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I’ve got some news…Chris and I are delighted to announce that I am 13 weeks pregnant!  I have been feeling pretty shoddy the last few weeks, and the pile of juggle that is my life seems to be building and building, as I have little or no energy to do anything!  Needless to say, we are delighted, and are looking forward to our new arrival, who I expect to follow in Lylah’s footsteps and arrive promptly on their due date of 23rd April 2015!

For the odd day here and there, I have been feeling better, and luckily for me, Friday this week was one of those days, as I had some Business Awards to attend on Friday night (the first of many non-drinking occasions for the next 2 years!).  Friday’s are my day off with Lylah, and I had been feeling pretty rough on Thursday, so we, well I, decided that we would have a PJ day, lazing on the sofa, watching copious amounts of Peppa Pig.  It was a perfect lazy day.

I decided I would start getting ready at 6pm, leaving me plenty of time to get to my destination for 7:15pm (gone are the days of taking 2 hours to get ready).  This would have been fine, but at 5:45pm I decided to let the chickens out (yes we now have three chickens, they are…fun).  As  I was juggling a few different things, including getting ready, watching/playing with Lylah and changing the bed sheets, I decided that I could keep on eye on said chickens through our bedroom window.  Lylah and I watched them for a few minutes through the window; they were having a great time pecking around the garden and pooing everywhere (one of the downsides).  I turned to continue making the beds up for what seemed like two minutes, only to look back and realise that I was a chicken down – Dusty the grey one to be exact.  Thinking she was cowering behind the tarpaulin, hiding from the other two (she gets bullied by them, literally the bottom of the pecking order),  I dashed outside to check she was okay.  But she was nowhere, and I mean NOWHERE to be seen.  I quickly plopped Lylah in front of Peppa for five more minutes (I am very grateful to that annoying little pig) and ran around the outside of the house like a mad woman for a while, shouting out for Dusty, but to no avail.

I summoned my Nonno who came and joined the search straight away, swiftly followed by my Uncle and then Chris when he got home from work (the benefits of having my family close by), but Dusty was no where to be seen.  Chris told me she had probably been eaten by now, and I was devastated!  Meanwhile, Lylah was flapping around the house shouting “Dusty gone, Dusty gone!”, and while all of this commotion was taking place, I wasn’t anywhere nearer to getting ready.

Time check, 6:30pm.  Dusty was nowhere to be found (I was sad, but also angry at her Chicken Run antics at the same time!).   After another 15 minutes of telling Chris how I had “literally turned around for 2 minutes!!”, I decided to get a shower.  At which point, I realised I had no shampoo left.  I had a mini tantrum in the bathroom and told Chris how I wasn’t going now, as “EVERYTHING WAS GOING WRONG” (hormones people, blame the hormones), when Lylah grabbed her children’s tangerine scented shampoo and thrusted it at me.  If she could talk more she would have said “seriously Mummy, stop moaning, take this, and get yourself together woman!”  So I washed my hair with Lylah’s shampoo, swiftly got ready, and left the house at 7:20pm (my team had already taken their places at the dinner table and it would take me half an hour to drive there, ah well, better late than never).

I arrived exactly half an hour late, my hair wet from the rain, trying to walk in my heels, and hoping my nausea would keep at bay until dinner was over at least.  I was stressed to the max, but I had made it (even thought Dusty may not have).  I approached our table and took my seat as the starter was being positioned on my place setting – perfect!

I had a lovely evening, but at the back of my mind, little Dusty kept squawking at me, telling me what a rubbish Chicken mummy I am.  The story was a great ice breaker for the night though!

The awards finished at 11:30pm, and pregnant me was ready to go home to bed (my bed times are MUCH earlier at the moment).

I didn’t sleep well that night, thinking of all the places Dusty could be roosting if she had been clever enough to not get eaten.  It was rainy and windy, and I felt so guilty.  Poor Dusty.

Chris was up bright and early the next morning, popping off to the gym, and Lylah and I resumed our positions from the day before on the sofa.  Around 8am, I took a quick walk outside to check next door’s garden, as there are lots of bushes and trees in there.  Nothing 😦  Then, as I was walking away,  I heard a rustle, and saw a flap of a wing.  It looked white, not grey, so I wasn’t hopeful, but thought I’d check anyway.  And there she was!  Dusty was alive and well, living it up in next door’s garden!  The next hour of Dusty’s life was probably quite traumatic, and involved ladders, the highest branch of a tree, her longest flight yet, a capture and a wing clipping, but thanks to my Nonno and Chris, we have got her back 🙂  She wasn’t very sociable for a few hours, but was back to her normal, mental self this evening when I let them out in the garden.

Honestly, an evening out when you’re in the first trimester of pregnancy is challenge enough, let alone facing our very own version of The Great Escape – chicken style.

Lylah is well used to our manic, crazy lives by now, and hopefully this little one is looking  forward to joining the Jugglehood as well.

Chickens

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