The bump and I have gotten to the stage of unending complaining (He more punching, than complaining…) and realising that nothing, I repeat, nothing fits.
Well, I exaggerate a little. Things do still fit, but my comfort level when wearing them is down to an all time low. So currently I’m living in undies, the husbands t-shirts, and any bed clothes than happen to get un-tucked generally come with me for the entire day.
I’m not ashamed to say it, bed clothes are more comfortable to wear than actual people clothes at the moment!
In saying that, I’m not really going anywhere much that requires more clothes than that, so thats a good thing. Except, I’ve got a dinner that I have to attend next week. It’s not a some pearls-and-long-dresses-fancy dinner, but I’ll try to untangle myself from the bed clothes and put something on that would be a little more respectable, when in actual people-company.
The nursery is done and some good friends recently spoiled bubs with a bunch of toys and teething things. We’re still flummoxed with a name though. Every name that gets put on the list is met with a resounding …Meh.
They’re good names, but we don’t yet have anything that makes us stamp our feet with happiness. That, and whenever one of us suggests a name – there is about a 5 second interval where the other person is reviewing their memory banks in order to find out if they knew/know someone with that name, and how worthy they are.
Usually it ends in,
‘Nope. My 5th grade friend/boyfriend had that name….He was a dick.’