I’m playing catch up from the weekend, both physically and pictorially. It was busy but wonderful but apparently my wee passenger feels that this requires lots of sitting on the sofa under a quilt and snoozing of an evening, so that’s what I’ve been doing – that and soaking in a bath in an effort to turn off my brain which with the neuroses only found in that classic combination of pregnant woman and slightly stressed lawyer will happily take something minor and tiny that happens at the end of a working day and fret over it non-stop until the following morning.
So, the weekend. Well on Sunday the boy ran a running race. He got a much better time that he was expecting and was generally very happy although tired and sore. I played official photographer to him and a number of our friends, none of whom are particularly keen on the way they look while running, but all of whom like the victory poze.
Saturday was a very special day, as the little bear got to show Granny how big he or she has become while I tagged along. Mum and I met up roughly in the middle; the magical land of turquiose pigs:
I’ve never been before but it is a beautiful town with lots of wonderfully photogenic bits that made me long for the proper camera – I think the little point and shoot has done a decent job though.
Our main aim was of course to be ladies who lunch and to catch up on all the news, both baby and otherwise but we cunningly disguised this plan with maternity clothes shopping. I am now an unreserved fan of Blooming Marvellous – they have pretty things that fit me and don’t make me look weird or just not like myself. Also they fit. Did I mention how they fit? When you’re already shopping in that little section of the shop marked “how lanky are you? we’re amazed you got through the door”, and you then want to combine that with the section marked “you’re going to get HOW big?”, let just say choice is rather restricted.
In the eyes of shop buyers to be both tall and pregnant is an abomination that should be prevented by making sure that the only way you will grow a baby whilst remaining decently covered in clothing is by co-opting the spare duvet cover. Happily Mum got to play dress up Barbie dolls with a 6 foot pregnant real life model for a whole morning (in which we had the shop largely to ourselves which made it even more wonderful), and I now have a beautiful set of maternity clothes that I love – and they fit – I mentioned the fitting part, right!
We had a lovely long lunch followed by a stroll along the river bank, and just enough time to sit at a cafe by the abbey and eat ice-cream (me) and drink tea/eat delicious fresh chocolate (Mum) before heading for the north/south divide once again.
I also took the chance to have Mum take a picture of the increasingly bumpy me. I’ve taken a couple of pictures a while ago but I didn’t look very pregnant, just rather fat and that’s just not very morale boosting when you’re already contending with having spent a couple of months feeling permenantly nauseous.
Yep, a lovely, if slightly self-conscious picture of me – not really sure if you can tell if I’m pregnant or not – I’m clearly going to have to work on my angles, also my expression is reading a little bit of concern that if Mum takes just one more step backwards she’ll be in the road in front of a horse and carriage tour (very Austen).
All in all it was a lovely day out – thanks Mum xxx