It's too hot to be this pregnant. I look and feel like a bloated weeble version of a cow, I can't get comfortable and just bleugh. What the hell is going on?? It's May 5th, we're in England - the weather is not supposed to be warm. It's definitely not supposed to be tropical like this...I actually have sunburn. And not just a bit of pinkness either; proper good sunburn, especially on my left shoulder, which I just know is going to make me leap onto the top of the bathroom cabinet in shock when I try to have a bath or shower later on.
Eep.
OUTSIDEY CATS.
Our cats have been housecats since they were kittens. Why? Well, mostly me being overprotective, but also a combination of us living next to a main road, followed by moving house and me being scared that they'd try to "get home" if I let them outside, followed by my total mushbrain thoughts that I didn't want them to get cold over the winter, followed by us not being able to let them into the conservatory in case they decided to sleep in the baby car seat or something.
I bought them some high visibility collars and ID barrels over the weekend and, after they'd finally stopped flidding out and having cat-fits all over the floor, I decided to just drop them in the deep end. Tuesday...I opened the back door.
Carrott thinks he's Chris Ryan or something; he goes on missions into neighbouring gardens and refuses to come back. I had to try to retrieve him yesterday as he was in mad "won't-stop-cutting-the-hedge" woman's immaculate garden and all I could hear were strange thudding noises. I don't trust him not to make a mess of her ridiculously tidy garden. Then he disappeared off onto the bowls green that our garden backs onto - apparently an expanse of neatly manicured grass with old people on it is GREAT FUN for cats.
Flea, on the other hand, has totally cuted me out*. She likes being outside, but she has to come back to give me a scent-mark roughly every ten minutes. Most times she'll stand and shout at me from a distance for a while, then will trot up (still shouting) and get on her hind legs to give me a cat kiss. I give her a stroke and then all is right with her world and she can carry on playing. It's really, really cute. Even cuter was when Carrott was playing at being Steve Irwin, lurking in the undergrowth, and Flea didn't know where he was. So she cried...and cried...and cried and cried and cried and cried...until eventually I had to pick her up and take her to him.
At one point yesterday they were both playing in next doors garden and I popped inside to put some washing in the machine. The next thing I knew, Flea streaked past me and galloped up the stairs in a total panic. When I went to investigate her nose was at DEFCON PINK (ultimate panic stage, troops are ready and awaiting orders) and she wouldn't come out from behind the pieces of wood on the landing. And she most certainly wouldn't go outside again. Alex and I think it might have been because, as far as she was concerned, I ABANDONED HER. Poor kitten. I left them to it today and came inside with my book...but still Flea had to come to check in with me every ten minutes...she's such a cute affectionate little cat.
They're much better at it all now though, and the bonus is that it completely zonks them out in the evening. Carrott has been sleeping like the dead for the past few nights; not even cat crunchies wake him.
*"Cuted me out": a new phrase, developed by me and now adopted by Alex. There's something really sweet about a really big man saying "Stop being all cuted out by your cat and go and have your bath". Cuted-out: it's a good new phrase.
ATTEMPTS TO CHEER UP.
I've been so grumpy for the past few days. I feel huge, none of my clothes (not even maternity clothes) fit properly because the bump is now at such gargantuan proportions (and the next person who says that I'm "not really showing much" will get a smack for being a moron), it's too hot to be this size and I can't get comfortable ANYWHERE. It doesn't matter what I'm doing, I'm uncomfortable. There isn't a good sleeping position, there isn't a good sitting position...and I continuously misjudge distances and find myself wedged places/with stuff smeared on the bump. Example; I just tried to open the front door (it's a narrow space between front room door and bottom of stairs, so you have to step right back) and managed to get myself wedged between the edge of the door and the doorframe into the front room. Another example; every time I wash up I always get fairy-liquidy water all over the bottom of my belly. Grr.
But yes. I have been understandably grumpy.
Tonight I have been particularly grumpy, as Alex is at work and I'm (pathetically) hopeless without him, as I find little, simple tasks something of a challenge. So I have said "bugger it all", ordered myself a stupid amount of food from the pizza takeaway, have planned an evening's viewing ('Green Wing' is on in a minute...I should really go and watch for it is brilliant. BRILLIANT) and Alex has promised to cheer me up when he gets home.
I'm hoping this means sex. Sex could cheer me up.
Alex has also said that he'll do something with me tomorrow. He asked what I thought would make me happy and my response of "baby sheep" has potentially resulted in a trip to Hatton to play with lambs and piglets and (what are baby goats called? Goatlets?) goatlets and baby chickens and things of that nature. Baby animals; you can't be unhappy when you're touching a baby animal.
WEIRD SHOPPING LISTS
Alex noticed something the other day. I am incapable of writing a sensible shopping list. I always have to change things, even if it's only something silly like adding extra 'i's into milk to make it "miiiiiiiiiilk", or describing what I want ("pizza with green shit on it"), or adding random items such as "a small goat" or "a cow for Carrott". I'm going to have to start leaving the lists in the trolley, just so that somebody can be baffled by them. Ok, I will not see anybody looking baffled** but I will enjoy the thought that somebody might be.
** Try to look baffled. I bet you can't. I bet you manage confused, surpised...but not baffled. Get thee hence to the mirror and practise.
ALEX'S BIRTHDAY SOON
What would a baby get for her Daddy for his birthday? Hmm.
What would a silly person get for her husband for his birthday? So far I've bought him...four Kathy Reichs books, the new Chili's album (which he'll receive early), an odd watch made out of a bungee cord, a blue Japanese dog that dances to music, another weird little Japanese toy that makes no sense (it's a bloke dressed up as a dog, who dances and who can be attached to the lid of a plastic bottle) and I'm going to get him a box filled with assorted jelly sweets (as he's been on his diet forever and all he's really wanted has been cola bottles and suchlike...bless him). He may get some more things too, but I have a feeling I'll be told off.
I've got him the funniest card from Heather, though (seeing as he'll definitely be a daddy by the time his birthday comes around on the 26th); there's a picture of a baby reaching for a telephone, and underneath is written "She didn't know what it was, but she had the overwhelming urge to talk cobblers on it for hours". Alex will appreciate this.
Still in the dark as to what to get him as a gift from her though. He doesn't really go for the framed photograph type stuff, and casting kits are too expensive (and he'd be around all the time so I wouldn't be able to do it as a surprise for him). Hmm...this will take more thought.
Anyway. I have ice lollies in the fridge and...listen. Can you hear that? They're calling to me. I have to go and put one of them out of its misery.
Mwa mwa...
ONE WEEK LEFT. DAMMIT HEATHER, JUST GET YOURSELF OUT OF THERE.
GO ON, GIVE US A SQUEEZE
give Kate-Lee more *HUGS*Get hugs of your own