Our Christmas holiday has been perfect, despite my former Christmas blues. We started off by having Nick, Jessica and Sophie round for a pre-Christmas lunch featuring a fabulous Rick Stein number that, for the first time, made me look like a genuine super chef. The recipe was actually ridiculously easy - the hardest bit was poaching eggs and, true to my usual lazy form, I got the bf to do that.
Christmas Day itself was just Jambeans, boyfried, me and the bump, ie NO OTHER FAMILY, ie heaven on a stick. We loaded J up with presents - one big one and a lot of small ones - which she got to open periodically throughout the day and she spent the whole day in play heaven. Boyfried and I kick started a mammoth run of film and video watching which we've barely just finished, taking in the whole Pirates of the Caribbean and Lord of the Rings series (Jasmine, for some reason, is fascinated by Gollum - I think she thinks he's a dog) as well as some more recommendable efforts like Wag the Dog and Marathon Man.
The second half of our week off has been particularly fab, most of which I attribute to my last minute pink pass (or should it be blue pass for me?) to the Sanctuary. Bf had given me a voucher for my birthday last year and I only got round to using it on the last possible day it was valid for. When I arrived I was grumpy and anxious and missing out on a visit to London Zoo (only Jasmine's second of the week) and I was still smarting at how much of my £100 voucher just went to the privilege of being able to walk through the door - £77 would you believe - but as soon as I was in and having my deluxe pedicure it all started wafting away. Having started with the crusty, crabby feet of someone "who's let themselves go a bit" I now have fabulous feet, and hands to match, and actually feel like my attractive self again (see picture - that's what I normally look like, honestly). We went round to Pedro and Lax's leaving party - the traitors are disappearing off to Oz for a year - straight after so I even had a venue to shine at.
Felix has been particularly busy this Christmas too - doubtless fuelled by all the extra holiday-season calories I've found room for. He's redoubled his disco dancing efforts and increasingly does these slow, low turns that make you feel like your centre of gravity is dropping to your feet. (Jasmine was a kickboxer - please don't ask me what the difference is. It's just definitely a different kind of kicking.) I've definitely noticed that I feel more tired and need the post lunchtime nap more than Jambeans does, and that I'm a lot more out of breath than usual, which I understand is normal, as my lungs don't have as much space as they're used to. The worst symptoms are itchy, dry, overly sensitive skin which make me very jumpy and crabby to the touch (oooh - but just read this so that seems quite normal too); and the return of the dreaded overgrown flap of gum skin behind my two front teeth which is annoying and making me lisp again.
To cap it all, Arsenal are still top of the Premiership, even though watching them play involves more stress than I am actually capable of bearing in my pregnant condition. Jambeans is turning into a good little Gunner but worryingly Felix seems to come alive when Blackburn are playing. A nice little project for us to work on when he's born methinks.
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