How to have a baby in Essex

Ok we'll skip the obvious part (when a lady really likes a gentleman...) but this seems to be the standard antenatal care policy for my borough:

1. Visit the house of the newly pregnant couple and make it sound like it's going to be great. Promote home births till your eyes bleed (it will become obvious why later)
2. Pregnant lady visits the hospital several times for scans and tests.
3. Pregnant lady then starts to visit midwife every few weeks. Test for blood pressure and stuff that looks appropriate.
4. As D day gets closer pregnant lady may start to ask awkward questions. For example: can I have antenatal classes, or see the hospital before I'm actually screaming obscenities at everyone I see? Answer these as vaguely as you can, for example, "oh we don't bother with antenatal classes here, you don't really need them. And how can we show you the hospital? We don't know where you're going to have the baby yet - the one you have been going to has just been closed down and will soon be luxury flats" (see point 1).
5. Don't bother bringing up the idea of discussing a birth plan with the pregnant lady, it'll all work out in the end.
6. When lady is indeed in labour, pick a hospital out of a hat and send her there. She won't know where to go or what to do, but hey, it's someone else's problem by then. She should have gone for the home birth option.

Bored bored bored

OK I am on the second day of official maternity leave and I am bored to tears! Remind of this in a few weeks when I am complaining about never having any free time please. But honestly, there is shit on tv, you would have thought as it was Christmas and all that I'd be spoilt for choice. But no. It's all repeats or bloody soap operas where people are miserable and die or are miserable and kill someone else. Or are just plain miserable.

Christmas was nice. Sober which was a new experience, but nice. We had the usual family arguments (not me thankfully), I've eaten loads of chocolate and mince pies, mmm, and managed to successfully cook a turkey all by myself (though it was touch and go whether it would fit in the oven at one point). But how does it go by so quickly? You start thinking about it in November, spend weeks fretting about presents and food, and then it's all over. And you realise you really overdid it, the world wasn't going to end because the shops were shut for one day. ONE DAY!! This year's legacy? We have enough cheese in our fridge to keep us going till next Christmas.

Ho ho ho

Last day was my last day at work! Yey!! Doesn't feel like it yet as we broke up for Christmas anyway. As we were trying to close the Library one of the regulars wished me a Happy Christmas and said "see you in the New Year!". I said "oh no you won't, I finish today". He looked perplexed, looked down and said "Oh. I see I haven't seen you standing up for a while have I?" Bless!

But this doesn't mean I have been sat on my arse for the last few months, far from it actually and it's amazing what black jumpers can hide! And he obviously thinks I'm far too young to be breeding.

I'd make a GREAT Father Christmas this year, if only this pesky beard would grow...

Alien or baby?

So, the time for Baby Babs to arrive is dawning at a very scary pace. And although there are technically (according to Mother Nature) still 8 weeks to go till D day, Baby Babs has spent the last week trying to break out. It can be very offputting, you're sitting there watching the tv quite happily, then the imprint of a head suddenly sticks out of your belly. You're nicely asleep at night and a foot kicks you somewhere it probably shouldn't. Alien ain't got nothing on this. It is super freaky. But BB must be a girl as no boy would move so much, just too lazy!