Rambley rambley...

Hooray and jubilations!  Archer Season 2 has returned to Channel 5.  I missed it terribly.  I'm not sure if they'll ever top Mole Hunt (the very first ep of season one) but here's hoping...   

  
Today I was up with the lark seeing off my manbeast on another Paris trip.  Now I've wasted several hours in my pjs and have no idea what I will do with the rest of the day.  I was planning to do some decorating, but G has pointed out that going up ladders while home alone with all the balance of a hippo on stilts is probably not sensible, so I think I will leave that until the weekend.  Sadly I don't seem to have my knitting mojo at the moment, so a day spent loafing around with pointy sticks does not really appeal either.  
 
I suppose what I ought to do is have a bimble around the shops and start planning a list of the STUFF that I need to purchase for Ruprecht's arrival.  Yesterday I went to an antenatal class full of women who are due to sprog in the same month as me and I was the only person in the room who has not yet purchased any baby stuff or become remotely informed about cots and prams...   (I don't wish to imply that I am unexcited about poor Ruprecht.  It's just that this particular shopping list is so prosaic it's like deciding between a list of very large, expensive ironing boards).  But with 5 weeks to go - and the risk of an early arrival - we really must get on and purchase a car seat and start to prepare my hospital bag.

   

I also need to do my antenatal homework, which is to find out the pros and cons of TENS machines as a form of pain relief during labour so that I can present it to the rest of the class tomorrow evening.  The others will be presenting on waterbirth, epidural, gas and other methods. 

  

I've started to find the antenatal classes quite helpful this week.  More than anything, they've helped me to stop mulling over the mass of conflicting advice from other women and to think instead about what I know about myself and the ways in which I usually react to anxiety, physical pain and challenges.  For example, I think I'm beginning to recognise that retaining the ability to move around and remain upright is likely to be important to me, rather than being confined on a bed on my back.  (Interestingly I remember my mother saying exactly the same - she found being made to lie on her back horribly frustrating during childbirth).  Similarly I know that I would have no problems accepting medication, but also that I respond well to heat and massage and might like G to assist me during contractions.  Another thing I found quite helpful at yesterday's session was a discussion about general relaxation techniques and anxiety control.  (Although I'm quite a no-nonsense person and don't suffer badly from anxiety, I'm quite tempted to give a hypnotherapy CD a whirl for a bit of mental training to help trigger endorphins when I need them and cope with the unknown).

    
Yeek, Sorry to ramble on so...  

  

In other news, I think my fluffbags are on the mend today, following a couple of days of liquid emissions from both ends.  Vet suspects this is a mere side effect of a few days on emergency Whiskas and Go-Cat while awaiting a delivery of their Hills and Royal Canin sensitivity food.  Tinned tuna didn't seem to help much either, however much they loved it.  I fear these two are doomed forever to be on bland food.  At least they seem happy enough with it, but it costs twice as much as ordinary food and is a total faff to get hold of when you run out, especially during bank holiday season.  (Does anyone know of any pet food services that will let you set up a regular monthly delivery so you don't have to keep remembering to order it in advance?)  For now I'm going to have to go out and get the lil madams some chicken breast to tide them over until tomorrow.  

   

Meanwhile I had to chase a swaggering siamese cat out of our kitchen the other day.  My two are such a pair of scaredies that it has become a thrice-daily occurrence to see a pair of firework tails come hurtling through the cat-flap and legging it down the other end of the flat to cower in the safety of the living room until whatever it was has gone away.  I suspect that cat... and really must get a microchip cat flap installed.

 

Hmmm.  I can't shake off the feeling that I had some really important stuff that I was desperate to get done this week... but it's all starting to fade away, like a slow brain death.  Can anyone out there enlighten me?