You name it I’m secreting it: sweat from my pits, discharge from my vagina and gas from my anus! Today we drove into London for a very refined Christmas gathering with Tom’s friends. I bent over to pick up Henny and actually farted in Tom’s friend Joe’s face! He was too polite to say anything, but he definitely smelt it: mortifying! I then farted again during a team round of “guess the celebrity”, and by that point, I thought it best if we leave. Henny of course needed to say “bye” to everybody about fifteen times (when your only words are “mum, dad, bye, ball, bowl, hot, yes and no” you use every one as much as is humanly possible, you even say “bye” to your cereal!). I aimed to hold in my wind and tried to make sure that my enlarged pregnancy boobs did not fall out of my top.
When we were home I got Henny in his PJs and watching him draw some scribbles whilst I wrote in my book, I then giggled at him dancing to the tune of his new helicopter…he’s a cute little monkey when he wants to be! I stuffed my face with chocolate again, but luckily our scales are broken, so there’s no record of weight gain. I have been sleeping soooo much too: ten hours a night, but I think this rest might be staving off my nausea as I’m sure that this time last pregnancy I was keeping biscuits by my bed for the sugar in case I woke up in the night and wanted to vom. I think that not commuting into work standing underneath someone’s armpit has also helped in the tiredness stakes!
The only thing officially really stressing me out is Henny’s eating. He screams every time I try to put him in his high chair. I have the same arguments with Tom about why I’ve cooked Henny something he doesn’t want to eat again, which really upsets me, as this is clearly not something I set out trying to do. He usually loves potato and beans. Then I say that if Tom can do better perhaps he should cook him tea, to which he responds he would rather do anything than be present with Henny at meal-times, and so the argument continues. The main problem with Henny is that he just doesn’t like to sit still, and he would rather run around than eat. But then I worry that if he doesn’t sit at the table now, he might get used to it and never want to. Plus, if he doesn’t eat, my worrying mummy brain says to me, “then surely he might die?!” Parenthood sure is really tricky, and this recurring argument with Tom is really getting me down. When he accidently bumped into me whilst I was making a cup of tea this evening, I was so mad I could have hit him….such is the pressure that children put on your relationship. Who would ever have thought that somebody so small could cause so much chaos?! Now we’re facing chaos times two…eeek! No worries though, baby part deux will be TOTALLY under control…!
The internet says that by six weeks my chances of miscarriage reduce from 25% to 10%, which is good news. Having said this, I’m pleased to report that, in general, I have been making myself a lot less scared by looking up things that might be wrong with my baby on-line this time round…I’m on course to be a vision of calm and serenity this pregnancy…if Henny’s eating habits improve that is!