The Steve - 11-20

And we're back with the birthday count down. Just to update you, yes, he found the presents.

11. He is bizarrely obsessed with cocktail sticks. I find them everywhere. He picks them up and fiddles with them for hours. They are forever behind his ears and in his mouth.

12. He is so supportive and generally fantastic. His faith in you is absolute and continuous. If you are stressed and say you can't do it, he will blink at you and say you can.

13. This Sunday is his 30th birthday and, when I asked where he would like to be taken to lunch, he chose Pizza Hut. Yep. I have yet to break it to him that I believe the 'unlimited ice cream factory' for birthday children doesn't extend to 30 year olds.

14. His rants are legendary. And by god does he play up to them. Incredibly liberal (except when it suits him not to be), he will happily go on for tens of minutes to anyone who happens to be in earshot about anything that has particularly got his goat. Favourite topics include religion (these rants can extend to hours) and anything that the Daily Mail feels strongly about...

15. Steve and his brother and his father (both called John incidentally) are a tight knit team. Circumstances have meant that they a very strong unit, an all male unit I may add. And, while all the most welcoming and friendly men in the world, it is a hard group to break into. But it is most definitely worth it.

16. Steve is bizarrely talented in so many ways. He can repair your light fitting, he can take pictures of your family reunion, he can teach you how to play cricket, he can cook you a delicious bowl of macaroni cheese. He is amazing with children, delightful with animals and can put even the most nervous person at ease. He can hoover and iron far better than I can, he can sew buttons on shirts (something I am still incapable of), build fires and make up the best bedtime stories. He can't hang washing out though...

17. He claims he remembers very little of his childhood. But he is lying.

18. The man has broken the same ankle three times. The second time, the doctor asked when he had broken it the first time and queried why it hadn't healed properly, Steve couldn't answer him as he couldn't remember ever breaking it before. A few questions to his Dad and all became clear. It seems that a four year old Steve had been having a jumping down the stairs competition with his brother. Steve had hurt his ankle but an ice lolly seemed to solve any issues so a trip to the doctors was not deemed necessary. His Dad just carried him for a few days.

19. His eyes melt me everytime. And I won't even mention his bum except to say that I believe it has won awards.

20. His favourite word is moist. A word I detest. Proof, I suppose that opposites do attract.

The Steve - 1-10

As you may or may not know, this Sunday my lovely Steven James turns the grand old age of 30. To celebrate I have decided to tell thirty little known facts about him. I will be starting right now with the first ten.

1. He detests cooked pineapple and spends time meticulously picking it out of his takeaway sweet and sour. The phrase 'I can see you pineapple, stop mascarading as a piece of chicken' has been uttered more than once in our house.

2. Despite being a very liberal person, his two favourite heroes are Barney Stinson and Jeff Bingham. I know.

3. He is always popular with the ladies. Always charming, always funny, he is very crushable. And I love that about him. I love to watch him make everyone feel special. I love to see him flirt. I love that his romantic history is as checkered as mine. It makes for very interesting conversations...

4. Football is the thing. The Thing. He puts his heart and soul into it and it annoyingly upsets me when he gets crushed when England get knocked out of another tournament.

5. He rocks the stubble and sunglasses look.

6. Stupid is something he is not. But he thinks he is. And not in a tell-me-I'm-not way. He genuinely thinks that he isn't bright. Which is ironically the stupidist thing he thinks as he is one of the most intelligent and clever people I know.

7. He laughs like no-one else I know. And one of the things I love the most is making him laugh. The look he gives me when he laughs like that at something I've said makes me feel like no-one else on earth.

8. He refuses to drink juice with pulp. A proper, proper child.

9. He knows all the words to C'est La Vie by Bewitched and, if you get him just drunk enough, he will put on an awesome dance show to it.

10. He is generous to a fault. Nothing is too big. Nothing. He is unfailingly loyal and will always be your friend if he likes you. Which makes the fact that he is mine all the more wonderful.

Come back tomorrow for 11-20. In the meantime I must go, I need to drag my pregnant bum off the sofa and make sure Steve hasn't found any of the presents he is currently searching for....

So today...

I forgot my teaspoon and therefore had to eat my two petit filous fromage frais with my finger.

Twas messy.

That is all.

Tilly Tuppance

So this weekend we have a house guest.

Yep, the lovely Tilly has come to stay.

She has been here for two days now and has eaten approximately 11 spiders. Why I am not sure. I mean, they are hardly nutritious or delicious.

Steve, of course, is an absolute softy with her. He keeps trying to teach her tricks, allows her to sleep on his chest and text me throughout yesterday stressing about she was managing at home by herself. I wasn't worried. I mean, there were spiders galore.

Speaking of Steve, I will be doing a big piece next week (possibly two or three) on him and his quirks in celebration of his 30th birthday.

In the mean time, I wish you lots of love and churros. Because, well, they are yummy.

Choo choo

I come to you from an iPad on a train.

This morning Steve and I set off on our last just-the-two-of-us holiday. We considered Barbados, toyed with San Francisco, nearly went for Fiji before deciding on Chester.

Our bags were packed and we hitched a lift to the station with the father-in-law (£10 a day to park at the station? No thank you!). After a brief 5 minutes in the sunshine, we boarded our train. Steve carried our matching cases to the luggage rack while I evicted a squatter from our reserved seats; normally one to feel guilty about such things, even this didn't dent my mood, I mean, I am nearly 7 months pregnant and he was drinking lager at 11am and reading the Daily Sport.

We settled in our seats, made sure our tickets were to hand so as not to delay the ticket inspector when he came and took out our respective books.

Ten minutes passed.

Steve remarked that he was peckish. I brought out the bag of triangle cut cheese sandwiches which he had made this morning.

'Hmmmm', he pondered, 'But it is only 11am, maybe I should wait until 12.'

'We're on holiday', I reasoned, 'And besides, I have pepper sticks as well for later.'

He tucked in.

Two minutes passed.

Steve stopped mid bite.

'Dear God, what the hell has happened to us?'

'What?' I replied, crunching on a pepper stick.

'We are too young to be sitting on a train on our way to a summer holiday in Chester, debating whether to eat our sandwiches in plastic bag even though it is technically not lunch time.'

I let this statement sink in for a second.

'We could attempt to do it in the train toilet?' I halfheartedly ventured.

Steve's eyed my large bump and then wearily,

'For the sake of logistics and common decency, I think it is best that we read our books.'

For I am a rare breed

Things have been busy here.

Steve has been working super hard, not only at his actual job but on his degree, it has been a huge undertaking but one, I am glad to say, he is excelling at.

We have had some lovely family birthdays to celebrate.

Preparations are being made for my lovely in laws wedding which is two weeks today.

The house has been completely ignored due all the business.

And me, well I have been mainly getting fatter, failing at hypnobirthing classes (it seems I am not great at relaxing..), laughing at the wriggles in my tummy and thinking about my own birthday.

Yes, you remember I love birthdays don't you? All birthdays but my own is, of course, super special. Why it has not been made a public holiday yet is beyond me. I love everything about birthdays, the celebrations, the cards, the love and, I am not ashamed, the presents! I am a very lucky girl - my friends and family are always too nice and buy me things when they really don't need to but this year I am a tad worried.

The problem is, I suppose, I am fairly unusual as a female. You see, I am finally going to admit it....

I hate baths.

Yep, really. The water gets too cold, too quickly, I get bored very, very easily and, after about 8 minutes I start to feel like I am just lying there, stewing in my own dirt. I mean ew. Why do that and waste an hour of my life running the thing, getting in, getting bored, getting cold when I could jump in the shower and achieve the same result in a quarter of the time?

Yes, my hatred of baths is nearly legendary among my family but it does cause a problem around present giving times. You see, the bath hating is slightly extended to general pampering. Don't get me wrong, I like to paint my nails.... no wait, I like it when my nails are painted, but treatments leave me cold. I don't get it. And don't even mention spa days or massages. I am very funny about being massaged and really feel quite ill with it. I am a rubbish girl aren't I?

Which brings me back to the birthday issue... being up the hilary, the usual staple gifts of alcohol and clothes are out - am I doomed to be overwhelmed by a million bath sets?!

My knocked up self

So I am 26 and a half weeks pregnant now and definitely look it, no longer am I the girl who could have just eaten a big lunch.

It is very strange watching your body change. I have always felt fairly comfortable in my skin; I have had body hang ups like everyone and will never be my thighs biggest fan but generally I have always been pretty happy with my lot.

I therefore never really thought about how I would feel about pregnancy changing my body, I assumed I would be perfectly happy and embrace it.

And I have.

But it is disconcerting. Not just in the things no longer fit way (I miss you pink vest top!) but in the way your body is no longer your own. There are wriggles and kicks and punches in your tummy that you have no control over. Someone else has literally set up camp in you. And things that were super easy before such as putting socks on or tying a shoe become five minute tasks as you just don't bloody bend that way! Gone too are the looks from boys across a pub, I am now very much the up the duff one and therefore invisible to the male species. Now, yes, I am with husband and yes, we are very happy but seriously ladies, we all appreciate the odd admiring glance from a randomer from time to time don't we?

Balancing all these physical changes with crazy hormones is fun to start with and I generally manage it and feel like a hot 27 year old woman with child and then someone comments,

"Wow Liv, you are huge! Are you sure you aren't having twins?"

"God, you have really got big now, you won't be able to fit through doors soon."

And I am nearly a quivering mess of tears.

I swear, I will always remember this when I am talking to a pregnant woman from now on - and people, if you know of someone avec un bebe dans le tummy then please just say the following:

"How are you? You look gorgeous! Best looking pregnant person I have seen!"

THE END

ps. as a side note I must mention that The Boobs have also reached gargantuan proportions; put it this way, I am approaching the second half of the alphabet in cup size at a disturbing pace!