Scary Mary

News International have moved offices. This means a rather manic start to the week and a general rummaging through of stuff that I have accumulated, at work, over the past six years. Actually, the majority of this sorting happened last week, but today while unpacking my crate, I came across this priceless photo, above. I'm not sure why it was at work in the first place, but it certainly hammered home a point. This is me (left, unfortunate looking) and one of the other bumpettes (blonde, angelic) at kindergarten together nearly three decades ago. Er, hello. This blows my mind. Soon, our children will be sitting next to each other playing with toys. It's kind of crazy that we shared our formative years (thank you Alyth) and are now sharing this pregnancy malarky. Wow, life happens in strange ways.
In other news, I went to a fancy dress party on Saturday night (photo to follow) and not only managed to wear a pair of Miu Miu heels until 1am, but was also chatted up. I know, I'm not sure which is more impressive either. The poor boy didn't see the bump (also, amazingly unbelievable), and was mortified when The Berman Over From LA, pointed out the elephant in the room. I was pretty impressed with myself, especially considering I was also wearing a pair of large, Timmy Mallet-style 80s glasses and a Fergie bow in my hair - it was fancy dress, I haven't lost my fashion marbles just yet. Wonders really do never cease in this upside world of pregnancy. The fact that the Poor Boy was hopelessly drunk is inconsequential. The very act of his interest means I am not an old, past it Mum-to-be, quite yet.

The newest recruit to the Bumpettes

My Dad.
Isn't he fabulous?! He's due, ok, he's not actually due at any point, but we still thought the photo opportunity was too good a one to miss. Dearest Dad has learnt how to dress with a bump ever since his Dad started showing signs of tummy bumpness in his early middle ages. The Olins men are experts at dealing with this unique shape, so I thought he deserved a space on the old blog.
Dearest Dad, thanks for being such a great sport. I know the dark chocolate diet is still going well, so maybe when I finally lose this enormous watermelon on my front, you will too.
In other news, my little burn-y throat episodes seem to becoming more frequent. It's worrying, and uncomfortable. Apparently this means the baby will be hairy. I'm not scared of a little bit of downy hair on its head, I think it looks cute. Let's just hope it doesn't have any wolverine tendencies across the body - especially if it's a girl! Anyway, Gaviscon Cool is possibly the most unpleasant medicine I've ever had the misfortune of digesting. It's like crunching old school chalk between your tea and then squeezing some toothpaste in some weird, extra bonus. All in all, the experience is one akin to foaming at the mouth, but at least it keeps the burn away. Hello chalk, let's become friends.

The beginning of the end...

Tomorrow will be a very sad day. One of the highlights of my pregnancy so far, has been the constant email banter with bumpette numero uno. She's only numero uno, because she's jumping in the deep end first, and as such, tomorrow is her last day at work. Oh the sadness. How will I get through the day without our bump-related chats? Seriously, it feels like I'm standing, alone, on the edge of some very big precipice. Of course, there are other bumpettes out there who like to chat, but our level of email communication surpasses all the rest added together. At any moment in the day, my fashion mind can be easily interupted by a story about being on all fours, what either of us has eaten for lunch/wants to eat for lunch/whether or not it is salt and vinegar Hula Hoops o'clock, as well as, how many times we peed in the night, vitamin K, changing mats and other such conversational gems. This bumpette and I have been exchanging amusing tales for nearly 30 weeks now so it's a wrench that she's off. It's also, hugely exciting!
How mad that the gang are starting to go off on maternity leave. This obviously means that things are getting closer, and more real. At my midwife appointment this morning, I heard the little Bear's heartbeat again, which is another kick up the bottom in the reality check department. I didn't like today's midwife. She was stern and made me paranoid about my big bump, despite measuring it and the bump coming in bang on size at 29 cm. Some people. I also had my glucose blood tests done today, which involved downing a bottle of Lucozade (cruel, in my opinion, considering the gassy bubbles), and then waiting an hour for the nurse to take two vials from your arm. It isn't the best way to start a Thursday, but at least the baby is in good shape and I'm not burping as much as I would have done after the same about of Diet Coke.
Another funny thing struck me this morning. Is it some kind of cruel joke that midwives constantly want to check your urine, when you can no longer actually see where you pee? It makes collection rather tricky. What a lovely thought to sign off on - anyway, toodle pip.

Oh my goodness, I'm losing my (very small) mind

This is the extent of my pregnancy craziness: I'm on the way into work, I am already a bit late, because I have just been at an important meeting and thus, I am taking a different route to the office.
I sit on the bus and my mind says something like this, 'If I take this bus an extra two stops in that direction, and then walk a bit towards that other tube station, instead of the getting off at, oops, the one passing me now on the left, then I may, just accidentally pass John Lewis, wherein lie lots of lovely buggies.
So that is what I did. Even though I know I need to go back with the Darling Painter to get his opinion too, I did the detour and took myself and the Pullen Bear up to the fourth floor and tried to inconspicuously wheel a buggy or two around for my own peace of mind (read: pleasure/confusion).
Except that they keep all of their lovely buggies with the breaks switched on. This sounds simple enough if you were riding a bike, say, or even driving a car. But these buggies are more complicated than a Rubix Cube.
'I can do this', I thought, while I pressed several white buttons and looked like a deranged gardener with a jammed lawnmower. Thankfully, a very nice assistant walked past and put me out of my misery. He also showed me how to fold each version down and generally gave me a bit of an Bugaboo overview. When he asked whether I wanted to 'play around' with the buggies on my own, I muttered something about my husband needing to see them too and scarpered.
As it turns out, pushing a buggy feels very proper in a I'm A Mummy, kind of way. And I wasn't exactly ready for it at 9.30am on a Wednesday morning, already late for work.
The results of today's brief dalliances with the Bugaboos is that the Cameleon is still ahead, just. I know, I know, this is a highly thrilling post. If you are still reading it by this point you either have way too much time on your hands, or are my greatest fan ever (thank you, presents later). Either way, sorry to drone on, I will make a decision.
Then we need to buy a new car. And don't even get me started on that one.

If I had a scrapbook...

...then this would be the front cover. I'm totally focused on the nursery now (apart from when I'm focused on the buggy, and my backache). I have actually been keeping a document full of images of my favourite nurseries, and this one, above, comes pretty close to the top of the list. I love the walls. And the blinds. And all the bright colours. It's just so, er, happy. And happy is good in my (nursery) book.
Even better than the happiness, is that the the stylish couple who decorated this room, bought most of the bits in Ikea. Proving that you don't need to be wasteful to get creative. At least that's what I'm telling Darling Husband, who for one weekend soon, will becoming Darling Painter. Men, aren't they useful.
So this is where I'm heading nursery-wise. I need a great rug, that is a sticking point at the moment, and a table for next to the feeding chair. But I have time, and I have a subscription to Living Etc, so I'm not too worried.
Now that September has arrived I'm beginning to feel like this baby thing is actually going to happen rather soon. It kind of figures, of course, after being up the duff for more than six months now. But it's hard to progress your mind from 'pregnant' to 'mum'. It's a bit mental when you write it down. Darling H, is quite good at using the Mum and Dad words. I still find them hilarious. But we have about 11 weeks to practise.

The bump is stretching...

I have lots of funny photos at home on my camera. There are several of me on the beach that I'm considering uploading, although not yet 100 per cent sure are a wise idea. I also have one with my Dad (it is better than it sounds) that I'm waiting to receive (HINT HINT MOTHER). And several others that better show my stage of development. None of them, unfortunately, are at hands reach, so I've just taken this rather lame picture in the fashion cupboard to document my size and show off my nice new denim shirt. It isn't maternity (impressive, huh?) and will be a dream to unpop and yank open once the breasts become milking machines. My blood just ran cold for a second when I wrote that. I don't think I'm quite ready for a small baby to latch on, but latch on it will, and there will be this denim shirt in the mix - until it gets covered in baby puke, of course.
So I've been away and the bump is feeling big and stretched. I'm not sure if it's the stage I'm at or the cheesy baked potato that I had for lunch, but either way, I'm just not comfortable at the moment. I'm not complaining, really, I'm not, it's just so big... and it's going to get BIGGER. My very helpful Baby Centre weekly email told me that I'll put on another 5 kgs before the baby bear arrives. Er, like where Mr Baby Centre Man? Seriously, I'm failing to see how I can actually enlarge much more than this. I already feel like a full balloon, and I'm scared I may just pop.
Aside from my enormous tummy, my mind has been focused on prams. I'm back onto the Bugaboo Cameleon. Actually, when I say back on, I actually just mean on, because I was totally, unequivocably decided on the Bee, but now I like the bigger, sturdier version. I actually dreamt about it last night. I'm not sure if this is a good thing or not.
I'm sure things will change again, although I do need to put the order in soon, perhaps that explains the dream? Other shopping highlights include some sample paints for the nursery. I know, in the grand scheme of things, this isn't exactly a highlight, but I've only been back for 24 hours, so in my book that's pretty impressive. And basically, the shape of things to come.

A micro blog

Friends, sorry for my holiday slackness. I have photos to make up for the blogging hiatus. Please stick with me, I will do an extended entry later. I promise.