On the scales finally catching up with me – I kicked off the week, and the third trimester, with a quick jump on the scales and a mild panic attack at the realisation that I’d put on about 16lbs from my pre-pregnancy weight. I’ve not weighed myself since moving in to the new house, so I have no idea how they link to what I used to weigh on my old bathroom floor before I got pregnant. Mind you, I also got 5 different readings from 5 different spots on my bathroom floor, so I vowed to: a) eat less biscuits and b) save any full blown panic attacks for when I’d jumped on the midwife’s scales that I actually trust.
…then I had a chocolate croissant. Start as you mean to go on, like.
But that’s not where the nutritionally dodgy choices ended this week. For the rest of Friday, I hot-footed it down to London and a leaving do for a colleague. There may/may not have been haddock and chips, Krispy Kremes, carrot cake, nachos and pizza involved. Still, I stayed awake long enough to get OFF the train when it rolled back in to Nottingham at 11:30, so I’m going to count that as a win all in all.
Also ensuring I got my five (slices of cake) a day, this weekend bought the last cake club of 2012 at the Malt Cross. This was our Christmas-themed event, and as ever, we were spoiled for choice. The photos, as ever are all stolen from Cake Eaters Anonymous.
On nicknames – This week, after a conversation where I told Neil that I wouldn’t have changed my name when we got married if it was something crap like ‘Bacon’, he’s taken to calling me ‘Mrs Bacon’. Sincerely hope this is an attempt at humour and not a passing judgement on either my newly acquired appearance or my eating habits.
On baby and bus related developments – Baby had hiccups for the first time on Tuesday AND Thursday, and Neil was around to feel it.
Related: may or may not have missed the bus to work due to much faffing and stomach prodding. To be fair, there was a bus pulling in to the bus stop as I turned the corner of my road, but Pelvic Girdle Pain and a heavy handbag do not make for a graceful or swift Kate. The bus left it’s doors open until I was approximately 1 meter (10 meters) away, then flounced off in a smug fashion. Of course, the next bus was an infuriating 20 minutes late. If I didn’t hate other people’s public transport-related tweets quite so much, I would have done some excellent bus rage tweets this week.
In other bus related news (oh goody!) I’ve now got to the point where people offer their seat on the bus, which is pretty cool. The next step is losing my polite British exterior and ACTUALLY accepting their offer rather than clinging to the bars for dear life around the roundabout.
On impending motherhood – Currently feeling like I would quite like to take the baby out for a quick cuddle, give it the once over, then put it back in for another three months for safe keeping and to finish cooking. Three months seems like an impossibly long and ridiculously short length of time all in one.
On baby books – This week, I also finished one of the most refreshing baby-related books I’ve read in ages. I’m mulling over a bigger post about all the baby books I bought for a penny on amazon, and how stoopid the vast majority are. In the meantime, if you can get past the anti-everything-remotely-medical stance, the tofu and the cave metaphors (FYI ‘cave’ is never going to be an acceptable way to describe ladies’ nude-y bits), Ina May’s “Guide to Childbirth” has a really interesting perspective on how we condition ourself to feel pain and anxiety in labour. Whilst I’m not quite ready to give up bacon and move to a birthing commune, I did take a lot from it – like the concept of “letting your monkey do it”. If you do read it, it’s a good idea to read the second half of the book first and then go back to read the birth stories at the end – it made a lot more sense to me this way around.
Speaking of books, this week was Broadway Book Club‘s November meeting with author Damien Seaman, author of the Killing of Emma Gross. In the past, I’ve not enjoyed the book clubs where the authors attend, largely because I didn’t like their books, but I couldn’t find a constructive way of saying it, other than ‘IT WORRA BIT CRAP’. This one was different, because the book was good (I say that as someone who doesn’t really like crime books OR historically based books, and this was both), and the author had a sense of humour, and was interested in what we had to say. So, if the Weimar Republic and crime novels are your thing, check out his book for the measly price of £1.98 on Kindle.
On bump shots – I got a text from my best mate this week complaining about the lack of bump shots on the blog of late. Apparently posting a picture of your cat instead doesn’t quite cut it? In my defence, by the time I get home of an evening, I usually either look or feel like crap and have my PJs on within 10 seconds of walking through the door.
So, with drizzled on hair and very little make up, I present: week 27:
I’ve now got to the point where my belly is significantly larger than my boobs, which I don’t think I ever thought would happen. And YES, that is the dress that I said I would put away to wear on Laura’s hen do. I wore it AGAIN.
On countdowns – Oh, and one more thing: You know those countdowns that only the person counting down actually cares about? I finish work in 10 weeks time. No big deal.
Next week – I’ve got lots of exciting things planned like Pelvic Girdle Support Group (funsies), getting weighed at the Midwife’s and a Christmas party in Islington.