Love to burn? You mean heart burn....

People always tell you that having a child is the single biggest change you can make to your life and everything feels different afterwards and you can never imagine what it feels like until it happens to you. (Patronising to the child-less or child-free perhaps?) Anyway...

I have not reached this 'universes collide' moment yet, and already these last few weeks of pregnancy feel strange and surreal. I feel a sort of 'hush' where I'm less aware of waiting. It's like standing at the side of a stage ready to go on and read your lines. It's daunting - but there's also a relief and stillness, knowing that it's almost time.

I've also been thinking about my propensity to avoid writing. Good God, any excuse not to write! I have decided the main excuse might be vanity. My dad once said that the 'artist' must have the courage to be thought pretentious. He's right. I don't blog things because I think, that's too trivial or too specific (or not specific enough) and generally I wimp-out of writing. Wimp, wimp, wimp. Well, I have these final days of pregnancy ahead, and darn it, I should use them to write more on the blog; to be another pin prick in the galaxy of blogs; to risk being pretentious. Currently, I'm pretentiously pregnant with heart burn.

More soon, readers. Hold me to it!

-C

Things and more things

Right! There is apparently a recognised phenomenon of 'nesting' whereby pregnant women get frantic about trying to get their houses tidy before their baby arrives. I am having moments of mini wars against 'things'. Things like - sunglasses with one leg detached, leaflets from Sunday newspapers on Eco Living or How to Play the Piano, threadbare towels, books I'll never read again, and general dust. Spiders can sneak back behind the bath, if they want.

I don't see the attraction of owning so many things. In fact, I feel cluttered by them. (Nice Man, meanwhile, enjoys collecting, and has 77 million CD's, books and DVDs and thinks I could be a philistine). In my humble opinion (turbo-charged by pregnancy hormones) I am ever more content that 'Content' (ha, see the adjective to noun shift there?) is everywhere for free - TV programmes, radio, music, i-player; books from the library and charity shops. When I'm finished reading or consuming, I like to give the books/things back to the chari shops - a kind of good karma, keep-the-energy-flowing position.

I've heard the term 'infobesity' to describe the general information overload of our media age, and I'm waiting for my next fit of de-cluttering to see if a sudden urge could prompt me to delete my facebook and myspace sites. I mean, this blog is enough, surely ? I can't keep up with social networking sites. They make me want to stare into the middle distance, like a cow chewing grass in a field. Feel the peace of that.

And, of course, space must be created for bambino stuff. It's the five week countdown...bonkers.

-C

Beetroot juice and Billy Ocean

Some child-care gurus recommend talking to your baby regularly before it is born. I feel like a daftie trying to do this, but today I loved driving the car home from work and singing along (loudly, badly, deeply) to Billy Ocean. (I could pretend Billy was merely on the radio by chance, but that would be a lie, dear readers. I am in possession of BO's greatest hits. Nice Man heroically defied his musical DNA to buy it for me).

And guess what - the baby was not being cynical about this tone-deaf joyous recital of 80's-pop-without-irony. Nay, baby was kicking away. This either means it is (A) uncomfortable and trying to move position or (B) contented and happy. I will choose to believe (B).

Thank you for all the comments and good wishes. I have been eating beetroot because the Romans decreed that it was good for strengthening the blood. I bet they made that up. I bet they just inferred it when they saw how the purple juice stained their togas.

-C