Lookit that face. Does this look like a little boy to you?
I suppose that because I am her mother, I can absolutely see that Peanut is a little girl. However, when I dress her in gender-neutral colours – green, yellow or grey in particular – people have a hard time ascertaining whether she’s male or female.
I don’t really ascribe to the pink for girls/blue for boys ideal; in fact, pink is not really a colour I like, and I have very little of it (one or two items, max) in my own wardrobe. Peanut happens to look good in it – and while I frequently dress her in whatever pink items she happens to own, I tend to buy clothing in other colours.
It’s hard, though, finding lovely little girls’ clothes that don’t look as though they lost a fight with a bottle of Pepto Bismol. And if the items aren’t pink, they’re ruffled, frilled and ruched to within an inch of their lives. What is the deal with tutus for little girls? And headbands with bows? And sequins? Why?
I put the wee one in a hoodie and jeans the other day, and my mother squawked that I was dressing the child like a thug. I thought she looked positively adorable! She’s usually in pants or a sleeper, anyway, so I wasn’t quite sure what the fuss was about. Read more
Initial surprise notwithstanding, I have to say I’m pretty freaking happy that li’l miss is coming into the world a good week or so earlier than planned.
At 38w1d, I’m extremely uncomfortable. I know I keep bitching and moaning about it, but as anyone who has made it to this point (and sometimes beyond) can tell you, the last weeks aren’t much fun.
in the nude…
Currently, I don’t like wearing clothes. I haven’t bought a stitch of maternity gear, so the the few loose-fitting items I wore in month six, seven and even eight REALLY don’t fit me now. I’ve resorted to a pair of tights and pajama pants borrowed from mum, and a few stretchy tank tops. When I wear my own clothes, I look as though I’ve been stuffed into them. It’s impossible to look cute now, which is why I’ve pretty much stopped leaving the house. I’ve always been comfortable in the buff, but now that I’ve moved into ginormous territory, I am happiest in just my underwear (and even those feel too constricting at times) with a sheet covering me for modesty.
Although I grow larger by the day, I’m at a stage where I can still get into about 50 per cent of my pre-pregnancy clothes. I don’t have a lot of “maternity” clothing, per se; I’ve opted for buying loose, blousy tops with room to accommodate peanut, as well as tights galore (mostly black) in size large.
All of my underwear still fits. And when I say “still fits” I mean that I can still wear the tiny boyshorts and bikini panties I had pre-peanut, I just spend most of the time digging them out of my ever-expanding bottom. I don’t know about men’s skivvies, but women’s underwear is ridiculously expensive. I would imagine that due to the extra fabric, maternity underwear is only more so, hence the reason I haven’t splurged on any yet.
My mother bought some lovely new underwear for me as a gift when I came out of the hospital. I’m currently sporting my first-ever pair of all-lace panties. They’re lovely, and comfy, and come all the way up and over my belly, and stop somewhere near my ribcage, just under my boobs.
I look like a lace-covered exercise ball. So hot.
Kind of like these. But higher. And white. And lacy. It’s the laciness that makes them so sexy.
My clothes can’t keep a secret.
We told the boy’s family yesterday. He’s going for hernia surgery on Monday, so he thought it’d be a good idea to get the fam together and announce the news of the pregnancy and see everyone before he went under the knife. Again, my choice of loose attire gave me away – who knew I was such a fangirl for tight clothing ? – his niece Christina sensed that I was about to drop the baby bomb after spying my blue dress. The news went over well, anyway. His mother congratulated us, claimed she already knew, and then was upset because we hadn’t told her before…her baby boy is having a baby. She was hurt. So emotional, that one. Sweet lady, though.
After the family reveal, I headed to Brampton to see my dear friend Radmila and her husband. They’re like family to me, and they were having their annual summer shindig on the same night as the boy’s family do. I’d originally said I wasn’t going to make it, but seeing that my afternoon ended early, and I had news to share, I hopped in the car and headed north.
As I pulled up, I could hear the music blaring. I opened the door unannounced and made my way to the kitchen, where I knew all of the wives and womenfolk would be congregated. Radmila and her friend Karla spotted me at the same time. Karla’s mouth dropped open, and Radmila said, “so, do you have something to tell us?” I spent the night sharing the news with various guests I haven’t seen in a while. I was truly warmed by all of the congratulations. Read more