I've sort of been waiting until I had some cheerier things to say before updating my blog but this seems to be a tougher season than most.
I am getting why nature doesn't approve so much of having babies at (inches from) forty. As soon as one symptom clears, the next appears. At 30 weeks, I'm struggling a bit.
Keith is, on the whole, hugely sympathetic. The last two days he has brought lunch to me in bed where I have been wallowing in the four-hour sick day I carved out between Thursday and Friday pre-school/day care pick-ups and drop-offs and all the crazy shenanigans that fill the morning and afternoon. But he has implied that at night he feels a little like he is sharing his bed with a restless, snoring walrus.
I think this is because during the night, as well as changing position constantly, I must often suddenly sit bolt upright as acid travels from my stomach up my gullet into my throat. The glamour! While sitting up chewing heartburn medication I like to quietly moan in self pity. The acid has given me a bad sore throat too, so combined with the cold I can't shake and the mongy hip giving me a saucy waddle, I am one hot mama. Smoking.
Still, silver linings: I haven't yet woken up choking on my own vomit like I did while pregnant with Ivy. Or was that Heidi Klum? Just...quickly...Google... No, not Heidi, nor Angelina. Surprising. Must have been me after all.
Ted has been in hospital once since I last posted about his asthma. He had an attack on the way to my darling nieces funeral, and we had to juggle the emergency room with getting to the church. I changed in the toilet and raced there just in time. Keith missed the service. It was amongst our worst days ever. But Teddy is is doing much better. And sweet baby Autumn is at peace.
Amongst the worry and the sadness, there have been moments like these too.
Like father, like daughter.
Roald Dahl at bedtime.
But these next two pics say it all. Especially the second where Keith and Ted are moments from being lost forever under a giant pile of unfolded washing.
On the upside, the kids continue to delight with their emerging personalities. Ivy is besotted with her pre-school best friend Ava. They have started a club called Peacock Feather, in which Ivy is named Tulip and Ava is Superstar. Teddy remains an adorable lunatic with an impressive vocabulary. They are loving sharing their room. In the morning, instead of coming in to sit on our heads and shout 'Open you eyes!' they like to chat to each other, and waking slowly while cuddling a mustachioed physicist and listening to pre-schoolers exchange rambling thoughts on life is a very sweet way to start the day.