First the fire, then the news that I'm gestating a butterball of a baby - it appears third time's the charm when it comes to surprises.
The other night was book club. Like 85% of women over the age of 30 I have found this book club to be a complete salvation - even though as a rule I would say I was uncomfortable with large gaggles of women. My friend Mooks and I started the club when Anna was a paltry 4 months old and it has got me out of the house for some much needed wine and nattering pretty much every month ever since. Well, Tuesday night the lure of wine and women just wasn't cutting it for me. I've been battling a cold since we were evacuated, and that coupled with the exhaustion of lugging this bulk around left me thinking my couch would be the better option. In the end LK told me to get off my ass and go to book club, that the guys were going to be escaping the oestrogen overload by watching the Lakers at our house, and that if I did stay all their daughters would want to pile in to bed with me and watch fluffy the kitten and her wild adventures in fairyland. Or some such.
The decision was clear.
I scraped my hair back in to some semblance of a ponytail, gave my Target maternity sweats a cursory once-over for embarrassing stainage, grabbed a bottle of wine and fled.
To my surprise baby shower.
Funnily enough as I pulled up to J's house and surveyed the parked cars I thought 'that's funny everyone seems to be here already'. I didn't think I was late. In fact I remember sending the email out saying 7pm, so I knew I wasn't late. I also thought 'hmm, strange, the curtains are closed'. Three seconds later I was thinking 'hmm, that's odd, a whole room full of women screaming surprise, and oh look a big sign saying 'welcome creature #2'.
Pregnancy has not sharpened my mental capacities.
Instead of immediately going 'oh you guys, what an amazing surprise, thankyou, you're all diamonds' I just stood there looking gormless thinking 'what the chuff?' and 'why didn't I slap a bit of make-up on'.
To say I was completely overwhelmed is a huge understatement. It took me a good five minutes to notice this large gift sitting in the corner bedecked with balloons:
How lucky am I to have friends like that?
Thanks to all your comments on this post, I had decided that a double jogger even with a 3 year old was a must, and unbeknownst to me J. was having kittens that I'd made my mind up and was all set to buy one. You see, while I was thinking that LK was taking a loving interest in whether or not we needed a double stroller (ha!), it was all a cunning ruse on the part of my friends. Apparently J. had decided I needed the Phil & Teds stroller and had roped LK in to talk about it to see if the idea would fly. So when LK said 'someone at work told me you should check out the Phil and Ted's stroller instead of the double Bob' I fell for it hook, line and sinker. How could I have been so daft to not see straight through that statement? Did I think he would next be asking what brand of breast-pump I was intending on using? Have 11 years of marriage taught me nothing?
What she didn't count on was my nesting instinct going in to overdrive, and NaBloPoMo meaning I would blog about the chuffing thing, spurring me on (she thought) to go straight out and buy one. Then, to add insult to injury we evacuate to her house seriously compromising her ability to plan my party. Not that you would have noticed as the party was brilliant. Champagne, shepherds pie (yum!), English cheeses, fabulous people, flowers in baby bottles, the works. If I was a better writer I'd be able to do it justice, but all I can leave you with is this:
How ironic that I actually thought LK cared.