Ever wondered what got you into all that trouble?
July is my favourite month. Not only are the market stalls laden with juicy strawberries and sweet melons, it is also the month of summer holidays, ice cream and BBQs. Oh, and it is my birthday in July, too.
While thinking of what to do this year, I was remembering last year’s birthday celebrations. All very well planned in secret by Big M to surprise me, the celebrations turned out to be a lot calmer than arranged for – the champagne remained unopened and the sushi untouched, as we were hit by an even bigger surprise just the day before.
I am grinning like a Cheshire cat. Gurgle.co.uk has published their list of Top 20 Mummy Blogs. And Metropolitan Mum is part of it. How could I not be smug? Especially as I am in such good company.
Another week, another visitor, another BBQ. My beloved brother stayed with us over the weekend. Of course, being the doted hostess, I scrapped my diet plans and feasted along. To be honest, I am not on a diet anyway.
Little L has been three months today. Striking a balance under the past three months seems to be almost impossible, as life without her is close to unimaginable. Again, I am surprised by how true it is what everybody says: once your baby entered your life, life without her seems like a distant memory. And: it does get easier with time.
Haven’t you heard? Thursday is the new Wednesday, yippee! As I forgot to step on the scales yesterday, I am making up for it today with my weekly flabloss post.
And no, I have no idea who was cheeky enough to place a jar of REAL mayonnaise on the table.
Hurray! I found a nice gym with a nice crèche. So nice in fact, that I’d rather spent my hours sitting in the crèche than on the gym floor, but I guess I have to grow up here. I will have my fitness assessment (uh-oh…) tomorrow, and for the first time in her short life, little L will be looked after by strangers for a total of 60 minutes. If mummy doesn’t burst into tears and rescues her before the time is up, that is.
What? It’s Wednesday again? Where has the week gone? I blame my virtual absence on the great weather and the fact that I got more confident in taking little L out. We had a blast attending coffee mornings, picnics and going for walks. Almost bursting with pride, I paraded my beautiful social butterfly in her pram, dressed to the nines in Petit Bateau (little L, not me), making the most of the sunny days. Well, almost.
Little L was six weeks yesterday, and so is my scar. I went to see my GP on Monday, and here is the verdict: Everything hunky dory, I can get pregnant again. Hooorray! Only kidding.
Six weeks of sitting on the sofa, stuffing my face with chocolates and ice cream – all with the excuse of having had a caesarean – have come to an end. In fact, I couldn’t move much right after surgery. But even though I could have been more mobile recently, I just haven’t upped my speed or the amount of moving around at all.
In my attempt to go over 42 weeks (despite UCLH hospital protocols and the likes), we went to have a check and the 3rd sweep at the post dates clinic on Monday, 6th. This is when they found out that the amniotic fluid had diminished. The consultant admitted that one of the sweeps could have caused a little whole and the leakage. Well, thanks for that! After a whole day of sitting around and waiting for scan appointments etc., I had to stay and finally agreed to be induced. The cost of a natural water birth seemed to be too high when paid for with a health threat for our unborn daughter.