...when I don't have to wait 30 minutes in the humid sun for the bus to arrive. Or at the intersection. Or for the train. Or for my connecting bus to arrive. In a word, happiness is when I can make it from one side of town to the other in less than 50 minutes. (Since it only takes 25 minutes to ride a push bike from one side of town to the other, I don't think this is too much to ask. Is it?)

...when my husband cooks me dinner. Sleeping in next to him on a Monday morning (I love Mondays! The only day we both have off together.) And when he reads to me from 'that Book we all like to read' before we go to bed at night. Or offers me his second pillow so I can now sleep on three pillows in various positions. Happiness is when he gives me a foot rub even when I know he'd rather be doing something else.

...when I can remember all my characters and impress my teacher. On Tuesdays this can happen -- by Thursday, well, I'm not sure what goes on in that supposed brain of mine.

...when I put something in the oven and remember it's there before it burns.

...when the restaurant or shop has nice bathrooms. Albeit my standard for 'nice' has probably gone down. By 'nice' I mean, cleanish, has good light, and can be summed up in one word: McDonalds. (Meaning McDonald's has the nicest bathrooms in town...and KFC...wonder why? I hate supporting these establishments but sometimes, I just can't use the other bathrooms.)

...going to your favourite restaurant after months of not going and finding out it's still there!

...watching a dvd all the way to the end without it stopping, switching to Russian, or having a fat little Chinese man walk across the bottom of the screen several times -- actually just watching a dvd in English is happiness to me!

...discovering a really nice pool within 10 minutes walking distance from your house and having it predominately to yourself between the hours of 3:30 to 5:30 in the afternoon. I am not afraid to tan!

...sun -- it cures everything.

...Chinglish -- it never ceases to make me laugh.

...$2 hair washes and massages for under $5. If that's not reason to stay in China, I don't know what is.

...Chinese Ayi's (Aunties) who offer me all sorts of pregnancy and child rearing advice -- from the weird to the 'makes sense' -- but that's a whole other post right there. At least, I'm trying to convince myself of this one.

...the apartments we lived in since being here. Especially this one. Air conditioning. Couches that aren't made from wood. And it only took us one whole day to 'thoroughly clean' the entire place. Happiness is a thoroughly, spring cleaned, mould free apartment!

...playing with 'my kids' at the orphanage. Letting them rub my belly (ok...this is hard for me but happiness is seeing the look on their faces while they rub my belly...like some kind of magical thing has happened...it's weird). Hearing them try to use their English around me and patiently correcting my Chinese over and over and over... Happiness is trying to translate 'The Very Hungry Caterpillar' into Chinese...or is that hilarity?

...knowing that my children will see the world while they're still young and speak better Chinese than me. And probably eat stranger food than I have, like, oh, I don't know, say, duck tongue? And perhaps enjoy Durian. Although they will have to eat that outside.

...mis-matched dishes and recycled clothes -- because I am not afraid to use them.

...emails, facebook and blogs -- because I swear there's a rest of the world where they don't wear skin toned nylon socks with their sandals and short shorts because you can't see them or that the mullet hair-style is not still in fashion. And Christmas decoration most emphatically should not still be up in June (no matter how much more like Christmas, June feels than December).

...happiness is minimalisticism. I know that's not a word but I'm inventing it. It's a way of living without too much stuff. If it doesn't fit within the luggage limit, it doesn't come. If it doesn't fit into two boxes, it doesn't stay. If you buy something new, you give away something. If I can't answer 'Yes, I truly need that.' -- maybe, just maybe, I don't really need to get it this time. Again, another thing I'm working to convince myself of.

...when my Chinese friends want to go out for coffee or tea or some other un-caffeinated drink and actually talk about things that matter in life. No shopping.

...knowing that in 49 more sleeps, I'll see my family for the first time in four and a half years!

...knowing that in 20 something weeks, I'll meet my precious baby, face to face, for the first time.

We're doing fine, thank-you so much for asking. Now that I'm over the nausea (well except for that taxi ride two days ago) and the epic battle of pulling myself together emotionally everyday (knock on wood). Yes, the bubs and I are doing quite well actually.

We're 17 weeks now. We measure at 82 cm. We weigh about 51 or 2 kg. I'm guessing because I haven't weighed myself in a week -- the theory the gym has about air con and not turning it on or you won't sweat and then you'll die as opposed to the no air con so you will sweat so your body won't overheat and you won't die isn't panning out too well for me. Once I realize that my mantra during the yoga class was 'I'm not going to die...I'm not going to die...its only 40 more minutes...how could I ever survive the hot yoga class?!', I figured my gyms days could quite possibly be over. Its cooler for me to take a walk in the park in the morning and go to the pool and swim laps twice a week. Even though Chinese men in speedos are rather scary...especially with Hello Kitty on each butt cheek (Excuse me sir, would it be exceptionally rude of me to take a photo of your behind for my Wordless Wednesday post?)

16 weeks

I bought these Abercrombie and Fitch jeans from a thrift store in the States about a month before we left for China. Brand spanking new -- tags still on -- for only $2. Sure they were slightly too big (I had to adjust the buttons to make them stay up) but who can pass up an op-shop bargain like that?! Not me...its in my blood after all...at least three generations that I know of... Anyway, three months of living in China and I had to adjust the buttons for a second time...one year and they were way.too.big.

Now...both of us fit perfectly back into the original size! For some reason, I'm excited about that. Too bad its too hot to wear jeans now and I'll probably be to big for them by the time we get back to Australia...let me revel in my moment!

I look pregnant now. On a very over-crowded bus the other day, the bus driver made someone give up their seat for me. I thought I'd be at least 5 months pregnant before that happened. So I'm still not sure how I feel about that. However, I can't deny my clothes are getting too tight. I already wear the largest size when it comes to Chinese clothes and I'm not really emotionally ready to purchase those ugly Chinese maternity tents. My Chinese friend and I walked by a maternity store the other day and she said something along the lines of 'oh I guess you have to shop here now.' And then she stopped by the window to look at the clothes, turned to me and said 'please tell me you're not going to wear things like this.' So I'm in the process of 'up-cycling' my clothes. My skirts are becoming dresses/shirts. Add a belt and hey presto! I'm quite pleased with myself. Why should I purchase a tent when I can make my own?

So last week -- 16 weeks -- was the last time baby would be able to fit in a coffee cup. He/she is no longer able to hide very well in a pocket, let alone my stomach. This week, baby is the side of Daddy's hand from the tip of his point finger to base of his palm. Three more weeks and we're half way. I think we're decided on names although we're not going to tell anyone till bubs is born (in case I change my mind. There is a slight possibility that bub's will not look like either of the names we've picked out, you know.) We're both now realizing that making decisions for this baby's well being begins now -- our lives have already changed significantly. Our lifestyle, where we live, what we eat already affects our parenting choices...and it only gets bigger from here. And better. I think we're pretty excited, actually -- can't wait to meet you, Baby!

I'm back! So is summer, searing heat, and air con. Along with swimming pools, fat Chinese men in speedos (or heck, just their underwear -- what's the difference really?) and watermelon.

And fare thee well to the writer's block...I hope.

Here's a quick 'check in/check out' summary of our life in the minute:

* Only 56 days till we jump on a plane to Singapore and then another one to Cairns which means 58 more days till I see the family without a computer screen...and the food...(but who's counting?).

* Only 22 weeks and 3 days till bubs arrives (at least that's what the internet tells me. Although I still think 10/10/10 would be a much better birthday).

* Jason has changed all the photo stuff around on the computer to a new programme so I'll have to wait till he's home for me to put all my posts up now (not nice to change things like that on a poor pregnant woman with preggo brain).

* I have my husband back to a relatively normal schedule now -- I LOVE Mondays!

* My parents are coming to visit next year! (Its true what they say: If you make a baby, they will come...). I love you Air Asia!

* I've got serious 'nesting syndrome' and am unable to do anything about it other than peruse interior decorating blogs such as this.

*And finally for Cait: I can't understand much of what he's singing because its so jolly fast but in the back of my mind, I have this little fantasy that one day, I'd be able to play the violin like this...of course that would require me to be in the same country as my violin and to start lessons from scratch again but *sigh* we all can dream right? Bring your violin or cello when you come -- everyone will LOVE you for it! PS -- let's pretend that their band name isn't "Trampled by Turtles"...it just doesn't sound very manly to me.

I know, I know...its late and I haven't posted for a week. Simply put, I'm not inspired.

So what does this remind you of? Could it be?

Here's hoping the creative juices will start flowing again...soon...

So its Wordless Wednesday...and...I seriously am at a loss for words...not to mention pictures...

So I decided to turn it into Wanted Wednesday (just this once).

This is what I didn't get for mother's day (um, yes, apparently we're still in a gray area since the fruit salad itself isn't here to present me with the gift...). But there's always next year right?

Rock on, Papasan!

(Anyone for a trip to Guangzhou?)

In the beginning -- at about 7 weeks -- there was a relatively flat stomach

(even without much sucking in thereof).

About 47 kg (about 103lb). A tad under weight perhaps -- initial trouble with Chinese food will make your already slightly too big pants have issues. Ha! We'll see if I'm still recording my weight by the end of this...

After which...there wasn't much to look at until 12 weeks...

Being pregnant in China. Of course I've nothing to compare it to but my personal opinion is, its enough to make the most sanest of people doubt their sanity. Problem is, I'm not sure I'm the most sane person I know in the first place (I do live in China after all). So mostly these days, I feel like I'm grasping onto any possible piece of my mind I have left and holding it tight lest I forget where I put it (you found it where?).

Hey! There's a bump!

I walk to the bottom of the stairs and then back again to make sure I haven't left the keys in the door (because I can't ever find them in my purse the first time I look). I'd probably do it a second time except that we live on the third floor.

I check the oven is turned off before going to bed every night -- even if I haven't used it that day.

I have a reoccurring dream where I sit down and eat an entire 500ml of whipping cream by myself in one sitting -- they organic kind mind you. I'm partial to a particular brand that I can't remember the name of but I can see the box clear as day in my mind...the other reoccuring dream (although not so much of late) is where I eat an entire lobster tail after fighting another five people for it.

Last night, I walked by McDonalds -- which I haven't eaten at in over 5 years on principle let alone the fact their food is gross -- and began salivating over the Choc Mint McFlurries. McFlurries are new here and despite the fact I've never eaten a Choc Mint McFlurry anyway, somehow my mind began to engage in a war trying to convince myself that I had eaten one at some point and that I really needed to eat one because getting enough calcium here is a problem. Darn you "What to Expect" for telling me that ice cream serves as a serving of calcium -- do you really think anyone, let alone pregnant women need to be encouraged to eat more ice cream? Did it ever occur to you that one of your 'over 12 million copies sold' would be in a country with no decent ice cream. Ok I can get ice cream but its not good ice cream and wouldn't satisfy my craving for cream in the slightest. I'd just have to eat more...one giant downward spiral.

Jason saved the day. He took my hand and dragged...um...guided...more like dragged...me away (ok, ok, kicking and screaming). Tried to console me by reminding me I was holding a mango ice in my hand (that doesn't have anything other than mango and ice in it -- read: no cream) and that I'd regret it later...I forget the rest of the pep talk from then on out.

But the foreign import store, had cottage cheese the other day! I paid more than I ever have for cottage cheese -- much like the time I paid $30 for a jar of Vegemite during the great Vegemite Import Ban of '07 back in the USA. Only this time I paid about $5 for 100g of cottage cheese. Won't be doing that too often!

12 weeks:

added 2cm to the waist and about 1kg to the scale!

My calculations and the Baby Centre put me at 14 weeks now -- I need to take a new photo so I'll put up 'our' new stats later.

Oh the places you'll go!

Or, perhaps more aptly said, the things you'll do to pay for school...

Modeling for a real estate exhibition.

If a picture can paint a thousand words, how many pictures can be heard by only a few sentences?

I was going to use my lunch today to put up some photos of my fabulous belly -- yes I'm biased -- but I'm still dwelling on an incident from this morning.

On Saturdays, I go to the orphanage to teach English and play or do art with the kids. Once Jason's done with this group, he'll join me sometimes and we'll add sport to that mix. I've been working up there on and off for a year now. They call me 'Lachel Lǎoshi' (Teacher Rachel) because Chinese have a hard time pronouncing the "Rrr" sound especially in the South. They call Jason "Gāo Shu shu" (tall uncle).

The director is so stoked to have us. Most days, I'm left asking myself why -- I'm not a teacher, my Chinese is ok till I get around kids and find I don't know any of the words they commonly use (how come the first two books of Chinese don't cover subjects like 'glue' and 'action fighting figures'?), and I'm picking up bad pronunciation of the words I do learn because many of the kids have special needs that affect their speaking capabilities. A while back, I expressed this to the director and she explained that she wanted to expose the kids to a healthy family relationship (Jason and I) outside of what they were familiar with. Her dream is that many of them will group up to lead as normal a life as possible -- with or without disability. My dream is to show the world how it is to be gloriously married -- so it fits.

So I keep going. I love it and this semester, the director is letting me work with some of the children with HIV too. Aside from feeling slightly bad that I can't pronounce all their names, let alone remember them, we have a great time and I've discovered that stickers are the best communication tools in the world, from 4 to 10 year olds alike.

This morning, the director told me she wanted to come in and let the kids know I was pregnant. Now I can tell you I'm pregnant in Chinese but I couldn't explain it to a Chinese four year old for the life of me. So of course she began the usual explanation, that inside my stomach, I have a baby, and how my tummy's going to get bigger ("Lachel Lǎoshi is going to be fat?" "How fat?" "Will the uncle (that's what they call Jason) be fat too?"), and then I'm going to return to my parents home to have the baby and that I'll bring the baby to show them all when I get back to China. Fair enough explanation...all the little black heads, bobbing up and down, eyes as big as saucers at the thought of me being so "fat" in only a few months.

And then the director asked if they had any questions. Oh she had to go and do that didn't she?!

A small hand shot up at the back of the classroom. A four year HIV positive child asks, "Lachel Lǎoshi? Why are you getting a baby from your tummy and not from the orphanage?"

I have to admit I wasn't ready for that question. Fortunately the director being used to questions such as this was able to step right in and come up with an explanation that apparently appeased his curious little mind. What struck me though was that it was such a matter of fact statement for him. Why would one choose a baby in their stomach over picking one from the orphanage? Why wear the red shirt over the blue shirt? Why eat apples rather bananas when you like both?

I haven't an answer. I don't think I ever will. But I also don't think I'll ever forgot his serious little face with the furrowed brow that later wouldn't sit still and knocked the bag of 500 buttons off the table, all over the floor (why does it take longer to pick up 500 buttons when six under six year olds offer to help you?). How does one answer that? "Come my babies, I'll scoop you all up in my arms and take all 15 of you home with me!" I feel like Wendy and the Lost Boys...I'm not really capable of being everyone's parent.

I would like to adopt someday. Or join a Chinese foster family programme. Maybe not for a few years till we have life with our own baby figured out (does that ever happen, I wonder...). And hopefully, I'll never have to answer that heart-stopping, gut-wrenching question from a four year old who's come to except his lot in life of being parent-less with such matter of factness. To tell the truth, I now know its going to be a whole lot easier to answer the my own baby when he or she asks the normal "Where do babies come from?" question...