About 6 weeks ago I discovered my dream had at last come true. The dream I'd been wishing and hoping and praying for since I was a little girl. 4 pregnancy tests later and it was confirmed: I was (and still am!) well and truly up the duff. Pregnant. With child. A bun in the oven. Unforunately (mild understatement) I have been suffering with the most awful, neverending morning sickness. And sheesh - if it happened to live up to it's apparently false name, I would be MORE than happy to feel like a violently sea-sick hippopotamus in the mornings - except that I feel like that twenty four loooooong hours a day! Both my mom and my dad have said: "Ja, jy wil mos!" which obviously doesn't help - and which makes me feel like an errant teenager instead. But it also makes me laugh, which DEFINITELY helps!
In the beginning, chocolate worked like a miracle cure -- for about 20 minutes - and then I'd scramble like a crazed thing for another piece! Now, NOTHING works. My boisterously cheerful, super-large midwife (who has no children of her own except a dog!) hasn't much sympathy for me and only tries to reassure me that it means my body is pumped full of all the right hormones. Hypocrite! (ultra-bitchy, hormonal sneer...)
Not much else is news because (I'm not going to bore you with the reasons.) The weather? It's England! Rain, rain and more rain - with bouts of scattered sunshine! Max is naughty as hell and has developed a peculiar predeliction for the wallpaper in hidden corners of the lounge - causing us some anxiety as to how to remedy this unsightly destruction without the landlord finding out. Why? Because I need to ask him for the name and make of the paint used on the walls... What could I say if he asks why? That a friend loves the colour so much she wants to paint her lounge the same colour?! OK, enough prattling... Time to see if I can tackle something other than sleeping, reading or vomiting this fine day! Adios.
