Hello Mallorca, Hello Third Trimester

Well we've arrived: via much growing, a fair amount of enjoyment, not too much sleep, a backache or two and lots of talk of nurseries, Bump and I are on the home straight, and it feels great.
Time and pregnancy are two things that seem to work in harmonious tamden. Every week things change, time passes and you get a tiny step closer to Birth Day. Whilst last week I felt that the end was still some way off, now, suddenly, it feels much closer. From tomorrow, I can say, 'I'm due the month after next'. Now that's freaky. Especially as the baby's room remains empty. Two baby grows does not an organised Mother-to-be make. So when we get back from sunny Mallorca, The Shopping Attack begins. I can't say it'll be a chore.
Today my pregnancy App tells me that the baby is now 16 inches long and weighs in at a whopping 2.5lbs. Ok, it isn't that whopping, but you try stuffing a large turkey up your front and see how it impacts on your daily routines. The What To Expect application also told me that the little Pullen's Bear's lungs are also matured enough that will some serious medical intervention, it now has a great chance of survival outside of the womb.
Not that I want to see the baby now. Of course, I can't wait to stare into it's eyes and kiss it's tiny cheeks, but I'm happy to wait a bit, as I don't think I could handle the worry of a very early baby.
We had a brief dalliance with that fear on day one of holiday. The story, it's a long one involving a damp sunlounger, a panicked me, lots of pacing, and the wrong assumption that my waters were breaking, sounds amusing now, but it was a horrible half an hour. Was the baby going to be born NOW? What here, in MALLORCA? It was only when DH went to lie on the same deceptive lounger and it looked as if his waters were breaking too, that I breathed a sigh of relief.
I think I will be able to deal with the onslaught of labour when it arrives sometime in November, but not now. Not on holiday. Not when my lovely midwife is a 1000 miles away.

So after everything I said about John Lewis...

... and not wanting to become a total JL Mum, this evening, after work, we have our Nursery Advisory meeting. I'm only going to learn how to put up and fold down the buggy. Seriously, I'm not being taken for a ride and shown every product known to (modern) babies. I just want a quick lesson in foot brakes, a once over on the cot bed, and maybe a sniff or two around the breast pads - then I'm outta there.
I already have the most conclusive Mummy-to-be list from Dear Friend Amy, and frankly, I trust her over a young, graduate-trainee doing his one month stint in the nursery department.
It sounds like I'm anti-John Lewis, doens't it? I'm not at all, I just can't imagine what they want to talk to me about for two hours. It sounds like a baby endurance test, and frankly I'm too tired. What I'm not too tired for, however, is our final sunny holiday tomorrow!
Yes, people, there's the possibility of another bikini shot in the next week or so, as we're heading to steamy Mallorca and I can't wait. For one, it'll mean a week without a what-to-wear-to-the-office conversation (with myself). I'm also looking forward to hurrying the time along a bit. I'm getting impatient. And nothing makes time fly like a week in the sun and lots of lovely food.

Finding my third, pregnancy, eye

As with some of my other posts, when I've not wanted to completely embarrass myself, I've found a generic image to illustrate the point. My first pregnancy yoga class was not the time to get out the camera, so here is a woman who is far more accomplished than me. I also thought this image was pretty amusing.
So off I went, with the one of the other bumpettes (34 weeks) to a quiet lounge in Queens Park for some stretching, chatting and serious bump comparisons. Next to me was Lisa, who at 39 weeks was completely incapacitated by her expanded figure and who had to sit propped up against the wall for most of the two hour session. Despite her inability to get up unaided (so many uses for a small stool, it turns out) I was extremely impressed by her dedication. And I hope that when I get as enormous as Lisa (no offense, love) that I'm motivated enough to even leave my front door.
At the other end of the scale was a girl and her micro-14 week bump. Again, I was impressed by her dedication. Although, if I was going to be picky, perhaps the class may have been a bit low-impact, considering that she looked liked she'd eaten a large meal rather than that she was carrying a small child. Anyway, it was a nice mixed group and we did some useful stretching, chatted about our different issues, lay on the floor with the lights out listening to Madame Yogi tell us about how important we are to our babies (I think a tear welled up in my eye, although it could have been the dusty carpet), and then she made herbal teas, brought out chocolate Bourbon biscuits and told us not to have the Third Stage placenta-removing injection. It was an interesting, if somewhat incongruous combination of refreshments and information. But one that left me feeling virtuous and a little bit more knowledgeable.
The Yogi in question, if anyone fancies a visit, is called Julie Krausz. I really liked her, except when she just dropped into the conversation: 'I assume that all of you will be breastfeeding for a at least a year.' At which point, I'm sure one of my breasts let out a very tiny yelp.

A little angel...

Ok, I wholly understand that this blog is not a platform for showing off. I am not a showing off type of person (unless you count how I boast when I beat DH at Backgammon and Scrabble). So do not think me crude, but I just had to share this divine baby grow that I received in the post yesterday from another lovely PR friend. Wow, I love my job.
It's by Marie Chantal, a rather upmarket childrenswear brand, that I actually turned to (in the sale) for my flower girl dreses last May. Anyway, the box arrived and out of it came the sweetest, most hilarious angel sleep suit I've ever seen - granted, I've never seen another one, but if I had, it wouldn't be as soft and cuddly as this one.
It is so cute, I actually want to cry. Ok, that's a slight overstatement. I don't really want to shed any tears. But I did let out a squeal when I saw the wings. Even if the Pullen Bear is a boy, it's going to be wearing this a lot. I hold my hands up now, and will take the blame, in 18 years time, when he realises that I dressed him up like some kind of Christmas accessory. Babies are there to have fun with, I reckon. And if that means dress-up boxes and stupid wings, then I'm all for this motherhood malarky.

Clear the hospital hallways...

...this Orla Kiely beauty will be making its way to the maternity suite in about 14 weeks time. Friends say I'm organised but I just want to point out here, that this little darling was actually sent to me as a gift. Of course I haven't started thinking about what I'm going to take to the hospital with me on D Day. That doesn't mean that lovely other PR friends aren't worried on my behalf. 'Getting you all set for the arrival' was the attached note. My heart skipped a beat.
Actually, I'm now wondering whether to give this baby (not that baby), a trial run when we go to Mallorca on Saturday. Would it be rude to test the case before I take it to the hospital, or is it nicer to keep these things prisitine and perfect until their intended use arrives?
Either way, I'm going to be the chic-est Mum-to-be in the hospital. Not that this will mean anything when I get there. Considering that I'll be trying to push a small child from my loins. Presumably, any thoughts of pull-up handles and nifty wheels will be lost in a haze of laughing gas, and possibly epidural. Anyway, it's nice to know, while I'm sitting at my desk, mind and body still in one piece, that I'll have a nice bag in tow when I head off to St Mary's sometime later this year.
In some senses, the due date feels like it's fast approaching. The time is ticking by quickly now, 24, 25, now 26 weeks. But then, when I actually sit down and think about it, 14 weeks is a rather long time to wait. Blimey, being pregnant takes forever - and I'm starting to get impatient.

Feeling the burn

Mmm, so that's what that feeling was in my food pipe. There I was thinking it was hunger pangs. A kind of deep, unsated desire for (more) food, presenting itself as a pain in my chest. When actually, all along, the unpleasant pressure feeling was some rogue acid moving its way up behind my sternum. The joys of pregnancy.
Yesterday, the burn took on a whole new personality. I think it was the fruit smoothie what done it. You'd think that something as healthy and virtuous as fruit blended with, er, more fruit, couldn't do your body any harm at all. And yet, there I was two hours later, feeling the pain and not quite knowing what to do with myself. As with everything digestion related (I know, TMI), the effects lasted hours. So many hours in fact, that I was still awake with my burn at some ungodly hour this morning. It was me, the rain and the burn. Almost a party, of the most painful, damp sort.
So now I need to do something about it, becuase I'm not putting up with this any longer. I will ask my GP today. I'm going back to see her, because I need a series of important documents signed, all of which I forgot to ask her about last time around. She's in for a heartburn interrogation too.
Someone mentioned Rennies, or Gaviscon. My Grandpa used to swear by Rennies. His bathroom cabinet with overflowing with the little, square tablets. In my innocent mind, they were an old person's drug. Something you have when you draw your pension. I certainly wasn't expecting them to accompany me on my maternity leave.

Finally, a fabric...

I did it, success. After about twelve trips to the haberdashery department at Liberty (and a new friendship with the shop assistant), I did something a bit crazy and actually bought the fabric for the nursing chair. It was a rash, impulsive decision. And Darling Husband helped - despite being completely unaware of the printed, woven dilemmas that had preceded the final purchase.
As we walked along Marylebone High Street, on our way to buy a new floor lamp (Angelpoise, green shade, very nice), we stopped in at Cath Kidston. I thought I knew all of her prints, but as it turns out there was a lovely, unisex, apple design that paid tribute to my fruity heritage, would look rather fabulous on an old Victorian nursing chair and slotted nicely into all my other nursery ideas.
Fun, happy and 10% of the price of my original dream chair covering, it seemed like a no-brainer. So the helpful assistant cut 4 metres. We took it to the cash till. And, what do you know it, we have ourselves a fabric! Hoo-rah.
Not only that, but in the Conran shop we found the most lovely painted grey chest of drawers (not bought yet, but a definite), and so we are seriously moving ahead on this nursery. The drawers will look perfect, in a mix-matched way, against the clean white cot, so I'm feeling happy.
Somehow, we also managed to clear the baby's bedroom of boxes and after a mammoth trip to the charity shop, it's ready to be cleaned - and then the paint will go on!
Another baby development is that the elephant baby grow arrived in the post. It's so cute. It's so tiny. It's so cuddly. And one day, hopefully, there will be a gorgeous Pullen bear inside its soft, brushed cotton exterior. Yes, friends, we've been nesting and it feels lovely. DH even made me some chocolate covered Corn Flake snacks, so that I get my sugar hit in a homemade, (relatively) healthy way. What a fabulous weekend. Crunch, crunch.

Bump and I in clothes: PART 5

Well I'm still feeling a bit ropey, but bump and I couldn't do another day in front of the television, so I'm dressed and tackling work. I'm not sure I'll make it through the whole day as ear is still aching (this is a mild ranting entry, so sorry), and I'm completely whacked, but at least I'm not in a tracksuit.
Granted, I've migrated back to denim. But I just couldn't tell what the weather was going to be like today, so thought it was too risky to chance a skirt. Not that I actually have a skirt that fits, but it's nice to dream.
So I've gone for skinny jeans and my Princess Diana top. Doesn't the bow and polka dots look comical and 80s? I'm still not sure if it's good or not. The bump kind of adds something to the mumsy, bow-thing. It makes me feel innocent. Which, if you think about it, is pretty impressive for a top.

Jaeger Princess Diana top
Topshop jeans
Pretty Ballerina pumps
Frizzy hair

Bump and I in clothes: PART 4

So I'm a bit under the weather today. DH has had a stinking cold since the weekend and my pregnant body is trying to resist and making me completely exhausted in the meantime. So I'm at home, with my sneezes and my tiredness. Which goes some way to explaining this 'outfit'. I feel I have in some way let my challenge down, but I wasn't going to dress just for the picture and then put the tracksuit on. I'm an honest, upfront blogger, so this is me and bump squeezed back into the old tracksuit.
Chic it is not; but I'm comfortable and warm. I will try harder tomorrow.

Gap trackie top
Gap yellow vest (love Gap right now)
Nanette Lepore trackie bums
Bare feet (that will be manicured next Thursday)

Wish me better.

Bump and I in clothes: PART 3 (a)

So I left the house. Got cold. Came home. And changed. I've never done that before. And Sir Stuart is going to have to excuse my leggings.

Winter Kate tunic thing
M&S leggings (doing the right thing)
French Sole pumps
(no more goose bumps)

The end.

Bump and I in clothes: PART 3

Ok, so it's one of those shaving the legs days. SUN and no clouds, which means it's time for a dress. Plus I have a rather fancy work lunch at Scott's today, so I need to wear something that isn't jersey. Jersey, as an aside, is very nice and comfortable, but not right for chatting to Sir Stuart Rose in.
So I've plumped for this floral dress. I love the print, but pre-pregnancy, I found the length a bit awkward and the general shape a bit, um, blurgh. Now though, with my new dimensions, it has somewhere from which to hang. Dresses are a funny thing when you're pregnant. Especially for me, a previous dress addict. Pre-pregnancy, you (I) wore lots of really girlie, roomy numbers that looked kind of cute, or at least I hope they did. Now though, cute is a word I want to permanently erase from my sartorial vocabulary. There is nothing cute about a big, fat pregnant woman in frills. This dress, though floral, is simple enough in it's cut to just about be acceptable. Or at least, that's what I'm telling myself today.

Tucker dress
Bloch ballet flats
General jewellery mismatch

Bump and I in clothes: PART 2

Ok, so as it turns out, this wardrobe thing is actually quite fun. Not only has it got me out of the jeans rut, but I have also rediscovered three pairs of shoes in the process. This is never a bad thing.
Today I wanted to go for comfort (as usual), but in this unpredictable weather, it's hard to know whether to get the legs out. I decided that as it was going to rain today, I'd keep them covered (also, due to the fact that shaving is becoming increasing problematic, I now keep that enjoyment for Very Sunny Days Only). With covered legs in mind, I'm restricted to the denims, leggings and a long t-shirt, or my lovely, almost forgotten lightweight trackie pants. I have plumped for the latter, with my oldest shirt. I feel quite nice, and am the perfect temperature. Not sure this would cut it on the front row at Fashion Week, but it's fine for the office on our busiest day. Speaking of which, I must not delay on the copy any longer. Here is my Tuesday list:

L'Agence trackie pants (drawstrings are my friend)
Gap tee
Topshop shirt (oldie/goodie)
Pretty Ballerina pumps

It's a simple mixture, but one that feels good. The only downer is I keep flashing a tiny slither of skin just above my waistband. This is not a good look, so I'm tugging on my vest continually. Who said fashion was easy?

Bump and I in clothes: PART 1

Ok, so I'm officially getting fed up with my clothes. It's either, jeans, one long skirt, a rotation of about three dresses, or nakedness. Really, those are my options these days. In a bid to re-inspire myself, I've decided to do a photographic exploration of a Week in My Clothes. As you can see, the photographic element is rather blurry, thanks to my inability to find it within myself to ask someone else at work to take my picture. So this is me, in the fashion cupboard, with my lame Blackberry camera. At least I'm (half) smiling.

Today I am wearing:
Long black skirt (pre-pregnancy), by Graham and Spencer
White vest (pre-pregnancy), Topshop (washed too many times)
Trusty (yes, pre-pregnancy) Gap striped long sleeves tee
Asos.com leather jacket

In this look's favour is comfort and warmth. Against, is a general lack of colour and style, plus the necessity to wear a g-string. Oh, and I'm wearing some old French Sole ballet pumps. They are stinky and falling apart, but they are kind to my feet, and I'm all for foot pleasure these days.
I am going to try to look vaguely fashionable for the entire week. Clearly I'm already failing at the first hurdle, but it's Monday, so give me a break. The weather is planning to be unkind (read: rainy), to my endeavours, but I will mussle on. You see, I have London Fashion Week around the corner, which means I will need myself and what will be a 7 1/2 month bump, to look half decent for five days on the trot. This is a practise run. Wish me luck.

So close, and yet so far

Ha ha, isn't this picture hilarious, and a little bit weird. It isn't me, of course, but it perfectly sums up how I felt at 5am this morning. As per usual, and I know, I'm a broken record on this subject, I was awake when I was meant to be asleep. It was a particularly frustrating feeling as I am feeling knackered at the moment and was relishing a good kip. But there you go, it didn't happen.
What did happen was some good, lovely baby kicking. Baby kicking is amazing. And this little Pullen Bear is an active, physical soul that spends the majority of its time knocking against my insides. This has become usual (amazing) practice. But early this morning, while I was awake, in those dusky, early morning hours, my hand, and one of it's body parts had 'a moment'. Seriously, I'm not the gooey, sentimental type, but I actually felt like I touched my baby. It was probably because I was quiet and focusing on the baby (not much else do to at such an hour), but I actually felt as though I could reach in there and pick the little bubba out. Of course I can't, and I wouldn't want the baby to make an appearance this early on, but it felt very real, and really rather special.
It is so crazy the way you carry this darling thing around for so long, and you love it, and connect with it, and yet you don't know it's face, it's sex or it's personality. The mind boggles when you start thinking about the person growing in your tummy. It is an amazing experience being a pregnant woman, as long as you don't focus on your lack of sleep.

Fashion Mum

Ok, this shopping lark is now getting a bit out of control now. Maybe it's a displacement tactic to stop me focusing on the pain in my right buttock. Apparently I have a trapped nerve, or something called Pelvic Girdle Pain. Anyway, I'm now hobbling as if I've just run the marathon, which isn't particularly attractive and is doing nothing for my sleep. So I've decided to stop thinking about the buttock and start working out my New Mum Look. This is a serious business, it turns out.
While everyone else on the fashion desk considers their new Autumn/Winter wardrobes (minimal, camel, generally involving several capes), I'm working out how to do comfy and still look chic.
These two boots are my first steps towards nailing (hopefully) the casual/fashionable thing. The pair on the left are going to be my Ugg replacements. I have to admit, I'm also investing in a new pair of Uggs, or rather Celtic Sheepskins (long, black), because let's face it, nothing soothes a pair of cold, tired feet like some squidgy sheeps' fluff. But I won't, I just can't, wear them everyday. It would be like erasing all my years as a fashion journalist just because I have a small child on my hip.
So I needed something else; another pair of boots with equal snuggle factor but that also possess some edge, you know, some proper style. I've found these, by Penelope Chilvers . They aren't actually online yet, but Chilvers does an amazing range of Spanish riding boots that all the in-the-know types rely on. I've actually plumped for this dirty blue pair because they have a soft inside and I'm partial to having warm feet. Plus, I have my Belstaff boots for smarter occasions.
As an aside, I've recently written a piece for Glamour Magazine about my life in my shoes. It turns out, after a rather mammoth stock take, that I have A LOT of boots. I thought I had a penchant for heels, but boots are up there as the front runners, at the moment. Anyway, I already own far too many, but clearly, far too many, isn't quite enough, so I'm unleashing the Boot Queen once again.
As such, I have also procured this snazzy little wedge pair from asos.com . I'm thinking that with a pair of skinny jeans and a big chunky Sara Berman cardigan I'll be able to feel really rather nice while I'm pushing around that khaki Bugaboo Bee. The khaki and the camel go rather well, I think - not that I'm matching my clothes to my buggy quite yet.
So this is the start of Alice The Mum in clothes. She also has a black cashmere ribbed beanie winging it's way over, and potentially a trapper hat or two on the back burner. It sounds excessive, but let's not forget that I have discount cards coming out of my ears, plus I receive quite a few boot-shaped gifts leading up to winter. So I'm not taking food from my unborn child's mouth quite yet. I'm merely milking the job for as long as I can, because once October comes around, the gifts are going to dry up. And if I don't do my planning in advance, I'll be left with nothing but the damp Uggs that found themselves sinking into a Suffolk beach on a cold day last Christmas.

The (shopping) bug is starting to bite

Amazingly for me, I'm here, heading towards 25 weeks pregnant, and I haven't bought a single thing for the baby. Literally, all I've bought so far are those two pairs of maternity jeans (that I am now beginning to depise) and several long vests from Gap and Topshop. My bank balance is looking rosy and everything is bobby along nicely, despite the fact that I'm yet to buy anything for the Pullen Bear.
But below this calm, spend-free facade is a crazed shopaholic desperate to set herself free. The feelings have been brewing for a few weeks now: the endless chats with other Bumpettes about prams, thoughts about the nursery and now, I've even started seriously pondering what this baby will wear on its first few days on earth. It is horrible to think that the pure, unadulterated baby will even need clothes. If I could, I'd keep it all naked and natural, but I think I may get done by Social Service, especially considering that he or she will be making it's big arrival when the mercury is in free fall.
So, what do you buy for a tiny, cute little newborn when you don't know the sex? I'm not doing yellow. Just not going there. And I kind of feel the same about pale grey. Grey is a bit of a sad colour, and I want this baby to be all bouncy and happy and, well, not grey.
So I've done the impossible. I've put in an order from America. This isn't excatly shopping per se, as no money has exchanged hands. Rather, I've enlisted the help of Fashion Berm, who has rather selfishly decided to make Los Angeles her home for the next few years. This is bad news on all fronts - except when it comes to shopping. I know Berm knows me well; she basically knows this baby already, such are the hours, days, months spent together over the last decade or so. She is also 'in fashion', and so understands my aversion to lemon sherbet ducks. Helpfully the Fashion Berman is also flying into town next month and so there will be a package for the Mini Pullen winging its way over the Atlantic very soon, lucky thing.
Anyway, all this chat about baby grows and tiny hats, it has got me thinking. Or rather, clicking. Ok, I admit, I've been virtual shopping online. That's allowed, I reckon. Currently I have several full 'baskets' at several different online portals. I haven't clicked 'Buy' on any of them yet, but the two pictures above, are this week's front runners for hospital gear.
I love the elephant. It's so sweet and innocent. And the Mothercare beige set, while mildly bland, at least looks sweet in a carmel ice cream kind of way.
This baby shopping lark is fun, its also dangerous addictive. But I feel gooooood, and it isn't worrying me at all.

POST SCRIPT: There is going to be a new baby Olins in the clan. This is truly amazing, exciting, fantastic news. Lozzy and Ade, the Pullen Bear can't wait. It told me this morning - it is very advanced this child of ours. Smiles all around.

The Money Shot (and another one for good luck)

This is me and bump in Provence. We had a lovely time, although the old days of rotisserie chicken style sunbathing are no more. I was conscious not to get the little one too hot, and even though the Mistral wind meant that it felt relatively cool in the 35 degree heat, the intensity of the sun was just too much. So I sat in the shade for most of the time.
The shade has its benefits, it turns out. Especially when you are on holiday with an 8 month old baby (among others). Having Dylan Pops there made me SO excited for the arrival of the Pullen Bear. His smiles, laughter and general naked funniness kept us all amused and meant I got a bit of bubba practise in too. Even his midnight crying somehow didn't annoying me; I'm clearly getting ready for this motherhood lark.
The lack of chilled wine and champagne also somehow paled into insignificance when I got a kick from the inside. This baby is one active little tyke. It is moving constantly these days (does this mean I don't have a sleeper on my hands?), and wiggles like a trooper. But I love it. And DH does too. He thinks it's a girl now. Mainly because it doesn't stand still - just like it's Mamma.

Luberon loveliness

Yes I've been slack, but myself and the bump are on holiiiiday. I'm working up to a bikini shot, so bear with me. The main things to report are:
1. Sunbathing isn't the same with a baby inside. My skin feels sensitive and now I'm just aiming for a healthy glow rather than anything that resembles a tan.
2. Gosh those glasses of rosè around the pool look delicious.
3. Getting on and off the lilo is amusing for everyone else but me.
4. Typing on a French keyboard is a pain in the bottom.
5. Hanging out with a real baby, aka, The Dylan Pops is such fun; those smiles. I'm getting excited for the Pullen Bear now.
6. Being on the computer when it's 30 degrees outside is just plain stupid.
Cheerio.