Like Mama, like Madam.

My kid is weird.

Kid Mach 1, that is. Kid Mach 2 is too young to show his true colours. He might still be "normal" like Himself... you know, my ninja accountant husband.

Exhibit One. I present for your appraisal the following picture.

That hat? Her choice, both as a purchase last winter (hence the jauntily perched angle on her melon, it's too small now) and as a wardrobe choice today (when it was really too warm to need a hat, but her stubbornness knows no bounds).

Exhibit Two. This morning while I was sorting her breakfast in the kitchen, New Kid started kicking off on the sofa. I asked Madam to go see if she could make him happy as I was up to my elbows in jammy toast. She said "okay" in her piping little voice and hied herself to the front room to cheer him up. How did she do this, you ask? She got about six inches away from his face and shouted "HAPPY!!!"... When that didn't work (insert shocked disbelief here) she came back into the kitchen and said "cry!" with a confused look on her calculatedly innocent visage.

Exhibit Three. This afternoon on our way into town to pick up some lunch, I asked her if she'd like sushi. As a response, she shrieked so loudly as to startle several dogs and their humans and took off at a run towards town.

I rest my case. Freakchild. But then, normal is boring, right? RIGHT? Right.

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Lazy weekend.

Bliss. Sun, moglets, sun, loads of good food, sun, and Himself. Good combo, let me tell you. We let the moggies out sans leads for the first time on Thursday (sporting their new collars and tags, and freshly dosed with flea drops), just for about an hour to see how they handled it. Both of them tore headlong into the flowerbeds in search of new smells and the occasional bug to eat. On Friday I left the back doors of the conservatory flung open to let the seriously amazing weather in and the felines out. This turned into me sitting in the conservatory for longer than I'd care to admit, book discarded to one side because watching them chase bees, butterflies and each other was more amusing. Saturday morning dawned clear and sunny, so I hied myself down to the conservatory (as I woke up around half six and thought Himself might rather sleep a LITTLE longer...) for a bowl of muesli, a cup of peppermint tea, some reading and yet more book neglecting as I watched the lunatics conti

The real deal.

So, I thought I'd been having cravings for the last couple of weeks because I've been eating loads of tuna and pasta, seemed like that was all I wanted to eat. Tuna sandwiches with a cup of tomato soup to dip them in, and egg noodle pasta for some reason. That is, until Monday night. Monday night, Himself called me on his way home from work as usual and asked if we needed anything (again, as usual). I said no, that I'd already been to the store but I wasn't really hungry anyway, and that I'd see him when he got home. I settled in with the cats on the couch and started flicking channels, getting the girlie TV out of the way so that Himself wouldn't have to suffer through it when he got home... Half an hour later, it struck. All of a sudden, out of the blue, I was starving. It wasn't the usual "go rifle through the kitchen until I happen upon something that looks edible" hunger. It was specific, overpowering, CRAVING hunger. What did I want,

Sprogging.

That's right, folks. The Browns are up the duff. *grin* Shocked? That's okay, so are we. Seems I'm actually related to my mother (who got pregnant while on the pill more than once). Apparently I'm four or five weeks, which may seem like jumping the gun announcement-wise, but I think it'll be interesting to catalogue the changes to my body for future reference... you know, in case in a year or two I forget how miserable I was and decide we need another, I'll have a reminder of what it was like the first time... Heh, just kidding. At least, for now. Physical symptoms aren't too bad at the moment. I've not had any morning sickness (touch wood), but my appetite is very odd. Half the time I'm starving to death, half the time I'm not hungry at all (like now, while Paul is eating lunch and I'm having a glass of orange and peach juice). I've got low level cramps pretty constantly, and it feels like there's a fishhook in my belly but

Random ramblings from the Texan in London.

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