I think I’m the only one still wearing a mask…

Eating outside during Covid

Covid? What’s Covid? Oh that awful thing that plagued us for two years and is now… gone? Except it’s not gone… and though we’ve enjoyed a deliciously warm early start to summer here in Austria, it’s not even really trying to hide. Luckily, it has wound itself down so it’s not causing the kind of mayhem it did previously. But it’s still causing plenty of disruptions.

I know that if it hits me everything will be fine. But still, being pregnant I’m being extra careful.  Because the numbers, despite the good weather, are a lot higher than they were this time last year. And I just need to get through two or so more weeks. So yeah, I’m still wearing my mask. I’m still social distancing.

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What are you having?

The question on everyone’s lips right now is… what are you having… boy or girl? Actually, we don’t know. Apparently we’re among the very few these days who don’t find out. For me, I just don’t really care. I can wait. I don’t mind what colour it wears or even what it wears – I figure that’s onesies for the first little while anyway.

I didn’t need other people to know and I also didn’t want to be one of those people that did the we know but we’re not telling anyone. Possibly because I’d inadvertently say he or she and let the cat out of the bag. In Austria the article for baby is ‘das’ – it. So that’s just easier. Though I do move between the three and confuse people no end.

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Some might call it a Babymoon – let’s call it our last trip to Italy

Lignano Italy

I tend to rebel against tradition just a little. Maybe I like things easier, or maybe I just like to rebel. I didn’t want a traditional wedding. And I’m not expecting that I’ll live up to the traditional expectations of parenthood – after all – there’s more than one way to skin a… baby?

I’m so glad I live in a country that doesn’t know what a baby shower is. It’s not me. It’s ok for those who want one, but I’m glad there’s no expectation here. There will be no maternity photo-shoot, or baby-shoot for that matter – where it angelically sits in a terracotta pot with a garland of flowers on its grumpy head.

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