Facebook App ID is missing!

He’s on his way…

Week : 38
Baby boy
Name : TBC
Mood of significant other : I daren’t ask today but picture this, a cursing boiled egg on a bouncy ball drinking pineapple juice.

I’ve neglected the blog quite recently, and to all those deeply affected by this I sincerely apologise. The reason is quite simple; I have channeled my sparse energies into learning Spanish. It’s great, and according to ‘duolingo’, I am now 18% fluent. This precise statistic is justified by the fact I can successfully translate duck, turkey, chicken and butter (along with several other integral words). To keep you up to speed, she has maintained her distinct lack of bladder control and we continue to debate over his name. How long is it socially acceptable for a baby to be called baby?

Over the past week I have been battling an extremely severe cold. It is the type of cold that would render the average man useless. I however, have managed to troop past it with the Great British attitude that has filtered through generations from our historic founding fathers. During the internal pandemic, Robyn proved less than empathetic. Not being one to moan, I merely requested a pack of triple quilted aloe Vera tissues, a massage, and a softly whispered rendition of Adele’s ‘Somebody like you’ to help me drift off. She declined, claiming her back was hurting, rudely suggesting she had her own thing going on. This distinct lack of sympathy will not go un-noticed.

A couple of days ago (despite my cold) Robyn insisted we went to the cinemas to watch ‘Beauty and the beast’. Luckily for her that day I’d had my fill of red meat, porn, steel toe capped boots and DIY so it was socially acceptable to let my man guard down and off we went. To be honest I am quite the fan of Emma Watson, I find her rather endearing. A friend of mine once stated that he ‘preferred to watch the Harry Potters in reverse, as Hermione gets fitter’. Since I am to become a father, it has only just dawned on me that I should probably report him to the relevant authorities…

Our trip to the cinema began firstly with a 45-minute panic attack on what to wear. When I say what to wear, I basically mean what will fit. Robyn is now roughly the same shape as a disgruntled goose egg. Therefore, public appearances are not taken lightly and they must be worth the turmoil. Secondly, we of course had to drive via ‘Iceland’ to pick up snacks. Snacks at 38 weeks pregnant consist of the following; 8 Double-decker’s, 8 Crunchies, 6 bags of Monster munch, 4 Milky way rolls, Snackajacks, Haribo, a large popcorn and a drink. We then had to strategically smuggle the contraband into the theatre, which was difficult as I had no pockets and it was roughly four bags for life worth of goodies.

Against all odds we made it in and I ushered us to our seats, ironically avoiding all children. The film began terrifically with a mass scale musical, Emma looked foxy in her farmer’s daughter Disney corset and the ‘tale as old as time’ looked promising. Then, FIFTEEN minutes in, Robyn grabbed my wrist with sheer panic. Her face white with fear. ‘We need to go, I think he’s coming’. At this point the whole village had just began a well-choreographed dance routine and as disappointing as it was, I knew we had to leave. We swiftly waddled out of the theatre, leaving behind a near full popcorn and around 11 euros’ worth of film.

I instantly became giddy, he’s on his way! Robyn quickly nipped into the ladies, and I began to prepare for the journey of emotion that was to follow… This journey of emotion was however short lived, when the magical excitement of our precious baby boy proved to be a misplaced Monster munch fart. With no bambino in sight, and the smell of pickled onion in the air, we missed the rest of the film.

Two weeks to go… It still doesn’t feel real.

Please, give it a SHARE and follow the PINTSTOPRAMS facebook page 🙂

Site Footer