My tummy is certainly swelling. I now look like I'm smuggling a basketball beneath my All Saints jumper (thank goodness for that fashion line - all that asymmetrical draping does wonders for concealing my burgeoning bump...well, for the most part).
Amusingly I even had to don a 1920's vintage flapper dress for the husbands birthday party last weekend. It made me realise why women who were pregnant in those days were said to be in 'confinement'. Too right.
Sadly, life is so full-on these days that confining myself to home is the last thing I can do. Egg belongs to not one but three after school clubs, which means that I have to do double pick-ups in the cold dark evenings three nights a week. On foot. With Dumpie...who usually has to be physically prised (and bribed) away from his Nintendo game, a mere forty-five minutes after arriving home himself.
Moreover, Dumpie has just been initiated into the joys that are 'play dates' and is now begging me for them several times a week. (Which of course means more traversing by foot through the neighbourhood to pick up the monsters from various school mates homes...either that or having to spend an hour before bedtime returning their trashed bedrooms to some sort of sane equilibrium.)
It seems like just yesterday that the boys were excited about Halloween and clamouring to go out 'trick or treating'. Of course, this being Europe and not North America, the tradition is not so firmly embedded here, and the majority of home owners do not participate in this pagan holiday of greed and questionable disguise by way of flame (un)retardent polyester. Unfortunately, having begun the process slightly too late in the game (7pm or so) meant that even the few homes that did sport encouraging outdoor decorations, soon had signs taped to their door saying, 'Out of Sweets'.
|they have yet to have their hopes dashed...|
|...by signs such as these|
Slightly more exciting was Dumpie's fifth birthday which just passed last week. My little man turned five amidst a plethora of aunties and uncles (both official and non-official) who all showed up mid-week to celebrate. He is now outfitted with so many toy guns and remote controlled paraphernalia that our home resembles an Argos warehouse. We despair.
|Dumpie's last night as a four year old...|
|What could we do? The boy wanted guns...|
|Dumpie insisted on 'Pass-the-parcel'...comedy style|
|Big grins from the birthday boy (he insisted on the badge)|
And to think that one year ago today I was eating fruit salad on a Goan beach, chasing the monsters into the warm sea and dodging semi-rabid dogs on my early morning runs...