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?