Naming your child

I love family tradition and wish that there was some decent names or at the very least people whom I admire in my family. Unfortunately most of the women were incredibly grumpy old crones with names like Lottie and Edna. I think I am so caught up in the tradition aspect as I myself have no links to my past at all, I have my adopted family and that is it. I want my children to see a clear path of whence they came to start a new strong lineage. I wish I had more to tell them of their ancestors as I would know everything given the choice. In complete contrast CH could know everything about his heritage but has no interest, what I would do for that!

I had quite a long list of names for our last child and CH could only agree on one. Hence we ended up with a common as muck name but I managed to sneak something with a little more interest in for a middle name, Ella Raine. CH wanted Carmen!!!! there is no way I am naming my child after a transvestite crack hore.

Anyhoo this time around I am revisiting names from my old list and discover I still like them, one that I really liked last time as I was convinced I was having a boy was Noah. This time I feel like I am having another girl, do you think Noah can be a girls name? I think it is so lovely for girl as it sounds earthy and patient. I thought about dropping the H and making Noa. I know this word is used often spoken in Maori but I cannot nail down exactly its meaning as I have found about 75 uses for the word but none of them really clear for me. Does anyone know?

I also found out that Noa is commonly Noah in Hebrew mis-spelt and supposedly come from a word similar to 'movement' I must ask my friend Cathie if this is so as you know that heaps of crap is online. If movement is correct then is very apt as this bubba is a non stop groover.

Other potential names include Jorja Mae, Neave for a girl. Kirwin, Nathaniel or Jeremiah for a boy. I also have another dilemma, my sister lost a child Mary to cot death when I 12. We were very close and till this day I can barely speak of her without crying for the loss not just of Mary but more for my sisters pain. Although Mary is not on the top of my must have names but I feel if I was strong enough I would give this as a middle name out of respect, or would that be to painful my sister? I also wonder about the bad omen side of things. As it is still very much a raw open wound for my family asking if it would be ok would be very hard and knowing my sister even if she hated the thought of it would never say.

What to do.

Welcome to Momma's grand ole tinny house

Today's apperitifs du jour will mainly consist of Pamol followed by Pamol with Pamol. Ah Mummies little helper. You guessed it my angel in during the wee hours of this morning has evolved into a wet nosed snot goblin or more accurately a snot a gobbling. Yummy.

How do you teach a child to blow her nose when she equates all face wiping with stubbing out ciggarettes in her eye balls.

We have had a good wicket of it really as it has been well over a year since she or myself have had a cold. The good thing is I am getting many cuddles from my sick child ahhhhhh I now have insight why some mummies choose to dust their offspring's doughnuts in arsenic, they are just cuddle deprived. Teach the little beggers for witholding love. They learn that so early.

Poor timing on Ella's behalf to get unwell as today was the only free day we had this week and I had many a plan of how to fill in the day including the 'I would rather file my toenails with a band saw' than purchase some sensible cotton spinaker like maternity knickers as I am sick of my unelasticated arse covering sacks from the last exspansion(which horrifically have become my staple favourites)

Great, I am now my mother. Except she is much slimmer.....shall I hurl myself under a bus now or wait until the final nail will be purchasing size 16 knickers while standing next to a Kate Moss waif holding little lace anal floss in a size 6.

Or perhaps I should just feed myself another Doughnut.

Super 14

I need a serious talking to. Tonight is the night the second semi final for the Super 14 , comfortable favourites Canterbury Crusaders Versus underdog The Blue Bulls. Last nights match was fantastic The Mighty Hurricanes Versus New South Wales Warratahs, super game and of course we were victorious.....just.

Essentially tonights game is New Zealand Versus South Africa. Since I do live in Caterbury you would think that wanting Canterbury to win would be a no brainer. Unfortunately, I just cannot do it, I tried BUT I cannot possibly support a canterbury team as they have the most appalling bunch of one eyed, poor sports of supporters. Having spent much time at Jade stadium over the years and each and every time I am disgusted with the same behaviour. Oh my god I sound old!

Do not get me wrong, to have two NZ teams in the final of the Super 14 is an outstanding reflection of the depth and strength of New Zealand rugby but why can it not be any other team but Canterbury.

Goodbye Stinky

Success! I know you did not believe I would go through with it, today I finally packed up my husbands 'destroyer of all' Pooch and shipped her off to spend her new life with her new dad. After four weeks of trying to find the perfect home and sifting through all the rejects, many of whom I would not leave my pot plants with. Finally I found the perfect chap. She has actually been there since Wednesday but today we went to check to make sure everything was ok and you could tell they had bonded and she really was being spoilt.....................mind you she had already dug two holes!

Looky Looky

Here is the first paparazzi of my ever increasing bundle of joy, Boy? Girl? It was so lovely to see them and so very active!!!!! I think we will be in for a shock. However I am pleased to report that all is growing perfectly!

How very lucky

A friend of mine has just won as Australian and New Zealand short story writing competition. How exciting. Chrissie is a fabulous writer and has been writing for many many years with many published works and books. Imagine that, getting paid for what you love to do. Mind you I have not actually asked her if she still loves what she does. I wonder if or when it changes from a passion to a job.

I love to write, I have no gift for the English language and as to exactly what gramma is, don't ask me! I can barely spell let alone construct a correct sentence. I actually got a book out of the library once with the intention of teaching myself grammar. I guess I had to wash my hair that week and never got around to doing it.

I do remember one particular part of that book that said something along the lines of every writer has a style whether it be one of traditional construction or more casual, it is what makes stories interesting. However, before one changes the stucture of grammar, one must know the rules. So I CAN write stories that would make my fifth form english teacher shudder as long as I understand the mistakes I am making.

One day, all in good time. Incidently fifth form was the last time I did English, I absolutely hated it. More interested in planning the weekend and of course BOYS.

Finally here

Today marks the twelve week mark of my pregnancy. We all hold our breathe up until this point and then collectively breathe a sigh of relief.

Well I am here but feeling no such signs of relaxing. I guess it is more of that not counting chickens before the hatch. Still very nevous for obvious reasons, but the good news is although I am still chronically tired but I only feel like vomiting for half the day! Wahoo

Starting to rapidly expand as well, I am going to be the bohemith!

Cringe.....baby brain!!

Romantic Thought #5764

As winter is approaching and CH is old and perhaps even warty. All the broken bones of his past just seem to ache and of course with this comes the accompanied moans.

Purchase, fabulous muscle soak. Find candles, blow off dust from last romantic encounter. Place candles all around the bathroom, including on corner PLASTIC soap/shampoo holder. Place CH in bath with book.

Cue rapidly spreading fire that destoys whole plastic thingy and fills pleasantly scented bathroom with thick choking fumes and black bits floating throughout the house.

Clever girl.

Mmmmm Irvines cheesy goodness

Not to sound shy of a under arm razor but in my life to date I have always believed in listening to what your body is saying. Now I am not talking about that wee voice that tells you that picking your nose in the car is completely cloaked from vision from all passing vehicles but the one that actually gives you cravings for an orange when days later a cold hits.

I have always been Mrs Higher than thou canned food and have tradtionally thrown looks of scorn at convenience fare. Until now. I have just finished tucking into Instant cheesy mashed potatoes, microwaved frozen baby peas and a Irvines Mince and chees pie drowned in watties and I enjoyed every moment of it and am actually considering heating up another pie.

As far as cravings go, what nutritional value could this night plat du jour have given to my unborn child. Perhaps it is just a blip and I shall go back to my wholesome food devouring self.

The thought of healthy alternatives is currently turning my stomach.