...are coming for the weekend.

Don't get me wrong. I like having house guests, and I'm very glad they're coming.

However, you may know that the imminent arrival of house guests always makes me stressed. I become obsessive about Having Things Nice.

Morelearning and I are not the tidiest of people, as a general rule. (I realise this may come as a shock to those of you who have met us and observed our fastidious and pristine appearance ) This means that Getting Things Nice requires an intensive burst of very hard work.

Not only do the house guests include my parents, but also Morelearning's sister, who regularly cavorts with His Ex. Therefore, I am feeling under even more pressure to Have Things Nice, in order to avoid the potential for any unsavoury reporting back.

Meanwhile, in addition to being 32 weeks pregnant, I appear to have spontaneously developed a range of entertaining ailments, including: tummy bug, streaming snotty cold, nosebleeds, and bad back, and my insomnia is also sticking its tongue out and saying "na na na na na" at my utter exhaustion.

And furthermore Morelearning, though he's being wonderfully supportive, is buried under 500 exam scripts and can't really spare the time he generously offers in order to help out.

So next time I have house guests I'm paying the frickin Molly Maids, because frankly it would be difficult to feel any more wiped out than I do at this moment, as I contemplate the filthy kitchen, bathroom and guest room all awaiting my ministrations.

*submerges head in overflowing laundry basket and waits for oblivion to descend*

Today was a big day.

Littlun did a poo in the toilet!!!!

It is impossible for you to imagine what a momentous, long-awaited and celebrated occasion this was.

It means an end to pooey nappies might just be on the horizon... just in time before Boco arrives to provide the next lot

It reminds me a bit of when the Cub Scouts used to come round doing Bob-a-Job week (sorry, I'm probably showing my age there) and my dad thought it highly amusing to put one of their "Job done!" stickers on the inside of the toilet seat. Which indeed it was (highly amusing). For the first 3 years or so.

Today was also the day when Morelearning laughed at me when I walked into the living room even after I had preceded my entrance with "Don't laugh...."

I, personally, don't see what's quite so funny about me ending up wearing the tomato soup that Littlun was eating. Splattered all over my bump, thighs and arms, it was.

I was wearing all black, so the bright orange made a lovely contrast.

What do they put in tomato soup that makes it such a killer to get out of your clothes? Answers on a postcard, along with cleaning tips, please.

I went to the breastfeeding ante natal class, as promised. How I hate to disappoint blogworld with the news that it was much better than the last one (different midwife)!

There was only one other person there who hadn't brought a partner. I'm not being cynical, but since when did men have breasts? Or more accurately, the capacity to (and therefore need to know the, er, ins and outs of) breastfeeding?

Then the midwife leading the session put on a video with non stop close ups of breasts and nipples. And suddenly everything became clear.

Then she said, "Oh shit, sorry, that's me husband's, I meant to put on this NHS teaching video instead".

It's a year since Morelearning and I got rumbled and my husband, as he was at the time, told me that our marriage was over.

I still can't quite believe that I got through that 24 hours, but here I am we are.

Quite a lot's happened since then.

And at least I haven't run over any more cyclists!!

Just been to a really terrible ante natal class - entitled "Ways to cope with the birth of your baby". (Sub-heading: "Free drugs - Enjoy!")

It was run by a trained midwife who repeatedly used the word "medicalised". She had clear favourites among the painkilling options on offer. (Pethidine and hypnotherapy got pursed lips and a wrinkled nose signalling disapproval, and were washed over, as in: "That's enough about that"... Whereas gas and air.... rave it up, ladies! We couldn't get enough, so to speak.)

My favourite bit, however, was when she said "Epidurals - we'll do those after coffee."

Why, but why did nobody else find this funny? I so wish Morelearning had been there. As it was I could not help but release a little piggy snort of laughter, which turned into a consumptive coughing fit. Talk about drawing attention to yourself.

The next one's about breast feeding... I feel I owe it to blogland to attend.

Littlun: [in teasing mode] What’s in your tummy?
Six: It’s your new baby brother or baby sister.
Littlun: I think it’s a roaring tiger!
Six: Goodness me, I hope not!
Littlun: Or a horrid bat!
Morelearning: Just like its mum.
Littlun: Or a guinea pig!
Six: Well, that would make the birth easier.
Littlun: Can I see?

*Six obligingly lifts up maternity tent smock to reveal her protruding belly. Littlun examines it intently, then points to her distended belly button, stretched beyond recognition*

Littlun: What’s that?
Six: That’s my belly button.
Littlun: [with grave concern] Is it broken?

Woke up at something past 4, couldn't get back to sleep, then finally drifted back to sleep just before the alarm went off... I don't know if Morelearning understood my incomprehensible, three-quarters asleep squeaks ("off! off!") but he must have got the gist because he kindly switched off the radio alarm and left me to it... whereupon I woke up at 23 minutes past 9 and realised I was about to miss a midwife-led ante natal class starting at 9.30. ('Labour - What to Expect'). Gadzooks - now I will not know what to expect!!! Apart from (1) pain, (2) baby. I suppose they might have filled in some of the gaps. Never mind eh. I still have my action-packed NHS ante-natal classes to go to, which presumably will cover pretty much the same ground. ("And this evening's class will be in two sections... (1) pain, (2) baby...")

Don't know what's wrong with me but my appetite has completely deserted me since an incident with a greasy thumbprint yesterday. All I could bring myself to eat for lunch was an extra large tin of strawberries. I'm sure I will now get my wrists slapped for not eating properly. *Holds out wrists in anticipation* I have had a mug of Ovaltine though. Packed full of goodness.

Time to go and do something constructive with my day.

Received this in my mailbox this morning via Friends Reunited:

Hi All
SS, AB, DW, AH & LD have organised a 20 year school reunion, so are you 36 years old or about to turn 36 and left * * *** School in 87, 88 or 89, please come along,
Its takes place on Saturday X July 2007 at 7.30pm at [Classy location I vaguely remember as scene of various blokes trying unsuccessfully to get in my pants when I was 16/17], £5.00 entrance on door partners welcome.
Should be a fun evening few drinks, cheesey 80's disco and a catch up with old friends.
Hope to see you there
D

I've never been to a school reunion in my life, and nobody will recognise me anyway (on account of me no longer weighing 6 stone, and having grown breasts, and my hair having gone brown and curly by some freak of nature when it was previously straight and blonde). But it so happens that I am going to be in that neck of the woods that weekend anyway.

So - do I brave it?????

I have to tell you that the girls who have organised this thing are not exactly on my Christmas card list. Let me relay, for example, my fondest memories of SS (let's call her Suzi Spike. That isn't her name.)

You know those girls who when they're 12, look 21? Suzi was one of those.
You know those girls who when they're 12, look 7? I was one of those.

My favourite memory of Suzi is when a rumour went round the girls' changing room in PE that she had a love bite. On her breast.
She was 12 years old.

My second favourite memory is of being in cookery lesson. I was working next to Suzi and she asked me to pass her something out of a cupboard. So taken aback was I that the lovebitten slag giantess had actually spoken to an insignificant scum like me that I obediently handed the item to her without a word. As she took it from me she said,

"Stupid cow".

So - do I want to go to this reunion? You tell me.

Seem to have developed a previously unheard of predilection for healthy food, in the interests of Unborn Child. Poor Morelearning.

ML: Think I'll have some ice cream.
Six: Have a satsuma instead, darling!
ML:

Don't worry, though. I'm fighting back. Finished off my lunch (tuna on ryvita; tomatoes, spring onion and radishes) with 5 Roses out of the family size tin. I think that's what they call a 'balanced diet'.

I also seem to have become addicted to Ovaltine. And allergic to the anti biotics, of which I am on my second course, judging by the strange rash spreading across my ribs.

Apologies for belated reflections... been chasing around after Littlun since we got back! Currently 'enjoying' my first morning of "maternity leave", which has so far consisted of trying for 34 minutes to make my laptop connect to the frickin internet, typing half this post (or rather, the previous version of this post), then watching in disbelief as the darn thing froze up and crashed.

*deep breaths*

Anyway. We set off on Friday for the wedding of Morelearning's old schoolmate, realising en route that we had forgotten to print off directions to hotel. So on arrival at Lichfield had to follow our noses... before deciding that our noses were wrong, retracing our steps, trying out every other possible route, and finally realising that we just hadn't followed our noses quite far enough the first time. Thus, arrived at hotel with a turnaround time of about 20 minutes to make ourselves beautiful and weddingified. (Anyone who has ever experienced me getting ready to go out will know that this falls somewhere between 'highly unlikely' and 'you must be feckin joking'). But I did it, sort of (no make up; glasses instead of contact lenses, etc etc). Now running late, we jumped in the car along with another of ML's old friends, whose introduction to me consisted, two minutes later, of a stream of colourful language, when - just as we were exiting the hotel car park - this happened to my shoe:

So ML, bless him, had to sprint back to the hotel on his extra long legs and grab the shoes I came in....

[Flashback to 3 minutes before we left our house... Sixpence is sitting on stairs trying to decide which shoes to wear... brown flatties or Converse baseball boots...???]

How glad am I that it wasn't the Converse? D

We did make it to the wedding, although I felt like a bit of a scruffbag, and it was a jolly nice day, and I managed not to have one of my consumptive coughing fits during the vows, and it was all very posh and the food was top notch, and ML got rather drunk and danced all night, and I tried to dance but got Braxton Hicks and sat down again promptly.

The very next day we jetted off to Birmingham to meet the blog crowd... greeted by the irrepressible Juzzzy and RowtheBoat (serene and beautiful)... then shortly afterwards by Paddy (seemed like a lovely bloke, didn't get as much chance to chat to him as I would have liked), Old-Nick (chirpy, cheeky & manic!), Mrs F (gorgeous, wise and wonderful, with the kind of face that made you want to confide all your secrets immediately), and Ship's Cook (huggability personified), then a bit later by the very sweet SketchWeasel. Had a lovely lunch and it was so cool to see everyone... just sorry we had to leave and miss the show!

AND NOW I am going to go and have a bath. Toodle pip.