|No time for nappin'. Wake up! News!|
Before I set up this particular blog, I created two others. Complete with email addresses, log in details, simple yet complicated passwords and maybe a draft post or two. Then, within 24 hours I had forgotten all the details completely. Blogs lost, I considered if I was in fact a stereotype. Then, on both occasions I discovered a chocolatey surprise in my bag, made a cup of tea, read, observed and nearly cried as I virtually toured around someone's home online because it was clean, fresh, white and the sun appeared to be shining through their enormous period-feature-ridden windows, all the while rubbing my back, because eeesh it was sore. Perhaps I am a stereotype. Perhaps this is just what it's like.
Dear Reader, I'm having a baby.
I want to (and will) say 'kid'. But I was told that kid means goat. But it is a kid, it's already a person. In both scans when we saw the little thing it was sucking its thumb, having a little riot. Not wriggling around to exactly where it was supposed to be for the scan lady to measure it's baby head, spine, arms, legs. Apparently, we: "have the naughtiest baby," they've "seen in the whole of 2013!". And: "you have yourself a diva baby". Which is just marvellous. I for one, was exceptionally proud that I have within me a diva baby and hope (within reason), it strives out in impassioned diva ways for all of its hopefully, wonderful and joy-filled life.
I could move on to The Reactions of various people, things to (serious tone) consider, but to be honest I think it doesn't matter. Mr Tiger and myself will be the ones showing and teaching this kid about the adventure that is life. I dreamt I was teaching it all about AFRICA the other night, as it gurgled before me. I can't wait to see eyes widen as we explore jungles, meet lions and take trips to the moon on special helicopters made from spaghetti. Of course, I'm concerned Monsieur Tiger will play only Jazz, 60s artists that 'hummm' and some trashy catchy songs he hears in his carshare on his commute to work. As well as the very real possibility that I'll buy too many ridiculous outfits for kidlet. Also, the classic scenario of one parent being the wild one, riding the waves and jumping from heights and the other (me), the holder of plasters and doc leaves. But I mean, pish, whatever. It's learning right?So, we're 20 weeks down. Which means in 20 weeks (ish?), we'll meet the diva. What's that, four and a half months? I'm keen to get a snazzy pushchair with tractor wheels, a giant mushroom lamp and a sheepskin sling, but we've just got a couple of books so far. I love them, so cute. A baby.