This week, I am starting to turn my thoughts to the fact that I will soon have to go into hospital and, er, produce a baby. Still a bit in denial about this, to be perfectly honest. (What do you mean, the stork doesn’t deliver these days?) Also, I forgot how pregnant I was and had to refer to the blog to check. That’s pretty bad.
Next week is my last week at work and I can’t say that I’m sad; it’s been weird not teaching. I also have feet that look like they belong to this man:
Unlike the trendy ‘mommy bloggers’, I am not going to subject you to the horror of looking at my feet. Just imagine them, if you want to. I bet Wilma never had to deal with horrid feet.
Anyway, so I’ve decided that this weekend I have to get everything into some kind of order, so my friend Jacqui and I will be going shopping for stuff for my ‘hospital bag’. Apparently, this is not a carrier bag filled with Twixes (my current chocolate of choice), but a bag filled with such ‘goodies’ as maternity pads and spare nighties. I have been studying the books very carefully and have drawn up a list of what I need. We’ll be hitting Primark, as apparently everything gets covered in… goo.. and needs to be something you’re not bothered about being nice. Which I’m sure will be TOP of my list when I’m shouting abuse at my husband whilst delivering a baby. I might treat myself to some nice smellies for when I come out, though.
We have pretty much everything we need for when Fidget arrives and this is… weird, because I’ve always been a bit rubbish at organising my life. His room is a bit messy with all the stuff, but we don’t have drawers or anything yet. We really just need to get new mattresses and then we’re all set.
Looks like I’m actually being rather grown up, doesn’t it? And, despite my whingeing about pregnancy, I think I’m actually starting to get properly excited about meeting the little chap! I still can’t quite believe it’s going to happen.