So on Sunday we are off on holiday for a week. And when we get back, it’s Labour Day, so we don’t have to go back to work until the Tuesday. I feel spoiled!

So next week we are staying in a hotel on the waterfront, with pretty good sounding meals on an all inclusive package, and it also includes 6 hours a day of childcare/children’s activities. In which exotic locale? Oh, uh, up the road, north of Orillia. It’s here.

The problem was that I wanted to take some holiday before I went on mat leave. When we considered what time of year we were looking at, somewhere like Florida or Cuba had to be ruled out (hello hurricanes). And we didn’t really want to fly somewhere far away (so glad we decided against it after reading this) in my current condition. And the main problem being that we moved to CANADA and going on short breaks sucks so much more than from the UK. Oh how I miss just being able to take a little time to get over to France, or elsewhere on the continent.

So instead we are staying pretty close to home, but not really saving any money (it ain’t cheap). Oh well. One of the highlights is being able to put your kid in the children’s program after you feed them dinner, and then going back to have your OWN dinner child free. You mean I might get to eat a hot meal for once??

It’s sort of Butlins-esque, which kind of freaks me out, with so many activities for kids, for adults, for families together. And I’ve read that as people go there year after year, it gets really competitive. I’m only really interested in relaxing, spending some time in the water (lake or pool or whatever) and not being at work. I don’t really care about the rest.

In an effort to be more positive about number 2…

• I bought a baby book (now I just need to fill some of it in).
• We need to start talking about names (or, rather, I need to start twisting Mark’s arm in to naming him something interesting as Mark seems to be all about the most boring names possible this time).
• I decided to post a bump shot (so that’s 29 weeks there). How I love our Mac. All I had to do was stand up and let the Photo Booth do its thing. No fiddling with a camera. Cut off my head exactly as it should.The scary part is that I just found the bump shot of only 2 weeks before Oliver arrived and I think I’m bigger right now! What the hell am I going to look like in 2 months’ time?!

More recent pics…

We scored a great freebie when we moved into the house – found this Little Tikes car in the garage, and Mark just cleaned it up so Oliver could use it. He loves his car.

A recent trip to a farm. We’ve actually had some free weekends with no relatives visiting, and with Oliver’s new found appreciation for animals and modes of transport, hanging out with turkeys, sheep and tractors is ridiculously exciting for him.

And yes that’s a TODDLER LEASH. And I don’t care what you think (hey, that’s unusual in the mommy wars for me). I don’t use it like a dog’s leash, it’s just a safety measure when he’s not in his pushchair, and he’s normally pretty good at holding hands anyway. Plus the monkey is cute. So what the hell.

I’m behind on posting, loads to catch up on, so here’s a start.

Last Friday, we were very excited to finally meet Oliver’s second cousin Nicholas, who was on his first visit to Canada with his mum and dad Mary Joy and my cousin Peter (they live in Baltimore).

There was a bit of playing together, but the boys spent a lot of time just checking each other out – I think next time they meet up they’ll be interacting more. And hopefully Oliver will not continue stealing Nicholas’ sippy cup.

Randomness:

• I just discovered on Sunday, watching him interview Kristin Scott Thomas, that Jeremy Clarkson owns the same car as me (my Volvo). This made me happy. And then it disturbed me that it made me happy. I mean, I really enjoy Top Gear (which in itself is strange for someone who doesn’t give a flying fig about cars), but Jeremy’s an ass. So why do I care??
• I am currently addicted to this loaf cake they do at Second Cup which is like a pound cake with raisins in it, and a caramel fudgey topping. Oh god it’s good. I am trying to restrict myself to once a week. Luckily, despite having a bunch of Second Cup franchises in my office complex, they don’t always have it available to order.
• I have a problem. Amalah has the same problem. I can’t bring myself to cut Oliver’s curls off. He’s starting to look like a girl. He’s never had a haircut, although I did have to trim his bangs/fringe a while ago. I must really bite the bullet and get it chopped…
• I’m going on a road trip for work tomorrow to Brantford. Woo hoo. (Not really that exciting but at least I won’t be on the computer all day).
• A reunion with a bunch of old grade school friends on Sunday, thanks to Facebook, is a lot more exciting. Should be fun.

Oliver can say ‘all gone’. He can say ‘bubbles’. And he loves to yell ‘diggers’ when he sees construction sites. Oh, how he loves those diggers. But has he said ‘mummy’, ‘mama’, ‘mum’, or even ‘mmmm’ yet? No.

Really, I am not resentful. I am actually thinking he has some sort of weird ‘m’ impediment. He can’t say any words that start with ‘m’. A cow moos, he knows that, but the moo sounds comes out sort of starting with a ‘v’. I can’t explain it properly. I should really take some video.

So I have to be content being daddy number 2. Despite being his primary caregiver.

As for baby number 2, I am basically just ignoring this pregnancy. Isn’t that wonderful of me. I had the irritation of an obs appointment today. Really, I find it completely inconvenient to go. I have to drive way out of my way, and they are really slow at that office, so despite being there before 9 when it opens, I am not out of there until 10. I mean, my doctor is a lovely woman, and I know they need to keep an eye on me, but it’s annoying. And I’d rather be at work. And now I’m moving into the home stretch, I have to start going once every two weeks. ARGH.

But this it the routine for everyone. And the good news is everything is fine and dandy with number 2. All tests, measurements, notes, whatever – it’s all perfect. Too bad I just am really not that interested. Doesn’t really bode well for the whole bonding process, does it?

Turns out my Dr has a degenerative muscle condition, poor woman, and is no longer attending births. We’ve been given the option of switching to another Obs. You know what? I sort of don’t care. Last time, the consultant I’d been seeing at the hospital wasn’t around when Oliver arrived, except I think he brought some students in at some point, and I didn’t notice. My aim is to get in there and get out as quickly as possible, and frankly, the messiness of the whole process means I am not bothered about whether someone is a stranger or not. Just as long as they are a professional!!

Despite everything being perfect, or rather probably because of it, I’m feeling like garbage all the time and it’s hard to get past it. At the end of last week, I had the pleasure of a killer sore throat. I thought it was strep, it was so bad, but the doctor said no, it’s a virus, suck it up. But I wasn’t sleeping, the pain was so bad. After a Friday night of not sleeping at all (we were in Ottawa with a lot of family), Saturday featured eating something that went down very wrong, resulting in lots of sick-to-my-stomach illness. And then not being able to eat properly until Monday night.

So combine lack of sleep, lack of food, severe stomach pain, and full time care of a toddler, and oh boy did I feel like crap. Like death, really. The other day I slipped and then my legs felt like they didn’t fit into my hips properly. Which sort of happens anyway around this time, but it was acute and it sucked. It hurts to bend over, to kneel down and play with Oliver, to pick him up. But it all has to be done.

I am really hoping that the extreme relief of not being pregnant when the time comes, that bliss that I remember so well from last time, will combine with that sort of innate need to take care of the new one, and I will be able to repair this relationship with him that doesn’t really seem that healthy. It’s not really nice to be thought of as a complete inconvenience before you are even born, but I really can’t help thinking that way right now. Poor kid. Therapy for you.

I finished the last Harry Potter book last night.

I actually didn’t start reading it until Friday night. I had pre-ordered it back in March but they didn’t ship it until Tuesday or something, and then I couldn’t get to the post office until Friday after work.

I read a couple of chapters that night, which left my head spinning. Usually Rowling sort of builds up to the action. This book starts at a running pace and doesn’t stop. I didn’t know how I was going to get through it as I don’t have a huge attention span right now, and I tend to read when I am tired (like on the subway in the morning or last thing at night).

But yesterday morning, I had about half of the book left, and I kept finding articles online I wanted to read, but I didn’t want to look at for fear of spoilers. So I ploughed through it yesterday, on the subway, and did about 2 hours dedicated reading last night. It helped that there was nothing decent on tv.

I am ashamed to say I actually cried at the end of it.

**(No major spoilers, but don’t read on if you don’t want to know what happens at the end)**

Not because of the deaths or the non-deaths or even the cheesy but fulfilling epilogue (now why couldn’t have Jane Austen told us what happened to Darcy and Elizabeth 19 years later) but mostly because it’s been quite the ride with those characters and suddenly it was at an abrupt end. I don’t read fantasy books like that, I don’t read much literature aimed at children/young adults for my own personal enjoyment (only stuff for Oliver for his use), but I’ve enjoyed the series and Rowling really did a great job with the whole arc of the story.

So I sort of wish I had paced it out a bit more now. The ending left me with a night of completely Potter-filled dreams, of snippets of stories about the characters, and lots of tossing and turning. I think I need to quickly read something else to get them out of my head or something.