Week 21, Day 7 (Flips and skips)

I've got something akin to the Fetal Olympics trials going on in my belly. Taddy spends about 30-40% of each day doing all manner of tumbles and stretches, and now he's taken his fitness preparation to new extremes. The latest sensation feels very much like he's skipping rope with his umbilical cord. Weirrrrrrrrrd!

He's at that size now that the belly is not always a single smooth protrusion. Last night there was a pronounced bump out one side, and another just to the right of the midline. A bit of a prod by both parents and we decided that the left bump was a leg, and the right bump was either a shoulder or the head. Good to know Taddy sleeps occasionally.

I'm very much enjoying the second trimester, and almost feel resentful that it's only got another five or so weeks to go. Mobility is pretty good - I can still get up and down from the truck cab, albeit a bit slowly these days. Baby likes it when we go out in the truck with Dad, as the harder riding makes lots of interesting bumps and jolts. If we're out in the truck, I can pretty much guarantee that the whole day Bubs will be extremely active (meaning the Mudda sleeps very well that night, thankee very much!)

Remember how I don't bend very well in the middle these days? Little things like folding the washing can be a real nuisance... until you remember the baby's changing table that is sitting waiting in the hall. Open it out, and Voila! One waist height folding table, no bending required. Such a back saver!

Baby clothes are just about sorted out, with only the nice knitted things left to add. Maybe I'm showing my age (or ahead of a revival?) but I like little babies in knitted outfits, preferably either pure wool or soft cottons. Once they start prowling about the lounge on their knees or their bums, okay fine - that's when you haul the little shorts and jump suits out of the drawer because that's better for baby's freedom of movement.

All three Grandmothers are knitting flat out for baby, which is too cool for words. Granny K is adamant she's only knitting in white, which is fine by us. Granny C has just finished a wonderful shawl, and has already presented us with lots of colourful and charming bootees, hats & jackets. Granny G ... well I know she's knitting, but the jury is out on what colours we'll get. All three women are champion knitters, but one of them is inclined to mix and match colours with so much imagination you could well be considered the extreme of avant guarde!

As for me, I'm knitting too. I'm only reading about two books a week now, and the rest of the free time (ie when not working) is spent knitting. I'm putting out two outfits a week at the moment, and the RSI is holding up well. There is a method in my madness....

I made the house smokefree about three weeks ago, meaning if I want a gasper, I have to go outside for it. Due to knitting, winter & laziness, I'm down to an average of 5 ciggies a day, and early next week I throw them over completely and start on the lowest strength available in patches.

I am incredibly proud of myself, but I tell ya, it hasn't been easy, given the kind of month I've had!

While I'm tooting my own trumpet (out of tune, as always), I should also mention that nary a drop of alcohol in any form (even cough medicine) has crossed my lips since I found out I was preggers. No hardship really - but I intend to have a glass of wine on my birthday next month.

A couple of centuries ago a friend of mine who was significantly pregnant around the time of my 21st discovered that her "active" baby became quite docile if she had the odd snifter of brandy (about a shot a week, nothing alarming). She discovered this quite by accident at one of my 21st birthday parties (I had two.. one at the pub with all my mates where I played drinking games all night and went home moshtly shober, and the other at this same mate's house where my parents came, and Dad laid down the law that I wasn't allowed to drink my usual whiskey. As a result I hit the port, got pished off my facshe, and the only 21st photo that exists of me is a VERY drunk glassy faced girl propped up between two prim, proper and somehow smiling parents. Moral of the story: Have at least two 21st's, more if you can get away with it!)

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, Cheryl and the brandy :-) I thought of her fetal sleep inducement and wondered if my baby continues to 'home improvement' my insides, will I resort to something similar when he's about the size of an elephant and I need some precious healing time? We'll see... Speaking of Cheryl, I should track her down and tell her about Tadpole. I think she'd laugh herself sick :-)