Hooray! I saw Babs Woodhouse today at my 36 week bump-prodding appointment. She was my favourite midwife when I was pregnant with James but this is the first time I’ve seen her this time.
I’m not sure she’d be everyone’s cup of tea – she’s 50% briskness, 50% cheeriness and 0% nonsense. Her opening gambit to me, all those years ago with James, was: “I hope you haven’t got a LUDICROUS new-age birth plan? Oh good. I can see that you’re far too sensible for that.”
Suffice to say she hasn’t changed. I fully expected to be patted on the rump on my way out today and told I was a “good girl“. As it was, the appointment lasted all of 5 minutes. She prodded the bump and said “So! All booked in for your c-section? Jolly good – because that’s definitely a bigger baby than the last one and you don’t want a repeat of that palaver.”
And that, apparently, was that.
In Microbe news, his obsession with Frozen has reached three-times-a-day proportions. When he’s not begging to watch it, he’s driving G and me nuts by singing the songs and obsessing about what the lyrics mean.
His favourite is the troll song ‘He’s a bit of a fixer upper‘ which makes him laugh every single time. He also likes to sing along to ‘Let It Go‘ in a diva-ish fashion, especially when Elsa gets to the flouncy bit where she says “the cold never bothered me anyway!”
As Disney films go, I think it’s one of the better ones. The songs have a stage musical quality to them and it also has the distinction of being the first story ever to captivate the boybot without involving talking animals. I’m delighted to see him gripped by a story about human females for a change. (I have a suspicion that he likes Anna because she reminds him a bit of Helena).
In school news, I was sad to discover that none of the boybot’s nursery pals got an offer at the same primary school as him. The vast majority seem to have fallen into the catchment for the much larger CofE school just down the road – and the rest are going private.
Such is the way in the baby-boomer suburbs. Outside of London, I see property ads claiming to be “within a 5 mile catchment” of some school or other. In these parts the catchment is measured in metres. With three state primaries all within a 5-minute walk of one another, it pretty much comes down to which end of the road you live on – and 500 metres would rule you out for most of them.
Still – it’s only reception year – so I’m sure the boy will make lots of new pals when he starts.
In bump news, my chocaholism has gone through the roof. And I don’t mean posh, grown-up chocolate with a high cocoa content. I’m mainlining Dairy Milk and giant Toblerones. And occasional bowls of Ready Brek made with double cream. Mmmm. (I honestly don’t know whether this baby is big because I can’t stop stuffing sugar and fat into my body or vice versa.)
I made up for it slightly last week by cleaning like a lunatic. The sort of cliched 3rd trimester cleaning where you find yourself crawling about on the floor in order to properly clean the back of the toilet cistern. The next job on my list, when I can be bothered, is to throw lots of things away. I desperately need a wardrobe cull – and could do with some therapy for my recent shopping problem for Thing 2. I don’t know why I’ve lost the plot in this regard. I’m pretty sure James started life with little more than a 7-pack of babygrows. I must have been far more sensible back then.
On a more frivolous note, I’m really going to miss having freckles. I LOVE them! I had them with James but they faded soon afterwards. That and thick hair. I wish you could hang onto the good symptoms and just get rid of the rubbish ones afterwards. Pah.