This morning it dawned on me like a dark Tranvaal thunder cloud. Up until now I had never considered it, I admit it was a concern, but it was a concern that paled into insignificance in light of the ever increasing amount of larger problems I have been forced to deal with since “Thingy’s” arrival in my life.
When I put my mind to it, I can honestly say that I recall very few significant valentines days in my life. And to make matters worse the only Valentines’ day Eugene and I succeeded in spending together was marred by the fact that my scull was at that point registering its disgust with my lack of dental attention by expelling, rather painfully I might add, one of my back molars from my jaw.
The resulting effect was a 9pm high speed trip around Gauteng to find an emergency dentist (a species more endangered then the Do-Do) as the effects of the 26 mypaids I was sure would tide me over had worn of.
In preceding years my general attitude towards the utterly ridiculous waste of my time left much to be desired, as I marched about clad in black grumbling about consumerist propaganda. Those with a mind to persuade me that it was a “nice” holiday were told that I was dying from sugar shock and had their friend cards revoked.
No Ladies and Gentlemen Leanne Parker is by no means a Valentines day fan.
This said, I have to admit that when it finally dawned on me that this Valentines day would be the very last of these loathsome days that I would spend in a degree of care freeness I was slightly disturbed.
By Next year Eugene and I would have become one of those couples whose only wish for the day is peace and quite and some semblance of the life we once lived.
“Us time” will be at the top of our wish list.
Pleased don’t get me wrong I’m Pleased as pie (that’s one of my new mommy phrases) that by this time next year “Thingy” would have arrived in all its wet stinky glory, I am simply caught in a moment of reflection.
All of this however has driven me to the decision that I am going to moderately scale down the bitching to a tolerable level where I may enjoy and celebrate the next 6months of moments where I will be able to say “you know this is the last time”
Like the last Christmas we spent as people.
The very last time I saw my waistline.
The last time I could walk into a shop and not dart for the baby section.
The last time I googled anything that had nothing to do with pregnancy or children.
My last birthday that I can behave irresponsibly (well almost)
The last DVD I get to rent that isn’t animated
The last time we can go to a restaurant that doesn’t have high chairs
The last time we can…..well you know… I think my gran reads this I can’t say that kina stuff.
And sometime in September “Thingy” will arrive and put and end to life as I know it.
The birth of our baby will put an end to a great many things.
For instance hopefully it will put an end to the raging argument about “Thingy’s” name and sex.
“Thingy” will put and end to whole nights of sleep and nursery decoration.
He or she will poop and pee its disgust at afternoon naps and every item of white clothing mom owns.
I hear passing the pencil test also becomes a thing of the past and oh lets not forget the slow painful death of the “entertainment budget”
Contrary to popular believe I will not become a citizen of the state of mourning for a time that has quite obviously run its coarse.
No I have decided that I am going to keep my mind on the rare privilege in my future. One reserved for children and new mommies and daddies.
After all who would have thought that at the age of 25 I will be able to say
“this is the first time”
And while clubs and couture and sleeping till 9am will fade into the memories of my past my future hold new things like;
First Christmases, first time at a family restaurant as a family, first smile, first step, first day of school….
On other news I just bought two huge yet stylish tops that should hide the baby bump for a while.
Aunty Chaz has graciously offered to buy “Thingy” a cot and I suspect that her motivation behind the generosity spawns from being witness to my past dealings with children.
Granny Ina has been equally as giving and has found a cherry wood compactem for “Thingy’s” bath and other gee-go’s and Granny Parker is sewing her fingers to the bone creating a doughnut contraption.
Eugene and I will be spending out Valentines at the Wescliff hotel pretending that we are Oh so La-di-da and taking full advantage of the end of morning sickness and exhaustion oh and that other perk that comes along with pregnancy
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