Dirty thirty

And so dear friends in the computer, I am finally back. It was a longer than scheduled blog hiatus courtesy of our friendly plumber, who happened to cut our phone line while we were away...blah blah boring, cut long story short we have our precious broadband again. For now. Until a possum chews through our temporary (read we will have this for months) above ground phone cable. Or something.

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All in all, a great holiday. Didn't want to kill the ILs, enjoyed Commonwealth Games cycling and athletics, actually got some time to go out alone with my hubby (to dinner! And a movie! On two separate occasions!), caught up with a friend, shopped, read etc etc. Insert your own appropriate holiday cliches here.

The poo monkey had a fabulous time as well, I mean what 13 and a half month old doesn't enjoy exclusive attention from devoted grandparents, a ride on the Carousel on the Geelong foreshore, first tastes of chocolate and icecream in a cone and the feel of sand on one's toes?

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Yes, I survived turning thirty. It was a close call, seeing as the day prior to the big three-oh I discovered that there is now a face cream designed to fight wrinkles and pimples and that it is marketed at people like me. I handled the actual event with grace and calm and dignity. Truly. It had nothing to do with the small token gift that hubs procured for me from Tiffany and Co. (once he got past security at the door, union shirt and all). No, nothing at all.


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The poo monkey came back from Melbourne a much more mature girl, surely she could easily pass for fourteen months now. We're cruising baby, and using "more" and "all gone" in their proper context for both food and play type situations. Fuck baby signing, my girl is forging ahead with English.

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Hubs and I have a date with our IVF doc next week, a direct consequence of my innocent email enquiry as to whether all our test results had shown up anything interesting (and for a total of $600 of tests to date I'd like to know all the details). His reply? We should definitely come in for a chat, "nothing too serious", but an appointment is needed before cycling.

Have to admit to feeling a little bit uneasy about this. I know that this is most likely to be about hubs' sperm antibodies (hey, are we at 100% yet?)...but part of me is freaking out at the thought that something has shown up for me.

Oh well, we will find out next week ($130), taking our current pre cycle expenses to one grand. Remember this is before we fork out $3000 for a cycle. And you wonder why I am returning to part time work next month. Got to pay for all of this somehow.

Wonder how many bottles of shagfest wine that would equate to for a smug fertile couple?

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One last thing. Received a belated happy birthday email from a long time friend today, a bit of a coincidence because said friend was in my dreams* last night. When I told my friend about their guest appearence in REMland, their response was:

"Was I good?"

Can you guess the gender of my friend?

* For the record it was one of those weird dreams you have that are full of people and places all mishmashed together in a confusing and incoherent way. It was the direct result of a restless night's sleep due to the poo monkey having a mild fever. She was (and is) fine. I simply couldn't sleep properly. Oh yeah, and if I am going to have a sex dream I would at least hope to be joined by George Clooney, or Orlando Bloom, or that delicious daddy Lior. Sigh.