it was about time i got hold of this.
pretty, no?
i thought it’d bloom so fast and so big that it’d jump right out of the large-sized corningware pot i’d plonked it in, but disappointingly, it didn’t. it still looks pretty smallish, so i guess i still have a bit of waiting to do before the wriggly-person-inside-me makes her debut appearance.
am procrastinating on actually drinking the stuff, though, so no, happy hours have not begun yet. next month, for sure.
the procrastination bit has extended to all other things related to wriggly-person-inside-me. her room has unofficially turned into Whims & Fancies’ HQ, her cot has turned into W&F’s product showcase mantle, little clothes that should belong to her are still not bought, one of the brand new tights i’d gotten has been ‘sacrificed’ for a W&F order (lol!), and i think the only cute little thing i did buy (and will NOT sacrifice) are a pair of the sweetest green mothercare shoes that was on sale while shopping for W&F supplies and i couldn’t help myself despite my no-shoes-before-walking rule that i’d imposed on her brother. (see? more rules out of the window. sigh.)
physical-wise, am getting s-l-o-w-e-r and s–l–o–w–e–r at walking. i don’t know how many times i’d told the spouse he was walking too fast, even though i know he’s trudging away at his normal slack speed. just today, i was moaning in woe about my body and its decelerated functions, in hope of a scrap of sympathy (like an “alah, kesiaaaan my wife”, or something to that effect, perhaps). i even suggested he carry me up the steps of the carpark. well, fat hope, coz all i got was an exaggerated slow-motion waddle in imitation of his un-kesian-able wife, and a snigger.
and don’t get me started on the toddler, who’s virtually a running machine. that, i’d never catch up with. the trick is, to have him hold my hand while we walk and NOT LET GO, EVER. he actually doesn’t mind this, but it means keeping a steady stream of running commentary and conversation for the whole distance. he generally doesn’t stray much when i’m alone with him, though. well, that is, until he spots a cat from a 100 miles away, then it’s running machine all the way to the unsuspecting feline, which would invariably run for cover, just as its instincts tell it to. except for little kittens who don’t know any better – he’d pick them up, yes with his bare hands, and carry it around for a walk. nevermind if they occasionally try to nip him with their tiny teeth. a mini siegfried & roy, he is.
ok, i think i’ve sat on my butt long enough. all this weight’s cutting off the blood circulating to my legs, you know. (did i tell you i have bruised-looking veins and broken capillaries camping out at the back of my legs? well, they have. maybe that’s why i’m walking soooo sloooowly now. i need a stroller. i need to learn how to teleport.)
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