I have a cold.
A cold.
A big ol' snotty ol' sneezy ol' my-head-is-going-to-fall-off-any-second ol' cold.
Yesterday I didn't. Last night I kind of did. Today I definitely do.
Whilst my rational mind appreciates that this is actually a good thing - my immune system has depressed because my body recognises that No. 9 is in residence and it wants him to stay as much as my head and my heart do - I still think it's completely on the nose.
I am going to sulk for the rest of the day under my blanket.
Blankets. Plural.
And cat.
On the couch.
With my tissues.
Honestly.
(Surely all that sneezing can't be good for No. 9? I feel a ridiculous need to cross my legs every time I sneeze, just in case)
3 comments:
after i had two miscarriages, and well meaning ppl were telling me how to 'keep' them in next time, my gorgeous doc told me that the ones who are in for the long haul are REALLY HARD to dislodge. they, apparently, are the ones to decide.
ergo, if this kid is half as tenacious as you are, its all go!!!!
p.s. please can you call rupert rupert when he is finally implanted? andrew and i love that name.
So I'm good to sniff pepper? ;-)
I'd feel a bit wrong calling No. 9 Rupert, since No. 9 is No. 9 and Rupert is No. 12 ... but maybe Rupert wouldn't mind, especially since the 5 ice babies were batch frozen (it seems so very wrong to phrase it like that) and we don't really know which one Rupert would be anyway ...
how is SIBLING OF RUPERT (doesn't sound so sinister as son if sam does it?) going?
hanging out to hear your news, any news really.
fingers, arms and eyes crossed for you.
would cross legs too but getting over the baby barriers erected to restrain your niece (bless her cotton sox) would be way too dangerous with said legs in said crossed position.
xxx
p.s. we meant you should call the real rupert rupert, but i guess he is now too busy hanging with his peeps in the 'batch' to be identified. we suspect that he will find some way to make himself obvious again, darling lil slowpoke that he is.
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