I am sick of white baby clothes.
I am sick of beige baby clothes.
I am sad that there is no room in the drawers for the clothes I am so looking forward to buying when we know whether it is he or she.
There are plenty of unisex things available that are not white or beige so why have a got so much of this stuff?!
& why have I got 57 bibs?!
& why have I got 468 size one nappies that I didn't buy?! (I've done the maths - use 5 a day & that'll still last over 3 months, I hope it doesn't grow too quickly & poos a lot)
People are so generous & I feel entirely ungrateful, but I seem to be drowning in a sea of baby things that I don't remember asking for & that I probably won't use! It just seems so wasteful when there are people much more needing out there.
I like things to be kept to a minimum - just a few lovely things, as well as the basics of course. I know that babies are puke & poo machines. I know that we'll need a lot of stuff that will take the puke & poo. Honest, I know this cos I've all ready had one but it really is just too much now! I feel genuinely overwhlemed by it all!
Apologies for excessive use of exclamation marks, it's just all a bit much...
57 sodding bibs, indeed.
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
Monday, 17 October 2011
I bloody love Christmas me - though not usually in October!
Today, after three hours of travelling on trains (more on that & the rude commuters of Britain later), I finally have got round to making some Christmas bits & bobs. I have spent the last hour or so snipping & sewing & it feels good! (With the exception of an aching back - so blog & dinner break happening now!)
Here's a quick sneak peek at what kind of things I'll be making. Goodness knows if I'll sell anything - craft fair tomorrow & I plan on popping some of these lovelies on the Little Pea Green Etsy Shop - but if not it'll save me making more for our own tree!
Last week I was sat in our living room, minding my own business when I suddenly got a subtle sniff of something like a pine scent. I think it was the faint aroma coming from a little lavender bag which Daughter had found & claimed as her own for a while but was now stuffed down the back of the sofa & forgotten, but my brain was obviously in a jovial mood & so interpreted this as a whiff of festivity. I became overwhelmingly excited about the impending arrival of winter & the festive season. I cannot wait to see the living room transformed with bunting & decorations (I am quite the traditionalist so lots of rustic reds, greens & golds); for the scent of the tree & the excitement as the presents build up beneath it; for the cursing every time someone kneels down & gets pine needles angrily poked into their knees; for an open fire roaring during the day & then it's embers gently roasting chestnuts on an evening; to buy pointless & rich foods & to gorge on them with absolutely no shame, just pure revelry, swilling it all down with a slug of Irish cream liqueur or a hot coffee cheekily spiked with a shot of brandy, whatever the time of day.
I could go on forever & ever about the best bits of Christmas but, this year, the thing I cannot wait to have our brand new family in the midst of all this toasty-warmth & cosiness.
I bloody love Christmas, me. Even the cheesy songs.
P.S. - apologies for getting so excited so soon, I don't usually do such silly things but I am due to have a baby in one month & as I am prescribing myself one month of focusing on nothing but the baby & sleep everything like this is getting pushed forward one month, so I am living as though it were the 17th November! Therefore I find this festive fanaticism is entirely justified!
Here's a quick sneak peek at what kind of things I'll be making. Goodness knows if I'll sell anything - craft fair tomorrow & I plan on popping some of these lovelies on the Little Pea Green Etsy Shop - but if not it'll save me making more for our own tree!
Last week I was sat in our living room, minding my own business when I suddenly got a subtle sniff of something like a pine scent. I think it was the faint aroma coming from a little lavender bag which Daughter had found & claimed as her own for a while but was now stuffed down the back of the sofa & forgotten, but my brain was obviously in a jovial mood & so interpreted this as a whiff of festivity. I became overwhelmingly excited about the impending arrival of winter & the festive season. I cannot wait to see the living room transformed with bunting & decorations (I am quite the traditionalist so lots of rustic reds, greens & golds); for the scent of the tree & the excitement as the presents build up beneath it; for the cursing every time someone kneels down & gets pine needles angrily poked into their knees; for an open fire roaring during the day & then it's embers gently roasting chestnuts on an evening; to buy pointless & rich foods & to gorge on them with absolutely no shame, just pure revelry, swilling it all down with a slug of Irish cream liqueur or a hot coffee cheekily spiked with a shot of brandy, whatever the time of day.
I could go on forever & ever about the best bits of Christmas but, this year, the thing I cannot wait to have our brand new family in the midst of all this toasty-warmth & cosiness.
I bloody love Christmas, me. Even the cheesy songs.
P.S. - apologies for getting so excited so soon, I don't usually do such silly things but I am due to have a baby in one month & as I am prescribing myself one month of focusing on nothing but the baby & sleep everything like this is getting pushed forward one month, so I am living as though it were the 17th November! Therefore I find this festive fanaticism is entirely justified!
Thursday, 13 October 2011
Nothing profound
I sat down in the room with the kindly-looking stranger who was my new midwife.
"Have you got your notes with you?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh..." I stumbled, remembering that I'd forgotten, "...no, I totally forgot them, I'm terrible for that at the moment!" I said truthfully with a casual ai & my slightly nervous laugh.
"Oh, right..." she said in a serious tone that I didn't expect her to use from her initial warm demeanour "They must be in your handbag at all times, otherwise we would no nothing about you if something were to happen."
I instantly felt foolish. I'm forgetful at the best of times, never mind when I've a baby-brain. I wanted to cry.
"How have you been feeling?" she asked in a warmer tone.
I told her nervously that I had been okay, that this week had been a better week, but I was hesitantly honest with her. I felt a little foolish again as I told her that I just wasn't coping so well, but that I had spoken to the Doctor about it & arrangements were in place for me to see a member of the mental health team. I wondered how she would react, whether she would tell me it was probably my low iron levels as the last midwife suspected or whether she would take me more seriously. I told her, as I had told the Doctor the previous week, that I had always felt like this but now it was different, because it was ruling my life & the bad & sad feelings outweighed the good & stable feelings.
She reacted sympathetically & gently asked me questions about it. I didn't feel so foolish.
She then took my blood pressure, measured my bump & listened to the baby's heartbeat. Everything was completely fine - my bump measured about what it should at 33 weeks she informed me, even though I am nearly 35 weeks.
"...but that's okay because you're allowed about 2 weeks either way." she said with a smile & the initial kindliness I had experienced as I'd entered the room. "It probably means that the baby will be about 6lb or so."
PHEW. I was was relieved that she hadn't said it was too small, as they had said with Daughter & but even more so that she had said it would be a healthy but small baby. I felt much more relaxed now, after spilling the nervous crazy to her & knowing that the baby was happy in there but not about to cause me an awful lot of pain on its way into the world - hopefully anyway!
That was my morning. Everything is okay - & everything is going to be okay. Nothing profound to see here but certainly no bad news, unless you count my total memory loss.
Putting notes in handbag now.
"Have you got your notes with you?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh..." I stumbled, remembering that I'd forgotten, "...no, I totally forgot them, I'm terrible for that at the moment!" I said truthfully with a casual ai & my slightly nervous laugh.
"Oh, right..." she said in a serious tone that I didn't expect her to use from her initial warm demeanour "They must be in your handbag at all times, otherwise we would no nothing about you if something were to happen."
I instantly felt foolish. I'm forgetful at the best of times, never mind when I've a baby-brain. I wanted to cry.
"How have you been feeling?" she asked in a warmer tone.
I told her nervously that I had been okay, that this week had been a better week, but I was hesitantly honest with her. I felt a little foolish again as I told her that I just wasn't coping so well, but that I had spoken to the Doctor about it & arrangements were in place for me to see a member of the mental health team. I wondered how she would react, whether she would tell me it was probably my low iron levels as the last midwife suspected or whether she would take me more seriously. I told her, as I had told the Doctor the previous week, that I had always felt like this but now it was different, because it was ruling my life & the bad & sad feelings outweighed the good & stable feelings.
She reacted sympathetically & gently asked me questions about it. I didn't feel so foolish.
She then took my blood pressure, measured my bump & listened to the baby's heartbeat. Everything was completely fine - my bump measured about what it should at 33 weeks she informed me, even though I am nearly 35 weeks.
"...but that's okay because you're allowed about 2 weeks either way." she said with a smile & the initial kindliness I had experienced as I'd entered the room. "It probably means that the baby will be about 6lb or so."
PHEW. I was was relieved that she hadn't said it was too small, as they had said with Daughter & but even more so that she had said it would be a healthy but small baby. I felt much more relaxed now, after spilling the nervous crazy to her & knowing that the baby was happy in there but not about to cause me an awful lot of pain on its way into the world - hopefully anyway!
That was my morning. Everything is okay - & everything is going to be okay. Nothing profound to see here but certainly no bad news, unless you count my total memory loss.
Putting notes in handbag now.
Monday, 10 October 2011
Tweeting around.
Okay so... you can all now find me on... wait for it... Twitter. Yes, Twitter. Dunn dunn duuuuunnnn.
Well you can find me but it may take me a while to work out how to use it.
So you can follow me @PeaGreenGwin
I'm right here.
Any tips/basic instructions would be very gratefully accepted!! :)
Well you can find me but it may take me a while to work out how to use it.
So you can follow me @PeaGreenGwin
I'm right here.
Any tips/basic instructions would be very gratefully accepted!! :)
Sunday, 9 October 2011
Sunday, Floaty Sunday.
Sundays are usually the days that I wish I could be doing not much & just floating around in my nighty as I used to, drinking cup of tea after cup of tea & enjoying every morcel of whichever delicious breakfast I'd chosen to treat myself to: Pancakes & syrup? Bacon sandwich? Poached eggs?
Recently, Sundays have been busy: Sundays have been days seized to visit loved-ones; take much needed shopping trips or to complete tasks for which completion is essential before the baby's arrival.
The living room in my old flat was huge & had one large window stretching almost to the top of the decadently high ceiling which looked out onto the street below. The light would stream through this window on a morning & I enjoyed looking out at the people walking by, wondering what Sunday business they were going about & feeling very satisfied that I could do as I pleased in my sunny Sunday living room.
Now, our living room is smaller yet more homely & often much tidier than my old living room ever was. The window in our current living room is a wide bay window & in the afternoon we get the sun's generously warm rays pouring in. Even on the dullest of days it seems to fill the room with a warmth that I never had in my old living room
Though I much prefer home as it is now six days a week, I do yearn for my floaty-Sunday ritual.
Today was a Sunday I would rather forget, & one I probably shall. I had nothing on my agenda & thought to myself that I might just enjoy the day. I finished work yesterday & so it was my first official day of maternity leave & we all know that maternity leave is for sitting around in your pyjamas & eating biscuits (something that I am extremely good & well-practised at) but something just wasn't right. My nighty used for floating has long since disintergrated & even had it not I doubt that it would fit over my bump. I had the pleasure of being brought a cup of tea in bed by that ever-wonderful man of mine & leisurely coming downstairs to be greeted with a bacon sandwich, once again courtesy of that man. This was lovely. Wonderful. I am very lucky. But I am also very slow to start - very lazy - & so my Sunday did not start. I simply arrived in Sunday & did hardly anything for myself. I did nothing but I did not enjoy doing nothing.
So, my mission is simply to re-claim Sunday, floaty Sunday. A nighty, a ritual & copious amounts of tea are going to make a return into my life. Just on a Sunday.
Watch this Sunday space.
Recently, Sundays have been busy: Sundays have been days seized to visit loved-ones; take much needed shopping trips or to complete tasks for which completion is essential before the baby's arrival.
The living room in my old flat was huge & had one large window stretching almost to the top of the decadently high ceiling which looked out onto the street below. The light would stream through this window on a morning & I enjoyed looking out at the people walking by, wondering what Sunday business they were going about & feeling very satisfied that I could do as I pleased in my sunny Sunday living room.
Now, our living room is smaller yet more homely & often much tidier than my old living room ever was. The window in our current living room is a wide bay window & in the afternoon we get the sun's generously warm rays pouring in. Even on the dullest of days it seems to fill the room with a warmth that I never had in my old living room
Though I much prefer home as it is now six days a week, I do yearn for my floaty-Sunday ritual.
Today was a Sunday I would rather forget, & one I probably shall. I had nothing on my agenda & thought to myself that I might just enjoy the day. I finished work yesterday & so it was my first official day of maternity leave & we all know that maternity leave is for sitting around in your pyjamas & eating biscuits (something that I am extremely good & well-practised at) but something just wasn't right. My nighty used for floating has long since disintergrated & even had it not I doubt that it would fit over my bump. I had the pleasure of being brought a cup of tea in bed by that ever-wonderful man of mine & leisurely coming downstairs to be greeted with a bacon sandwich, once again courtesy of that man. This was lovely. Wonderful. I am very lucky. But I am also very slow to start - very lazy - & so my Sunday did not start. I simply arrived in Sunday & did hardly anything for myself. I did nothing but I did not enjoy doing nothing.
So, my mission is simply to re-claim Sunday, floaty Sunday. A nighty, a ritual & copious amounts of tea are going to make a return into my life. Just on a Sunday.
Watch this Sunday space.
Friday, 7 October 2011
Blogtoberfest Giveaway!
Hello all, I have just read a lovely post over at owlet which then linkied me up to CurlyPops & I decided to do a little giveaway in the spirit of Blogtoberfest!
I shall be giving away 1 meter of bunting that looks a little bit like this:
All you have to do is leave a comment below, say hello or whatever, even have a look around, go with the flow :)
I'll pick a winner on 31st October using a random generator or some such technical wizardry then announce with a post here on the blog. So get following & check back to see if you've won!
Take care y'all!
On Pregnancy, Crazy People & Personal Space
As I sat waiting to catch a bus this afternoon, replying to a text message in a very obviously minding-my-own-business-& certainly-not-looking-for-a-conversation-after-the-day-I've-had way, the woman sharing the cold metal bench with me, who sported a blue anorak & a slightly vacant look & who I had hardly even noticed until now (so consumed was I in the task of sending said message) asked me how long it would be until the next bus. I became instantly annoyed. On the side of the bus currently in front of us (that is too full for us to fit on due to obscene amounts of lary school children) it says quite clearly EVERY 7 MINUTES.
"Well, they're supposed to be every seven minutes.." I reply politely, with a sweet smile that I reserve mainly for customers I dislike & crazy people "so that usually means between 5 & 10 minutes."
She thanks me & I return my avid concentration to my iPhone. Deliberately making it look as though I am sending some sort of urgent email to someone very important in a way that means I cannot be disturbed. I knew by the vacant look that this was not a simple question rather a way into a conversation that I did not want to have. I covered my baby bump with my coat.
"Do they not run school buses anymore?" she says rolling her eyes. Obviously not.
"I don't know!" I say with a cheery but clipped chuckle, once again reserved mainly for the crazies.
I go back to my intense emailing of the Dalai Lama Re: Enlightenment of the masses.
"...When's your baby due?"
GODDAMNIT WOMAN! Can you not see that the Dalai Lama need my urgent assistance?! At least think of something original to ask me!
"19th of Novermber. Not long to go now." I reply automatically, with a curt smile.
"Ooh, well you're hiding it well!"
OBVIOUSLY NOT BLOODY WELL ENOUGH!!
This conversation continues in a perfunctory manner until I manage to flee onto the bus & take up a double seat for myself.
When you become pregnant you quickly find out that all the social norms suddenly change. During the early stages of starting to show in my first pregnancy I was utterly chuffed to bits every time some stranger asked me "Oh, how long to go?" or "Boy or a girl? Or is it a surprise!?". This soon wore off. Now, in my second pregnancy I knew what to expect & soon learned to make my replies to such intrusions of privacy polite but curt.
I just wish that people could ask something different or even just say what they are really thinking, for example:
"Have you got any piles yet?"
"Goodness me, is that a bump or have you just eaten lots of cake?"
"Well, you look like shit but it'll all be worth it in the end."
"Good luck with that..."
I'm sick of hearing the same conversations. Go back to talking about the weather! Please! At least that changes every day!
The other thing people think it's acceptable to do when you are pregnant is to touch your bump - without asking.
This is not acceptable unless you are a close friend & even so, only if you have requested formal permission.
Strangers, do not lay your grubby mitts on me.
I am a pregnant woman therefore I am much more likely to be grumpy & reclusive. It just makes no sense to go round being all in-my-face/on-my-bump!
No, the better effect comes when the baby is born. Sure, you still get all the cooing idiots following you around whenever you step out of your front door but these cooing idiots have a plus side: the belief that it is lucky to cross the baby's palm with silver.
Oh yes.
First time around I genuinely started out putting all the coins & notes my daughter received in a little piggy jar, especially for her. This time, I shall not be so foolish. Oh no! This time I shall be pocketing said proceeds & spend the next 18 years ticking off all the things he or she breaks/wees on/pukes on/steals/generally destoys/kills & taking it off the bill I send them on their 18th birthday.
All in all, I think that I have a love/hate relationship with pregnancy & similarly with mootherhood.
It's totally worth all the bloodshed, tears & crazy people, but just don't expect to be sane at the end of the day yourself.
& please don't invade my personal space.
"Well, they're supposed to be every seven minutes.." I reply politely, with a sweet smile that I reserve mainly for customers I dislike & crazy people "so that usually means between 5 & 10 minutes."
She thanks me & I return my avid concentration to my iPhone. Deliberately making it look as though I am sending some sort of urgent email to someone very important in a way that means I cannot be disturbed. I knew by the vacant look that this was not a simple question rather a way into a conversation that I did not want to have. I covered my baby bump with my coat.
"Do they not run school buses anymore?" she says rolling her eyes. Obviously not.
"I don't know!" I say with a cheery but clipped chuckle, once again reserved mainly for the crazies.
I go back to my intense emailing of the Dalai Lama Re: Enlightenment of the masses.
"...When's your baby due?"
GODDAMNIT WOMAN! Can you not see that the Dalai Lama need my urgent assistance?! At least think of something original to ask me!
"19th of Novermber. Not long to go now." I reply automatically, with a curt smile.
"Ooh, well you're hiding it well!"
OBVIOUSLY NOT BLOODY WELL ENOUGH!!
This conversation continues in a perfunctory manner until I manage to flee onto the bus & take up a double seat for myself.
When you become pregnant you quickly find out that all the social norms suddenly change. During the early stages of starting to show in my first pregnancy I was utterly chuffed to bits every time some stranger asked me "Oh, how long to go?" or "Boy or a girl? Or is it a surprise!?". This soon wore off. Now, in my second pregnancy I knew what to expect & soon learned to make my replies to such intrusions of privacy polite but curt.
I just wish that people could ask something different or even just say what they are really thinking, for example:
"Have you got any piles yet?"
"Goodness me, is that a bump or have you just eaten lots of cake?"
"Well, you look like shit but it'll all be worth it in the end."
"Good luck with that..."
I'm sick of hearing the same conversations. Go back to talking about the weather! Please! At least that changes every day!
The other thing people think it's acceptable to do when you are pregnant is to touch your bump - without asking.
This is not acceptable unless you are a close friend & even so, only if you have requested formal permission.
Strangers, do not lay your grubby mitts on me.
I am a pregnant woman therefore I am much more likely to be grumpy & reclusive. It just makes no sense to go round being all in-my-face/on-my-bump!
No, the better effect comes when the baby is born. Sure, you still get all the cooing idiots following you around whenever you step out of your front door but these cooing idiots have a plus side: the belief that it is lucky to cross the baby's palm with silver.
Oh yes.
First time around I genuinely started out putting all the coins & notes my daughter received in a little piggy jar, especially for her. This time, I shall not be so foolish. Oh no! This time I shall be pocketing said proceeds & spend the next 18 years ticking off all the things he or she breaks/wees on/pukes on/steals/generally destoys/kills & taking it off the bill I send them on their 18th birthday.
All in all, I think that I have a love/hate relationship with pregnancy & similarly with mootherhood.
It's totally worth all the bloodshed, tears & crazy people, but just don't expect to be sane at the end of the day yourself.
& please don't invade my personal space.
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