The Big Smoke

First of all, I just want to say that I got the impression I may have caused a bit of offence with my last post, and I'm sorry. I certainly was not trying to be flippant about miscarriage, or worse genetic conditions that can appear during the NT scan. I know this can be an incredibly awful experience for people and I'm really sorry if you thought I was making light of it.

Secondly, this is not a baby blog, really, so I have no idea how often it'll come up. I think it will come up more than I think in a 'and I couldn't drink wine...' way, which consumes rather a lot of my waking hours, but I am a lot less sure of the actual nitty gritty. With that in mind- London.

When I booked my trip back to Scotland, I decided to factor in a 3 day jaunt to London. I've only been to London for fun once before, on a trip with my dad. We took the overnight bus down and the overnight bus back (since money was pretty tight in those days) and we went to the science museum and to see An Inspector Calls (my choice, it was brilliant.) It was an awesome trip, I think I was about 15. Since then, trips have mainly involved visas and work.

Generally, I hate London. It is busy, narrow, people are rude and it just smells and looks and feels kind of... dirty. When I compare it to my beloved Edinburgh I laugh with derision. Yes it's bigger and a bit cooler and you can get Ethiopian food at 4am if you so wish, but it has nothing to compare to the majesty of Edinburgh Castle, sitting atop it's rocky throne. There's no sense of quaint, cosy history: it sprawls.

So I decided to visit again, catch up with the friends who live there and do some visiting of my own. This plan was valiantly made pre-hyperemesis, and once it had struck I regretted the whole endeavour. I cut back the days I was going to be there, cancelled on a few friends and prayed it would be ok. It mostly was. I got from Heathrow to Crouch End in such an easy journey I was genuinely confused, as were my local friends. I had Bangers and Mash (sausages, mashed potato and gravy, American friends) in a gorgeous pub in Crouch End with my friend, stayed up past midnight and caught up and giggled and genuinely loved her (and her very nice partner's) company. The next day, I awoke jetlag free and headed out to the city to do some proper exploring,

The V&A, with school children eating ham sandwiches

I really wanted to see the fashion exhibition at the Victoria and Albert museum. I'm so glad I went, the exhibition was awesome, but the tearooms were something else. I ate a delicious scone and pot of decaf tea surrounded by Victorian opulence  watching the old ladies and families and European tourists and art students pass by me. It was incredible. I wandered round the museum and watched the school groups, drawing busts of long-dead aristocracy, tongues poking out in concentration. The older teenagers, wearing ever loosening school uniforms of kilts and blazers and ties and so many layers, were sketching nudes, groups of girls pointing and giggling as they went. It was so quintessentially British, I felt like I was watching a sketch show on Channel 4 from the 1990s. But it was very much real life. A real life I understood, felt part of. 

Row of busts being drawn by school kids, V&A

After the V & A, I headed on the Science Museum. There was a brilliant exhibition on Alan Turing, the codebreaker. I wandered round, learning things, for a while before heading to Westminster to meet my University friend/ ex-flatmate, a fancy civil servant who somehow managed to finish work early to hang out with me. We headed along the Southbank, another area I'd never been to before. We had coffee and caught up a bit before making our way back to his house to have dinner with his lovely wife at the house they had just bought. It was so lovely. 

Winston Churchill looking out over Big Ben

The next day was pretty grim. I got up really early to head to King's Cross (platform 9 3/4 really does exist!) I got the Tube with my friend, but the morning sickness kicked in pretty badly at Kensington station. I had to leap off the train with my enormous suitcase, threatening to vomit of the shoes of the fancy business men refusing to move. After vomiting into an aeroplane sick bag on the platform, I had to wait 45 minutes  until I was well enough to board the train again, head between my knees. In true London fashion, no one gave me a second look. I finally arrived at King's Cross to board my Edinburgh train feeling rotten, and well-reminded of all the reasons I hate London. It's just not for me. 

I really loved having the day to myself though. I was so aware that my time for wandering around a city and spending time in museums is limited- I had to enjoy my opportunity whilst I had it.

ps. The blogging might be a bit sporadic. The cat ate the R key off my keyboard. Seriously. Typing this has taken me a LONG time... ETA- now also missing the 3, F9 and the left arrow. I do not understand the obsession.

Big things and exciting plans

So if I know you in real life, or if we're facebook/twitter friends, then you will know that I am pregnant. It feels pretty strange to be writing down, as it has felt like a half-secret for so long that actually saying it feels like standing up after a long flight; stiff and awkward but ultimately a relief. I do feel like I should also confess that I am terrible at keeping secrets, so rather a lot of people have known for quite a long time. I have been operating on a 'tell people when I see them' basis, which meant the vast majority of our friends and family found out when we went home for 3 weeks. I am now safely back in California, soaking in the sunshine (getting sunburnt) and eating In n Out burger more often than anyone strictly should. Our baby is due to appear on St. Andrew's Day*, the 30th of November.

Being pregnant a second time has been a strange experience. In some ways, it has been surprisingly easy. People dread the worst case scenario, but we'd already lived through it and discovered that while it sucked, it was not that bad.** In other ways, it's been harder than the first time. Every appointment has been a MASSIVE stress, the scale of which varied but peaked into 'meltdown' proportions yesterday, before my 12 week scan (due to travelling, this ended up being at 14 weeks). This was the big one. I know people worry about abnormalities, I just really wanted a baby in there. Everyone at the Ultrasound clinic seemed fairly convinced there would be, and they were right. It was just hanging out, flip flopping around like a fish out of water. It managed to flip onto its front and stayed there, kicking its legs off the bottom of my uterus like it was an Early Learning Centre trampoline. It is exactly as it should be at this stage. It has a brain (this might sound silly, but Anencephaly was one of my biggest fears) and an abdomen and two feet and at least some fingers and all sorts of other things one needs to function. It wasn't just ok, it was thriving, measuring a whopping 5 days bigger than it should.

This is in spite of the Hyperemesis Gravidarum that seemed to haunt me for the first half of the first trimester. Thankfully I don't need to explain it much to people since Kate Middleton and the resultant media coverage means its a bit more widely understood, but it is rotten. I was lucky and had instant access to amazing medication that made INSANE vomiting stop pretty sharp-ish. Before the medication, I had days where moving my head in either direction was enough to make me vomit. It reminded me of the extreme hangovers I had a few times in University after drinking a bottle of vodka/jack daniels/gin. Except it never ended. It just went on and on and on until I ended up in the ER. It was decidedly crappy. I slept for hours at a time, and stopped eating pretty much everything that wasn't baked potatoes. The smell of toast would make me sick. With the meds (Zofran, or Ondansetron in the UK, for those interested parties) I started to feel a lot better at 11 weeks, after arriving at my parent's house. 

Ultrasounds through the weeks (can't remember the exact size on the last one- sorry!)
Also, sorry, the paper is REALLY shiny- too hard to get a good picture!

Today, I didn't take any medication. I have eaten breakfast (and half a packet of leftover salt and vinegar McCoys) and had 2 cups of tea. This felt completely out of the realm of possibility a few short weeks ago. I'm not eating tons- I ended up 13lbs (a stone) lighter over the three months, and have managed to gain a solitary pound since I started eating again. It is going to be a slow process. But I now have an appropriate amount of envy that my neighbour appears to be cooking delicious chilli rather than locking myself in the bathroom and crying.

Today is the first day we have started planning a future with a baby in it. At my doctor's appointment this morning, we discussed her philosophy on Labour and Dellivery. Turns out she likes to do things as naturally as possible- she won't be inducing me on my due date, as is pretty common here (booo) and believes strongly in it being a natural process, but with sensible risk minimisation. This is essentially where I think we are, more or less. I'm definitely not aiming to do it completely naturally though. I am a TOTAL WUSS and will take paracetamol at the first sign of a headache, so pain relief (and lots of it) is definitely in my dream delivery. It was awesome to hear her talk about her experiences in hippy-ish Seattle, where she said she learnt to really trust the experience and wisdom of the midwives in her team and to hold back on interventions where possible. She sent us away with a form to guide creating a birth plan, and to get us talking about what we want (I'm saying we to be polite, but honestly, I'm the one pushing it out- I'm going to be making most of the decisions). 

I really love our doctor, she has been the most amazing mix of sympathetic, supportive and hilarious through violent sickness and miscarriage fear. She is pretty irreverent about pregnancy and birth, which is awesome. Most importantly, however, she loved my handbag enough to write down where I got it, so I trust her judgement implicitly.

My stomach is starting to develop a weird lump in it that feels a bit creepy and hard  So the weekend has a trip to the Old Navy sale for a maxi dress and some maternity shorts (I have lost so much weight nothing fits me anywhere except the stomach. The bum, thighs and most of the waist are hanging off me. It's pretty dispiriting) as well as a 'scoping out, non-purchasing' trip to Babies R Us on the cards (on the basis that if we go and look when their is zero pressure/time constraints it will be easier down the line. I've heard the first trip is the worst- I'd rather do it feeling excited and full of energy...) Plans and more plans. And for the first time in 3 months, I'm not worrying.

*The patron saint of Scotland. It's a public holiday, sort of the FAR less drunken Scottish equivalent of St Patrick's Day.

**Should clarify that this was just our experience, miscarriage is totally different for everyone.

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

In a few hours I will be heading to hell on earth, also known as LAX, to jump on an aeroplane to take me all the way to London. I'll spend some time catching up with friends in London, then jump on the train that will take me to Edinburgh. I want to cry when I think about how much I will enjoy watching the scenery change as I travel through the south east of England, then the more rugged north before crossing the border to Scotland, and my beautiful home, Edinburgh.

A long weekend of catching up with all my best girls at Dr Kennedy's hen party* where we will tell stories of when we were all young and wild, and chat about our settled domesticity as old married ladies with mortgages and children. Then back to my home town, Paisley for lazy days with my mummy, daddy and the siblings, as well as Aunts and Uncles and cousins and my wonderful wee granny. The same TV shows will be playing- old detective dramas, my sister will sing too loudly and it'll annoy everyone. My brother will corner me to show me 'funny' youtube videos and talk about baseball. Daddy will worry I don't like his cooking and mummy will fall asleep on the sofa in the evenings.

After a week there, husband will join me and we'll head to the tiny seaside village of Aberdour for niece and nephew cuddles and games. I can't wait to run around on the sand in my jacket, scarf and boots, to paint big pictures and watch hours of CBeebies**. I'll get soaked at bath times and cuddle up in my sister-in-law's enormous bed to tell stories.

After that, it's St. Andrew's, husband's alma mater and the much anticipated, hard-earned MacWalter-Kennedy wedding. A night in a fancy hotel, then the drive to Manchester we have made a hundred times before, so I know each stop and quirk of the road all ready. I know we'll stop at Abingdon Services and I'll eat a cheese and bacon burger from Burger King (and lament the fact it's not 'In n Out') then we'll drive through the rain to Scotch Corner. It always rains at Scotch Corner. From there, we'll drive to the next stop, Westmoreland farm shop where we'll get coffee and some sort of meat pie, which will serve as a reminder that my husband is from the North of England and loves pies in ways I don't understand. The last part of the journey is usually sunnier, as we weave our way down the M6. We will get stuck in Traffic at Blackpool. 

From Manchester, it's back to LA. We'll fall out at the airport, as husband will fuss and panic about tickets and passports and making it to the gate on time and I'll get annoyed and say 'it's FINE' and dawdle and he'll get annoyed with me. Once we're on the plane it'll all be forgotten about.

I have adored all the new experiences in California. We do new things all the time. It's my favourite thing about living here. But for the next three weeks, I'm only going to do old, well-worn things. It will be a marvellous rest. I hope to blog and take lots of pictures, but I can't really make promises. I might be too full of tea and scones...

*A British Bachelorette party, American friends.

** THE British children's TV channel for the under 5 set. My 6 year old niece would be very annoyed if I didn't explain that she just watches it for her 4 year old brother. She is far too grown up for it.

My first big fat celebrity event...

I've mentioned on the blog a few times that I volunteer with an organisation called Baby2Baby, and Saturday was the Huggies sponsored Garden Party, which was in celebration of the fact Huggies have donated one million diapers to families in need in Los Angeles.

This preparation for this thing was NUTS. I went in to Baby2Baby a few times through the week (on one of these days, in a completely unrelated event, I met Jessica Alba, who is lovely and was lugging boxes around like a total champ, despite the fact she is the tiniest person I have ever encountered.) We were busy sorting and moving boxes and writing labels and all sorts through the week. The tension was definitely building, and Wednesday was pretty stressful. Thankfully, by Thursday things were a whole lot calmer and our outfits had been compared and everyone was happy and excited.

I arrived at a beautiful house in 90210 (Beverly Hills is actually a 5 minute drive from my house. This is hilarious to me) and I was decidedly nervous about fitting in to a high-flying crowd. I'm a 'jeans and flip flops' kind of girl, rather than 'fancy Beverly Hills Garden Party' type. As it was, I needn't have worried. Everyone was friendly and the sun was shining and the gorgeous garden looked so magical.

I was on the craft table. This will come as no surprise to you if you know me well. I love a good craft activity. We were making clay hand prints and mini-terrariums as Mother's Day gifts*. It was such good fun, and the kids were all adorable in their fanciest finery (which I helped cover in paint.) Some naming highlights included a 'Sheriff', a 'Rome', 'Camp' and more than one 'Stryker'.

There were a whole lot of celebrities. Like, everywhere you looked. Sadly, I didn't really know who half of them were, cause I only watch New Girl, Criminal Minds, baseball and basketball, but the twitter feed was pretty helpful for sussing it out! Since I only talked to a few of them, and mostly just watched them, and everyone always wants to know what they were 'like', I decided to make some snap judgements.

Most Dedicated Mum

Ellen Pompeo with her ADORABLE little girl Stella. She spent an absolute age making crafts with her daughter, and had no interest in anything or anyone else. It was so sweet to watch.

Ellen Pompeo with her wee girl (source)

Most enormously pregnant on a hot day

Poor Busy Phillips. By lunchtime it was so freakin' hot we were all dying. None of us were 8 months pregnant. Her daughter was super cute and she spent a lot of the morning giving interviews about her work with Baby2Baby, which was very sweet of her because I'd have sat with my feet in the pool and demanded people bring my Ice-cream if I were her.

Busy Phillips and Sarah Chalke (source)

Most amazing laugh

Sarah Chalke, aka Elliot from Scrubs. She is super elegant and lady like (with much darker hair these days) but with this big honking laugh that made me snigger. She also played basketball with her son in 7 inch heels, like a proper trooper.

One I stared at not knowing who she was

I was really grateful that I could wear sunglasses since I had this habit of staring at people in a 'do I know you?' kind of way, to which the answer was invariably no, you're on TV. The one I properly had that feeling with was Sasha Alexander, who was Pacey's sister in Dawson's Creek, or if you've watched TV since 1999, is currently in Rizzoli and Isles, which, as I'm sure you've guessed, I don't watch.

I didn't take any pictures, since the camera on my phone is rotten and I didn't bring my camera.Instead, I'm using Paparazzi shots from the internet. I did take a picture with my Baby2Baby friends in front of the screen- once I get a copy I will post it for hilarity value. All in, I had a really lovely afternoon. The food was amazing, the crafts were fun and the whole event helped raise awareness of the awesome work Baby2Baby does, something I am really proud to be part of. Now we just need to start planning for the summer event...

*Mother's Day in the US is on the 12th of May. I feel very smug that my mum already has her card and I don't have to panic about it...

My favourite places...

I'm back! Having been so super unwell, the thought of blogging was just too much. But I am now back, madly topping up my tan in preparation for my trip back home, sleeping a lot and eating out in an attempt to put back some of the insane amount of weight I lost. 

I thought I'd update you on some of the new places we've discovered recently, all pretty famous in LA but new to us! 

Milo + Olive

I went to this bakery in Santa Monica for my friend Hillary's birthday breakfast, and it was delicious. I took husband this morning for some cake and coffee, and it did not disappoint. It's pretty pricey, but you can see into the open kitchen and see for yourself how much care and attention is put into the food. We were pretty amazed to watch one of the chef's hand cubing cheese to go on the pizza. Perfect.

The Omelette Parlour

Another Santa Monica staple, this looks a bit like a twee tea shop from the outside, and we had walked past it before. We were desperate for breakfast on Main Street one day and had the most amazing breakfast sitting out on the gorgeous patio. We were instantly sold. The portions are ENORMOUS and fed husband for about 3 days, and it was the price as a diner like Denny's. New favourite breakfast spot for sure.

The Apple Pan

I just happened to come across a show on the Food Network a few weeks ago about the best burgers in LA. The Apple Pan was the host's favourite, and it is really close to where we live, so we had to check it out. It is seriously old by LA standards, and they have been serving the same burger since 1927. It's cash only (unheard of in LA) and the staff have worked there forever (and average of 35 years...) The burger was delicious. It had a whole lot of really delicious sweet relish on it, which is normally not my thing at all, but I was totally sold.Husband had a Hickory burger (only been on the menu since 1947- amateur) and he was a BIG fan. Finished off with the biggest portion of apple pie ever, we were so excited to find such an awesome spot nearby.

It's hard when people are visiting to know where to take them- we want something uniquely LA and seem to forget all our awesome local spots in the planning. We will definitely be taking our friends to some of these places in the summer. Can't wait for guests!

M I A

Sorry it's been a while, I've been ill. Proper, gut-wrenching will-it-ever-stop vomity ill. I ended spending the whole of Saturday in the ER getting IV fluids and antibiotics and anti-sickness meds to get it under control. I'm definitely starting to feel better, but it's going to take a bit of time to recover. 

In the meantime, you should watch this, created by my brother's mate Jordan, who works in advertising. I woke up singing it this morning...

Cat Tales

It's 8.30 in the morning, and already this day has been nuts. I'll start with the lovely surprise of finding some of our wedding pics on East Side Bride this morning (I think my bestie Jen finally thinks I'm cool. She should stop reading now though because the rest of this post will change her mind back...) Kirsty has written the best guide to (getting married in) Edinburgh I've read in ages, and I have realised I've not eaten in a single one of the restaurants she's recommended so shall have to rectify that straight away. It made me super homesick- I love how quirky and interesting things in Edinburgh are. Even the Starbucks' are squished into the original architecture of the city. I am SO excited about my trip home in a mere 6 weeks!

Anyway, this post is about my morning, which has largely centred around Joan. We've had her now for 4 months, but it feels longer. She is really odd. Husband keeps reminding me that all cats are weird, but she seems particularly strange. Joan only answers to 'Cat'. Particularly 'Cat' said with an Aberdonian accent (I guess if you say 'coht' you're close...) This is, I'm aware, my own damn fault. But it certainly adds to her quirks. She's pretty violent. Her way of greeting is to bite you in the soft, tender bit of your wrist. She doesn't break the skin, but she does leave a good bruise. We are slightly concerned when we have kids she will treat them as a wriggly chew toy, but we'll cross that bridge when we come to it.

Joan's worst habit is her insistence in getting up (and therefore getting us up) at 6.30 every damn morning. We have been trying to figure out how to keep her from scratching the bedroom door to shreds, and have a pretty complicated system in place. It doesn't work. We have a plastic draft excluder that slides over the door. This was an attempt to stop her putting her paws under and scratching the carpet. It worked, until she figured out she could just pick at the excluder, which would make an unholy noise and eventually drive us out of bed to shut her up. So I used duct tape to stick the excluder to the door. This worked for a few nights, but then she figured out the duct tape was more fun to scratch at than her scratching post, so we were back to step one. Eventually, we discovered the SSSCAT motion detector spray. This is magic and whenever she came close to the door, the spray went off, and she ran.

Eventually, though, she figured out that she could bypass it running through her tunnel, then lying very flat against the door to scratch it. Seriously. We moved the spray around a bit to see if we could get it into a position she couldn't escape. This resulted in disasterous morning number one.

I had woken up early to pee, and went to open the door to let her in. The door wouldn't open. At all. I figured out that the night before, I had stuck the sprayer on to the door with duct tape, and during the night Joan had knocked it over, and it was jammed between the door and the cupboard next to it. Yup, the cat had locked us in our bedroom. Every time I stuck my hand in the gap in the door, Joan would pounce, thinking it was a game. I bashed away trying to move it for ages, and all I managed to do was remove the duct tape, but it didn't shift the sprayer. Eventually the grumpiest husband in the world came over and managed to flick the can away with one move. Disaster (mostly) averted.

This morning, the usual scratching started at 6.30 (she is now just not scared of the sprayer, and ignores it.) At quarter to seven, the scratching went crazy, and I could hear her chewing on something. I opened the door, and she bounced into the room and onto the bed. Everything seemed fine. Until she came over and sat on me. She had managed to get the duct tape completely stuck to her front paw. And she was chewing at it to get it off. I don't know exactly how bad it is for your cat to eat duct tape, but I'm going to presume it's not good. I knew I had to pull the tape off, but equally knew it was going to be the hardest thing ever. I was right. It was wrapped completely around one of her claws. 5 minutes (felt longer) and MANY bites and scratches later, she was unstuck. She jumped around happily for a few minutes, then proceeded to chew at the other paw.

Both feet were duct taped. I laughed out loud. Mother effing cat. The second paw was a LOT harder. It was totally wrapped round, was stuck in the fur, generally just a big sticky nightmare. This one took longer, Joan was even more aggitated and I was grumpier. Thankfully she is free now, and dozing happily in her basket. I am tired and grumpy and ready for a cat-fur handbag. Pet ownership. Just magical.