festive season

I can't remember the last time I had a sober festive season.

Well one where I wasn't trying to get my hands on a Hunter's Gold or something, at the very least.
And yet here I am, having instead eaten my way across England over the last week.

That's how I've coped. Through the medium of trifle (I made Nigella's trifle. Someone has to. And it was fucking massive. The Brit and I devoured half of it last night, and the entire dish was meant to serve 12 people.)

It's been an incredibly clarifying Christmas and New Year's period, for the obvious reasons, and I've managed to get quite a lot done. I feel like I'm finally turning a corner on all the admin (read: set up needed for twins) that has to happen before they come.
Everything I do at the moment is geared towards "before they come." More about that later.

It's been driving me bonkers; my endless To Do lists that can never be started or finished. Having a week to feverishly order £600-worth of newborn baby items off Amazon, pack my hospital bag so it's ready, and hang things like pictures and paint things. And try to make this place somewhat homely.

I am battling a little at the moment, truth be told. Generally feeling a bit depressed. This is usual this time of year (dark, rainy, missing friends and family), but has been compounded by pregnancy hormones and other things.

The two things bothering me at the moment are my OCD tendencies, and needing to desperately nest, which seems to have spiralled. Where I lie awake going through my endless lists of things I need to do, obsessively thinking things like, "Right, I need to change the bathroom light. When can I change it. Will I ever get a chance to change it? How will I change it? I must change it. Before they get here." Setting me and my husband endless chores and tasks everyday. It's exhausting, and poor guy has been trying to help me by taking on the load too.

I am in a weird kind of limbo, where as much as I am excited to meet my children and as much as I am excited for what's ahead, I am also of the mindset that my life as I know it is over. But it already over, really. I am now massive, not exactly living it up in the conventional sense, and I suppose I am already between what was and what is to be.

I am just finding it hard to let go. To let go of how we live(d) right now. Thinking about how easy it is, for example, just to walk out of the door and go to a coffee shop. Or do a spot of shopping. Or take a quick nap. Or read a book on my tablet, undisturbed. Really simple everyday things, that I may have taken for granted, and now faced with the reality that I won't just be able to do these anymore.That doing these things will involve pre-planning, a babysitter, time management.

I won't be doing anything for me, I'll be doing everything for my babies. My life as I know it, will be over. At least until they're older. I am terrified.
The few tender moments I'll get to spend with my husband are finite. It'll never be just us again. Will we be able to ever have an adult, uninterrupted conversation between ourselves ever again? The Brit keeps saying, "This is our last New Year's just us together, ever!"
Also with panic in his eyes. It's scary.

Perhaps it's normal to feel like this, perhaps it's not and I should see someone about it. Either way, there have got to be other expectant parents who feel this way, surely.

Then I get kicked by one (the active one that I think is going to be just like it's dad!) Or poked, or see my babies move in my ever-sizeable belly and I forget about this all. And I imagine what it will be like to hold them for the first time, and if they'll be teeny tiny. And how much I will love them; how much I already love them.

I try not to think about what the birth will entail, otherwise that will send me over the edge.

So that's what is plaguing my mind a little. A lot.

Not exactly festive is it? I just hope that when the day arrives, things will just happen, and fall into place, and I know we will fall in head over heels with our new children, so none of this stuff will seem at all significant. 

Try to listen when people tell me life isn't over, it is just beginning.

On a positive note - because it's not all gloom and doom, it's been great to just be.
We've made a list of things we want to do before they arrive, like a London art tour, visit certain markets we love, go on the London Eye.

We managed one on my list, and that was to stroll through usually crowded Portobello Market in Notting Hill:

 Ate enough mince pies to sink the entire Palm Island off Dubai:

 (Wore an oversized Christmas jumper, obviously)

 Went for a walk along a sunny Bournemouth Beach on Boxing Day. We spent Christmas in Hampshire with the Brit's family.

 Visited a few country pubs for grub.

 Found that our 17th century butcher makes the most incredible biltong. Cut and hung just as I like it.

 Hung my pictures. This project took a day. You have no idea.

 Bought in New Year's eve by playing Mozart to the babies. They kicked a lot - so either they love it or hate it.

 At 24 weeks, it's easy to just clamp headphones over the old tummy.

That's what London looked like when the clock struck midnight. Ten minutes of firework fanfare, of Americanised proportions.

The fireworks on the south bank/London Eye were made to smell like fruit this year. Seriously. Fireworks that smell like fruit.

I've never watched New Year on the telly, and frankly we got the best view. We stood up, hugged each other and counted down.

2013 was significant. I have no doubt 2014 is going to be even more so, in a completely different way.