2019-03-11 | 11:57 a.m.
The bear is 23 weeks old now and we're off to Center Parcs today! With Ollie's family. Yep, the same ones I've holidayed with now three times and at the end of each solemnly vowed, "Never, never again."
What could go wrong?! I am actually really excited though, despite packing being the militariest operation ever.
I've otherwise spent most of this year:
Walking A LOT. Round and round and round the park I go, freaking myself out listening to Case File true crime podcasts. I also recommend the Teacher's Pet series.
Going to baby classes. Sign language (where I learned there is only the finest margin between the signs for pig and prostitute), sensory, massage.
Going for a weekly two-hour cafe lunch after the baby sensory class I do with my NCT (antenatal class) group. There's six of us with our six babies. Whoever's baby is asleep (not mine, sadly!) holds the others while we eat sandwiches and drink coffee. These new friends are wonderful and save my sanity.
Receiving visitors. Friends, family, the cleaner. I don't care who - I just need to speak to a person of a day. And preferably go for a pub lunch with them and the bear.
Losing a tonne of hair, shedding an entire yeti's worth every time I wash it. Which is infrequent, frankly.
I feel I'm only just about keeping my head above water with the whole motherhood thing. It's tough and I'm still not massively enjoying it (yet) (I say with pleading optimism). But I'm trying, even if that does mean hiding under the covers for several minutes when he's woken up in the morning, and also putting him on his mat in the living room and telling him he's going to play with "Uncle Television" while I sort stuff in the kitchen. Chuckle.
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