Hello everybody. I hope you are all well.

Michele is well and truly into her second trimester this month. 14 weeks and one day, to be precise.

This morning, she roused me from my wonderful sleep at 6AM with her Nokia alarm and said to me:

“Babe, could you iron my uniform for me?”

Silence.

Now when a man doesn’t answer his wife’s demands, it either means No, No or No. It’s just a man’s way of saying ‘No’. ‘No’, I don’t want to do it. ‘No’, it’s annoying when you ask me at odd times of the day and ‘No’ I won’t take the rubbish out either.

Rice crackers, Oreos, chocolate chip cookies...it's a pantry, not a bedside table!

Truth is Michele hates ironing, and I won’t turn to ironing any sooner than watching Australian Football, but hey if your pregnant wife wants something, she had better get it or she’ll crack it. As many married men would say, a happy wife is a happy life!

Since the joyful discovery of our impending parenthood, Michele and I have learnt to cope with physical and emotional changes that seem to plague all new parents. So many new feelings, hopes, fears and questions.

Is that going to be safe to eat? Would she be getting enough nutrients? How are we going to cope with our finances next year? You look ill, are you ill? Do you want to rest? Have you taken your folic acid? You just threw up again, have you taken more fluids?

Then there’s the changes in our lifestyle.

Apart from a belly that’s already beginning to show, Michele doesn’t look any bigger at all. Still my same, sexy babe :O However I find myself having to slow my walking pace to a crawl to accommodate her. With an additional six kilogrammes of weight and a little bubba sucking her life force out of her, Michele’s often out of breath and gets tired easily. And until we get ourselves a car (we’re probably the only Aussie family without a car, ever.), we’re resigned to travelling by foot or public transport. And that means more walking.

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