For much of this weekend I have been sustained by the thought of a post I have been planning in my head about my gigantic nostrils, and how they grew repulsively over the course of my first pregnancy, until, after labour, they were unrecogniseably vast. I remember calling the CFO into the bedroom to show him my gigantic flaring nostrils. It would have been about three days after Lashes was born and I was completely off my head crazy. Some stupid, irresponsible person had allowed me to leave the hospital with a LIVE HUMAN BABY. Huh? No instructions. Nothing. Everytime I looked round, there it was. Still there. Sometime it cried but it was even more terrifying when it didn't. I used to hover watchfully above its tiny nest, feeling like vomiting with terror at the thought that shortly it would wake up and NEED SOMETHING. Something mysterious. And that helpful evolutionary mechanism whereby you are hyper vigilant at all hours of the day or night had kicked in. So there I was, wide eyed, sleepless, constantly on the look out for prowling sabre toothed tigers, unable to eat.
"MY NOSTRILS!" I shrieked at him, clawing at his pyjamas (dressing was beyond us). "Look!"
He hadn't slept much either.
"What? What's wrong? Are you ill? Do you have an infection is something wrong with the baby are you bleeding please take the drugs take the drugs take the drugs" he mumbled, slipping back into another labour flashback.
"They're HUGE! They've GROWN! Noone tells you this about labour. It's all about the tearing and bleeding and pain. Noone tells you anything about increased nostril size! Also.." here my voice dropped to a manic hiss "That BABY is still here!"
I can't remember how the conversation finished, but I feel confident I was probably crying and the CFO was probably thinking wistfully about one way flights to Mexico. The HUMAN BABY was still there, I know that.
Today, the human baby turned seven. They haven't come to reclaim him yet, and they better not bloody try because he's deliciously strokeable now and not nearly as terrifying as he used to be. I can send him to the corner shop for biscuits to avoid the attentions of Damien and he consoles me when I have a particularly dire parking day.
Happy birthday darling.
Ok, photo time.
1. Human baby and its cake. Yes. It's dirty, and it might very well be drunk. I don't know. I have barely seen it for three days. Cousins are very magical things.
That shadow? Oh, it's probably my nostrils.
2. Cake and cake model. YES. I made Ragigigas. I am the fucking EMPRESS OF POKEMON.
You remember the drill with my cakes. Whatever you do DO NOT ENLARGE THIS IMAGE.
This one comes with a health warning. Do not scroll down if you are pregnant or planning to have a child shortly and you value your nostrils. Neat, human sized nostrils.
Also, vanity and desire to entertain have been fighting this out in my head all evening.
I think you'll be able to tell which won. (No, don't enlarge this one either).
I am sick in the head putting this photo up, aren't I? Oh well.