Public house extravaganza...

I actually went to a pub last night for the first time in Lord knows how long. It was fun! I'd forgotten that people do this regularly, drink beer, chat and smoke fags. What a marvellous invention. I was accompanied by the lovely Antonia who - if I may be so bold - I think I can now count as a friend (if only a fledgling one). We had a lovely natter and she's offered to take O as and when required for a couple of hours once new babe arrives and I am desperate for kip. How nice is that? So much so that we're going to do a few trial runs in January so O can get used to being at their house without me. Sounds idyllic!

I drank two glasses of red wine. I enjoyed the first, but the second was a little bit gratuitous and not very self-disciplined. I was then told by N that some research he's heard about has found that babes in utero can suffer seizures as a result of alcohol. Thanks for that. A discussion ensued whereby I accused N of making me feel guilty every time I go out (not a regular conversation!). He said that perhaps I was feeling guilty about drinking two glasses and trying to blame him.

Hmm. He may have a point. One part of me thinks that everything in moderation can't be bad and it's not like I drink every night. Another part thinks that, in an ideal world, I shouldn't drink at all in pregnancy. The problem is that I don't have N's self-control when it comes to toxins, especially if they are red and come in a glass or white stick shapes which smell revolting. Sometimes I wish I did have his self-control (and his mother's - she of no over-indulgence whatsoever). But when encountered with it, it just makes me want to drink more, smoke more and eat another fistful of chocolates.

I think I need to accept that I am never going to be able to treat my body like a temple. Sorry body, but there it is. Life is too short and I love food too much. And sorry baby for any upset caused. But I'm still going to have a few snifters over Christmas...