Tuesday, 24 April 2012

For he is my love

So I hauled myself upstairs to bed.

It had been a long day and I was looking forward to cosying up in bed with my Steve who, although slightly ill, was in that lovely stage of poorliness where he was no longer throwing up or disgusting but still retained the slight vulnerability and cuddlability of a sickee.

Yep, I would scooch into bed and cuddle up with my boy with my little baby boy kicking away inside my belly and drift off to slumber feeling happy and lovely.

I practically skipped into the bedroom.

Steve was sat up in bed with a pen and paper, he smiled at me.

"Now Liv, did we do it in Newcastle on that weekend we stayed there on the way up to Edinburgh?"

I blink at him.

He continues.

"What? I'm making a list of all the cities we have had sex in. I've got to 19 and want to make it to 20!"

Saturday, 21 April 2012

Things I have come to discover 5 months into my pregnancy

  • Socks are a challenge
  • Random strangers will come up to you and touch your stomach
  • 99% of the time you will resist the urge to punch them
  • Feeling your baby move = awesome
  • Seeing your stomach move when the baby moves = freaky deaky
  • A double HH bra cup will fit on a grown man's head
  • You will sort of forget what you looked like unpregnant
Me at 20 weeks, I'm now 23 weeks and a scary amount bigger...

  • You will miss wine. A lot
  • You and the baby will become a little team and you will talk to him constantly
  • You will get strange looks for this
  • When pram shopping, it will not be amusing when your husband pretends to use the model in Mothercare's handles as fighter jet controls
  • The recommended 100g per person of pasta is not enough
  • You will have nightmares about your baby being Stewie Griffin
  • It will become nigh on impossible to tend to your ladygarden. Turns out you can't bend that way in the shower

Wednesday, 18 April 2012

So it was a mistake putting my mobile number as the RSVP on the invitations for my Nana's 90th Birthday party.

Some of the conversations I have had today....

Me: Hello

Random Man: Hello, who is this?

Me (confused): Well, you called my phone, so who is this?

Random Man: I don't want to say but I can come to the party.

Me (even more confused): Right....

Random Man: You know, the party, on Sunday, for the birthday.

Me: Ah! Right, yes. Great, well, we'll see you there. What is your name?

Random Man: I'd rather not say, but I live at number 8. Oh, and are presents necessary?

Me: No, not at all. We would just love you to be there to celebrate with us. No presents required!

Random Man: Well she is getting one. (Hangs up)


Me: Hello

Random Woman: Hello, is that Livy?

Me: It is! Is it about the birthday party?

Random Woman: Yes, I am Beryl from Number 12. We only moved in a month ago, we were so pleased to get the invitation but unfortunately we are unable to come as we are seeing friends on Sunday.

Me: Oh what a shame, thanks for letting me know.

Random Woman (continuing as if I hadn't spoken): Well, I say friends, my husband used to work with the gentleman in 1976, or was it 1977, and since them we have met up for lunch on occasion. It will be only the second time I have met his wife though; the last time we met up she was in Abu Dhabi for some reason. I think it was Abu Dhabi - somewhere exotic and foreign anyway, and I said it was a shame as the time before when she did come was lovely. We went to a gala dinner and had a lovely time. I am not sure if she is coming this Sunday though.

Me: Well I hope you have a lovely time.

Random Woman: We will. I have only met your grandmother once, it was a few weeks ago and I was going to the chemist for some reason, oh yes, I think Alf needed some aspirin - he has a bad heart and the doctor recommended it, I wasn't sure but you don't question medical professionals do you? Anyway, I saw your grandmother at her door so I went and said hello. She was lovely, I am amazed she is 90. What a great age and she doesn't look it. It is such a shame we can't come. Will you be doing cake?

Me (in a bit of a daze): Cake? Yes, we have ordered one.

Random Woman: I love a nice piece of cake. Victoria Sponge is my favourite. It has been so lovely talking to you, do you live locally?

Me: Ummm.... fairly.

Random Woman: Well I will tell your grandmother how nice and chatty you are.

Me: Thank you. Have a lovely weekend.

Random Woman: You too! Bye.

Me: Bye.

Random Woman: Bye bye

Me: Bye

Random Woman: Goodbye and god bless.

I hang up.

It may be a long few days....

Tuesday, 10 April 2012


"And how is baby today?"

The midwife smiled at me.

"Kicking away", I smiled back.

"And Mum?"

And that is when I nearly punched her in the face.

I had forced my smile through clenched teeth when she had missed the definite article and referred to the baby as just 'baby' but referring to me the person to me myself with no-one else in the room really made me squirm.

I know, I know, I am being slightly unreasonable. The, otherwise lovely, midwife was just trying to be a bit more personable but seriously, I am not three! The baby is a he (did I tell you that?) or it or 'the baby', I am 'you'.

Also, please don't refer to me as preggo or preggers ('up the hilary' or 'knocked up' is fine though) and don't ask about my hubby (bleeeeeeurk).

And, just while we are at it, I eat vegetables, not veggies; I like chicken sandwiches, not sarnies; please don't get me a crimbo prezzie and spag bol makes me feel physically angry (but I love spaghetti bolagnaise and would be delighted if you made it for me).

And if you follow all that then, natch, it will be totes amaze :)

Stern Puppy agrees with me. So there.

Monday, 9 April 2012

I do so love a hat

Age 2

When  I was younger I was definitely hat girl.

Age 3
Age 4

Every day a different hat would be perched on my casually messy head and I would be set. I had so very many. All of them hung on pins on the picture rail around my bedroom. And they were never conventional hats; in fact I believe there was only one baseball cap, an England one natch.

No, these hats were bizarre and vast. They were made of satins and velvets and they came in every colour of the rainbow. I loved them so much. I even wore my red school beret (compulsory for special occasions only) every day for the first year at secondary school.

I have no idea where these hats are now.

Yes, seriously...
It was when I was 15 and transformed my hair from its shoulder length mass to a Winona Ryder crop that suddenly my hats became redundant. It seemed ridiculous to hide my new found coolness and besides, you always running the risk of appearing bald if you cover short hair with a hat. And, at 15, I was certain that boys did not dig bald girls.

But the other day I was thinking, I may just have to start reinvesting. After all, hats make you suddenly feel more enigmatic, engaging and foreign than you were, bare-headed, only a moment prior… and I do have shoulder length hair again...