♥

Resolution roll call!

Who's making them this year, and if you are making them, what are they?

Happy Christmas!

Do you remember the first time you had your photo taken with Father Christmas? I suppose it's the time of year that has me thinking about this. I keep seeing all these elves and Father Christmases out and about, and all the children lining up to have their photo taken with him, and I'm reminded of the first time I posed for such a photo. Of course, I know now that Father Christmas isn't real but at the time I did believe in him. And to be honest, was quite petrified of him. I cried the entire hour we waited in line to see him. I screamed a lot, as well. I did not want to sit on some strange man's lap! Especially not one with a beard like that. But Mother made me do it and so I did, but I refused to smile. I've seen kids just as upset about posing with him while I've been out shopping and it makes me wonder if it's even worth it.

Some mothery part of me thinks it would be absolutely darling to have a photo of Ava taken with Father Christmas and his little elves. It's her first Christmas, after all! I'd like to think it would all go down perfectly but I can't imagine any baby being thrilled at the idea of being held by some fat old man with an itchy beard in an ugly red suit and having candy-canes waved in your face by sketchy looking short people with pointy ears. That doesn't even sound appealing to me! Michael, maybe I'll dress you up in an elf suit instead! That way I can get my Christmas photo opportunity without having to worry about any scary moments on Saint Nick's lap.

I just wanted to say thank-you to everybody that’s stopped by, sent notes and well wishes these past few days. It was very kind of you to do so, even if one of you did joke about smoking pot before stopping by. (Ahem, Michael Corner.)

( Hexed Private. )

Happy Birthday Old Man Corner!

I hate waiting. Quite a bit.

Could be worse, though. If I were an elephant, I'd have thirteen more months of waiting to go.

I just wanted to thank everybody again, especially you, Ross, for the lovely baby shower. I had an amazing time with all of you, and the gifts were beautiful. Far more than I ever expected. I'm sorry I cried so much that day! They were happy tears, though, I promise! But yes. It was brilliant all around! I felt like a princess. I should get pregnant more often if it means parties like that! Completely unrealistic, I know, but I think it's a good sign of just how perfect it was.

Ross, you are a dear, dear heart. I hope one day (in the very, very, very, very distant future!) I can return the favour and throw as good a shower for you as you did for me. I love you!

( Private. )

It's September finally. She'll be here by the end of this month. Give or take a week or so either way. The books say babies can arrive two to three weeks early. Pomfrey says first babies are notorious for showing up late for their own due date. So it's all up in the air, I guess. I just get to sit around. And wait. Which is about all there is to do, really, and I hate it. I've re-arranged, okay, okay, Zane has re-arranged everything about a thousand times and I've cleaned. Everything. Everywhere. Repeatedly. Because I don't want any more of those bugs to pop up. I've folded and re-folded things. I tried to learn how to knit but it didn't go over so well. I accepted long ago that I can't cook, and well, there's something else to add to the list of things I've gotten too used to other people doing for me.

I just hope that all this dead animal/insect nonsense is done before the big day. I hate blood, the sight of it makes me feel sick. All this talk about it is almost as bad as looking at it. The photos people so kindly share with us are worse. As long as I'm not the next person to wake up covered in the stuff, I can deal with it but what if this is still going on when the baby is here? If anything happened to her I wouldn't be able to live with myself. And I'd probably be locked up in the dungeons for killing whatwhoever it is that behind all of this. Not a pleasant outcome in the least.

In other news, tomorrow marks one year to the day since the barrier went up.

I learned how to tie my shoes when I was four years old and have tied my own shoes without fail ever since. Because of this, it's a bit of a strange feeling to have to ask somebody else to tie my shoes for me. I try to wear sandals as much as possible which eliminates that problem but I can't wear sandals all the time. I also can't reach my feet. I'd give up shoes all together only given the state of things around here, that's not the most hygienic of options. The thought of stepping on one of those disgusting bugs is nauseating to say the least. And, as I did the nausea thing for a good three months earlier this year, I've no wish to repeat it.

Also. I'm not sure what the hell is going on around here lately but I wish it would stop. Twice this week I've gone to see Madame Pomfrey. Not randomly, but for scheduled appointments. And each time I've been interrupted by people with bug bites, strange rashes and mysteriously bleeding wounds. Yesterday she kicked me right off the bed I was sat on so she could drag in creepy Creevey some poor unfortunately soul who is, or so he was screaming, completely hairless. I was not impressed but I felt bad for the boy person so I'm trying not to complain. Too much.

In other news, I think water balloon throwing is my new favourite sport.

Oi! Michael!

( Private. )

It's a bit like a really bad B-movie around here lately.

I guess this is the part where I try to think positively and say "Who needs shoes anyway!" or "Shoes are so last year!" Only I'm not really thinking positively at the moment.

This is entirely unfair. I'd really like to yell at somebody now. Only, if I do, I'll be told it's okay, it's just hormones, and I'm only upset because I'm pregnant, and what pregnant women do best is get emotional. Well, I am pregnant, but that has nothing to do with me being upset. I'm upset because I have no bloody shoes!

Max, I found Clancy yesterday. Or rather, he found me. And bit me. And then ran away. That squirrel is a menace to society. If I see him again and I have my wand. Well. Suffice it to say it won't be pretty.

I want to go swimming. I wish the lake wasn't so...lakey. And surrounded by apparently nude sunbathers? Good thing we have these journals or I might have gone down there and had a rather nasty surprise.

Ross. I think I am having what could be called a crisis. I need your help.

So.

( Private. )

Ross! What are you doing later? I have something to show you.

Everybody seems so lovey dovey lately. Is there something in the water? If so, I hope nobody drinks it around Filch...I'd hate for them to end up snuggled up on the couch with him. It's one thing to walk in on Michael and Kevin catching a snuggle on the couch, but I'm not sure my stomach could handle walking in on Filch and...anybody doing the same. I have to admit, boys, you did look rather cute! If Creevey wasn't comatose, I would have tracked him down to take a picture. At least I'll always have the memory. And Kevin, it looks like you'll always have that drool stain on that shirt. That's what you get for letting Michael lean (and drool) on your shoulder.

In other news, Ross! Thank you for painting my toenails earlier! They look beautiful.

Things You Can't Do While Pregnant: A List
Jump - in puddles, on beds, in general.
Have hot baths - nothing ruins a relaxing bubble bath more than luke-warm water.
Drink coffee - or tea. Caffeine is no longer my friend.
Wear your favourite skirt - because guess what! It doesn't fit anymore!
Learn Occlumency - because dark magic isn't good for babies.
Keep your belly-button ring in - because after a while, it's no longer comfortable.

I'm sure that over the next five months I'll have plenty to add to this list. Who knows, it could end up longer than Grant's!

( Private to Draco )
( Private )

Ice cream, anybody? Or maybe a walk. Or both?