RGL00157

le weekend

I knew that I was going to be short changed this weekend and have only one day off, as I had agreed to take on Director of the day duties, but I actually thought I was working today. Fortunately for me, Mr McMuffin checked the rota yesterday and at 8.10am advised me that I should have started work ten minutes before. I ran around like a tasmanian devil and arrived at work at 8.45am, to find that I was booked to spend the next few hours down the Police station as an appropriate adult. I was a little nervous as I haven't done this for about fifteen years, but in the end it wasn't necessary. This was fortunate as the 97% child care work I had been assured of turned into 40% and I found myself floundering around with requests for adult services for the elderly and mentally ill.

Luckily I am reasonably sensible and I had telephone support when I got really stuck, but it didn't stop me snivelling on the phone to Mr McMuffin about how stressful it all was. Anyway, after a long and tiring day of my first and last stint of Director of the day, I would quite like to have another go.

bad baby

Poor Slinky can no longer find respite from a harsh world filled with food and sleeping opportunities by draping himself over my belly. The bairn finds this pressure irresistible and has taken to giving Slinky a good kicking, to move him away. The cat has the most curious look on his face during this assault, almost as if he cannot quite believe what is happening.

Anyway, I'm not sure whether I should believe what I saw happening in front of my eyes on one of those Discovery Channel birth story things today. Let me just tell you it was a vile business and I turned away in disgust. I don't know how other women do it, but when it's my time for the bairn to be born, I fully expect a stork to appear and magic him out of my belly, wrap him in a blanket and deliver him to a gooseberry bush of my choosing. It's the only civilised way to do these things and I shall suggest to the Discovery Channel that they may wish to present this as the real story of how babies come into the world. It really is true, it has to be, there's no way back!

the grass is greener

Since moving to work with health and education workers, I have never finished work at 5pm. No, we knock off much earlier and have a lunch break. Utter bliss for the moment, but we shall be working our way up to 36 hours a week again (practically part time for me) although sadly I am not entitled to the extensive holidays they take. And to think I hesitated about taking this secondment, I'm not sure I'll ever be able to go back to my real job, I won't have the stamina for it and I shall have been spoilt by having a new chair and office furniture, a kettle bought for us and access to admin workers who do filing. Unheard of luxury!

shameless

Mr McMuffin put the heating on briefly this evening. I managed to go out last night and didn't get to bed until after 1.30 am and I bought a new dressing gown today. Could life be any more exciting than this?

postcards from the edge of reason

Many thanks to Steve and Dave for the postcard from Simi, we are both very jealous now and determined to have some kind of break for ourselves, even if it's just for a couple of days.

Slinky clearly needs some kind of holiday. He's not been right since Ra temporarily moved back next door, when the honeymooners were away. The vile creature felt compelled to demonstrate his profound hatred of Ra by launching his arthritic self over an eight foot fence to break in through the cat flap and steal poor Ra's food. I fear that this has left Slink rather mixed up, as we have just discovered butter wrappers and a slice of bread under the couch in the living room. Today Slinky went mad for extra mature cheddar, trying to grab it out of my mouth and suddenly it all became clear-the poor mad cat is trying to live off cheese sarnies. I would like to encourage this lifestyle change as it's signifiantly cheaper than the food we buy him, but not as nutritious perhaps. Yesterday I caught him supplementing his diet by eating a clump of his own fur, snatched from the comb I had been brushing him with. Now I think about it, a holiday probably won't be enough, anyone know a good cat psychiatrist?

so glad i'm a woman

My head is spinning from too many mixed messages. I thought that I had followed the right path by going to university, building a career, entering into a stable relationship and buying my own home before becoming pregnant. It turns out that I'm unnatural and wrong, because I happened to just go over the magic number. Read this and scream, o my sisters. On the other hand, if I'd had children early and my relationship with the father had broken down I would now be a despicable single mother, probably scrounging off the state and making my poor fatherless son turn to antisocial behaviour.

No wonder people didn't know what to make of this piece of art and no one stepped forward to fund it. For goodness sake it's a woman, she's pregnant and she's disabled. Now, how old was she when she got pregnant?

boys are lovely...

...apparently. Anyway, I do apologise if we have inadvertently concerned anyone with our absence from the blog. I've started the job secondment this week and am exhausted from thinking and talking to my new colleagues. They're strong characters, which makes for interesting but tiring debate about everything. I think that the main reason I haven't been blogging, though, is because I am completely obsessed with having this baby and while I am happy to bore my family and friends, have tried to draw the line at sending you lovely people into a coma!

However, if anyone can resist falling into a coma, read on. I can report that I am having cravings for cigarettes, beer, soft rind ripened cheeses and pate, but not giving in. I am eating like a horse (no apparent weight gain except for the belly, but it's just a matter of time) and my previous affinity for fresh fruit and fairly healthy food has changed to a desire for chips and chocolate. I think it's fairly obvious that this child is of Scottish origin, let's just hope that he escapes some of the other unpleasant national characterics. His kicking abilities have improved beyond all recognition and he can somersault and kick in the style of Jackie Chan, pushing my belly into some interesting shapes. He is rather a tease and refuses to do any of this if his father is watching or touching my stomach, which is a promising early indication of a cruel sense of humour. That's my boy.

boys are okay

I suppose you have all been wondering what has been happening with us. Well, not a lot really. I'm not sure why we haven't been posting. I kept meaning to, but then I'd forget, and suddenly another day had gone by. It doesn't take long for those days to become weeks. We will try to do better.

I thought you would all like to know that we had another scan a couple of weeks ago, and I am proud to announce that the McMuffin bairn will be born with a willy. Mrs McMuffin surprised me by being disappointed that we were having a boy. She has told me all along that she really didn't mind whether it was a boy or a girl. Secretly, she just assumed that she was going to have a girl. I have now been finding out from lots of women that they too were disappointed about having boys. I don't know why but I really feel the urge to say: BOYS ARE OKAY. I imagine it probably has something to do with feeling more confident about looking after a new baby girl because they're women or something. I certainly hope so.

This is a picture of our son in profile. It's taken from his last scan pictures when he was 21 weeks old. Apparently he has a smaller than average head, but a larger than average brain, and he has longer than average legs. All McMuffin characteristics. I'm sure more posts will follow.

all filler no killer

No pictures of the wedding or bairn I'm afraid, as Mr McMuffin has been too distracted by having a new telephone and I've been washing, cleaning and making friends with Gypsy Tart's cat. This cat usually avoids me, but has turned to me in desperation at having been abandoned by the honeymooners and has even allowed me to brush her. This is a major milestone given that this cat has never let anyone approach her wielding a brush previously, yet has the fluffiest and most moulting fur known to felinekind. I can't help feeling a little smug at my skills, I am the cat whisperer, a cat wrangler.

If only I could work this magic on the one eyed evilness that is the Slink. Yesterday he seemed to be feeling a little under the weather and the only thing that stopped him crying was a cuddle. Five hours later, he was still draped across me and I feared that he would have to be surgically removed. Cat wrangler indeed. Slink's bitch more like.