My labour ward menu

One of the things that keeps me going at the moment is food. Not the food I’m eating now, but the food I’m planning to eat, when the pregnant rules and days of gestational diabetes are behind me .

It looks like its gonna be a Caesar (and no, not the salad) . And apparently it’s light diet for 24 hrs? Blah. When that light goes green to eat? To start, here’s what needs to be brought to me in hospital:
(and don’t bother telling me I won’t feel like eating. In a slightly less eloquent take on WB Yeats, You can’t trample on my dreams, people ).

1. Champagne. Piper heisdeck or veuve cliquot first , then a nice Grant burge. Yes I know, breast feeding. But it’s all in the timing, people.

2. Sushi and sashimi platter. Oh god what I wouldn’t give for these neat parcels of fishy goodness with a nasal clearing wasabi blast.

3. Soft cheese. A nice blue, and a washed rind. Pref French ….Ocellos, surry hills, if you’re wondering where you need to shop.

4. Chocolate. Fine quality. Milk. Truffles . Whatever. Quality. Volume.

5. Fresh prawns n oysters. Then stand aside.

6. A strong macchiato

7. Banoffee pie. You know who you are.

8. Prosciutto and salami. Complete with its listeria risk, nitrates, over salted over fatted happiness.

9. Smoked salmon, a decent chicken pate. Not together.

10. A RARE steak. A pregnancy nono. I believe hub-in-boots’ slightly wrong phrase is just wipe the cow’s ass and send it over. It kills me to eat nice meat cooked well. The things I do for you, Gumby.

11. Hot chips. Fat ass ones. Salty. Preferably served in A big basket lined with a paper serviette.

12. Yum cha (dim sum). If you really love me you’ll organise a five trolley circuit through recovery, complete with incomprehensible waitresses.

13.to be continued. For quite a while. Basically this list is in my head 24/7 at the moment. We might develop this into a two week from hell menu planner.

…Though posting about food is killing me today. We went to a wedding last night…a NINE HOUR OUTING to be exact. So much food I was moaning all through the drive home, even though I pretty much ate half of each course and passed the rest to hub-in-boots. I thought my belly would burst.. It physically hurt! There doesn’t seem to be room in there for a 4 course meal and a gumby. Stretching. Ugh. Sadly I had to sit out the Bollywood dancing (amazing), the wines etc, but I had fun finally meeting people from hub-in-boots work and being out, and I was still able to appreciate the incredible saris & suits from the Indian ‘ ‘brides side’ of the wedding. They were like glittering christmas baubles, dark butterflies, all sparkles and colour. I wish I took photos of them for you! Below is a bad one of the bride’s back, and us after the long long day.

One of the guys from hub -in-boots’ work had the Bollywood dancing down pat in a few simple steps. Here’s how to fake Bollywood dancing for dummies:

Step 1: with one hand held up, pretend you’re screwing in a lightbulb.

Step 2: at the same time, ‘pat the dog’ with your other hand. If you’re feeling fancy you can chuck in a hip wiggle here.

Step 3: when you need variety, switch from the lightbulb to pointing to ‘that guy over there’. Don’t forget to keep patting the dog.

Step 4: you’re stressed about remembering the steps. So pray. Hold your hands in a prayer position then emphasise your memory loss by shrugging your shoulders.

Step 5: back to the lightbulb