Week 19, Day 6 (Wayne's world)

(He's going to kill me for that post title.. he's begun reading this blog so everyone pause and wave to my personal hero).

Wet cold miserabubble day today. We took toast and tea back to bed this morning, and afterwards snuggled up chatting happily, deciding to take the day off and just catch up on a few straggly jobs in town and around.

I'm eating a lot of salads these days - I can't seem to get enough fresh salad. A saner person would eat salads in summer, not autumn-verging-on-winter! Ah well, blame the baby. One of the "benefits" (?) of my salad days is ... um... shall we say, the rectophone.

Yes that's right. Pregnant women fart. Pregnant women who eat lots of raw fruit and vegies fart a LOT.

Wayne's been unable to detect baby-bumps up til now, much to our shared disappointment. Ah well, we're not even half way yet, I guess there's plenty of time.

This morning, a botty burp loomed on the horizon at a bad moment - Wayne was spooned behind me, snuggling with me and his son simultaneously, when I realised it would be the ultimate insult if I didn't at least try to change position, soonest!

So with all the grace of a whale-sized pancake, I flipped sides.

"Whoops.. sorry hon" I giggled.

"That's amore" he retorted. "A moray eel dead on the beach for about a week" he further elaborated.

This guy kills me!

Anyway, when the gale warnings had abated, I resumed the position and he wrapped his muscular arms around me, with his hands cuddling my expansive tummy, and we waited patiently for baby to wake up.

Tads was doing his usual morning routine (casually kicking the bladder), and that's not an area anyone other than I can enjoy at one moment. I breathed shallowly, not really expecting much, when suddenly WHAM! Baby kicked out with both size ten's and hit his dad squarely on the heel of his hand.

"I FELT that!" Wayne grinned.
"Yep", I replied, "that was your son alright."

How bloody cool is that ;-)