2007-Sep-21 - Reasons to be cheerful...
Heck - it's about time I wrote something positive about my time living as a giant beach-ball. If Little B ever reads my blogs (the ones that still exist, I mean. Hahaha!), he/she'll think that I hated everything about carrying him/her. Not true.
Okay. It might seem that way to my long suffering readers but it ain't so. Blogging is my coping mechanism. 2 1/2 hours sleep? No problem-o. Just indulge your panda-eyed friend, let me whinge about it and I'll be just fine. Honest!
Unfortunately, I'm not sure if there's a way to put this behind a snip. You'll just have to ignore the whole thing if all this baby talk is doing your head in. Sorry! Bet you never thought you'd miss my Bush-bashing posts, huh? :)
So here goes. In no particular order, Zee presents the good stuff about being pregnant:
- We made a life when we'd given up all hope of ever doing so.
- When Little B starts doing flips and my stomach looks like the surface of a stormy sea.
- The expression on hubby's face when Little B kicks his hand/butt/face etc.
- When the midwife lets me hear B's heartbeat. It gives me a buzz every single time.
- I don't have to hold my stomach in. Not ever. Yay!
- Pregnancy tops are currently a fashion trend. No tartan dresses with bows for me!
- I can eat what I want - within reason.
- I can weep, yell and generally behave like a total brat/bunny-boiler and hubby (poor love) not only takes it, but he comforts me. ( I swear I'll make it up to him one day.)
- Complete strangers are nice to me.
- My family and friends are extra sweet these days.
- Hubbys keeps assuring me that I'm not fat and that I look lovely. He's such a liar, but I appreciate it!
- I'm encouraged to wallow in lovely bubble baths as often as I want.
- I'm encouraged to take a nap (if ONLY!!!) and put my feet up any time of day I want.
- Hubby won't let me do a stroke of DIY (but I feel very guilty about that. The poor soul is as knackered as me.)
- I don't have to lift heavy stuff.
- Housework is now a reward not a chore. If hubby had his way I wouldn't be doing any at all - not even light dusting or pot washing. I have to sneak around behind his back to get anything done. I'm not kidding you! I'm sure he wants me to be his own personal Jabba.
- Leg hair waxing and pant beard maintenance are now things of the past. A swipe with a razor is about all I can manage these days - and I grunt like Michael Douglas in 'Basic Instinct' when I do so. Still, why worry about what I can't see? (And why hasn't someone invented a long-handled pregnancy razor yet?)
- Hubby gives me pedicures and paints my toes in nice bright colours. Very important as toes are the only lower extremities I now possess. Good for moral too!
- I still don't have any stretch-marks. Hurrah for good genes!
- I am devouring books at a rate of knots. My local library doesn't know what's hit it!
And finally, because I'm too tired to think of anything else right now ...
- There's only 10 more weeks until I reach the drop zone! *commences a rather waddling giddy-dance*
Ah! I can't wait for Little B to be born. To see the sweet face of my perfectly behaved child for the first time. What an angel he/she is sure to be... Right!

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