The war in Ukraine has been ongoing for some time now. Russians are invading the country, a square meter at a time, shredding it to bite-size bits as they go. By the time you get to read this, there’ll probably be a movie or two about it. The desolation portrayed by the media is only a quarter of the story I’m sure. The situation on the ground is probably worse.
Liza was introduced (by her friend Yana) to a lady whose home and fitness centre was bombed down to ashes. She’s now homeless and without her business. Your mother’s been supporting her by taking a stretching class every Saturday morning. Today is the third one I believe. I think it’s a great way to empower another human without a handout. Kudos to her.
She’s currently in the studio unpacking your tommee tippee. I’ve got a clear line of sight at my eight o’clock where she’s got her face buried in a manual, sitting on the green sofabed. I’m leaving her to it. She just chuckled and said, “someone said on YouTube that this is like an espresso machine for babies”. That’s hilarious because it’s so accurate.
I’ve been busy fiddling with your baby cam. It’s all set up. I just purchased a camera holder that’ll let me mount it to your crib. That’s due to arrive tomorrow. Hopefully, it does the job. The footage of all the silly things you’ll be doing is going to be priceless. I’m looking forward to that, in between all the crying and screaming. You should know right off the bat, that we don’t plan to pick you up every time you yell. At least I don’t. I’ll encourage your mother to do the same.
I just finished my second yoga session at home since breaking my leg. With some difficulty, I still completed every pose. My body is extremely grateful and thanks me very much. My back and knee send special regards. I feel so much lighter.
Your mother came down as I was rounding off Bruno’s homework. And yes, it’s the same Bruno she’s been seeing for her workouts. She’s in the kitchen whisking eggs and flour. Pancakes I think. I got a coffee order but I’ll wait “a few minutes” till she’s done rattling that kitchen aid. The coffee machine is right next to it.
Umm, I don’t know if you can tell, but you’re anything but a small baby. The girls from Liza’s NCT class have been joking about the bear size of your mother’s tummy. Accordingly, bets have been running on her giving birth first.
But news just came in, literally minutes ago, that Helen gave birth to a girl early doors this morning. The Beatles chic – that’s what I call her, she looks like a lost Beatle – messaged Liza saying, “you got beat, don’t be too jealous”. She’s funny.
Turns out Helen had a difficult pregnancy. She went in for a checkup yesterday and got diagnosed with OC, whatever the fuck that is. But the baby had to be brought out as a 911 999 situation. Glad they’re ok.
By the way, yesterday was your due date, full term at 40 weeks. Your mother and I received a letterbox full of messages asking if we’d had the baby. No, we haven’t. Tells you everything you need to know about birth plans and due dates. Helen was due in mid-August.
Also, and this is a major shift, your mother and I decided not to have you induced. You’ll come round when you’re ready. I’m happy for you to start making your own decisions as early as possible now. We’ll be your compass is all. It also felt like Dr Erskine wanted to deliver you by Sunday because she had holiday plans from Monday.
A similar thing happened when your mother was born. The doctor (back then in the Soviet Union) had your grandmother induced and did a rush job so he could go on holiday. She couldn’t have any more kids after that. This had the same vibe to it. So we emailed Dr Erskine’s office to decline and if she’s not around when you decide, we’re happy with Mr O’Brien.
That said though, the contractions are the strongest they’ve ever been. So we are surely days away, or not. Who knows? Thankfully they’ve so far been happening exclusively during the day, after lunch. Maybe you don’t like having lunch. Do you like fasting? Who knew!? It’s great for ya! I do it too, every day. It’s a habit to me now. The longest I’ve gone is 47 hours without food. But I’m well over 10,000 hours of fasting so this didn’t (and shouldn’t) happen overnight. It took years of practice. Anywho, I don’t want a night drive to the hospital. I’m dreading it. So do me a favour, let’s make it a day trip. Please. Evenings will work too when there’s little to no traffic. From say 8 pm. Muchas gracias.
PS – Your mother just asked what I’m doing. “Checking mail, reconciling my accounts…” I swear it’ll be the funniest thing when she reads this. If she ever finds it. What a troll. See you later little man. I’m going to do that wall I told you about. We may have to drive later to B&Q to look for bathroom shelves.
