Varicose veins. We've all seen them, they secretly revolt us and we would probably trade a family member to avoid ever getting them. Bending over yesterday, I came face to face with my worst nightmare bulging behind the right knee - pregnancy's good like that; making you face your fears without so much as a beg your pardon. I vow to sit with my legs raised wearing pressure stockings for the remainder of this pregnancy come what may.
Allow me to digress for a moment. Being with Mike and having this baby are the two fundamental sources of happiness in my life before, during and after and for always ever more amen. BUT ... what is happening to my body is a thing unto itself, quite separate - sheer galaxies away from the intense feelings of wonder that I otherwise experience on a day to day basis.
Having understood that, let me continue. With the horror of 'THE VEIN' fresh in my mind I was then treated (by a friend) to some pictures of me on the beach in my preggie bikini, needless to say those photographs will never see the light of day. If only I was a real hippo I would wallow just below the surface where no-one could see me; alas, I am a homo-sapien with no underwater breathing aparatus hence, I must face the world regardless. I contacted a pregnant comrade today to wail about the state of my expanding girth, all whilst murdering a slice of chocolate cake 10cm high.
My universe is a whirling mass of contradiction.
The nursery is taking shape slowly, thanks in part to the GG's - Granny Gardiner (my mom) and Granny Galvin (Mike's mom) - or better yet, Glamorous Grannies.
Once complete we stared suspiciously at it, quietly assessing our realisations of HOLY CHRIST WE ONLY HAVE 11 WEEKS TO GO, then decided to get cheese burgers 'cos that was less confronting. Whilst Granny Gardiner bought us a superduper stroller that basically drives itself. Can't wait to use the one-handed fold down function with its flick of a button and impressive Transformer-like compaction to basically nothing.
Granny Gardiner has also taken to knitting somewhat fiercely and spends her Sunday mornings drinking coffee at Vida Cafe, needles and wool in hand, light jazz playing in the background. Gogo Chic at its finest. She has thus far produced an impressive array of knitted animals and jerseys. Our son will be forced to wear them of course, despite all protests that the wool is itchy and it's 1000 degrees outside.
Still to make their debut appearance are a collection of the smallest, sweetest, softest, unbelievably cute and delicious baby clothes, toys and goodies from family and friends the world over. Once I've unpacked, preened, organised and nested like a little mother hen I will take pics of the nursery in its finality.
We are all otherwise peachy and well. Spring is officially here! We know this by the sudden hive of animal activity on land and sea. Every morning the village dogs howl in eternal frustration as the bitches around them go on heat, safe behind their fences no doubt quietly relieved. The whales are here in full force - massive pods of the beasts cruising up and down the coast in their lazy, ambling, 'I am the biggest fucker in the sea' kind of way. As the weather heats up and the rains follow suit troops of crawlies both great and small appear inside the house.
Last night I killed an enormous spider by dropping a dictionary on its head. Proof at last, that action and words, speak loudest of all...
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