A Romance of Roses

It is one of my dreams to go to Turkey when the roses are blooming. I dream of walking amongst endless rose fields and throwing myself into the sheds of roses where they distill the oils. I can imagine few greater joys.
While I'm waiting to visit Turkey, I take the kids to the Morwell Rose Garden, and while there aren't exactly fields of roses in all directions, the roses are spectacular and the scent of them clouds around you and drifts over you and you can walk through numerous rose beds and rose draped pavillions in a delightful dream. The kids love running down the paths and climbing the walls (ahem) and I walk around joyfully, taking photos. I've tried to narrow the photos down, with little luck. I am afraid I am a rose addict. They are all so beautiful, the scent so intoxicating.
Luckily, my Sprocket left his toy behind, so we're going back tomorrow.

The problem, of course, is that I have a tendency to go - this rose is stunning. It really would look beautiful in my garden. I am trying to avoid (another) trip to the nursery. Particularly the specialist rose nursery near us. I know the best time to get roses is in winter when they're bare-rooted, but just look at them! The gardens around us are also full of beautiful blooms at present, which we always pause and admire. I am exceptionally happy with my own garden, and not a day has gone by this past fortnight when I haven't commented to my Beloved, 'have I mentioned how glorious my roses are?' to which he tends to reply 'not today' or 'not this hour.'

Are you a rose addict? Is there a cure?

Swoon - fiction & reality (okay and a bit of a whine!)

I've read a lot of books where female characters swoon or pass out with great effect at pivotal moments. The fiestier characters tend to only be be pretending to faint to gain their own nefarious aims. Lesser, irritating characters swoon at inopportune moments to cause great inconvenience to all. Characters often fall gracefully to the ground on hearing horrific news. 
All of which tends to make me cranky. 
I faint quite a bit. Not yearly, not even every second year, but enough that I'm always a little bit worried, and that I have very vivid memories of exactly what it feels like - at least for me. 
I am considering having one of my most adventurous, hard-talking protagonists (male or female, I'm yet to decide) faint, just so I can finally read a description that seems vaguely accurate. 
The first time I fainted I was about thirteen and went on a school 'fun' run and then had a violin lesson which involved lots of standing and the teacher shouting at me, while I found it increasingly hard to take in what she was saying. Hot and clammy, the edges of the world started blurring, and then the teachers rather large face (or possibly just overly close to mine) took on a greeenish tinge, and then became entirely green, and dappled, and she turned into a toad. 
And I woke up to find myself lying on the floor. 
I managed to avoid fainting for quite a few years, although remained prone to dizziness. For awhile I tended to dizziness after giving blood, but then I was banned from giving blood as I lived in Britain for more than six months in the eighties. When I could give blood, they often refused to take it, as my blood pressure was too low. 
And then pregnancy. So far I've fainted at least once with each pregnancy, and multiple times with the first two. 
The stupid thing is, I know exactly what causes it: Not enough water, not enough breakfast and standing up too much. 
The first time I was doing teaching rounds and stood in the gym through two periods of kids doing activites. I think I ate breakfast: I assume it came up . Again; losing track of what's going on, the clamminess, the non-comprehending, the blackness around the edges - and out for the count. 
Some months later - first day at a new job, in a hurry, skipped breakfast - and... out for the count. 
The first faint with the Poppet was dramatic as it was in the International Airport, just as we were heading off for our Big Trip. The rush of getting to the airport on time, not enough breakfast, standing in queue for our bags to go through... and yep... same old same old. But this time I staggered away to find a seat, got separated from my Beloved and dizzily lost in the airport. I can't quite remember if the Sprocket was strapped to my tummy, but I do remember it wasn't fun. The second was just at a Sunday market - hot day, lots of walking, not enough breakfast - and... here it comes again... 
Of course, the thing that reminded me was... fainting again... 
This time, in a shopping centre, with the Poppet having a tantrum over being denied the pink-princess-skateboard-she-can't-live-without. This time, I worked out a few minutes in advance what was happening. When the clamminess, blurred vision, dizziness, nightmare-vibe struck, I had a fair idea what was happening. I lunged for the Poppet, grabbed her, plonked us both on the floor and looked desperately around for someone to look after her while I was blacked out. Luckily, there was someone both calm and capable close by, who promised not to let Poppet run away and get lost (probably with a pink-princess-skateboard for ease of mobility) and, assured Poppet was safe... yep, all went black again. Everyone was very helpful. The staff of the shop brought me water and helped me to a chair when I recovered enough . But it was scary, distressing, and more than a little humiliating, to have to ask for help, being sprawled in the aisle of a shopping centre.
And all because in the rush of getting the kids ready for kindy I hadn't eaten or drunk enough. A finely calibrated system and low blood pressure can really suck. 
I read a lot of fantasy. Amazing characters doing amazing feats, without food, sometimes for days (hours seems long to me) and they're perfectly fine. They function. They even - gasp - skip breakfast. Let alone second breakfast. (Maybe I'm part Hobbit?) 
Just once, I'd like to read of a hero (male or female) fainting because, you know, they've forgotten to drink enough water or run out of the house without breakfast before that gruelling twelve hour training session or mad life-or-death dash through the forest or fate-of-the-kingdom-in-the-balance-horseride. 
But looks like I'm going to have to write it! 

Weekly Stills

-Baby Scan for baby three - due next May!
-Me - trying on my wedding dress - twelve weeks pregnant. I was seven months pregnant at my wedding, but having lost weight with morning sickness and being at my lightest since pre-kid times, I wanted to see how much it needs taking in. Quite a lot!
-Beautiful rose in the front garden. The last twelve weeks have been miserable - sinusitis and then morning sickness - the roses coming out have seemed like a promise that better times are ahead. Please...
-Silkworms at my Sprocket's kindy. When I looked at them four hours earlier there were vast quantities of mulberry leaves - which they chomped through voraciously. I love the interesting things they do at the Kindy - there always seems to be something new and interesting.
-Some of the goodies at the stall my mum was manning on the weekend. Everything is made in East Timor and the profits all go to the region of Same.
-Poppet - checking out the world from a different angle.
-White roses on a red brick wall.
-Lavender and roses on a sunny spring afternoon - perfection. This is the lavender bush my Sprocket haunts, studying bees. He's been stung multiple times, but it doesn't put him off. I have explained how the poor bee dies when it stings... but the temptation to stick his nose closer is too strong!
-Bed. Where I want to be 24/7 at the moment. My Beloved has suggested that my extreme exhaustion may be caffeine withdrawal as well as morning sickness - I don't know. All I know is I would happily sleep for a couple of centuries... and then a few decades more!

Joining with the lovely Em over at The Beetle Shack for moments from our week.

43/52

Poppet - Blowing on a dandelion clock
Sprocket - in the sandpit at kindy - displaying his newest tree-climbing war-wound... 

Once again joining with the lovely Jodi at Che and Fidel for a portrait of my children, once a week, every week (nearly) in 2013.

Wedding Dress...

My Beloved and I celebrated our fifth wedding anniversary recently(ish). It sort of disappeared in a haze of sickness. I believe we ordered takeout. But there was sunny weather, and the morning sickness means that for the first time in a long time I'm back to my pre-kids weight (almost) - but anyway, it occurred to me to try on my wedding dress again.
Which is strange, because the thing about my wedding dress is that when we got married I was seven months pregnant. However, I wanted to see how much it needs to be taken in again if my Poppet decides to wear it for her wedding or my Sprocket's future spouse decides on it, or if I decide to wear it for our ten-year -anniversary/sort-of-second-wedding/but-not-so-chaotic-when-I'm-not-gigantically- pregnant-and-can-drink-champagne.
I always knew that I wanted to wear the dress my mum and her mum wore. It's changed a lot since my grandmother wore it.

 My Granny, Valerie East, Marrying George Yule

                                                                                                                                          

 Granny and Grandad in the garden on their Silver Wedding Anniversary

When Granny wore it, it had a little Peter Pan collar and long sleeves. When Mum married, the dress was posted over to England.

Mum, in Cambridge. The Peter Pan collar had gone and the sleeves had been shortened.

I tried it on periodically through all my teen years, and although there was a gorgeous Edwardian dress my Great Granny had worn that I occasionally considered, I loved that this dress had been worn by my mum and my grandmother, and that we were all the firstborn, eldest girls.
Of course, I knew when my beloved and I started trying for a baby shortly after we announced our engagement, that the dress might not fit quite so well with a baby bump. But in my (enormous) naievety I expected a. The baby would be instantly conceived and therefore born before the wedding - and that I would instantly shrink back to pre-baby size. and b. even if I was pregnant for the wedding, I would have a gorgeous little bump, while the rest of me stayed the same size.
Um. No.  While yes, I was sick during the first twelve weeks, after that I was radiantly healthy... and hungry.  Very, very hungry. Forget eating for two, I ate for three or four. The seamstress worked a miracle to get the dress to fit, and I will be forever grateful.
The dress is shorter now - material was taken from the hem to increase the sides, the neck made yet lower. The bust is considerably larger. To resize it will take a bit of work. (You might notice in the photo at the top that my hand is behind my back, pulling the dress in, and that the material is quite lose around the bust...) But it means so much that I wore the family dress, and I can't help hoping, just a leetle bit, that my Poppet wears it someday too. (Although of course if she decides to never marry or wear something entirely different that's fine too!)