Category Archives: Sex

Furry Dragon Beast #2

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Sorry for the hiatus (more of that later.)! Last time we left Cricket she had managed to climb onto Hoot’s back and was flying on the back of her furry dragon beast!

…I rolled over and threw an arm up over his back and grabbed the biggest handful of flesh and fur I could and heaved. We teetered for a moment and then I felt Hoot crouch closer to the floor and then lift up slowly and I went with him!
I’M FLYING ON A FURRY DRAGON BEAST AND I WILL CONQUER THE WORLD!!

And then I was falling and I grabbed Hoot’s tail for support and dug my fingers in as hard as I could and suddenly he was hissing and I could see giant fangs and smell dead people and fish. My dragon beast had turned. The world was now a dark place. The floor boards rose up and, as always, my face smacked into them. A wail built up and exploded out in a wonderfully cathartic expulsion of sound and then Mum was like a Greek Goddess at the first all-gender, ancient Olympiad, running naked through the house, wet hair flying out behind her, faster than any naked woman you’ve ever seen. My Greek Goddess scooped me up and snuggled me in-between two wet boobs. FUN! I slapped the left one as hard as I could. Mum seemed a bit frazzled. I don’t know why.

Wet, naked, boob feeding is a bit slippy so it turns out and as I navigated the slippery-dip a realisation slowly dawned on me. (I don’t think I’ve ever had a realisation before, let alone a dawning one.) Hoot and I understood each other! We had a conversation with real words, not just PORK RIB emergency words. We were simpatico. I can speak furry dragon beast!! Who knew?! I gave right boob a victory slap. (Like punching the air, but funner.) Mum laughed, which made me laugh. I’m so glad she thinks boob slapping is fun too. I do it again, but harder this time. Mum sighs and puts me down. She’s such an enigma.
‘Can I go get dressed, or are you going to lose it again?’
You may go get dressed, mother. I have important discoveries to discover with my confederate.
She put me on my play mat and turned to leave, looking somewhat suspicious I thought, which was completely unnecessary.
I look around for Hoot. He’s asleep with his chin resting on my bouncer. I roll to get closer. I’m not close enough. I roll the other way. Now I’m even further away. I roll back again. I’m back where I started. I roll the other way. I’m further away. This is annoying.
Hoot.
He doesn’t move.
Hoot.
Nothing.
Hoot!
I think a whisker twitches.
HOOT!
What?
He didn’t even lift his head, but I can hear him!
Come and get me.
No.
Yes.
No.
Why not?

Hoot?

HOOT?!
What?
Come and get me!
No.
Why?

Hoot?

Hoot?
Not so bright, are you, kid? I’m not getting up.
Why not?
I’m busy. Besides I can get anywhere I want, what can you possibly do for me?
I think about that. I roll and I think. One way then the other until I have it.
Hoot?
What?
            I have opposable thumbs.

Hoot?

Go on…
            With your legs and my thumbs we could, you know, conquer the world. We could open things. Things with food inside.
Hoot lifts his head. He turns it to look at me. He looks me up and down.
You’re going to need to lose some weight, kid.
            Ok! … How?
Throw more food over the side of the highchair.
Ok!… Hoot?
Kid?
            Will you help me up?
Don’t push it.
And his head is back down on my bouncer and I think maybe I won’t push it, so I cry for mum instead and this time she’s running with clothes on, which isn’t nearly so exciting as Greek Goddess Mum with the bouncing boobies.

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Fortitude

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When we last left Cricket she was performing a concert with her bestie, Iris, while Saff introduced Grandma Willow to Mrs. Iris…

‘It’s so nice to meet you Willow. Saff’s told me a bit about your exciting life. Sounds wonderful!’
‘It has its moments that’s for sure, but it’s just so hard with this lot living over here, especially with my little Cricket-Wicket being so fabulous and growing so fast.’
Grandma picks me up and I squeal. I didn’t know I was FABULOUS!
‘Yeah, it would be hard. I don’t know what I’d do without my Mum to babysit.’
‘I don’t know what I’d do without your mum to babysit either!’ Mum said that and Grandma looked a bit miffed I thought.
‘Oh? So you get Tess’s mum to babysit Cricket, darling?’
‘Only a few times, but yes, she’s been so lovely to offer.’
‘Yes, of course. So you’re on mat leave too, Tess?’
‘Yep, but I’ll be going back soon unfortunately. I’m a makeup artist and worked casually and for myself before we got pregnant so I didn’t get any leave entitlements and I think it’s time to go back now.’
‘A makeup artist, that’s great. How’s it going, working for yourself?’
‘I’d only just started really when I got pregnant, so I’ll basically be starting over.’
‘Tess is almost 20 years younger than me Mum.’
Tess looked shocked. ‘Twenty?! No, not that much!’
‘Mmm, yeah, I think so. I’m 42 and you’re 23 aren’t you? That’s 19 years…’
‘Yes, right, wow. You don’t look 42.’
‘I feel it today.’
Mum put her hands on the bench and stretched her back out.
‘23! Goodness, it’s like the 1950s again. Was Iris planned, Tess?’
‘Mum! Oh my god, she has Tourette’s sometimes. Sorry.’
Mrs. Iris laughed and it sounded like happy, like finally finding a green sheep. ‘It’s fine! She sort of was and sort of wasn’t is the short answer.’
‘I think I need the long answer, dear.’
Mum banged Grandma’s coffee down on the floor next to her. ‘Mum, seriously, wow.’
‘There’s not really a long answer, but the medium answer is that I have quite severe endometriosis and my doctors told us it would take many years if we wanted to try and fall pregnant naturally so we started trying and fell pregnant three months later.’
‘Goodness, that must’ve been a shock! And it’s the opposite of Saffron’s story isn’t it?’
Because I’m plugged into Mum I could feel her heart hurt a bit. Not too bad, but a little tug, like when you fall over, but on your back, not on your face.
‘It was a bit of a surprise. A good one, of course. And I guess it is the opposite of what Saff went through. Sometimes I feel bad that she struggled for so many years and we tried for a few months and were lucky. It’s been a bit of an adjustment period, especially career-wise.’
‘Yes, but it’s a blessing really, I mean, you have all this time now, and you can have lots of children if that’s what you decide.’
When Grandma said that I felt Mum’s heart hurt much more than the first thing she said. Face-plant hurt this time. I stretch my arms up to her but she isn’t looking at me.
‘Yes, I guess that’s true.’ Tess looked at Mum funny. ‘So, will you guys try again do you think Saff?’
‘Well, yes, I think so. We’re actually starting the process now.’
Grandma stopped squeezing my knees to stare at Mum. ‘Really darling? That’s… I mean, that’s wonderful. I’m a bit surprised, but it’s just wonderful. When does it all start?’
‘Thanks Mum. Well, I think it might start now. If we can do the first bit quickly and get to the egg pick up stage then it’ll be really helpful if you’re still here.’
‘Well of course I’ll still be here if you need me to be. That’s such good news!’
‘Well, we’ll just see how it goes.’
Iris started slapping her leg and looking at Mrs. Iris. That means Iris gets to poo in her bucket! Life is so unfair. Mrs Iris jumped up and picked Iris up.
‘Saff, can I use the toilet?’
‘Of course hun, you don’t need to ask.’
Grandma looked very interested as Mrs. Iris took Iris off to the bathroom. ‘What’s this?’
‘Tess is doing elimination communication with Iris.’
‘Elimination communication?’
‘It’s basically toilet training from birth, it’s pretty amazing. It’s common practice in heaps of places across the world and is just starting to become better known in the west. If I had more fortitude I’d do it myself.’

WHAT DOES FORTITUDE MEAN? WHY DOESN’T SHE HAVE ANY?!

‘Toilet training from birth? Wow! I need to see this!’
Grandma scooped me up and ran with me to the bathroom. SQUEEEEEE! And there was Iris pooing in the toilet LIKE A REAL PERSON!! Mrs. Iris was holding her above it and she was POOPING INTO IT! Ohhhhh how I wanted Grandma to hover ME over the toilet too! I went berserk in her arms to let her know.
‘You like that, do you, Poppet? It is pretty cool, isn’t it? Maybe you and I can try it while I’m here, what do you think?’
Oh Grandma, how I love thee.

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I’m a Human Being – part three

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We’ve come to the end of the story of Cricket’s birth. Had you in suspense, right? Here’s where we left off last time…

…I could hear the womb-doctor asking Dad if he wanted to cut the cord.

You what, now?

CUT THE CORD??! I thought they wanted a live baby? This is worse than a Shakespearian tragedy. Maybe they didn’t realise Placenta had to come with me? They’d never done this before after all.

Here’s what happened:

I unwedge a hand just long enough to grab a big handful of Bungee and sling it around my neck a few times. There, that should show them how attached I am to Placenta.

Suddenly the womb doctor starts pulling and tugging at me way too hard. This is very alarming and my neck is starting to feel a little bit… constricted. Mum’s whole body is being rocked from side to side and she’s locked eyes on Dad as if he’s the only person in the room, but he isn’t. And now there’s one more. The womb doctor called in another womb doctor to help her and now she grabs one side of me and he grabs the other and they obviously think I’m perforated down the middle because they’re pulling me in opposite directions.

I’M NOT A ROLL OF PAPER TOWEL, I’M A HUMAN BEING! I squawk through my rapidly closing esophagus. But all that comes out is a squishy sounding wah-wah-wah and I get my first, bitter taste of the crushing disappoint that is baby language.

The womb doctor is sweating now and her accomplice is swearing. This is a cardinal sin in hypno-butter-birthing. You basically have to abandon that baby and start over if that happens.

Dad had long ago abandoned the camera and is holding onto Mum’s face as if his life depended on it and just as I’m about to faint, I see a giant silver claw aimed right at my face.

SPARE MY EYEBALLS! I yell, as I swim in and out of consciousness.

None of this is what I prepared for, especially being drawn and quartered and the face-eating claw of death. Maybe I shouldn’t have been quite so… resistant. But suddenly, there’s a pop and air floods in and my head is poking out of Mum’s insides! And I can see! Sweet Jesus they spared my eyeballs! Look!, there’s Mum’s small intestine! And then another big tug and the rest of me is out and I feel like someone air-dropped me in the arctic with no snowbooties and everyone is shouting, but through the glare of the lights someone lifts me high in the air and I see her face and there’s not a hypno-butter class in the world that could’ve prepared either of us for that moment. “You’re safe”, she said to me, with tears streaming down her face. “You’re mine”, I said to her. Then someone wrapped me in a scratchy towel and I’m plonked in Mum’s face and I squish her nose with my hand and then I’m whisked off to the other side of the room where we were all going to sit and have a civilized discussion about Placenta coming home with us, attached to me, where she’s supposed to be.

Placenta got left behind. They told me she’d go to a loving home, but that she couldn’t come with us because Mum and Dad had only ordered one baby and that was me, Cinnamon Cricket. It was my first bone-crushing disappointment in this life. Goodbye Placenta, fare thee well.

The rest wasn’t so far removed from how a hypno-butter-birth is supposed to go. I did get to put my bare skin body on Mum’s bare skin boob and I did find my own way to that colossal. It was ok. Cake is better. And then I slept for three days while Mum bled and cried and Dad drank whiskey and cried and the room filled up with flowers and people and the nurses gave Mum gianter and gianter pads until she disappeared under a mountain of cotton wadding and giant basketball boobs. And oh how the milk flowed. It was pretty cool.

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I’m a Human Being – part two

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We last left Cinnamon Cricket telling us the story of her birth. She was two weeks overdue and had decided she was never ever coming out…

But suddenly we were sitting in the womb doctor’s room and Mum was being told they were doing a caesarian the next day. Scarlett had looked up caesarian in the manual and she said it’s the opposite of being born serenely by a deer in a forest. That didn’t sound good to me. When we got home Mum sobbed into Dad’s best work shirt for three hours. Frankly, I thought it was a bit selfish of her. I mean, wasn’t this whole birth experience meant to be about me?

A caesarian is the exact and total opposite of a butter birth. In a hypno-butter-birth there’s supposed to be low lighting, no sound, and hardly anyone in the room when you slide out. The first voices you’re supposed to hear are your mother and father’s. You’re supposed to slide out of that canal with no pain and then be held against your mother’s naked skin with Bungee held higher than your heart at a 48.7 degree angle for three minutes, or as long as it takes for Bungee’s blood to drain into you and not be wasted in the rubbish bin. Then you’re supposed to go immediately (quicker, if possible) onto your mother’s bare skin boob with your bare skin body and get on that boob sucker and drink the colossal.

But we didn’t do that. Instead, Mum got into a white gown and was bundled onto a white bed with wheels and got wheeled into a very white room with LIGHTS AND BUTTONS EVERYWHERE! Then the doctor next to the womb doctor got out the biggest needle you’ve ever seen that goes in Mum’s SPINE and Dad got escorted out because apparently Dad’s can’t deal with seeing giant needles in their beloved’s spines.

Then it really got interesting. The womb doctor CUT MUM’S TUMMY OPEN AND I WAS IN THERE!!! By this time Dad was allowed back in and he had the camera poised and ready because the womb doctor told him it was all about to happen really fast… Except now I’ve got stage fright… and I’m not coming out. Ever. Now Mum’s tummy is open I can feel a VERY cold draft coming in and the lights are very bright and there are too many voices and I think maybe a life on the stage isn’t for me after-all. There’s only one thing to do. I spread my arms and legs out as wide as I can and hold on for dear life. Dear, sweet, womby, placentary life.

Scarlett had told me that on the outside you couldn’t take Placenta with you. I didn’t believe her obviously, because that would be ridiculous, how can you live without Placenta? I ADORE Placenta. Placenta is my only friend. But now I could hear the womb-doctor asking Dad if he wanted to cut the cord.

You what, now?

CUT THE CORD??! I thought they wanted a live baby? This is worse than a Shakespearian tragedy. Maybe they didn’t realise Placenta had to come with me? They’d never done this before after all.

Here’s what happened:

Stay tuned for part three!

 

 

 

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I’m a Human Being – part one

smiling_baby_girl_cartoon.pngCinnamon Cricket reminisces… 

I’m going to tell you the story of my birth. Apparently talking about disappointing and traumatic things helps you let them go. Firstly, I saw no birth canal. This is of extreme disappointment to me. In hypnobirthing, the only thing the mums talked about for months was the birth canal and how they were going to just breathe us out of that canal. They’d all lie on the floor on puffy cushions with us all stuck up awkwardly in the air under giant stretchy pants and breathe and sigh and imagine us sliding down that birth canal as if we were a stick of butter and that canal was a hot stovepipe.

Scarlett told me they were all kidding themselves because we’re not butter, we’re babies and babies have skulls like basketballs, made out of cement. Scarlett knew everything there was to know about being born because she had an older sister who was in the womb-room before her and left the instruction manual behind. Scarlett said her sister got stuck in the canal and they had to send in a crane with a giant claw attached to pull her out, and her mum screamed and yelled instead of breathed and sighed and her sister came out looking like a squashed eggplant.

But I wasn’t scared of the crane with the claw, I still wanted to whiz down that big slide like a hot stick of butter. Mum and I imagined it all the time. She’d sit on the couch with cushions all around and put her hands on her big tummy and tell me what we were going to do when the time came for me to be in the big-girl-world. She said we were going to bounce on the ball and drink hot tea and dad would massage our back and there would be NO PAIN and we’d all smile and love each other and we’d do that until the very last minute before dad drove us sensibly to the hospital with our birth music on the CD player and mum doing soft breaths like a graceful deer giving birth in a field of flowers in a forest under a rainbow.

Except that didn’t happen. Nothing happened. We waited and waited and imagined and imagined and all that happened was Mum got fatter and fatter and I got bigger and bigger. And the fatter Mum got, the less serene she felt and the bigger I got, the smaller the womb-room was and I felt less like a hot stick of butter and more like a rhinoceros in a snuggie.

On day 41, Mum ate vindaloo and I hiccoughed for seven hours straight. On day 46, Mum ate jalapenos in raspberry swirl ice-cream and I kicked for Australia. On day 54, Mum got stuck on the couch and dad had to come home from work to rescue her. It was that day I decided that no matter what, I wasn’t coming out. I’m not sure what changed my mind, maybe it was being stuck on the couch watching TV and snacking from my food Bungee – it was comforting, you know?

Stay tuned for part two…

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Ode to Boobs

From the vault. Because boobs.

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Boobs. Angel Cakes. Gazongas. Cupcakes. Breasticles. Funbags. Knockers. Zingers. Baps. Bouncers. Bazooms. Girls. Norks. Ta-tas. Cha-Chas. Bongos. Rib Ticklers. Pillows. Peepers. Watermelons. Gob Stoppers. Milk Cans. Muchachas. Mams. Yams. Loblollies. Butterballs. Hooters. Humdingers. Boobs.
Boobs are cool.
Boobs have pizzazz.
Boobs see the world just before everyone else does.
Boobs have magic and mystery.
Boobs belong.
Boobs create scandal.
Boobs feed the world.
The world!
That’s when they hum.
You don’t believe me?
Next time it’s quiet put your ear to the wind. You will hear a steady sound. Like a whispery wail or a looping tale. Quiet as a sigh and clear as the sky, the feeding boobs are singing. They’re lulling and trilling and jiggling and spilling. And all the babies in all the world understand the joy they are giving. So sing back, if you dare, when night time looms, and see what happens when you charm a big bouncing pair of bazooms.

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The Day My Labia Exploded

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Turns out that Mamamia liked my article after-all. It’s about exploding labia, how could they not? They did edit the beginning a fair bit, so the comments about an aspersioned-againgst fallopian tube unfortunately no longer make sense, but that’s ok, you still get the drift! It starts thusly:

I think a part of me always knew I would end up on a long and winding road to motherhood. I never had much faith in my bits.

I had horrendous periods from age 13 that lasted weeks on end. I’ve had Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome for the past 14 years, and I didn’t meet my true love (happy sigh) until I was 34.

I was almost 36 when we started trying to get pregnant. Six months later we were told we needed to do IVF

I barreled my way through IVF, assuring all and sundry, including myself, that I was fine, it was fine, and I had no idea why anyone ever complained about IVF.

That included when I got Ovarian Hyperstimulation Syndrome (yes yes, I do love a good syndrome) and basically felt like a cow with giant internal udders. Turns out I had 40 follicles. 40. That’s a lot.

The upside of strung out ovaries is that we got a lot of eggs and a decent amount of viable embryos. We did three unsuccessful rounds of IVF and that was what brought my ‘I’m fine’ mantra crashing down around me, from which I didn’t recover for almost two years.

They were about to try IVF again, when it happened

That was two years ago, almost to the day. I’m now 40 and time is seriously a-waistin’. There’s no more time for breakdowns, so we recently started again by doing another round.

We used two more of our precious embryos and again had no success. I cried non-stop for days. I’m thinking this is probably much more healthy than my previous lock-jawed railing against my emotions.

Then, last month, as we were about to try again…

My labia exploded.

Allow me to explain.

You can read the rest here!

 

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