Slowly the malaise is lifting. M is pretty much almost there, Small Z is lagging a little behind him, and I am last – continuing to operate with one ear and a snuffly nose. Have I ever been this sick? No. Not ever. Revolting. Winter colds are supposed to be fleeting, reminding you that you’re alive, causing you to dig out a few handkerchiefs and boost your Vitamin C intake for a few days and then take off somewhere else.
This? This came down like a prolonged monsoon. I would not be exaggerating to say that LITRES of snot have been expelled within our home over the past two weeks. It’s astounding. We are starting to peer out from behind our sore noses and realise it’s only about a month until we have a new little person here. Oh. My. GOD. M and I tend to occasionally look at each other with wild, staring eyes and wonder what the hell is about to happen.
Practicing birthing positions, nappies, frozen dinners, watching our Pink Kit videos again? No. Have done NONE of it. I mean, it is 8.30pm as I type this and I’m yawning like I just pulled an all-nighter. Hopeless. I’m putting it all off until my ear returns. And if this babe decides to arrive early, I’ll send someone out for a pack of eco-disposables and accept my fate.
Current cravings? Buttermilk pancakes with some sugar and LOTS of lemon. Weird nesting urges? Going back to making soft stuffed animals…just like I did last time. I have been gently suggesting to Small Z the extent to which things might change around here after Pikelet’s arrival.
Me: Hey Small Z, you know that when Pikelet is here, sometimes I am going to have to be feeding Pikelet and Dadda will have to do your stories and help you with your teeth and PJs, and that will be lovely…
Z: No. I don’t think that will be a very good idea at ALL.
Of course, just as we had started to make some headway in this direction, we all got the Plague and Small Z switched back to being utterly focused on me, which is more than a little bit wearing. The buck stops with me, and if I’m to tired to deal with it all, um – it’s irrelevant. It’s me or nothing. This is frustrating for both myself and M, but hopefully will sort itself out over the coming week.
Otherwise, we trundle on. I’m finding it really hard to get all my work done on my allocated two days. I have a serious case of baby brain and cannot focus. I have made good friends with my long neglected fit ball, as it’s one of the most comfortable things I have to sit my ever-widening arse on, and have been scaring myself by reading back on posts like this one. Which leave me thanking the powers-that-be that I’m not living in an uninsulated trailer in a fly-plague and that if I survived last time? I can do it again.