James x

I've decided until The Beanette is finally baked and sprogged, I'm discontinuing this blog and will be blogging at http://rosiesarah.livejournal.com

(yes I realise that I could've told you this quite easily instead of putting an entry but I'm a tecchie 'tard)

xx

I love Katie Holmes

Dear Pod

I have to say right now, in the event that you are inclined to "find God" in your life, neither your pa nor myself will stop you. You can be go with whatever religion that gives you peace of mind and a mountain load of money we're fairly happy to go along with. In fact, tell us where that mountain load is so that we can pay off our mortgage happily ever after.

The only thing to your pathway to enlightenment, you'd need to go at it yourself. I'm game to play a round or two of hide and seek with you but you'll have to go "seek God" on your own. Neither your father nor I are equipped at all with this task. He is a beer guzzling hedon while I have trouble believing that I can poo naturally ever again after last weekend's bout of stomach flu.

Traditionally your parents are Christians and you're likely to be baptised in a church service and we'll do fun things like christmas, easter and the works. However what we'll not tell you is that there is only one religion that sends you straight to heaven. God, in whatever form of belief, has got to be too big to be contained in one doctrine.

Take for instance - your grandma has given me a book entitled Supernatural Childbirth. I read a couple of pages just to be opened to everything. It claims that if I have enough of belief in God to release the curses listed in Deuteronomy by the new convenant in Galatians, I am freed from labour pains. So long as I believe hard enough, pray hard enough I am set free from the curse of child birth. Also because the writer who gives 10% of their salary in tithes to the church, they are claiming "tithing rights" to not have a premature child. For a fact, I know of someone personally who has in fact delivered 3 children without any labour pains and she is a staunch Buddhist.

While I defintely do not want you to be premature (especially since I have no income to give 10% therefore no supernatural privelleges for me), in a sick way, I want to experience some form of labour pain. In fact, I am going to feel rather cheated if I don't have it. After a bloating like a helium balloon, I want bragging rights that I endured some bit of labour pain! Give me! Give me! No one understand me with this, not even your clever, logical, sane, hedon father, watching childbirth programme on Channel 70 makes me psyched out for labour pains. So much so that I am looking forward to writhing and whinning (I love whinning). Your father thinks I'm setting up myself to be depressed and worried. I am pumped and psyched that I want to jump up and down the couch and yell: I LOVE KATIE HOLMES!

*Flops*

The entry that wasn't quite meant to turn out this way

Dear Pod

One of the many blessings of being pregnant is that I get to be a scatterbrain and get an excuse for it. Okay so the other is being able to stuff my face in a sushi counter and sit contendedly with my belly sticking out *and* letting out a fart.

This largely means that anything that is said to me gets forgotton in the next five or so minute if that person is lucky. The bad news comes when I don't even register a single thing *while* the conversation is going on and I walk away as if I hadn't had that conversation! Take today for instance. For a fact I know I went to school, then to the lawyers' office to sign the mortgage documents. But what exactly was being said in school? Something about dotting the dots with the french curves. And when exactly are we going to be proper homeowners all I remembered was 13th was bad luck for your pa, 14th's not good for Swee Chin and I wanted to use the loo.

Many a time I find myself drifting to space whenever your father has something to say to me that's going to last for more than 30 seconds. I'd nod in agreement and my mind goes somthing like that: "right. okay that's fine. err, okay. hmmm i don't think so, but never mind...hmmm..ooh what beautiful blue eyes he has.....absolutely agree, yes ....to..what? I don't know...yes...how sexy he sounds...not sure what he's yopping about....but yes i think so....is he still going on?...god, i want a shag now....

Of course rather than a shag, pea pod, I get asked about whatever he said earlier on and I'd (a) claim we never had that conversation (b) bluff my way (c) agree (d) announce i'm ill and hide in bed.

It's a pity. Your pa is a very shaggable person but doesn't really seem that keen on it. The fact that you're growing in my belly is, honestly, no more amazing than The Immaculate Conception. I am almost expecting sheeps and lammykins to graze and gambol all over the delivery suite with 3 blind mice looking to hole in for the night.

Nnnnnnos....Nnnnnnoooos.

Dear Peapod

There's no point in not telling you this since there shouldn't be anything we can tell each other. Before I met your father, I was married and then got a divorce. After everything that's been said and done, it was an easy decision to make yet the hardest one to go through. It was easy because I love your father and I knew that it would be the right thing to do. Hardest because going through a divorce means emotionally it slices very slowly each and every layer of self preservation and confidence you have to that keeps you a whole person. In the matter of keeping my chin up and looking it in the eye, I remember telling myself "going through a divorce is the worst thing that can happen to you and nothing else after that can tear you down"

I thought then what I knew was true. Not.

Now with each passing day, I find myself thinking, whether consiously or not, that being a parent is the worst thing that can ever happen to anyone. Not in a bad way mind you. I worry about everything, from whether you'd be alright in my womb up to the point to being driven to tears (last night) what if something happens to either your pa or myself. Like for instance, igot upset when I couldn't bear to tell him that "no, I'm a just a little pregnant you pophead, so I don't want you to fly to London for Ron and Michelle's wedding because (a) the plane might get highjacked and crash (b) you might be attacked by pink terrorists in London (c) you'd get abducted my aliens and cut your cock" Did I say that? No. Of course I had to hum and haw till he got upset. I wish I can say no..Nnnnnnno...nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno outright without feeling like I'm the the Stroke of Death to your father's party plans.

But Peapod, I do worry. I can't help it. Your father thinks I'm a slacker especially in the "Future" department. Especially when it comes to things Beyond My Control like mortality. Logically we all know that money can be lost and made in a day, but I worry about that too now that I've stopped working. In a way, I feel pushed and boxed in a corner with what ifs and financially I'm absolutely no help at all. (By the way, I've decided to give you a headstart in saving up for your college education. The minute you can crawl/sit up/gurgle/smile for the cameras, I'm going to pimp you off to a modelling studio for covers.)

Being a parent may be the "worst" thing that can ever happen to anyone/me but my usual breezy reply would be to everything and this included "don't worry, it'll be fine". It has to be, right?

I'm going off to practice my series of "Nnnnnnos" infront of the mirror now.

Mama loves you.

Wedding

Dear Bean (althought you must be looking less like one now!)

It's been a while since I last updated. Since then your pa and I have:

got married; and
bought flat.

We got married on 18 November. It was a beautiful Saturday with the sun shining brightly. To be honest I really can't remember half of it because it went by like a whirl and it was possibly the happiest day of my life ever. I remember being happy and your pa looked so charming (and nervous) while he stood with the minister while your grandpa walked me down the aisle. Best bit, you were alright and with me all that time so that made it even more special.

About two days before the wedding, we had a scare when I started bleeding slightly and had to get on hormonal medication which made me ill and then we had to do a test to see if you were affected by down syndrome. I've never felt the kind of fear I did when the doctor said that I had to test you for it. I was so scared and I cried the whole night worrying about something that was beyond my control. Your pa was worried too but there wasn't anything he nor I could do but wait. We got the result the same day and there's just about a 1/20,000 chance of you having so that was a relief. We just want you to be alright.

I'm getting rounder and rounder day by day. I can't wait for the day that I feel you moving inside me. I'm not sure how that would feel but it'll be amazing. We told your grandparents about you over last week. Everyone's really excited and you're already so well loved! I realised that in an ideal world, your pa and I would have been engaged for about a year or so, then married first then waited for a bit, then try for a baby. I don't feel the social stigma at all that we didn't do all that because I don't want just any other baby, I want it to be you, the best part of your pa so social convention and everyone in it can go stuff themselves with a sock and a lid.

We're (at least I am) thinking about names. If you're a boy, you're likely to be called either Henry or Edward. If your a girl, then I like the following names: Isabelle, Kirsten, Amanda or Paige. Do you like any of those names? Lily would be a nice middle name.

We're going to have another look at you this Saturday! Yay!

Love,

Mama

When all you can do is...

Dear Pea-pod

Can I just say:

How grateful I am to have you

That I'm worried mostly about your father who is doing his best by us

And that I know what it's like to feel afraid

When you have to be responsible for another life

Sometimes I want to curl up in a corner and not move

I don't want to go out, do anything but just hang my head

When I get sad from time to time and cry (like now)

It feels like a big lonely space

But this means my life has been full to feel all that

For everything happens for a reason

Even in bad times, some good can still come out of it

There will be a time that comes and we sit back and say

"See, that was a window where the sun shone on you"

For now, I have to say

All the times that I have been ill and coping with nausea

And for all the times that I moan for it to be all over,

Pea pod, you've been good for me all these while.

'Cuz you make me feel, moany moany

Dear little 1-inch

I know I haven't written in a really long time and I don't want to sound ungrateful because I really am and I hate to moan especially when there are loads of other women who wish the are in my position but....

I don't particularly enjoy being pregnant.

Don't cry now please because really, the only good thing about this whole gig is you and I do love you so much so don't be sad. However, being a human skin bag isn't very fun when I wake up to cry or making sure that feeding time is right on the dot (not a second less), vomming when accidentally eating anything that has the word f-i-s-h.

Then there is uncontrollable crying spells. I had a really bad one about a week ago which more or less started friday night thru to sunday morning. As you can see, you lovely daddy came home after a long week in a shit office to a condusive and calming weekend. If someone can understand why I just want to...cry...maybe I (oh dear) enjoy crying...to pass time? Its moments like these, you should worship the ground your father walks on.

Moany mummy.

I wish i was an ostrich so that i bury my head in the ground.

List

Dear Pea-pod

Here's a list of food and smells we love and hate (this list will be expanded, I'm sure):

We love:

Watermelons
Red bean paste
Lemony sweets
Papayas
Porky noodles
Subway tuna sandwich (we can't have deli meats!)
Ginger and lime
Dried cranberries

We hate:

Fish and all kinds of sea-food (ewwwwwwrrrgh)
Tea rice
Lamb (we love the actual lamb because they are little clouds with black boots)
Beer
Smell of beer on Daddy's mouth (actually that's just Peapod's contribution...)
Smell of Daddy's b*lls (again, that's Peapod's..)
Smell of Daddy (PEAPOD!!!)