That’s what you gotta do

Think happy thoughts, happy thoughts

And a smile’ll come back to you

Thanks for all of your kind messages everyone.  I’m pleased to say that mr hissychick has started the ball rolling in terms of appropriate treatment and has been making a concerted effort in terms of his own behaviour.  No it does not take away the pain of what I discovered but it helps somewhat when action is taken rather than platitudes mouthed.

Bertramina is doing well, she has decided to recommence the whole lock and load procedure, so much so that I spent a large portion of last night somewhat panicked about the possibility of a pre Christmas birth.  However I am keeping my legs dutifully crossed on the sage advice of Simone, who reminded me that a post Christmas birthday would be far more cost effective as I could purchase presents in the sales.

Miss A and miss E are their crazy unique, intelligent, gorgeousi yet exasperating selves, who are each expressing unique and challenging reactions to the impending arrival of their sister.

Our youngest imp has been ensuring that we do not get cocky enough to enjoy an unbroken night’s sleep before Bertramina arrives (hey, why start after two and a half years?).  Apparently only Mummy in Mummy’s bed will do and right now I just can’t be arsed dealing with it.  That honour shall fall to the husband while I am in hospital.  Thing is…she gets away with this and murder in general because she disarms us with a smile and a cheeky comment rather than an argument. Little minx.

My mini me is as fragile as a delicate flower wanting so much attention but rewarding us with some of the most vile behaviour yet, which I won’t share with you readers because the parents of threenagers and the like in case you lose the will to live don’t need to know just what is in store for them just yet.  There has also been a hell of a lot of incessant whining about being last, and ultra competitiveness that would do an Olympic athletes head in.

I try to hide a lot, which is not easy when you truly are a Christmas pudding.

Anyway I’d best get back to using my last two daycare hours (ever for Miss A and until late Jan for miss E) to do nestingy stuff so that I don’t have yet another panic attack about the whole birthing gig.

Smooches.

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So while you wait please go and read one of the millions of more interesting blogs out there. Go on, off you go….

My next post, once written, is going to be a password protected one as I will be seeking your assvice about a delicate real life real people involved situation.

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Cheers.