Public Announcement

It gives me great pleasure and a small attack of butterflies in the stomach to announce that I am pregnant again. The new baby is due in August. I think there's only one again. (Currently, I also think it's a girl).

Everything is going fine so far, except that my maternity swimsuit doesn't fit very well. Still, it covers more of me than my other swimsuit, so the fact that it fills with air and billows out underwater will just have to be seen as free amusement for the patrons of Rivermead Leisure Centre.

I shouldn't be announcing this for another week at least, since I'm not quite 11 weeks pregnant yet, but I can't seem to manage that. Last time I waited until 12 weeks to actually announce it and it nearly killed me.

The really good news about this pregnancy is that I've got my old midwife, who knows exactly what happened last time, and is willing to accompany me when I go to hospital for antenatal appointments and for the actual c-section.

The only slight downside is that I can't treat my little inflammation until I'm not pregnant anymore. But honestly, that's not a big deal.

I have been signing up for loads of free marketing gumf. People love sending pregnant people free toiletries and teensy weensy tubs of Sudocrem. It's oddly addictive.

Things I probably shouldn't notice

People who pee on the seat, don't clean it up, and leave toilet roll all over the floor, are not old enough to use a public toilet unsupervised. Especially the poor little boy I saw a few weeks ago who was rushed into a cubicle, peed EVERYWHERE, and was rushed out again without washing his hands. OK, his mother was in a hurry. But ew.

Waitstaff often complain online about parents whose children make a typical mess while eating and don't clean it up (um, the parents don't clean it up, I mean). But every time I start cleaning up after Linnea - which is whenever she spills anything - I get stopped by apologetic staff pretty much instantly. I often feel like I've implied they can't do their jobs afterwards, too. What am I supposed to do?

I don't care what you think the little boy did with your shoe (which he did, suspiciously, find in the first place he looked in the changing room, so I personally think he was a practical-joke-playing toerag), it is not appropriate to physically restrain him and shout obscenities at him, nor to threaten him with what you'd do if he didn't "probably" have a gang of mates waiting outside. The appropriate course of action, since you have recovered your property, is to take him to the people in charge of the leisure centre and have him and his gang of antisocial mates banned forever. Off you go. Try not to say "fuck" too much while you're at it.