Dirty Holiday - (18+) (COMPLETED)

One More Thing

Are there rules for having a baby? Do I have to work out to keep my baby healthy? Were there exercises to help me through child bearing? These questions flooded my mind as I put the alcohol bottles hidden around the kitchen into a bag, ready to give away to any willing consumer.

It wasn't a stretch from the truth my flat was not baby proof, you could hardly expect a palace at my age, but would it kill the landloard to flatten some protruding nails?

This place isn't suitable for a child, would the right thing to do be to move? Surely by doing that I'd be wasting funds that would need to go to nappies, formula or baby clothes.

I wasn't prepared at all for a baby, I wanted a stable marriage to soothe me from my worries, I wanted a man who when holding our child had nothing in their eyes except from love, devotion and pure pride.

Was it that bad? Raising a baby as a single mother? It wouldn't be the first and it definitely would not be the last. My child will not be brought up any differently to one with a mummy and a daddy, I'd do what it takes to secure my babies future.

I needed to shape this place up, and what better time to start with the spring baby cleaning than now. Last week I'd been accepted for a part time job along with my usual shift to start in two days time, so I needed to make the most of this time.

I started with the kitchen, it was a household fact that no kitchen can obtain complete perfection with a few crumbs trapped betweens appliances and greasy plugs... This though, disgusting then again I couldn't remember the last time I'd even considered giving the kitchen a hygiene makeover.

I rinsed a cloth and scrubbed the surfaces pushing the piles of paperwork dotted everywhere onto the floor, sometimes you had to compromise tidy for more mess to make organised. A brown parcel stared longingly up at me from the side, a few days again I'd brought it up here and completely forgot about it. How could I forget a mysterious parcel?!

Tossing the cloth aside I torn into the packaging, a book? From the shape and the weight I should've known but my high hopes were of it being a bar of chocolate... I analysed the book cover 'Bumps and Tickles', one of two guesses were that either someone had a real bad sense of humour or generally by the adorable baby on the front had really wanted to do something kind for me.

Stuffing the packaging in the bin, I warily made my way to the sofa whilst reading the introduction.

"When all else fails, your hubby, the dummy, the nummy you can come to us! This book will provide you everything you need to know about your pregnancies and your cutiepie! Your mummy bible..." That was cheesy cheese. But the sickliness of it made me want to amuse myself with more.

It went through all the basics on regular urine tests, to tummy sizes, to pregnancy complications and tips to make birthing more comfortable.

It wasn't until I woke up with the book slidding down my legs that I realised how exhausted I was.  To top things off I started getting a sensation on my head as though something was crawling through it. As I raised my hand to itch it my fingers collided with another hand, I squealed and leaped from the sofa before realising Xander had been stood behind the sofa stroking my hair...

'Xander what are you doing?!'

'Sorry the door was unlocked, you didn't answer, I got worried.' He came closer placing his hand against mine. 'Are you okay?'

'Just tired.'

'You feeling alright?'

'I'm fine.'

'Have you been eatting enough?' He mothered tucking my hair behind my ear.

'Yes. Why are you here?' I said barely blinking.