The heat

The heat is killing me and its not even that warm. Im finally understanding all those people struggling when its warm out. Im so damn hot all the time and everything feels like the biggest effort. Thank god for ending my pregnancy in the dead of winter. Glorious, glorious cold.

Georges friend Maria from Sydney is moving into our flat tonight for a couple of days. So yesterday was spent clearing the study. George was out…partying…

Hes got one task before baby which is moving our bedrooms. Im trying not to nag him about it but its fucking hard man. We cant go to Ikea before we have moved the rooms and you know me, im a do yesterday rather than today kind of person and i just want to get all of this done before i get to big to move around.

But, im patiently trusting him and waiting and waiting and waiting. And as we all know, its not my best quality.

Im totally getting why women become more stressed and nagging about things when pregnant. You can literally feel a baby growing in you and you stress out about pretty much everything so the least you want to control is the things around you. The man however…lets just say he is NOT feeling that stress…

A cute picture of me and baby Olivia. Getting those mum skills sharpened.

My new ring from Maria Nilsdotter. Love it almost too much. But those little green eyes though.

Hey there. Me posing and trying to escape the heat in the office out in our yard. Even hotter out there.

Went and laid outside for a while yesterday. Anything that helps. I need to weed the garden again but its kind of at the bottom of my list of things to have energy for right now. Between work, dog, hot ass pregnancy and planning what needs to be done i have nothing left.

(Ok, dont worry, i hear that tiny violin myself. This heat is really getting to me)

George had a better day than me yesterday. Im so fucking jealous of him being out and seeing friends all the time. When the baby is born ill leave it with him for a week and go to BM. He’ll owe me that.

I spoke to Dani about that. How hard it is as former social butterflies to be reduced to someone sitting on the sofa and how damn angry jealous you get of your man being out all the time. Georges job is literally drinking. This is when i wish he was an accountant.

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