Monday, 19 August 2013


Argh what is it with those pesky socks? Yet again I have a drawer full of singles long divorced from their partners. Tacky lovehearts and inappropriate Christmas penguins just lolling about lonely with no hope or ambition of ever being reunited by their mate. I really think the cats pinch them and put them in other people's houses when we're out.

It was bad enough in the days PB (Pre-Baby) when I would have at least 20 seconds to ruminate on their whereabouts before stealing a pair of my husband's. Now I am regularly sweaty and sockless in my shoes. This is because I am regularly forced to choose between locating a matching pair of socks and brushing my teeth/putting on my pants/having a poo or some other highly essential daily ablution. The socks always lose.

The worst thing is so many mum and baby activities require you to take off your shoes in order to participate (due, I'm guessing, to softly blanketed flooring and that general not-wanting-people-to-tread-dog-poo-near-babies thing). I'm trying to make new friends here with a vintage Primarni-loveheart-with-hole-in-heel on one foot and that bloody Christmas penguin on the other. THIS IS WHY I HAVE NO MUM FRIENDS.

In desperation I have spent late nights on eBay accumlating a raft of over-the-knee numbers in various colours and stripes, all large and bright enough not to lose. I am now in the process of throwing away ALL my old socks, ALL of them, even those black ones that ALMOST match goddamnit, and replacing them with these ludicrous great danglers. I may now resemble a deliberately quirky wanker or a teenage goth, but HOLY SHIT it'll look like I'm actually trying.

Friday, 16 August 2013

Growing Things

Whilst I have been growing skin, bones, teeth and organs, Sam has been growing what can only be described as triffids. I always thought that things like chillis and tomatoes were challenging for the amateur gardener (especially those without a garden) but these great green mutants are slowly consuming the front of our house. Outdoors, tomato plants have spilled out of their raised beds. They've throttled the basil and the garlic, and are now slowly wending a path across the yard to our front door. Tendrils are curling ominously, as if they're preparing to make a fist and knock. Meanwhile inside, rampaging chilli plants dangle obscene, bulging fruit. Leaves cover the front window like a rainforest canopy, concealing my modesty as I roll around the house with my boobs accidentally hanging out more or less all the time. We have put it all down to our "magic" south facing window and the totally tropical summer. We can't cook enough curry to keep up with the chillis, so if you want some do let me know. No fruit on the tomato plants yet though. Think we have to prune them or something. Don't ask me, I'm growing the baby instead.

While some things are growing, I am more concerned with shrinking back to something approaching a size that will fit into things I own. I have become quite accustomed to my pregnancy chub and will feel genuinely sad to see it go. It has wrapped around me like a lovely blanket and made me feel all round and homely and like a proper mum. Unfortunately it is not designed for teaching aerobics comfortably, and so must go much sooner than I would like it to. It has been quite strange having a very substantial arse for the first time in my life (my weight normally goes everywhere but bum-wards, giving the impression that fat only accumulates on my front and sides. If fat was spray-tan, it'd look like I'd been standing with my back against the spray-fat-booth wall). Let me tell you, big botties make small toilet cubicles very difficult to manoeuvre around. I have learned that it is possible to sit on the loo seat and the sanitary bin simultaneously. I have learned other things through pregnancy, it's true, but I feel this in particular is a moment that will really stay with me. Ladies and gents, I had a few minutes there where I really thought I might have to stay in that cubicle forever.

Now there is a small person here with us and there are even more exciting (often toilet-based) lessons to learn. I may talk more about those, and other, unrelated things, when I have another minute kicking around that I should probably be spending asleep.