Hi. This is Mom.
So, Friday was not such a good day. I had to go to hospital for a bit. But all I'll say about that - cos even I am sick of whining - is that you were a trooper and your little heartbeat sounded like a galloping Shetland and all turned out to be well.
Then, Saturday was my birthday. 30. A big one. Your Mom's not a young' un anymore. Dad had come back from Durban the night before, so he was here when the clock struck 12 (okay, 12.15) and when I woke up in the morning. Happy days.
I went off to brunch with the gals and Yaya, which was lovely. Had three large pieces of French toast with berries and honey. (No bacon. We need to have that chat sometime - Dad's going to want to let you eat bacon and I'm not going to and you might be a bit confused, but we'll do our best to explain it to you nicely and in a way that doesn't bugger you up for life, despite what Uncle Theo says...)
Back to the French toast - one of my favourite things about pregnancy is being the only person to order anything other than an egg-white omelette on rye and not caring :) Especially when I eat it all. Every morsel. And especially when no-one says a thing except 'Well done; you're eating for two, you know...', which is code for 'I know you're pregnant, but I like the fact that you're fatter than me and make me look skinny by comparison, so please sit here a bit longer and don't lose all that weight too quickly...'
Got lovely pressies and some gorgeous things for you, which is super-fun. Can't wait to put you into the little furry bear suit from Auntie Dina. It even has ears! I love teeny kiddie clothing...
After brunch, I came home to open Dad-and-Yaya's combo pressie - wow! Black-and-white diamond earrings for you to inherit when you're bigger. Lucky girl. Dad's got superb taste in jewellery and Yaya only gives exquisite, extravagant gifts and you now have a small but very pretty collection.
Also got lovely flowers and stunning accessories from Dad, who (you should know) is a little bit gay (but in a good way for a married guy) and chooses/arranges/strategises magnificent flowers/gifts.
Popped into Liam's 5th birthday party for a bit - where no-one flippen asked what I got for my birthday, despite my waving my sparkly ears in their faces - and then home for a short nap before delicious dinner with the folks, both sets, and Debbie at DW11-13. Yum. You and I liked the Eton Mess (pavlova).
Last night was Mom and Dad's combined birthday party - our usual story. LOTS of prep and tidying and neatifying and organising and snapping at Dad and Dad snapping at me, but we got it all done and it was fun. Mostly. I think I'm basically done with mass entertaining til you're 21. Or so.
The evening culminated in Mom and Dad driving the streets at 11.30pm to find poor, homeless folk to give the five remaining pizzas to. (Thumps, Mom's better at gauging food quantity than Dad, who chronically over-caters.) We found one sleeping bergie and laid it gently beside his head - tho he probably won't eat it because he'll think it's part of a rich white conspiracy to poison him - and a band of very jolly car-guard-seeming folk who took care of the rest. Success.
Okay, I'm going to work now.
May you have only happy birthdays. Lots of them. Say, 80 or 90.
Love you.
Mom x
No comments:
Post a Comment