Well, we all know the significance of 2009 for me and mine. In short: baby in my belly, getting bigger and bigger. Much joy and happiness and vomiting as a result. So rather than recap the year that was (I’m two days late anyway), here’s what 2010 has held for us so far.
A marriage proposal. Gotcha! We’re not getting wed, but my big brother is. He popped the question to his lovely girlfriend- who, as my sister pointed out, has perfect curly bride-hair – on NYE during a romantic minibreak in Dublin. Quite stylish! And jolly good news all round.
Lounging. We spent a very enjoyable first of Jan in a state of complete relaxation. It was novel indeed not to be remotely hungover on New Year’s Day, and a real treat after the hurly-burly of festive visits and parties and face-stuffing, to simply chill (and, er, stuff my face).
Weeping. Further to my recent appeal for film recommendations, G’s sister’s film buff boyfriend (still with me?) drew up a list of must-see films for me to dig into, including several Ken Loach works. I began with Kes on New Year’s Day, a film which made me cry so hard that it was probably quite disturbing to witness. Over a dead kestrel (and the death of the only ray of hope in the poor boy’s life, waaah!)
Sadly, vomiting, our frequent houseguest in 2009, has already paid us a visit in 2010 too. G woke up at midnight last night (going to bed early, very early, is all the rage in our house at the moment) and proceeded to puke at 45 minute intervals throughout the night.As a result, we’ve spent another day holed up in the house, and cabin fever is beginning to creep in. Thankfully (though I’m not sure how much glee G can summon at this fact, valiantly as he tries) it looks like food poisoning rather than a stomach bug- so the Precious Child is, fingers crossed, protected from nasty ill germs, and G won’t have to deal with me bewailing a genuine illness as well as creaky hips and an aching back.
Waiting. As evidenced by the canteloupe-sized bump hanging over my jeans, featuring tiny feet which can be seen jive dancing disconcertingly just below the surface, it’s impossible to ignore the fact that we’re four weeks (perhaps more, perhaps- eek!- less) away from the baby’s arrival. 2010 is of course the Year of the Bean in our house. And I feel it’s going to be a vintage one.