Making a tit of myself

Being pregnant has opened up a whole new world of complaining for me.  Not just about the myriad of minor niggles that come with the discomfort of having a giant beach ball shoved down your top, but with some of the strange idiosyncrasies that seem endemic to pregnancy.

Firstly - maternity clothes.  It's a familiar niggle that the range of maternity wear - especially maternity office wear - is extremely limited.  But even when you do find something you can just about wear to the office, guess what?  Bet you can't.  Maternity clothes have no pockets.  None.  Not a pocket.  Because obviously, as soon as you're pregnant, you can't be trusted with car keys or loose change.  You need to stay home, ideally in the kitchen, ideally barefoot.  Ironically, I'm writing this in the kitchen, and I'm not wearing socks.  But that's not the point.

Additionally, baby clothes, baby clothes often come with pockets.  Pockets!  For babies!  Silly mummy can't be trusted with the car keys, but two-week old Chardonnay needs change for the parking meter.

Secondly, and I guess this isn't really as much of a complaint as a challenge... Apparently legally speaking you're allowed to breastfeed anywhere you want.  And even more interestingly, it's actually illegal for anyone to ask you to go elsewhere to breastfeed.  This is exciting to me, as it poses endless opportunities to irritate other people.  Here is my current list of places I'm planning on breastfeeding:

• The Vatican
• MCC Enclosure at Lord's Cricket Ground
• Fundamentalist mosque (not sure where to find one of these.  Might need to ask around)

Any other ideas gratefully received.  (Baby due today.  No sign yet.  Bored.)