple of days, thank you Suse and Janet for letting me hang with you and granting me and my bump the use of the luxurious Princess Bed all to myself, and thank you fellow Ladies of Leisure, for once again making Craft Camp such a pleasant, vibrant, inspiring and tasty place to be.

The weather closing in over the studio on Saturday morning.

This will be my last excursion there for a while, what with the bump about to yield results of the perpetually hungry kind. As indulgent as Mr Mangroves is of my going away for me-time weekends, I don't think that it would be fair to expect him to breastfeed in my stead. Alas, therefore, necessity forces me be abandon plans of such getaways for the immediate future, so this felt all the more poignant.

"... Miss Scarlet, in the garden, with the apocalypse..."

"...you know, I don't think this is going to work..."

I can honestly say that there is nothing in the world I would rather eat for breakfast than Janet's leftover Rhubarb and Strawberry Crumble. Not even Gerard's description of the texture of strawberries being "...like slime" would change my mind.

Why does this look like Spag Bol now? I assure you it's delicious Rhubarb and Strawberry Crumble and cream with hot tea for breakfast.

Without a doubt, the fact that we had Tempest-like horizontal rain falling on us for two entire days and nights would dampen spirits, but only The Stork really appeared to suffer. Having prepared my famous Fart Soup for Saturday lunch, I knew to expect heightened levels of flatulence at Sewjourn (I had made it so I could crop-dust freely among others likewise afflicted). Still, The Stork not content to just fart the day away with the rest of us, took it a step further and actually blew out its entire arse in the greatest weight-loss technique of all time in what shall henceforth be knows as Storkgate.  The apocalyptic atmosphere hung in the air the whole time, the normally pastoral landscape turned positively torrential as lakes appeared in the paddocks, and The Stork stood arseless among the cacti, calmly overseeing the unfolding cataclysm with a defiant look in it's beady eye, as if to say; Never mind the scarf and hat, somebody knit me a pair of arseless chaps!

"... and then, The Stork's arse just went like that! Plop, right onto the ground..."

"...of course you can just take my chicken soup leftovers and mix it with Fart Soup leftovers, then take it home and feed it to your children for dinner! It will be greeeeeeeeeat." Thank God she was right.

The bamboo cotton batting I laid out on the floor of the studio overnight was partially soaked in the deluge which forced its way in through the split-system above, but I'm pleased to report that it appears undamaged, and can still form the filling in the Ratbag's quilt sandwich, which is now almost complete. He was perfectly adorable about it on Sunday, he loved the little surprises I'd sewn into the quilt-top for him, the trains and the robots were a big hit. I'm almost done with it, and should be able to complete the freeform quilting and binding this weekend, in time to swathe it artfully over his favourite new thing; the Bunk Bed, for a Sunday photo opportunity. Watch this space...

Even though I didn't get home until after 4pm on Sunday, we still had our little Father's Day celebration, Mr Mangroves loving the card that the kids had decorated, and the military history books they lovingly chose for his gifts this year (they really are so very thoughtful, the little blighters!)

And honestly, coming home to my family was the best feeling in the world. I shared a little story with a couple of Sewjourners on the weekend, and I really feel like I should write it down for posterity (since I keep saying that this blog is for my kids to read once they get over their years of teenage angst and resentment of their parents).

In honour of Father's Day, I should tell them why I love their Dad, and I think that this will illustrate it in abundance. 

Shortly after finding out about the current pregnancy, we were entertaining an overseas visitor (a friend of mine who now lives in Ireland who came to visit with her new baby), and we confided in her that a third mini-Mangroves was on the way.

Bullseye Dad, you got 'er again!

Following all the usual congratulations, I briefly left the room, only to come back to hear Mr Mangroves telling my friend that our little family was the best thing that had ever happened to him, and that had he known then what he knows how, he would have done all this earlier and wouldn't have waited until his 40s to experience having children together. He said he was overwhelmed by his own capacity to love them, to love us.

Aaaaawwwww!

I think I died a little bit.

Happy Father's Day, my lover and my friend.