BOB

It was pointed out to me recently that Bob actually stands for "Baby on Board". Now why didn't that occur to us before? Maybe Mark and I subconciously realised how clever we were to temporarily name the passenger Bob. I'm sure that's it.

Our friend Deb Hogarth has also started referring to "The Family Orchard" that seems to be my belly - she's waiting to see what fruit I compare our child to next!

Am feeling much more relaxed at work today since my bosses found out about my condition on Friday - found out by saying "You're pregnant, aren't you?" Apparently my changing figure hasn't been hidden as well as I thought. The "expanding waistline" all my books keep talking about is actually beginning to happen, and I won't frighten you with the details of my expanding chest area. Needless to say Chesty Morgan ain't got nothin' on me. I'm waiting for the day someone screams out "Lola Ferrari is ALIVE!" and asks me for an autograph. Sigh.

The nausea is also gone, which is a relief. I'm eating much more normally and have developed a new love for fruits and veg. I'm lucky I'm pregnant now, when all of the best of the spring and summer goodies come into season. I'm sure if I'd been pregnant in the winter I would have survived on potatoes alone. Mmmmm...potatoes.....

I do realise that I don't write about Mark very much in this blog and I feel like a Selfish McSelfisherson - all about Me Me Me - but I don't want to go putting words in his mouth. He's pretty busy with work, so I don't really expect him to write anything for the blog right now. Maybe in the summer or closer to the due date he'll share his father-to-be thoughts. But for now, I can tell you that he loves the glider and ottoman we bought a few weeks ago and that he's been the model of patience since we found out I was pregnant. If you looked up patient in the dictionary you'd find a little photo of Mark, with his eyes rolled heavenward and a resigned look on his face. I will say "Man, I could really kill a gingerale right now" and he'll roll his eyes heavenward and get a resigned look on his face and quietly bring me the gingerale. What a star.

He's also quite good at looking through the baby name book at night, but his suggestions often fall on deaf ears, since I'm alseep as soon as my head hits the pillow. I have a feeling he might be whispering names to me anyway, just to see if any of them make it through to my brain. So if in 7 1/2 months I announce a penchant for the name Julio Xerxes Nimrod Johnson, you'll know his little trick worked...