I have accidentally just caught ten minutes of the shopping channel. I now feel with every fibre of my being that I need a slicer dicer plus from JML. They are right, I AM wondering how I have managed to live this long with just a Knife and a chopping board. My life is shit. Every time I go in to my kitchen from now on I shall know there is a special spot that could be housing a life changing bit of plastic. It is £50 though which stops me ordering it straight away. I have never before realised the magic of shopping tv. It has thus far, just been a few moments of accidental viewing whilst i look for something else to watch and one desperate evening when K and I discovered price drop tv and we got addicted to the drama of it all. Usually I see them trying to flog a steamer or gym equipment or hideous kaftan-esque clothing or my favourite, the truly gross jewellery but today I have finally realised that shopping tv is amazing. It could literally be changing my life if I just had £50. It seems so little to keep me from a life epiphany.
So, where were we and what was happening. Hmmm. Nothing much. Still pretty much the same.
I am sweating, even in the cooler Sprautumn weather I am finding it hard to control and I am so hot at night I have to sleep with the window open come rain or shine. K is under a double duvet and I am perspiring with the rain pouring down outside the open window. I don't know why this particular baby is making me so hot and swollen. My feet have started swelling up in the evenings and my fingers have become chubby and fat. Also so has my face but I'm assuming that is actual fat, not swelling.
It has been a week of people telling me their secrets. I am doing my level best to keep them all. Everyone seems to be pregnant. I don't know if it is my age and this is when it all happens or everyone looks at me and thinks, by golly I wanna get me a bit of that perspiration problem, but it is post war baby boom time within my small section of the world. Someone is emigrating as well. It's like everyone is doing something. Lots of people from the children's school seem to be leaving London for 'the good life' elsewhere or having their houses totally renovated. It is just ALL happening. Or it just seems that way because I am huge and immobile and spending too much time on the sofa so anyone doing anything seems life changing. Not as much as a JML slicer dicer plus obviously. Even emigrating can't out life change that little baby's slicing capabilities.
My small world is still revolving around the newbie's imminent arrival, naturally. The midwife came for the official birth chat today. I am pretty sure of myself and the facts when it comes to all the birth protocol but I still like the chat. I am very fond of my lovely midwife. She has been coming to the house on and off for the last seven years so it is just a chat really. Although she does have to officially inform me that I can't receive an epidural or cesarean section at home - it concerns me that there are geniuses out there who were surprised to learn this after it was too late and subsequently complained, therefore making it now obligatory for these poor women to point it out at the birth talk. Even with my newly hoovered lampshades and skirting boards I would be reticent to let a midwife cut through my abdomen on my bed - the washing for one thing would be hideous and my knives are really not sharp enough. Anyhoo, her arrival today signals the dawning of a new era as from now on I am deemed 'term' (37 weeks) and therefore am able to have the baby at home, so, baring all medical emergencies I should be able to avoid my most detested of places to give birth. I have rushed out to purchase a tarpaulin in celebration.
In other gripping news I have switched my ice cream allegiance from Phish food to Caramel Chew Chew. It is all change here. And My new soundtrack to life is Fun's 'We are Young' (featuring Janelle Monae) - it is not a particularly suitable soundtrack as the sentiment couldn't be further removed from my current life, but I am finding it totally irresistible. I went through a brief Ed Sheeran phase recently but stopped listening to the album in the car when I realised one of the lyrics was about f'ing in a lift. I managed to miss it for quite a number of weeks of listening pleasure until all three children were in the car and it came through very loud and clear. I hoped they had missed it and hadn't connected me shrieking and turning the music off abruptly, with the rudeness of the lyrics, until Bea leaned in to G and said 'you know that word we just heard, never say it, it's very rude'. She misses nothing.
I am also worrying about mushrooms. It has recently occurred to me that I never give the children mushrooms to eat. Is this something I should be rectifying? Should I worry about it? Should I sneak them in to their spaghetti bolognese or just front it out and present them on a plate one day and act very nonchalant when questioned? Who knows. Should I buy the slicer dicer plus, get them excited about slicing mushrooms and work it in that way therefore killing two birds with one life changing instrument? My mind is in overdrive. I shall let you know when I decide. Try not to lose sleep over it.
Ooh my nesting excitement has turned to my hideous bedroom. I can't remember if I have ever thrilled you with this before but in an act of pure selflessness, a few years ago K and I swapped the large (relative obviously) master bedroom for the smaller one which had previously been Bea's so that her and G could share a large room and house all of their toys as well as a bed each and still have room to play. (I reasoned that K and I didn't need space to play and we only needed to accommodate a bed and two wardrobes so it seemed silly to have the bigger room - it did take months to convince K of the same but as with most things he eventually gave in and moved us). Ted was moved in to G's old room and out of my bed and eventually learnt to sleep without me. All was good. Except that our new bedroom came complete with drawings, blu tack and holes in the walls, nail varnish and cheap make up on the carpet, pink walls and barely enough room to walk around our king size bed. However, I was so pleased to get some space from the baby Ted that I put up with it. Until now. Now I want a lovely bedroom, complete with feature wall paper, new carpet, clean walls et all. So far K and I have discussed the colour choice. We have been quite radical and gone for an epically exciting white. However in order to shake it up a bit I want a duck egg blue, spotty wallpaper. If you see one or know of one please let me know instantly. I have looked in home base and on cath kidston online and haven't found one so have given up. I have however, purchased some new duck egg blue bedside lampshades which were a homebase bargain and I am exceptionally pleased with my first steps to bedroom boudoir luxury. I am also hoping that once the baby is out I will once again be able to access K's side of the room which at the moment is only possible if I throw myself on the bed and roll to it as I cannot physically fit through the space between the bed and the wall.
Enough of all my Exciting life - your adrenalin must be pumping so much now you need to calm down so I shall move on to the rest of the family.
Still not managing to make the sound 'tr' and still using 'f' to replace it. K finds it increasingly hilarious and asks him repeatedly to say 'truck mummy'. I must remember not to point out that he also misses off the 'g' of grape. I hope we never see a big truck carrying grapes at any point before he grows out of it. It would be desperately hard to explain away his home life if anyone were to overhear him point out a big grape truck. It is bad enough that he and G were merrily walking around singing 'I'll get drunk again, I'll get, drunk again' thanks to the irresponsible Ed Sheeran but at least that is slightly more socially acceptable.
Due to the imminent end of term, Ted and I only have 8 more days left of just me and him. I am oddly emotional about this fact. We have become very used to dropping the big two off and then getting on with our own thing (increasingly that is just coming home and sorting the washing/watching tv/eating/napping) but still, I shall miss it. From now on, minus the odd day here and there, it will never be just me and Ted again. Luckily he doesn't fully comprehend what is about to occur so he is particularly detached from my emotional turmoil. I was greatly relieved to notice that he got upset at the Punch and Judy show we saw yesterday when Punch mistreated the baby in the classic sketch. I am vaguely hopeful that Ted will not take a rolling pin to the newbie in retaliation for stealing the limelight and muscling in on our one on one time. I was worried I might have to find a 'lid' for the crib to keep it safe but now, thanks to Punch, I think that kind of precaution might not be necessary. Fingers crossed anyway.
G is Going through some kind of primal scream therapy at the moment. Whilst usually quite happy and easy to please his temper erupts from almost nowhere and he then walks around screaming ridiculously loudly, stomping and slamming doors with clenched fists until he has calmed down. It is very odd. I admire it a bit because I would like to scream when things all get too much but it is incredibly annoying to live through when it takes place.
He has also had an odd 'we need to talk about Kevin' type weekend where he has been ridiculously strange. He has refused to see sense, been either hideously clingy or horribly rude and difficult to get through to, suddenly stopped being able to hear and then at 7am this morning he took the scissors to his hair and cut off huge chunks of it, mostly from his fringe which now has a very distinctive look and style and an inverted peak. The hearing loss in particular is disconcerting. It is hard to work out if he is suffering from a dramatic and sudden loss of hearing or if he is deliberately ignoring us or he is so involved in whatever he is thinking that he is not able to 'let sound in'. I am hopeful that all bizarre behaviour can be put down to it being the end of the school year and he will magically improve once the holidays commence. I am putting a lot of faith in to the end of term and arrival of the baby. All will be well, the sun will suddenly shine, the rain will cease and the existing children will be happy and well behaved. It is literally going to be magic.
Excessively excited about the new baby and is planning to raise it single handedly. I am sceptical over her continued enthusiasm in the face of an angry, screaming baby and it annoying her during her televisual watching pleasure, but for now her newborn doll is being lavished with an intense amount of attention and affection in preparation.
She is finally at the end of her three school trip extravaganza, each and every one a crushing disappointment due to the level of walking required. Bea's undoudtedly lovely teacher has incredibly long legs as he is over 6 foot and clearly forgets that his charges have to take three strides to his one, so after each and every anticipated day out of school, I picked up Bea and the extra child who almost fell out of the classroom and collapsed with the exhaustion and complained of leg/foot ache. After one trip up to the local museum which meant a long walk up a steep hill, Bea was outraged to discover that one girl from another class had been allowed to take a taxi there and back and therefore avoid the unforgiving hill and mile long walk. Upon further delving I realised she was referring to the girl who has to use a walking frame to get around and has a wheelchair for when her legs become too tired from the frame. Bea was unrepentant with her outrage even in The face of clear and medical evidence. Hence forth she will only be going on school trips if a bus is laid on to ship them around. She really is a chip off the old block.
Wants a PS3. I have said no. Repeatedly.
So, I think that brings you mainly up to date. I shan't bore you with details of the school And scout fairs from last weekend. They were good, enjoyable and expensive with three children in tow - standard stuff. Ted didn't want to buy any of our discarded playroom stuff back and settled for some halloween spider decorations and a ladybird game. Phew. I won a bottle of wine at the scout fair and Bea won a coconut. We were ludicrously and unnecessarily excited over our success.
You now know all there is to know, or all that I am permitted to tell, of any relevance. I am off to enjoy Thelma's gypsy girls. After donating to the gypsy cause at the weekend at yet another fair, I have even more of an interest in the gypsy world. £2.50 for one go for one child on a ride/bouncy castle. These people are frickin geniuses. K did not agree. The children did not understand. It did not make for an easy time.
I may well be in touch soon. Until then my life changing friends, until then.