We’re a family who are fantastic for doing things at the last minute.  For months I’ve griped about getting The Worzel’s room ready, and yet until a week ago we’ve done nothing much about it.  Up until a week ago, the spare room remained filled with Jarrod’s speedway memorabilia and his lifetime’s supply of odds and ends.  I began having nightmares about trying to find a space to put the bassinet while in the midst of labour.

 Then the weekend before Christmas, a start was finally made (after I stressed to Jarrod “mum will come over on Christmas day and ask to see the baby’s room, and there won’t be one!”)  It looked as if I might be able to start shifting the baby gear our of our room at last! 

Following Christmas I had a sudden epiphany.  Why not move Char into what was to be The Worzel’s room, and shift The Worzel into her old room?  It makes for twice the last-minute workload, but what the hell - if a back must be broken and a disc slipped, why not do it good and proper?!

Jarrod was sceptical.  And for good reason.  Two thirds of Char’s room was still filled with toys she outgrown years ago.  Dig down deep enough into that wardrobe, and we’d probably find a well-preserved mammoth, half a dozen lost lunch boxes and the library book I was billed for two years back.

But being pig-headed and adamant that this was a fantastic idea, I hauled Char into her room and forced her to help me decide what she could give away, and pack up the rest for transferral down the hall.  

Two hours later, I sat head in hands, despairing over how I could ever be so stupid and ‘how the hell will we ever get to the bottom of it all?  I think it was the “I told you so” expression on Jarrod’s face that forced me to continue plodding on.  ( And perhaps the realisation of “if I could get through all that pricing in the containers at work each week, I can get through this!  Damn it!”)

 After a week of chipping through the many layers of our excavation site, a breakthrough was made.   By me.  Char had long deserted me in favour of hanging out with her cousin who had come to stay.  Eurika.  Everything was bagged, tagged, and ready for burial.  Eh, removal.

Now Char is in her new room, The Worzel’s bassinet is set up in her room, and I at last can stop with the re-occuring nightmare of going into labour without having a room to bring the little sproggin home to.  (Actually the bad dreams have stopped mainly because I can no longer SLEEP!  There’s so much baby in my belly I can barely breathe.  And thus each time I manage to drift off through the night, I wake gasping for air.  Urggh…) 

Now then, this pregnancy dealio is really un-fun.  I know there’s still three weeks until DD, but damn it, it’s time for this Worzel to GET THE HELL OUT OF ME ALREADY!  

PS: This was the last photo our camera will ever take, as it has now decided to f*@! out on us. Now, I’m once again uttering “okay little Worzel, you can’t come out yet. We’re not ready…”

I can’t go into labour without a camera!!

DAMN IT!

Wait, I didn’t mean to imply we’ll  be using the camera while I’m in labour.  No one wants to see that… I meant afterwards; when The Worzel is all pink and glowing and looking human and all.  Not all wet and slimey and half hanging out of my…

Yeah.  You get it already.  I’ll shut up now.