Monday, 26 January 2009
Sunday, 25 January 2009
And, on a completely different note - this was the bday cake I got for hubby this year. Hubby luuuurves Mr Kipling's French Fancies, so when I saw this giant one nestled on the cake shelves in Strescos, how could I resist?
Friday, 23 January 2009
When Delightful Child is born we know s/he (ha! still not giving it away, although I'm sure most people know by now) will totally and utterly take over our lives (this is the main reason why having children was never top of my agenda - my life is all about me, you see.) But I had no idea how much my calendar would be dedicated to DC pre-birth.
In the space of four days this week I/we (cos sometimes hubby had to come too) have been to the hospital for a 34-week scan and an appointment at the Antenatal Clinic (nearly two hours in total); entertained the midwife at our country hellhole (for an hour and a half); been to the third antenatal class (for two and a quarter hours), and been to the doctor's surgery for a blood test (which didn't happen - long and not at all interesting story.)
At the 34-week scan I got the sonographer to absolutely triply check DC's sex, and it's still what we were told it was at 20 weeks (ie nothing has dropped off/grown in the down below region that shouldn't have, if that makes sense.) At the antenatal clinic I was told that DC is probably going to be a big baby, which comes as no surprise - you only have to look at its parents. The midwife and staff grade person I saw were both in favour of me having a homebirth, but the consultant anaesthetist, who clearly walks round under a grey cloud a la Eeyore, advises against it as she thinks I am at risk of needing emergency intervention. Well, currently I am thumbing my nose at her and keeping my fingers crossed (bet you're impressed by the dexterity of my digits that I can do both at the same time) that she is very, very wrong.
So then the midwife came round to discuss the homebirth with us. She is very positive about it all, which is super encouraging. She brought round two swabs for me which I had to 'do' this morning and then drop off at the doctor's surgery. These were to check if I carry the MRSA bug. Scary! Apparently if I am a carrier and I end up going to hospital to have the baby they will put me in isolation inside one of those plastic bubbles and only people wearing HAZMAT suits will be allowed within 50 yards. Actually, that's a bit of an exaggeration. If I do carry MRSA I'll have to use some sort of special shower gel (presumably made from 100% Domestos since that 'kills all known germs, dead') and that'll sort me and the superbugs out. I had to put one swab up my nose and one down my throat. Since I've only just got over my cold I'm convinced that all they will find on the nose swab is a bogey, and because of my over-active pregnancy gag reflex, all they'll find on the throat swab is a small piece of vomit (probably in the form of a carrot.) Hope you weren't eating when you read that bit.
Then, last night hubby & I trotted off to Marlow for another antenatal class where we learnt all about the joy of the caesarean section, how to swaddle a baby and what baby poo looks like.
This morning it was off to the doctor's for a blood test which didn't happen in the end because there had been a mix-up with the forms they need to fill in. Ho hum.
Sunday evening we get to visit the Labour Ward (assuming nobody is giving birth in it at the tme) at High Wycombe hospital. And then Monday there's another antenatal class to attend. When will it ever end?!
Wednesday, 21 January 2009
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
Monday, 19 January 2009
Then hubby & I went to Cedar Farm Gallery for some lunch, a visit to the lovely animals they have there and a look at the craft shops where I bought myself a lovely felt flower brooch to brighten up my wrap. Am thinking that making felt brooches looks like a very easy thing to do. Perhaps this knitting lark is the wrong thing to be spending my time on.
Then it was back to the homestead where I promptly fell asleep til 6pm when it was time to put my party outfit on and make my way downstairs where a 70th birthday party was in full swing. Or in as much 'swing' as a 70th can be. I managed to sustain my party-going until about 10.30pm, but then had to leave everyone to it and wind my weary way to bed.
Sunday we made a quick visit to one of hubby's chums and by 1pm were on the way back down south; home by 4pm and an evening spent catching up with the lovely Sky+; two episodes of Coronation Street - what more could you ask for on a cold winter's evening?
Sunday, 18 January 2009
Friday, 16 January 2009
So, this time last year we were awaiting the arrival of the carpet cleaning man and the oven cleaning man; we were rushing around maniacally trying to find homes for all the things that we still hadn't put away so that the house would be ready to be let out to our tenants. Then at 12noon the taxi arrived to take us to Heathrow for our flight to Los Angeles. Once we were on board, that's when it felt like the trip we'd been planning for several months had really started. Until that moment it was hard to believe we were actually going to be travelling for quite a major length of time. We were soooooo excited.
After landing at LAX, we picked up a hire car (henceforth known as Misty), and drove to Santa Monica where we spent our first night.
If you want to read about our travels in more detail, you can have a look at the blog I wrote when we were on the road http://www.did-you-lock-the-front-door.blogspot.com/
Otherwise, you can tune in here for (possibly) daily updates of 'Where were we this time last year?'. Bet you can hardly wait!
And now, instead of jetting off to LA, it's time for hubby & I to head off to a five-hour antenatal class. That's enough time to actually give birth, isn't it?!
Tuesday, 13 January 2009
We are big fans of Jack Bauer and have been looking forward to Series Seven very much. You can tell how much I like it because I managed to stay up til nearly 11pm to watch the first two episodes, when usually I would have been slumped in bed by 9.30pm.
Scary thing is, by the time this series finishes, there will be three of us watching it. Clearly we'll have to fill Delightful Child in on what has already happened (although perhaps DC can hear the tv from in the safe confines of my tummy and knows what the plot is so far), but it's a very scary thought.
And to top it all, tonight is the new series of CSI; and what a way to end the last series with Warwick being shot! Not to mention the fact that the new series of CSI:New York started on Saturday night. And then there's Relocation Relocation. So there is pretty much no need to ever venture out of the house ever again, which is lucky as I've heard a rumour that when you have a small baby your life pretty much comes to an end.
Monday, 12 January 2009
Out of the eight ladies there, I'm the only one who is hoping for a home birth. One lady was asking me all about it, since she was under the impression that you can't have your first baby at home - don't know where she got that idea from. I think there was a frisson of interest as well when the lady teaching the class mentioned that ladies having home births get two midwives assigned to them, whereas in hospital you have to make do with one between however many ladies decide to go in to labour at the same time. (Actually, it might not be that bad, but hospital births definitely don't get two midwives each.) Keep all your fingers and toesies crossed that I can actually have a home birth, because I don't really want to go in to hopsital if I can help it. Also, keep everything crossed that I go in to labour on a Monday or a Friday so there are two episodes of Coronation Street to keep me occupied in between contractions.
Wednesday, 7 January 2009
-12C? I don't think I ever remember seeing that sort of number before in a weather-related situation, not in warm and sunny (ahem) England. You'd expect it if you lived in Antarctica (can you live there?) for instance, or perhaps Alaska or Siberia, but not here. BRRRRRRR.
Our nasty rental house is tucked away in such a stupid position in the middle of the woods that the snow that fell on Sunday night (only about a centimetre, so no big deal really), still hasn't melted.
When we first came across the place that we rent, we fell in love with it almost instantly. It's in such a peaceful setting (when you ignore the neighbour's seven, yes seven, dogs barking/yapping), out in the woods. If you use the bathroom at the front of the house you can sometimes hear the cows mooing in the neighbouring field - now there's a noise you don't often hear whilst doing your ablutions. There's no traffic noise, unless you count aeroplanes and the occasional helicopter overhead; there are no drunken youths wandering past on their way to/from the pub. All in all, rural, aural bliss.
Unfortunately though, you have to take the rough with the smooth when it comes to living in the countryside. And the rough comes in the form of being ABSOUTELY FREEZING and being HELD TO RANSOM BY CALOR GAS, who supply the LPG which powers our heating system. So far, in just three months, we have used £500-worth of LPG just for heating and hot water. That is a shocking amount, when you consider that in our last house (in the middle of town) it cost us about £50 a month for 'normal' gas which powered the heating, hot water and the cooker. And, when you also consider for just how many days we were without heating because of the crappy plumber who took so long to figure out what was wrong with the system. Since discovering just how extortionately expensive LPG is, we have been on a cost-cutting mission which involves having the heating on less. And that's just tickety-boo, isn't it, when the weather decides to turn decidedly Arctic? Can't wait to move out. Watch this space to see where we end up...
Monday, 5 January 2009
Had my 31 week appointment at the doc's on Friday; she noted The Cold and thus had a listen to my chest through her somewhat chilly stethescope. Apparently it sounds worse in my cough than it does on my chest, however it doess appear to have contributed somewhat to raising my pulse rate above what is considered normal. A 'fit' person (not that I am claiming to be in that category) would have a resting pulse rate of 70-something. Anything over 80 is considered unfit. Mine was a stonking 132! It's a miracle my poor little heart hasn't burst.
And now, here we are in 2009. Christmas is over, New Year isn't so new any more and it's back to work. But only for six more weeks. Come tomorrow, it's only eight weeks til Delightful Child is due. Now there's a scary thought...