Official: Babies don’t like terrorists

So I raced back from Singapore last night so that I could spend the weekend with S in all her pregnantess. Saturday morning I’m downstairs procrastinating online when I hear S’s telephone upstairs ring.

Saturday morning not yet eight am — a bad sign. A few minutes later I hear the sluggish steps of somebody who’d really rather still be comatose — a worse sign. Then S meekly walks down the stairs, slides over behind me and nuzzles my neck — Alert, alert — danger Will Robinson. — Then she mumbles “I love you … but…”
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Sacred cows make the best hamburger

I spent this afternoon climbing up and down, in and out and around and around Dad’s ship which has become pretty much a permanent attraction in Sembawang shipyard in Singapore — it recently set the record for number of dockings (that’s bad in case you were wondering). The ship originally carried bananas (I found that out when on the bridge I spied a lever labelled “Banana Loader”), then other refrigerated products and then was transformed into a live animal carrier.
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How old are you Sir?

So I’m in Singapore at the moment on a whistle-stop see-the-folks and renew a visa trip from Jakarta and this is the first time I’ve been away from the baby!

It is the first time but unfortunately won’t be the last time — the thought of being away later in the pregnancy, or even worse, after the pregnancy, is pretty depressing and I’m surprised how strong the feeling is already — after all she’s not even a lump yet!
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Two weeks down, quite a few to go…

Word is slipping out. S is on Skype to her good friend J in the US of A and the cry just same out “We’ll…we’re going to have a baby!” Luckily J wasn’t on speaker, although I think I almost heard her congratulations flying over the Pacific Ocean to us here in lovely Java.

Overall we’ve done a pretty woeful job of not telling people about it — it’s difficult to keep something quite when you think about it 24/7. Even now we still find ourselves sitting on the lounge, S slowly rubbing her belly staring into space, me hypnotised with the circular motions of her hands — and there’s not even a lump to rub yet!

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Daddy and Uncle all in a day

Big day today — I got an email from my little sister saying the following:

Maddie saw the photo of you and Mum that sam took (one of her arty ones that I straightened up) and said, “Nannie – Unc Stu!”

Madison!

So there you go, I’m going to be a daddy and my niece has finally figured out who the unshaven guy is who pops into her life every now and then.

I made some kind of rice and date pudding tonight on a special request from the pregnant one. Rice and Date pudding should carry a warning along the lines of:

“Warning — may send to sleep instantly.”

S almost keeled over with a rice and date layered spoon still stuck in her mouth and I’m not far behind her.

My god, I feel like I’m pregnant…

Can I say it is just my hormones?

S had a pretty rough old day today — a fair bit of boredom, nausea, stomach pains and cramps all suffered through to a background of bad tv, plentiful rain and fatcat dragging and hiding dead rats in the house.

The day didn’t start so bad — we spent some time paging through one of the I’m pregnant helllppppp books we picked up at Kinokuniya yesterday, and I have to say, it was pretty damn good.

Lots of pictures, diagrams, charts and summaries meaning that after a 15 minute sitting I felt I knew all there is to know about this stage of being pregnant — and I’m not even pregnant.
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C stands for crave

S got home about 5.30 tonight and since then has eaten half a tub of ice-cream and two pieces of rye bread in preparation for the beef stew I’m making…

She’s also repeatedly demanded pineapple juice — knowing full well there is none in the house.

She only got away with the “ice-cream before dinner thing” by spouting off with some guff about Japanese schoolkids always having desert before dinner — I won’t even try to explain that theory.

So for all those Japanese schollkids out there, here’s a post all about the craves of S.
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So why “she” not “it”?

The day we saw the ultrasound and our 4.2mm baby, I sent a series of sms messages off to family and close friends saying the following:

“We just saw our baby! She is 4.2mm long. This is so exciting blah blah blah”

Three notable replies came back.

One from my little sister (I know she is 30+ but she’ll always be little) which read:

“Your going to be such a great daddy”

One from Andrew — a good friend in Cambodia:

“A career in basketball by the sound of it”

And, one from Mum:

“How exciting, but how do you know you’re getting a ‘she’?”

What a great question!
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