I've got that no pressing deadlines means I don't know what to do with myself thing. You know that thing? So many exciting possibilities and yet no plan. No pressing need fills me with indecision and I wander around in a daze and do nothing. Or nap.
Well not nothing, I did manage to do a bit more on the hoodie (although as I watch the wool dwindle I am beginning to suspect I might need to investigate alternative collar styles...) and prepare some dolls with wool padding ready for clothes. Oh and I did get a lovely package together for someone, but I can say no more about that for a little while.
I blame the ongoing sickness too. My doctor has decided that I haven't actually had three colds in four weeks, but the same one just being kept at bay by antibiotics without being cured. It was a bit of a give away that within 36 hours of finishing each of the last two courses I fell ill again. And Amy hasn't been sick each time, and since she's my primary and damn near only source of infection I was beginning to suspect something fishy. So now I'm on the top shelf drugs and if I don't get better they'll put me out of my misery and I'll be having the green dream.
Oh, and there's the pregnancy thing. I'm 14 weeks today which sounds so much more advanced than 13 somehow. Still not showing, but I am sure I can feel the baby move, which is excellent. I am still on the see saw of feeling pregnant and getting excited and then being reminded how fragile the whole thing is and how you just never know. Feeling this way is natural, expected and entirely reasonable, but it's a bore.
Amy has no such qualms and is busy telling every stranger in the street that she's going to be a big sister. When we walked past the maternity hospital yesterday she asked me how the baby would come out. I told her the baby in your tummy doctor (as we call the obstetrician) would make a little hole in my tummy and pull it out, just like they did when she was born.
Is it scary? She asked.
A little bit. I said. But it's OK.
And she nodded in a wise way like she understood the distinction of really not OK scary and scary you agree to endure for some bigger prize. I so look forward to seeing how she will be with a sibling.
Are there toys in your tummy? She asked.
No. I said.
So what does it do all the time?
She's also concerned about how it eats and poos and how it can grow fatter if there's so little room in there. She's also declared she's happy to share her toys, but only her cars, planes and trucks (which are made of plastic and therefore washable) because she doesn't like slobber on her things. Fair enough.