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Baby stats:
Current length: From the VERY top of Aimee's tummy to the VERY bottom of Aimee's cervix.
Weight: Probably Guinness record- breaking size.
Her main activity : Attempting to bruise Aim's stomach from the inside, and succeeding.
Comparable to: A bucket of snakes inside me.
Developed this week: A definite increase in the number of phone calls we're getting. It seems that everyone is on high alert but also concerned that we would forget to contact them when labour begins so the only way to keep on top of it is to call or txt us every two days.
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Aimee's thoughts:
Whew. It's done! I've finished work! It feels good, and it feels weird at the same time. Unlike Kevin, who doesn't much like his job, I actually really like mine. I'm sure I've mentioned before that I've never loved a job so much. I mean, how could I not? I make online games and activities for little girls. And here I am, brewing my own target market!
But loving your job makes leaving it for a year somewhat difficult. Especially when I only hired my replacement two days ago. In the nick of time - it took four rounds of recruitment before we found someone that could fill my shoes. Somewhat flattering, but also nervewracking in the last few weeks when it looked like we wouldn't be able to find anyone!
Now I just need to do the thing that I'm sure most professional women have difficulty doing - letting go and trying not to call into the office to make sure all is well. You see, also unlike Kev, I'm going to be returning to this job so I have a very strong vested interest in how things progress.
I've done the schedules, I've briefed my replacement, and now I just need to sit back and try not to think about everything I've forgotten to think about. I'll try not to think about the state I left my files in (a system based on the colour and make of paper of the folder, which may not be intuitively clear to others), or how the relationships with freelancers will be maintained, or even how they're going to tackle the latest series of games for the kiddies. Or how my team's personalities will mesh with the 'quirky' person taking over for me.
If I keep this sort of thing in my head, I'll do nothing but drive myself crazy and spend half my time checking email that is none of my business and sending txts to people at work to get the latest scoop on the crazy people.
So what I've got to do is just let go. (Can you tell that I'm actually having this conversation with myself inside my own head as I type?)
Things are in good hands and I've got more important things to focus on. So from here on out, I'm going to enjoy a final few weeks (days?) of relaxation, sleeping in, chick-lit, and Scrubs marathons. And no responsibility other than cleaning the house and returning library books on time.
And after that, I'm going to greatly enjoy my next occupation of being a brand-new mummy.
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Kevin's thoughts:
In the immortal words of Greg Mays, one of the greatest men I've ever worked with: "The best part of the day is when your ass is facing work." His favourite
time of day was five, because at that moment, walking out of the building, his ass was pointing at work for
the longest time until he had to see work again. And he was a manager. I'd work with him again in a second.
I've since adopted that philosophy. You could even extend the idea to say that when you leave a job, your
ass is facing work forever, which must mean that retirement is the greatest moment your ass and your old
job can share.
I know I'm not exactly retiring, although even when we took three years to travel I preferred to
use that term rather than "unemployed", as it gives you a much more respectful air about you. Tell someone
you're unemployed at 25, and they think you're a bum leeching off the system, or on a vacation paid for
by daddy's credit card. Tell someone you're retired at 25, and they think you must have cleaned up in internet
stock before the whole market went bust. Then, when you do have to go back to work, you can just say you're
'coming out of retirement'. Then you sound like Michael Jordan.
But I don't want to think about coming out of retirement just yet. I'm going to live in the moment, and enjoy
the fact that my ass is facing this job forever.
You see, this job originally started off as a three month contract, and somehow blossomed into a year and a
half. It's located in a town 90 minutes away by train, which involved getting a second apartment, waking
up at 5:30am on Mondays, and not seeing Aimee for three days (and nights) out of the week. (Okay, that's just
the tip of the job-hating iceberg. If I get into the full story, you'll be reading for hours and I know
you don't have that kind of time.)
As a result, all I think about from the moment I leave is how many hours before I see Aimee again.
Especially since she's been pregnant... you can understand, I don't want to miss a single moment of that,
and it sucks that I'm 200 miles away. I can't imagine how much we spent on phone calls every week.
But those days are gone! I'm holding my very last train ticket, I've handed in my keys to the
Facilities manager, created the How To Do My Job document to whoever's going to be taking my place, crossed
the last few things off of my to-do list, burned a bunch of back up CDs, returned the memory sticks, cleared
out my inbox, and can head on home with a general feeling of a job well done (not to mention a few parting
gifts... thanks folks!)
There were a number of mentions in my leaving card that referred to "pastures new". I think it's a British
expression, or perhaps an expression that any nation might use that harbours an affinity towards sheep. Whenever
I hear myself referred to as "heading off to pastures new/green pastures", I think of the only other
expression I know that involves pastures, which is "being put out to pasture".
In other words, to quote another work colleague, "Retirement is when you've given so much of yourself
to a job that there's nothing left they can use." On that note, I'd say that retirement is the perfect
way to describe the end of this job!
To all my good friends: drop in to London anytime! You're welcome to visit whenever you want.
In fact, it's the only way you'll ever see the baby, because I'm never ever coming back here ever
again! Woo hoo!
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Did you know? |
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It's my birthday this week, which means that I have failed to have a baby before reaching 30. Okay, this also means that I have failed to have a baby before reaching 31.
But that's okay. You know why? Because having a child in your early thirties is not considered an old age to have a baby. Despite those siblings from our hometown who seemed to have all of their children before they turned 25, having a child in your thirties poses no greater risk than having them in your twenties.
So there.
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Preggy pal: follow-up! |
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Congratulations Trevor and Mary!
They're the proud parents of Jayden Vance Warren, who was born almost two weeks late on October 20 and weighed a whopping 10 lbs, 1 oz! (Like the one ounce makes a difference. That's like worrying about an extra deck chair on the Titanic.)
Mary: You are a superstar. Moms everywhere applaud you.
Trevor: Fatherly advice... Don't force your son to look into a solar eclipse like you did to me when I was ten.
Jayden: You'll be a kick ass martial arts expert in no time... obviously you come from a family with a very high pain threshold... use it to your advantage!
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Everyone into the poll! |
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There was a lady at Kev's work who had her baby two days after she started her maternity leave. There's a girl at
my work who starts her leave in a couple of weeks, but her due date's not until the end of January. Where did you
fit into this?
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Speaking of 10 pound babies... last week we asked you how big your baby was. This week we've got a ten pounder in the preggy pal follow-up! Are babies getting bigger, or is Jayden just a FREAK?
| Less than 6 lbs: |
10% |
| 6 to 7 lbs: |
31% |
| 7 to 8 lbs: |
12% |
| 8 to 9 lbs: |
25% |
| 9 to 10 lbs: |
21% |
| Over 10 lbs: |
1% |
Yup. He's a freak.
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Baby's Book of the Week |
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 Mr. Beast
By James Sage & Russell Ayto
When selecting books for our baby, obviously we have to focus on stories that are driven
by the text, not by the pictures. While books that involve finding the animal under a
flip-up leaf appeal to some, we're kind of limited when it comes to the visual or interactive
side of things. However, sometimes we, on the outside of the womb, get lucky. Clever and quirky story, clever and quirky
pictures (same artist as Captain Flinn and the Pirate Dinosaurs).
I might buy this one once she can see. Actually, it's £10.99, so I'll just get it out of
the library again.
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