Why hello fair maidens and men folk.
I think I have made a boo boo with my Christmas cake this year. I’ve just spent an hour or so poking it with sticks and my fingers but I’m still not sure if it’s cooked through properly. Thing is, last year I didn’t cover it and it burnt on the top and required repair. I feared a repeat. The little bugger was in the oven for 3 hours 45 minutes. How can it not be cooked in 3 hours 45 minutes? It is a well known fact that I can’t bake for shit so I’m not accepting any responsibility for this failure. I’m just going to cover it in marzipan and pray.
Other minor disasters this week:
– A shelf fell off the wall in my kitchen and a) almost gave me a heart attack and b) caused all kinds of mess on the floor. I’ve now trampled a fine layer of chilli powder, oregano and oats throughout the whole house so that it’s not just concentrated in one place.
– I left washing in the washing machine for 3 days and it has dried into a hard, stale ball of sheets and old knickers. I keep wandering down to the machine and looking at it sadly but no further progress has been made.
– My Utrogestan has mutated and is breeding in my draw. I’ve had a week of it left for at least 3 weeks and I still have a week of it left. I am tempted not to use the rest/bin it before it mutates into something far worse. It’s probably the Yorkshire in me, but I can’t help but think I paid for those revolting pessaries, I’m going to bloody well use them all.
Ok, so I don’t really have any problems do I? I’ve been meaning to blog, but really a post about me nervously nibbling my finger nails didn’t seem very exciting. I decided to book a private scan for 9+4, which was yesterday. During all the scans I’ve ever had before the sonographer started with the screen turned away from me and I was left analysing every face twinge and exasperated sigh (once a nurse even screwed up her face, shrugged and said, “I don’t know what this means” when I was 8 weeks pregnant. Seriously, gimme the screen I’ll tell you what it means, idiot). For this scan the screen was right smack bang in front of my face, cue nervousness. No face analytics required this time. Really wish I’d remembered my bloody glasses.
It was a proper tummy scan. My last tummy scan was a very, very sad day, but thanks to the big screen in front of my face I could see as soon as it began that this scan was going to be a much happier affair. My little bb embryo was measuring a day ahead at 9w5d. I’ve booked a private NT scan for the beginning of December (I should really have this on the NHS, but err, the midwife was full so… who knows when/if that will happen).
I only have 12 days to wait until my next scan. The big scan, the NT scan. The scan that means you start telling people. Am I really only 12 days away from opening my mouth and saying the words I never thought I’d say?