I finally got round to putting the Christmas tree up at around 9pm last night (everybody say "oooooh.....aaaaah" at the twinkly perfection of it all)...and by 8.30 this morning it was lying on its side in the middle of the front room; crushed branches, tangled lights, plastic leaf bits everywhere, two cats underneath having great fun with baubles..."What happened, Officer!?" Hmm.
We now have a Christmas tree which is secured to the shelving unit with micropore tape (couldn't find string)...everybody say "oooh...aaah...eh? Why the fuck do you have medical type tape on your tree?"
Of course, I could be blaming the cats for the tree disaster when it could be something else entirely. The tree could be a triffid tree which, upon finding that its plastic feet had been reattached, decided to kill us all and go to the pub... Ah, tree. The added burden of sparkly pretty things. The rug, so conveniently placed to trip over. You were doomed from the start.
But of course, it could have just been the cats.
WARNING - I SHALL NOW DISCUSS THE CONTENTS OF MY WOMB.
Pregnancy has to be the only time when it's acceptable to show people photographs of inside your body. And to tell people to touch you on the stomach. And to compare notes on bladder infections, constipation, leaking nipples and vaginal discharge with other women. It is a strange time. A strange time indeed. Much like being an old person when, rather than all of the above becoming acceptable, you just don't care and do it anyway.
Wriggle-Frog kicked Alex in the hand again last night!! I sneezed*, which always makes Wriggle angry/excited and leads to an internal beating, so I grabbed Alexs hand and shoved it against the bump, and he felt the fidgeting again! Celebration! You couldn't care less, could you? Well...how rude. I tell you banal stories and you pull that disinterested face that you do so well. I do not think I shall be sending you a christmas present this year.
Wriggle is frighteningly developed now...he/she is a proper little person, albeit in miniature. Everything is there...we even saw a nose (complete with nostrils), mouth (moving), an eye, a tiny perfect little hand (waving), a leg...little heart beating, kidneys, bladder, all bones in place etc etc. Oh. My. God. I've made a person. There is an actual person in my belly. It has some growing to do...but it's all there. Shit that's scary.
For some reason I've been irrationally obsessed with my babys nostrils...perhaps because it seems like such an insignificant little part...oh I dont know. But the nostrils sent me really soft.
THE NOSTRILS SENT ME REALLY SOFT. Now there's a sentence you won't hear too often.
*I am not allowed to sneeze in this house. Before I was pregnant, if I sneezed I was shouted at by Flea**. Now I am pregnant, if I sneeze I am shouted at by Flea and kicked in the stomach. I am victimised. Someone call the RSPCA.
**Small female cat***, sister of Carrott. Makes "MYAP MYAP" sound when people sneeze.
***I have mentioned cats a disturbing number of times in this entry. I am like Catlady. And now I'm DOING IT AGAIN. Oh God oh God.
I'm going to have a bacon sandwich. It's good though, because it's low fat bacon (doesn't count) and wholemeal bread (so damned healthy it cancels out whatever you put on your sandwich). Why on earth am I writing about my breakfast plans? Why would you be interested in my breakfast? This is what happens when I space out and type...I type shit. Which suggests that the unedited contents of my brain comprises of mainly a load of bollocks. Grey matter - consists of testicles.