14th Of February
David came over today, at six in the morning! He had a bag full of toast and my favourite cereal, Weetabix, along with orange juice and a blueberry muffin. I could hear him downstairs in the kitchen, and eventually, he came up with my breakfast. It was so sweet of him.
“Happy Valentine’s Day, gorgeous,” David sang.
“This is for you, babes,” I smiled, passing a giant teddy bear holding a love heart saying: “Our love is a thousand words…” to him.
“I love it,” he kissed my forehead and took some of my cereal.
Dad has invited me and David to his Valentine’s Disco (mainly because he isn't a socialable). We both said no, but then Harry came out with this crap before he went off to school:
“He invited you… And only you. He said you’re the light of the party, apparently, I really can’t see that,” he sniggered, looking me up and down.
“Shut up, Harry. Go learn some shit,” I answered, chucking my fluffy scarf at him as I said it.
I felt bad that I said no to his party now. Maybe I have to go, just because he’s my Dad and that crazy woman’s my step-mum…… Nah, they’ll be fine, playing pass the parcel, they have Timmy the Jack Russell with them, to keep them company.
25th Of February
A month has past, and our baby is coming on nicely, that’s what our midwife, Jeni, says. My bump is about just a small lump there now, so you can tell for a split second I’m pregnant. Me and David are moving in to the house soon and Mum is so excited for the Remembrance Celebration. The turn-out last year was about 384 people.
We have decided on names!!! Finally. At the next scan, which is on the second of March, we’ll be finding out the sex! If a girl we’ll be naming her Eden Rose (Rose is Sydney’s middle name) and if a boy we’ll be naming him Alfie or Billy. Cute names, huh? David likes Billy and I like Alfie. So we’re at an arms race at the moment.
26th Of February
I do love the sunny winter Saturday morning, don’t you? Some people have fantastic pregnancies, where their Mum’s bring you breakfast in bed, and you don’t get told off for punching your step-brother on the arm. I’m one of those people. In fact, I might just get pregnant again! No, no! Just kidding, I won’t be going down that road for a long time now.
“Ooh! Harry! Can you give me some boy advice?” I ask, as I shove my pop tarts in the toaster.
“Depends. How long will you be?”
“Er… two minutes, I guess,” I say, confused.
“Good, that’s two quid please,” he said, holding out his hand.
“What? Now way! When Mum says earn some money she doesn’t mean charge people when they want advice!”
“Fine, five quid.” I raised my eyebrows. “Pay up if you want my advice,”
I gave in. I found a five pound note in my pocket and slashed it on his palm.
“What’s the worry?” Harry said, sitting down on the table.
“It’s not a worry, more of some boy advice, like I just said,”
“Well, go on, Granny Gribble, There’s a girl waiting to be snogged,”
Nice info, Harry. “Which name would you rather be called, if your name wasn’t Harry: Alfie or Billy?”
“Alfie, Billy is a gay name, now is that all?”
“I suppose, thank you!” I say, snatching the five pounds out of his hand and taking the pop tarts out of the toaster.
And he thought I would let him keep the fiver.
28th Of February
I went to see my work mates yesterday to say hi. Kelsey, Bex and Miranda have been so supportive. Kelsey is four years older than me, but looks two years younger, Bex is nineteen with two year old twin boys and Miranda and I have been friends since pre-school. I work at The Cat’s Tail Inn and have been since I was thirteen. But they made me stop working since they found out I was pregnant, which was a bother, because Dad went mental when I told him. He was screaming: “How the bloody hell are you going to keep this baby going if your not even working?” He so doesn’t understand how I feel when I wake up each morning, look down and go: “Oh, it’s you again.”
Bex given me a whole load of stuff: like bibs, dummies, baby grows… I could go on forever.
“I tell you everything you need to know… Ooh! I almost forgot one thing-,” She rushed to her car and came back with the grossest trousers ever.
“Pregnancy pants!” She shoved them towards me.
“Er… Bex?” I continued, puzzled. “What are pregnancy pants?”
“It kind of gives a clue in the name, you douche,” Kelsey sighed. Her long jet black hair blowed in the wind as her strong eyeliner and mascara made her deep sea eyes invisible.
“They support your bump, when your around six months and over,” She sounded pleased with herself the way she was talking, like it was an honour to be sharing her wisdom with someone.
“Oh, okay. I’ll use them… Maybe,” I snigger.
Bex sighed. “They’re fine, honest. Nobody will care how you look when you have a great fat lump on you,”
Thanks, Bex. Thanks a bunch.
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