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Baby stats:
Current size: Still small enough to stretch out.
Main activity: Floating from one side of the uterus to the other in an attempt to get Aimee's attention.
Aimee's key symptom: Starting to feel the first pops of movement.
Comparable to: Very sudden gas bubbles - can almost 'hear' them more than feel them.
Developed this week: The very first layers of baby fat.
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Kevin's thoughts:
Got a voice mail yesterday from some friends of ours. The connection wasn't that good, but it said something about having "extra tickets to the something something tomorrow," and something else about, "breakfast at our house before we go". Sounds good. I would have been happy with just the breakfast, but tickets? I love tickets.
The breakfast was very tasty. It included bacon, eggs, mushroom, tomatoes, chips, and strangely enough, champagne. Just like you get at any bed & breakfast across this fine country, except substitute the champagne for tea, Weetabix, or, if you're lucky, and I mean that in the most sarcastic possible sense, black pudding.
Pudding is what they call dessert here. It doesn't necessary mean the yogurt-like dish with no nutritional value or good bacteria... cake is pudding, tarts are pudding, ice cream is pudding, and so is spotted dick. Pudding can mean any kind of sweet food eaten after dinner, which is what British people call lunch, or tea, which is what British people call dinner.
There are two subtle differences between black pudding and most other puddings. One: it's black, where most puddings are cake, tart, ice cream or spotted dick coloured. Two: it's eaten at breakfast, rather than after dinner. And three: rather than being made of something sugary like most puddings, black pudding is made primarily of pig's blood rolled into a long black sausage contained by a portion of the intestine. It may also contain other inedible parts of the pig, such as the face, unless I'm thinking of "brawn", which is more of a deli meat than a sausage, but definitely made of face.
The breakfast, as I mentioned, contained absolutely no black pudding or other products which contain face, which I'm sure you'll all agree is the sign of a good breakfast. Aimee, who by the way is pregnant, even had a glass of champagne, at which some of my generation might gasp in horror, causing the parents of my generation to laugh whole-heartedly, since anyone born 30 years ago probably spent a good portion of their 9 month development marinating in Bloody Marys, or whatever it was they used to drink back then before playing paper-rock-scissors to decide who got to drive home. And look how well we turned out.
All in all, I'd have to say it was a very tasty breakfast, and I tip my top hat to Jeff the Chef and Katie the Hostess who provided it, as well as the tickets.
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Prince Philip and his wife. |
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Then we all went to the Royal Ascot races. That was fun too. We saw the Queen there.
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Aimee's thoughts:
Ahhhh. Swimsuit shopping. One of the most horrible experiences known to womankind. It's hot,
you're tired, and with the last few brain cells left over from a mind-numbing day at work, you have to stretch your imagination to picture yourself sipping daiquiris on a beach in an outfit you're forced to view in a
fluorescent lit three-way mirror that does the thinking for you, and not in a good way. Outcome: you buy whatever you deem to be the least embarrassing garment, and get the heck out of there on the double.
When I became pregnant, I knew I'd have to face the swimsuit fitting rooms twice - once for a new swimsuit for the beach, and again for swimming in at the pool. Guys - if you're puzzled as to why this involves the purchase of two separate swimsuits, please ask the closest girl to explain it to you.
What I WASN'T expecting was for it to be a much happier experience than ever before!
You see, now that I'm pregnant, I've entirely fallen in love with my belly. No other parts of me exist and my clothing - and swimsuits - are chosen solely for their ability to show off my growing tummy. Who cares if I have chunky legs? Who cares if there's a bit of wobble on my arms? I'm pregnant - and that's always beautiful.
Pregnant women aren't skinny or fat. They're pregnant. There's no "does my bum look big in these jeans" - it's all about "How good does my bump look in this top!" The freedom from normal body worries is fantastic - it's no longer about hiding the bits about yourself that are less than satisfactory. You're highlighting your new favourite body part in all its glory.
Sure, all these good feelings could be attributed to hormones, but I sure hope not. Once my bump has become a baby, I'm going to pick another body part and revel in it just as much. I've learned how good it feels to feel good about how I look - there's no turning back now! Bring on the low-rise jeans!
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Did you know? |
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The baby isn't just practicing for the bouncy castle this week... It's also the first time that the lungs have begun taking their first breaths - but not of air, amniotic fluid.
What I want to know is, why are we able to breathe liquid in the womb, but not once we're born? Could we, as adults, breathe amniotic fluid? Maybe that stuff Ed Harris had to breathe in the hit film The Abyss was a derivative of amniotic fluid?
Let's find out! Does anyone know James Cameron's email address?
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Preggy Pal of the Week! |
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Kev's cousin Karen and her hubby Tom
Dec 5th... Tom's birthday! And believe it or not Nicholas was born right on his due date... so keep wishin', seems some Beimers CAN be on time...
We have a few names that we have been tossing around... mostly it's a battle of "what Tom likes, I don't" and visa versa... so I figure one of these days we'll hit the jackpot.
Absolutely will find out. Can't stand a stranger (the technician) knowing something that I don't know.
With Nicholas, I craved gas fumes and dirt... this should answer a lot of questions (ha ha). Seriously, I would have to turn myself around in our boat so I wouldn't inhale the motor fumes, and I loved the smell of the hot summer ground after a rain that I would have literally licked it... if... well, that's just for me to know (ha ha).
Take good care of yourselves... and Morning sickness doesn't happen to everyone.
Nope, it's bedtime for me.....YAHOO....seems these days it can't come soon enough! Good-bye and good night and looking forward to future updates of baby "B".
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Aimee's cravings |
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Nachos!
Everywhere we went, "Nachos, Nachos, Nachos! Me want Nachos!" Like the damn Nacho Monster.
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Everyone into the poll! |
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It's the age old question. Luckily, with the wonders of technology today, we get to find out
in just a couple more weeks! Stay tuned for the answer, but until then...
VOTE, DAMN IT!
By the way, we've been enjoying the answers in the little Why box. Here are a couple goodies:
It's gonna be a girl because...
"The world needs more girls!"
It's gonna be a boy because...
"Men make men and Beems is the man"
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Baby's Book of the Week |
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 Fanstastic Daisy Artichoke
By Quentin Blake
This is what happens when a mediocre illustrator is paired up with a talented children's writer
for many years, then the talented children's writer dies, and the illustrator says, "Ha, now I'm
finally free from the shadow of that writer, and may choose my own path, and that path is... MORE
CHILDREN'S BOOKS!" but what he didn't realise was all he can really do is draw in a somewhat childlike
fashion, and that it really IS the words that drive the book and not the pictures. This book is neither
fantastic, fresh like a daisy, nor particularly arti. You know what that leaves?
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