My favourite Photograph.

I'm no photographer. Despite spending a not insubstantial amount on a decent DSLR Camera last year, I'm not especially creative with it. I bought it to catalogue the next few years worth of memories of my child, and hopefully children. I haven't even attempted a sunset yet.

My favourite photograph is not a photograph I have taken myself. It was taken by my Mother in law who does know her way around a Camera. She specialises in Still Life mostly, but this photograph is just lovely and I have featured it in a previous post. I love it for sentimental reasons. It's my soppy Ginger Dog being introduced to my newborn son for the first time when he was a day old. Luckily, she was there to capture it.

This post is for week 31 of The Gallery. The prompt is My Favourite Photograph. I love it, look at his wrinkles.

Here come the Girls.

The theme for last weeks Gallery, yes I did say last weeks, was Here come the Girls. I was going to give it a miss because I have no Daughters and my usual crisis of confidence when it comes to photos that feature little old me. Add to that the fact that most photographs of my friends and I, past and present normally involve copious amounts of alcohol and I'm either gurning or sporting those rather lovely Red Wine Teeth.

Anyhoo. I managed to unearth some half decent photos of my Hen weekend in Edinburgh. Unlike most Hen weekends, it was a fairly civilised affair. Yes, there was drinking and dancing involved, but I refused point blank to wear a veil adorned with rubber penises and L plates. It was just a really lovely weekend away with eight of my favourite friends.

I'd have liked to share a group photo of us all, but sadly I no longer see a couple of them.

See, civilised. Posh hotels and Champagne. Not a stripper dressed as a Policeman in sight. Actually, I wouldn't have objected to that.........................

The thin Blue (well, Pink actually) line.

So. I'm Pregnant. There I said it (typed it). It's been ten weeks since I saw the second Pink line on the wee wee stick. Ten weeks since my boobs suddenly developed a life of their own and balooned two whole cup sizes. Ten weeks since I could open the Fridge door, or dispose of the contents of the Little Princes potty without barfing.

I'm pleased as punch and shitting myself at the same time. I found out my last pregnancy had ended at my twelve week scan, so as you can imagine, I felt a mix of excitement and trepidation as the date for my Nuchal scan approached this time. To make matters worse, the 'early' scan my GP promised me didn't actually happen and my Nuchal scan was booked for my thirteenth week, thus prolonging the agony.

Anyway. I'm fourteen weeks today. I've had my scan and my due date has been confirmed as the Second of April 2011. Exactly six months from today. Even better, I saw a little person with all of its important bits intact. I swear she/he even waved at me at one point.

Do you want to see? Of course you do.

Here She/He is. My little Pixie. Fingers, Toes and Freckles crossed and all being well, I'll get my Spring baby.