Simple Homeschool has a post that fits Connie’s journey to culinary competence. Here.
When she began asking to cook (age nine or younger) I found it hard as:
1. she didn’t want help
2. she didn’t want recipes
3. my kitchen is MY KINGDOM!
Also she made grimace inducing food, it felt wasteful. I was negative and anxious.
I coped by nixing certain ingredients, demanding she clean up before and after and shutting the door and walking away (returning only to place dubious cake mixtures in the oven)
First her baking became edible. Then delicious. She never wrote anything down but seemed to remember which amounts and combinations went well. Then she began using recipes. Age 11 she could make a three course dinner for six. Age 12 she bakes the best brownies I have ever tasted.
Judah: Will the baby come out through Mummy’s testicles?
Well, she’s arrived. Verity Edith debuted on June 5th, 11pm. Sweet and lovely, but then I would say that.
Unlike my last three labours, the midwives had opportunity to arrive in good time. We sat about with Tracy and Mandy chatting and laughing between my contractions, Tracy flicking through a scuba diving magazine. If ten or so minutes passed without a spasm I would feel I, as the main event, was letting my audience down. Perhaps I should fake one. “Ooh! Ooh!”(nervous glance at helpers) “This is a tough one!”. Puff, puff.
Patience came and sat with Garry for the last hour. Like Garry she is unfazed by bodily fluids and functions. She joined Mandy examining the placenta, checking fingers and toes, weighing and measuring. She was given the little paper tape as a keepsake. Then Mandy showed her how to dress her new little sister.
Mya (age 7): Why have they named their baby “Ferrety”?
My due date is two weeks away and although my previous four were all complication free home births, nothing is guaranteed. So I will reminisce before anything has time to go pear shaped. Apart from me. I’ve gone pear shaped.
Expecting Connie I was frightened of pain and embarrassment, now I know it’s the psychological battle which is toughest. Labouring lying down I feel assaulted, hopeless, a desperate victim of endless blows. Standing up I feel better, in control and on top. Even then, near the end, the contractions are a vice not just on my stomach but my mind. It cranks up anxiety and if I don’t take time to soothe myself the fear builds towards panic. Thankfully Garry is very good at counting down the time “Your nearly done, just 20 seconds to go “. But in the end it’s battle no one can fight for you. You have to keep telling yourself that you’re doing great, you’re getting through it, it will soon be over, you will soon meet your baby.