The weirdness of normalcy

Yes, I know. Wedding photos. Unfortunately the very phrase “wedding photos” – uttered by vee a moment ago – fills my heart with dread, because I. have. not. sorted. them. yet. BUT I promise to post them in the very next post. Promise proper, hand on heart and all that crap.

OK?

Because I had to post to tell you some huge news. THERE ARE NAPPIES IN OUR HOUSE! In our house!  In Bonus Ball’s room – OMG, Bonus Ball has a room! – along with Bonus Ball’s other stuff – OMG, Bonus Ball has STUFF?! Admittedly, most of Bonus Ball’s stuff thus far is just soft toys, including a ridiculously expensive knitted dog that we HAD TO buy in Amsterdam, and a new panda (awaiting a name from Gypsy. Long story!) to accompany Panda Bear, but it is stuff nevertheless.

But nappies, somehow, are hardcore. TTCers don’t buy nappies. Instead, we freeze at the very thought of buying nappies, because that is what pregnants do. Somehow though, vee saw these ridiculously expensive nappies for sale on a staff circular, then researched them to death (because that’s what she does) and discovered we’d be getting second hand ones for £30, rather than something like £180.  So, that is why we have nappies in our house, and smug, rather shocked grins on our faces.

It’s so odd, though, because I used to keep all pregnants we knew IRL at arm’s length at all times, but today I’ve been emailing with an old school friend about buggies (US English translation: strollers) and shit, because she is one of the 5,000 people we know IRL who are pregnant. Oh, and I had a weird but kind of cool IM conversation with another old school friend today, who told me she went to a baby fair — THAT is hardcore, certainly — with 2 other pregnant mutual friends, and there were pram gridlocks and stalls covering everything from cars to clothes to, er; machines that suck up spiders. Who knows.

And then there are all the people who keep asking me, “How is vee?”; “Is she eating enough fruit?”; “What’s her belly like now?” and “Will you find out the sex of the baby?” and countless other questions, as if everything is fiiiiiine because it is supposed to be, and because they have little or no idea about the past three years of our lives.

This is ever so weird. Bonus Ball’s room is still referred to as “the spare room” in our house, though we are trying to stop that.  It is still semi-full of junk, which has been categorised and will be leaving the building shortly. And the carpet men are coming on Wednesday to measure for a new carpet.

This “normalcy” is weird. Good, but weird. Weird but good. Um, yeah.

xx jay