Friday 22 May 2009

Tieing shoelaces and hoovering

The seventh month or 32nd week of pregnancy is here and I am now feeling every minute of those weeks both mentally and physically. At the minute I cannot;
a. Tie my shoelaces.
b. Paint my toenails.
c. Admire the new waxed regions I now own!?
d. Bath the bubble, unless I'm in it with her.(And then there's no room for her...)
e. Wear trousers who's ingredients list don't contain 99.9% lycra.

However, I can;
a. Flop on the sofa at 7pm and feel like I've run a marathon even if I haven't.
b. Read endless stories to the bubble whilst she rubs my belly and not feel guilty about the dishes.
c. Guilt trip himself into hoovering the house from top to bottom.
d. Cry whenever I want and not have to give a particularily sensible reason to himself- 'it's just my hormones...'
e. Watch my little bubble with so much more admiration and love than ever before. I think it's the hormones again....

However, I can do these things, but really I shouldn't;
a. Think about when number three will come along...... twos' plenty for now. Yea right, who am I kidding I really want to supply the NI football team with 50% of their players.
b. Dream about bringing this one- also a girl, I just know it- home to live with us.
c. But when I do point b. I think of the 24 or 48 or maybe even 72 hours before hand and scare the s**t out of myself.
d. Smell the bottle of witch hazel chilling in preparation for being needed in my fridge. I wretch every time, time travel back two and a half years, remember the bruising and pain, feel sick and shudder, but only for a second before the butterflies appear and I feel very excited and grateful again.

As I sit here and type, the bubble is sitting in the window watching Mr Tumble who is learning her sign language. She's such a star. Smart and loving. I can't wait until her little sis (or brother if my instincts are wrong) it sitting beside her and I'm still on this seat typing about the two little stars I've got.

Tuesday 12 May 2009

what a difference a day makes

Yesterday evening I felt exhausted, emotionally unstable, cross with myself that I had been horrible to my mum and very angry with her stupid partner. The bubble wouldn't go to sleep, the dishes were abandoned and i went to bed feeling low.
This evening I feel five million times better and I owe it all to an old mate i fell upon on facebook. At tech 5 years ago we were unseperable, I lived in her house during the week, rent free and cruised along the two years of media studies in her pocket- and her in mine.
With tech finished she went down her editing road, I down the writing path and one not so long motorway seperated us.It was the same as when I left high school, I left the friends behind me and never saw them again. With C it was the same, but thanks to the wonder of tinternet, I have spent tonight ichatting to her and catching up. shes getting married on halloween night (so her) she's just bought her first house and she got a credit on a film that got a bafta!
So this evening, the dishes are done, bubble is asleep from half eight and I am now gonna totter off to bed happy that I found a friend again, who A. doesn't work with me or B. doesn't belong to my own or his own family.
My very own friend, remade all by myself!

Monday 11 May 2009

down, down, down

I had truly forgotten how a depressing day during pregnancy with lots of tears totally wrecks you. Well it does wreck me anyway.
On second thoughts it's probably the vast quantity of work my brain has been doing today trying to convince myself that my mother is not as big a fool as she really is and that her 'partner' (real name should be conniving money grabbing bas**rd) doesn't deserve to be knocked down by a bus tomorrow morning- one that I have miraculously learnt to drive....which in fact he does.... maybe even tonight... but then that would involve jail and my life is much more important than spending it in jail all over him.

KEY POINT- just entered into my brain- Here is another excellent reason why I deserve my lotto numbers to come up. Besides the A3 Sportback with black suede interior and black roof cloth. A hitman- I don't need to do jail at all, all I need is enough money for a hitman. And a good one at that, one that can seek out baldy bast**ds.

Oh that felt good.
These words are for you, you prick...I may sound like a pregnant looney- well I am- but I'm one million times the person you will ever be.
Ha.
Rant of sorts over, I don't feel quite as bad now for loosing the plot earlier during work, where my workmates must have thought I'd gone slightly mad.