Baby Hunger PG

Spent a great day with the Pregnant One yesterday. After dropping Clarkie to school, I cycled up to Sloane Street to meet bezzie mate in Gucci. Ooh-la-la. That's how she rolls. On the way to Gucci, I was stopped in my tracks by a pair of shoes in the window of Prada. Gold trimmed, black suede peep-toes, with a 'stack' heel. Ladies and gentlemen please get to grips with heel terminology. A 'stack' heel, is a thick high heel, not stiletto, not kitten (low), or wedge, it's like a 40s style shoe. Still don't understand? Think Busby Berkeley, Ginger Rogers. Oh forgettaboutit!
The shoes are absolutely beautiful. I went in to inquire after the price and availability. I guess it's true what they say, if you have to ask... you done know I can't afford the £240 they want for them. I started to think about ways to raise the money. Sell my Prada stilletoes on ebay, throw in the Marc Jacobs peep-toes? Nah, I'll just try and get a good lookey-likey from the high street.
We had lunch at Wagamama's, and due to exercise slackness I forced myself to have a chicken salad which although filling, was like eating sawdust, but managed to get two spoonfuls of BFs fried rice.
As baby is due in two weeks, I wanted to spend some quality time hanging out with Shazby who's on maternity leave. Unfortunately when we got back to her comfortable Ladbroke Grove home, I promptly fell asleep on the leather sofa. She then kept shouting at me to wake up. Managed to wake up for her ante natal appointment. We went to the GPs, a nice little place in Holland Park. Well it was nice until some bredda came in the place with a cloud of stink like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown. It was so bad, I had to go outside...for a fag.
We went in to see the doctor. Nice young Asian lady. Chanel glasses, and Mulberry Roxy bag under the desk. I heard the baby's heartbeat - nice and strong. Shazby was weighed - was so not impressed that she weighed less than me!
After that we felt the call of the cake, and I directed her to the Hummingbird Bakery on Portobello Road, which sells lovely iced cupcakes. Expensive and dear. She bought a few for Clarkie to celebrate starting school. Nicely presented in a cardboard box. And I'm under orders from Clarke not to go near them. She knows what a cake Hoover I am.
Did you know the hummingbird is the national bird of Jamaica - when I went to JA, I saw one. It really made my day.
I digress.
I do tend to get excited when my close friends have babies. With Shazby it's worse because we have been friends since we were children, aged 11. It's more than a baby, it's a coming of age for her, and for me. It wasn't the same when I had Clarke, because although I was 24, I wasn't really a woman yet. That took a few more years. But she is, and so am I now. We're like proper grown ups, and everythings happening in a grown up way. It's kinda unbelievable as it only seems like yesterday that we were teenagers reporting for the school magazine. We wrote a feature on her sister's all girl band. I thought they were so cool. Especially Shazby's sis in her fringed and beaded cowboy boots. They did a gig at school singing a cover version of Gary Numan's 'Cars' (it's a classic). Shazby and I had our picture at the top of the page. Technology not so good then, all you could see was our teeth.
Shazby said: "Are you broody? Don't worry you'll have another one." She must know I'm researching turkey basters.
My baby hunger started when Soph had a beautiful little boy called Omari. He was the most beautiful baby I have ever seen. As soon as I saw him I thought, I want one of those. My breasts started aching, and it felt like the milk was gonna start flowing again.
Now everytime I see someone with a baby I stare, almost in the same way that I was looking at those Prada shoes, with intense longing. Friends kids are great, but no one lets you look after their babies anymore (and after reading the content of this post, I don't think there'll be a great stampede either).
I looked after my godson when he was younger and loved having him around, he took his first steps in my house, mainly because I forced him too. But the problem, for me, is that you have to give them back.
I just can't wait to see Shazby's baby. But I fear that my breasts will ache so much at the sight of it that she may walk into the nursery and find me breastfeeding it like that crazy woman in Hand That Rocks The Cradle! What are friends for eh?

Note to self: must go back to Sloane Street more often to check out the buff man dem working in the designer stores.