May 5th 2013

Today was a good day. It was the first day in months that I walked out of the house feeling good. It may have something to do with the fact that the baby slept from 7.30pm – 7am FOR THE FIRST TIME EVER <does  little mummy dance> Even the dog was super chilled…

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When we left the house to go to church I was feeling great! My hair had done what I wanted it to, my make up had behaved and the sun was shining. I even wore purple jeans to celebrate the sunshine (yes I know what I said yesterday but purple is very different from orange!).
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Church was great, but part way through my husband turned to me and said, “Fancy grabbing the baby from creche and doing a runner?”! I giggled, actually giggled, and we did! We hoiked the baby out of creche and went out to enjoy the weather! I felt like such a rebel, really guilty. The last time I felt that guilty in church was when I stole some sweets from a cupboard in the kid’s church room when I was about 10! I’m sure I was cajoled into it by my friend. You know who you are. ALLY!
Poor Ally. I don’t know why she put up with me when we were little. I was one of those children who wasn’t rebellious and rarely did anything ‘naughty’.  I used to tell on Ally all the time when we were kids! I would always feel guilty and if I had been around someone who had done something wrong. I would be so wracked with guilt that I had to tell my mum! Apparently my mum used to get called into my primary school because I would cry hysterically when my classmates got told off! No wonder I didn’t have many friends (ahhhhhhhh).
One time I was going round to Ally’s house to sleep over and I stole £2 from my mum’s purse so that we could buy some sweets. Well I got to Ally’s and I felt so guilty. I remember sitting on her bed sobbing. So we hatched a plan. I would still spend the money, but I would buy something that I could enjoy but tell my mum it was for her. So I bought a goldfish.
The next day, my sister was performing with her school big band and I broke down in the middle of the concert and told my mum everything. She must have grown sick of my conscience at one point as I vaguely remember her telling me to ‘grow a pair’ once. I really was a wet child. Thankfully I’ve grown a pair now though! Just a metaphorical pair….luckily for my husband!
I hope you all have a super bank holiday! I leave you with this super cute image:
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May 4th 2013

I am in recovery after a rather long day. I have no wine in the house so I am making do with a cup of tea, some chocolate digestives and Saturday night television.

I went to a birthday party today. Well, I took the baby to a birthday party. It was for my friend’s son who turned 1 today (happy birthday!). It was great but rather exhausting. There were lots of children there who made lots of noise! Having such a quiet baby, I’m not used to so many sugared up children rushing around having fun. FUN I tell you!

 

When I was little, party bags were always the best part of a party. Although my mum would always sift through them first. She was either taking out all the good stuff for herself (as I would) or she was checking for dodgy stuff. I went to a rough school. It wouldn’t surprise me if the mums smuggled drugs to each other using their children’s party bags.

Gushy moment alert!! My sister and her 9 and a half month old (pictured below (right)) were at the party today. I must say, I am very lucky to live so close to my two sisters. All of our girls love each other and get on really well (however that may all change as the two small ones start to develop their own little attitudes!). I hope that my children have as good a relationship with each other as I do with my two sisters. 

I bought the most hideous pair of jeans recently. I don’t know what possessed me. They are bright coral. I wear coral nail varnish and love it, but I think two whole legs worth of coral is just a bit too much. So, I got crafty and turned them in to shorts! I have been moaning to my darling husband for ages that all my shorts are too big (thank you Slimming World). Well, tonight I realised that I just can’t pull off walking round with orange legs. I’m just not trendy enough! They make cracking shorts though (I must post a picture once I’ve finished the stitching)! Summery and bright, but there’s not too much of them to blind people. Although I am sure my white legs will do that just fine.

I don’t know how I am going to get to sleep tonight. My weed smoking next door neighbour is having a party. There are people in his bedroom, living room and garden. Although, the smell of weed wafting under the floorboards may relax me just enough to ignore the noise and drift off to a happy place! Hopefully it’ll help the baby sleep through! I can but hope. 

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Day 3

The baby crawled!

What a momentous day this is. 

It started fairly normal and was rather pleasant (apart from the bright red juice my husband brought me this morning. It would appear that he is on a health kick and is juicing anything that stays still long enough. This morning he juiced grapes (normal), apples (normal), carrots (hmm), beetroot (HMM) and parsnip (I KNOW!). It was fairly unpleasant but I didn’t bat an eyelid, even when he told me that he had put some in the baby’s beaker and given it to her (he only told me when I freaked out at her pink vomit)).

We went to baby group where my daughter practiced her ‘zombie crawling’ as my sister calls it and I practiced being nice to other people’s children. My daughter did better than me. 

I hoovered the downstairs of the house and considered introducing the baby to the sucky hose on the hoover. I decided against it when I remembered the dog’s reaction to said introduction (I came downstairs one day to find my husband hoovering the dog. He thought it would be easier than brushing her. It wasn’t. Since then the dog runs a mile when the hoover comes out). 

It was in the afternoon when the baby decided to give crawling a proper go. She did well, I think she got about 2 feet until she decided that she would rather roll around like a weeble. She did, however, decide to crawl later on. In the bath. It wasn’t her best idea. She got a face full of water and wanted me and the rest of the town to know that she wasn’t happy. Then she did it again. And again. Same result every time. Funny, that.

And tonight I go off to Slimming World as I do every Tuesday night. I live for Tuesday evenings! Time off from being a mummy and a wife. As soon as I come back I will no doubt eat a mountain of food, as is tradition after group.

Oh, and in case you were wondering, no, I didn’t dream of Ryan Reynolds last night. I dreamt of Michael Buble. He helped me up the steps with the pram. Saucy, right? Pah. I’ll never stop being a mummy, will I?