I know Kegels keep it real

Boy do I know I should have done more Kegels.

In ante natal classes they teach you how to strengthen your pelvic floor. Kegels may sound like a funky type of breakfast bagel but really are the secret weapon in a woman’s post pregnancy arsenal.

Needless to say, I didn’t pay much heed to the lovely but rather batty midwife who tried to steer me onto the path of lifelong bladder control.  Sure enough, karma came and bit me in the arse (close enough) by blessing me with 2 rather large babies who took great pleasure in trampolining on my pelvic  flaw floor.

I did squeeze in the early days. I even accepted my OBG’s invitation to trial their new fandango machine that would vibrate my floor back into pre-pregnancy shape. Unfortunately, the experience was akin to spending 20 mins sitting on a church pew that was being pummelled from underneath by a Jack hammer.  With 2 smalls in tow and a hefty fee per session, I gracefully declined further sessions. I can squeeze for free after all. The DIY job can be done all day,  anywhere. Sssshh – no one will know!  Unlike some of the very interesting contraptions I found on google this morning after a “Kegel” search. I won’t elaborate. I get too many dodgy hits on my site already.

Anyway, it’s a shame I’m no good at follow through. Now as I sit here, suffering a horrendous cough, I’m wishing I’d made the investment in the jackhammer-floor-saver. Imagine the money I could have saved on the millions of boxes of Tenas I see stacking up in my future.

I'm here all ready!!!

Young ones take heed and squeeeeeeze! Do what your midwife says and do those Kegels.

Linking up with Yay for Home’s Things I Know.




Images ( & some actual sensible tips on Kegels) from Daisy Chain Maternity


Little Big Man


This little man has it all sorted out. He reckons he knows what life is all about. When he grows up he wants to:

  • be a brick layer like his daddy (over his parent’s dead bodies)
  • be a rockstar (that’s more like it!)
  • get married and have his own kids so he can be the “boss” (obviously his father’s delusions of grandeur are rubbing off)

This afternoon on the way home we were discussing how one of  his pre-prep teachers is going to have a baby soon. It’s always rather enlightening discussing the pregnancy/birth process with Will. It’s not a new topic, having had several pregnant carers at daycare and of course having a baby brother. For me it’s a discussion fraught with peril as my rather astute little boy can tell when things don’t add up and is very good at asking hard-hitting questions. Forget being a rock star, I foresee a career in journalism.

As a result, I’ve been fairly candid in telling him about the facts (leaving out the actual copulation part, of course) and this afternoon’s conversation hit a few of his most favourite highlights – the egg, the baby eating and pooping “inside” and of course how the baby eventually “pops” out.

I still have scars from the discussion that surrounding the grand finale. I will never forget him asking “If girls bits do that, then what is my willy good for?”

Oh good lord. Luckily he let it rest when I told him he’d find out when he was bigger.

Today he declared that he had a “daddy tummy” which is apparently pretty useless as opposed to a mummy tummy.  This really got him thinking and the rest of the conversation went something like this:

Will: When I get bigger and find a mummy of my own to marry, I’ll miss you (also a common theme)

Me: I’ll miss you, too but we will still see each other

Will: I promise I’ll tell you where we live so you can come & have sleep over holidays

Me: I hope you live near the beach then

Will: I hope so, too. But maybe the mummy I marry will choose somewhere else to live…

Me: speechless!

How does he come up with this stuff? And why didn’t I get the memo that the mummy gets to choose where we live? Pack your bags kids we are moving to the beach!!

What little gems do your kids come out with? What do they want to be when they grow up?