Current contentment.

I've been ruminating on the nature of marriage and relationships in general lately. I realised that as of August, Himself and I will have been married for seven years. That means I've been in the same relationship for eight and a half years. Anybody who knew me in the pre-Himself days might be pinching themselves about now.

I never put much stock in long term relationships. I had many a short term gig, and I didn't see myself as the marrying type. If you'd told the twenty-something me that in ten years I'd be living in suburbia with my husband and our two children, smart money would be on a sarcastic response with a side of eye rolling. If you'd told my grandfather that I'd be a housewife with a catering business, there would definitely have been snorting, possibly even sniggering, with his helping of eye rolling. *lol*

As unexpected an outcome as my current lifestyle is, I'm loving it. Yes, I get frustrated and tired dealing with a temperamental two year old diva and He Who Sleeps Not. Yes, I get the occasional swamping wave of guilt over not financially contributing more to the household. That said, I feel incredibly grateful that thanks to Himself's superior planning and work ethic I'm able to stay home with our children. I'm so lucky that I'm able to play at cooking and crafting and get paid for it. I'm insanely fortunate to have a husband that can still give me butterflies after all this time.

Life is good.

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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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