Tennis balls, Babies, Social Media, Female rights and all that jazz

If you get most of your news from Snapchat, then you already know about Serena Williams being awesomely pregnant. 

If you're like me, and distrust modern technology devoted to posting photos of yourself that's fuelled by the screams of people who inadvertently spy a Kartrashian... then you may get your news from other sources. 

"But blogging about yourself is fiiine!"

So it turns out Serena Williams - a woman already known for basically being an ass-kicking tennis Terminator - is expecting a child. Not only that, she was already pregnant when she won the 2017 Australian Open. She also did not drop a set. For those who don't speak fluent Tennis, it's important to note that dropping the set is not comparable to say, dropping the bass. You can drop the bass all you like, but don't you dare drop that set!

Where am I going with this? Oh yes. Something happened to a woman, now the world must have their say, damnit!

Sneaking backstage at the Lab Tour!

"You'll never guess where I've been!"

So last week, I took up the option that was offered to me at the IVF information night - a chance to go behind the scenes at the clinic itself and investigate their shady dealings with folk like me..

Wait, no, that was the previous week. This time it was honestly just to check out the techniques and so forth at the clinic.

I was able to drag hubby to it too... he initially wasn't keen, especially after work. I guess it's not exactly the hot nightlife we normally shun. 

There was a point where I was doubting if it was worth going but then I put my foot down because it's important that we're both involved in this process, I was curious about what we were going to see and I wanted to eat out at some of the nice restaurants out that way.

My working hours allow me time off to go to these things during the day but then I have to remember and explain things to hubby later on, or bury him alive under the tonnes of fascinating paperwork we have to absorb so I felt this was the kindest, easiest option. 

Let them Hulk Smash Cake!

Let them Hulk Smash cake?!

What am I talking about? Who turned all these tiny humans into Godzillas in a cake candy-land?!

Well, I'd never heard of it either but apparently it began in America and has grown in popularity over here in Australia too. 

What it is, is that you have your child basically wreck a cake on their first birthday for the cute factor, and you photograph them doing so. They don't even have to eat it, they can walk on it, throw it, nibble some icing, hell, they can sit in the darn thing if they wish. 

"...and I can make a huge mess with no repercussions?"

I'm only aware of it because one of my friends is doing one for their soon to be one year old. The funny thing though, is that it's sort of a PC Rule #34 that once you think about it, it's definitely as thing and it is everywhere because I have heard it name dropped in casual conversation at work and seen it in other media too. 

It's kind of clever, because it's probably the one time a parent will celebrate their child making an veritable mess of..... well, themselves for a start but potentially a floor or heck an entire room! Yet - these children are not likely to remember it and to recreate it at an older age. 

Mental Labour

So while I'm sitting here running on the treadmill of life, looking very much like the black bear thing in the image above this text, I suddenly find that my stress and anxiety levels are rising and though I try to fight it - I'm slowly losing, much like the chicken queen also in the above picture. 

I have always been an anxious, worrisome person. Which is interesting because most people mistake me for a sociopath, what with my charming lack of visible emotions. 

One time when I was doing a sort of work experience thing alongside my TAFE studies, the lady who co-owned the company was off work for about two days after having a child. 

Literally, she returned like straight away after a Cesarean. This I thought was kind of weird because she brought the baby to work with her, and considering it was also a place of study - I didn't think it was appropriate for the students because damn this kid liked to wail.