My Bundle Of Joy: Part Six

This is the sixth part of a fiction serial, in 759 words.

I had two days off to cover the house move and had the weekend in between. Olly had taken the whole week off, with good intentions to sort things out. The moving men stacked most of the boxes in the garage, except for the kitchen stuff and some bits we needed left out. The main problem was the sofa. It had come up in the large lift in the flats with no problem, but when we got to the thirties house that morning, it wouldn’t fit through the front door. They said there was no point taking the door off, as it would still be too big.

After a lot of head scratching, Olly gave them an extra ten quid each to carry it around the side into the garden, and bring it in through the old French windows. But from the dining room, it was never going to make the turn in the hallway to get into the living room.

So there it stayed, for the time being.

Olly’s main concern was getting his huge telly inside in one piece. There was going to be a delay getting the Internet and satellite service connected, but once his giant screen was in pride of place at an angle in the front bay window, he was happy.

No doubt most of you will have moved house at some time in your lives, so you don’t need me to tell you how stressful it is. Luckily, Olly is a master of the mobile phone, and was arranging for people to come in and do things next week, even before the removal lorry had left. I had managed to put my parents off coming to see the house on day one, as I could never have coped with them fussing around too. To be honest, I was worn out by it all, even though I hadn’t carried so much as a side-lamp.

Starting back at work the following Tuesday, I had my first taste of proper commuting. Almost fifteen minutes to walk to the train station, then packed in like sardines for the ten stops into the city. At least I could walk to the office once I got there, and didn’t need to take a bus. Olly would have to do that though, and he had talked about getting a folding bike. As I looked around the crowded carriage, I wasn’t happy at the thought of having to tell him he had zero chance of getting a bike in there. And I was also very aware that I would soon be heavily pregnant, with little chance of getting a seat on the way to work.

When I got home that night, Olly ordered takeaway pizzas, and told me that he had agreed for an electrician to start on Thursday, and the new central heating to be installed the week after. We were going to have to leave them a key of course, as we would be at work.

I talked to him about shopping. We had been used to a selection of shops close to the flat, including a decent-sized supermarket, and some nice delicatessens. Now we faced a four mile drive to an industrial estate, where two huge supermarkets provided the only local opportunity for groceries. Alongside a Pets At Home, Toys-R-Us, one car dealership, a tyre and exhaust centre, and two large DIY chain shops.

He agreed that we should go shopping on Saturday, but I could see from his face that he was dreading the big-shop routine already.

As far as me being pregnant was concerned, I did finally have some bloody awful morning sickness that resulted in me not going into work. But part of me had to admit that I wasn’t enjoying the trains, and also not too happy about the fact that my feet seemed to be swelling over the sides of my shoes, and even the cheap leggings were starting to feel tight. How could I have fat feet? My boobs were definitely uncomfortable, and on more than one occasion I had told Olly to forget it, when he had turned over in bed with that glint in his eye.

Then all of a sudden, I got bigger, and I started to pee. A lot. And when I needed to go, I took no prisoners. It had to be there or then, or I would definitely piss my pants. I knew I was supposed to be happy, and feeling broody and motherly.

But all I could think of was piddling, and having stupid fat feet.

31 thoughts on “My Bundle Of Joy: Part Six

  1. Pete, you would think you’d ‘been there done that’ the way you write. Well done. It seems this couple didn’t really think things through when they moved to the suburbs. I feel more problems on the horizon.

    Liked by 2 people

    1. Glad to hear that you are feeling that, Jennie. I am using a combination of things to try to put myself in the situation of a 30-something pregnant woman. Imagination, EMT experience, and hearing similar things over the years from female friends and work colleagues.
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. I have learnt the difficult way that is no such thing as “women are born mothers”. In my case, I got attached to my baby after a few days into motherhood. I lack what people call as mother’s instinct in most cases. I try to do my best given my limited ability with kids. Not sure if it is enough, but my child seems to be thriving, so I am not ashamed.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Yes, she is not that far along, but was probably just drinking too much water. πŸ™‚ I have met so many women who reacted in many different ways to pregnancy, so just including some of those memories. πŸ™‚
      Best wishes, Pete.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. The couch scene was hilarious. Sounds like one of my moves.

    “Olly! Roll over! Play dead! Sit! Speak! Whatever you do, get rid of that glint in your eye!”

    Liked by 1 person

  4. (1) So the sofa can’t be squeezed into the living room, the folding bike can’t be squeezed into the train’s carriage, and Angie’s feet can hardly be squeezed into her shoes. I hope the baby can be squeezed into the outside world!
    (2) The living room wasn’t Sofa’s Choice. She wanted to remain by the French windows so that she could watch the neighbor’s manly loveseat being streeped of its upholstery.
    (3) “Olly ordered takeaway pizzas.” Angie really wanted to eat those pizzas, so it’s no wonder she became really angry when Olly kept taking them away!
    (4) Isn’t a “decent-sized supermarket” something of an oxymoron?
    (5) DIY chain shops have never been popular among slaves and female parolees.
    (6) Bad citation: “On more than one occasion, I told him to forget it. But I couldn’t say no when Glint Eastwood turned over in bed with that glint in his eye and suggested that we play Dirty/Hairy.”
    (7) “Then all of a sudden, I got bigger, and I started to pee.” (excerpt from “Confessions of a Full Bladder” by Llawn Bledren)
    (8) I used to watch Telly Savalas on the telly. He always called his father, L’Olly, pop.
    (9) Bad citation; “After a lot of head scratching, Olly gave me ten quid to go buy him a bottle of dandruff shampoo.”

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You didn’t know ‘Broody’? Glad to introduce you to it.
      (It’s from hens and their eggs.)
      Ollly is a nerd, who had few girlfriends before Angela.
      His mother was a hippy who had lots of lovers, and he never knew his father. He is used to being around strong women. He puts up with things. πŸ™‚
      Best wishes, Pete.


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