Simple Pleasures

I’ve had a lovely day today.

Well after all the rejection I suffered this morning! I heard the bald kitten get up at around 5.15am, hubs was fast off so when the boy staggered in I asked if he wanted to get in with Mummy. ‘No’ was his simple, swift and chirpy reply. I felt a tad put out so when I heard Captain miaow I felt smug as Captain is a mummy’s boy. Imagine how I felt when he blanked me and curled up on hubs! That stung. Furry little ball bag.

After being shunned by all the boys, we started with something festive, off to the garden centre to see all the Christmas decorations, the boy was good for a bit then put a swift stop to that and was SATAN for the remainder. I’ve made a large mental note of all the decorations I’m going to buy when I get paid.

After the morning fun/wrestling an angry and unreasonable toddler we dropped him at my parents. His cousin is there as it a ginormous crate of Lego. The boy has been finding all the wheels and scooping Lego up into a cup and pouring it back into the tub. I think he likes the sound. But it should keep him amused for a while.

We popped back home and got to do all the things we don’t really get to do on a weekend. I had a bath, a deep bath, with the bathroom door closed. No bald kitten to add a boat, then ducks. Then himself. Then make me put cold water in. And I’m pretty sure every time the boy gets in the bath with me he has a wee.

The real magic happened when I got out the bath, I read my book, in the middle of the day THEN I HAD A NAP! An actual nap. Without being poked in the face, jumped on or shouted at! There has been NO PAW PATROL on in this house this afternoon. I got ready to go out without a toddler gouging chunks out of my makeup. And applying brow powder to the side of my face whilst exclaiming ‘ahh, that’s better!’

I’ve had a full face of makeup on. I took full advantage of being able to do it uninterrupted and I’m pretty sure I’m wearing a little bit of every cosmetic I own. Probably look a bit OTT, but have no regrets. Then we went out, for a meal. At quarter to 8. Quarter to 8!! I can’t tell you the last time we left the house at this time! We ate with family. Not a single Fruit Shoot was ordered. Hubs and I hadn’t brought a single car with us. We didn’t have to ensure another plate of food was a suitable eating temperature before starting our own. There wasn’t that point when we had to leave early because a tiny human can’t and simply won’t sit at a table whilst grownups talk about boring crap that isn’t the Paw Patrol. Hubs and I ate safe in the knowledge that if anyone did a poo, they’d be sorting themselves out! No mid dinner bum changes for us! Huzzarh!

I’ll feel sad tomorrow though. I love the sound of his door opening and him coming in for cuddles. (Even if they aren’t for me!) When he decides it’s time to cuddle Mummy and wriggles his little bottom towards me, shoving Miaow Miaow into my face for cuddles too.

Hubs and I have work to do, so however early I want to retrieve the bald kitten, jobs first! We are clearing the soon to be nursery so it can be painted. Work that is quicker and easier without a two year old ‘helping’. The plan is Madre is popping round tomorrow and we’ll get it painted. The only thing to do after that will be brave Ikea to get the furniture. Then hopefully I’ll be feeling a lot more ready for Little Pea’s arrival. The Bald Kitten has been cuddling bump a lot recently saying ‘Hello baby, see you later baby!’ Hopefully he feels the same way when baby gets here…

In other news:

My innie is now an outie and I can’t tell you how much it freaks me out!

I have eleven weeks to go. (Shiiiiiiit)

Last night my MIL laughed so much she gave herself a nosebleed. Good times!


Is today over yet?

Someone has stolen my son. They have replaced him with an angry unreasonable demon that I can’t wait to put to bed.

Hubs has popped out for afternoon tea with a friend (how very British!) and I’m stuck with the spawn of Hades. He’s poured squash on the carpet. Tried to pour it in the wheetabix tin. Tried to kick Captain and laughed at me when I told him off, demanded an apple that he’s not frigging eating and had an absolute shit fit when I sat down with some cashew nuts. He didn’t want to share he wanted them all. So stormed out of the living room into the hallway, shut the door only to (frequently) open it and shout ‘That’s mine mummy!’

Can’t a girl eat a bowl of nuts in peace? Can’t she do the ironing without the little sod throwing a ball at her? Can’t her offspring listen when she tells him to stop pouring squash over his trousers?!

Not. Today.

I am in the ‘very to extremely’ pregnant bracket now and tired. I’m so tired I could cry. All I was is a nap and a snack I can eat without being shouted at. That’s not unreasonable is it?

He’s been affectionate at times today, but that’s mostly involved climbing on me and jabbing bump with all his pointy limbs. In fact most of his affection today has been downright painful.

In my head, there are so many things I’d like to do. Like carry on sorting the room THAT WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A FINISHED NURSERY BY THE END OF OCTOBER!! I need to get the pictures up in the hall. The same pictures I’ve been meaning to do for over a year. I need to dust the light on the landing that has now become a giant spider palace. I need to get that last bookcase out of the ‘nursery’ I need to investigate why the bald kitten from Hades’ teddies smell mouldy and I need to wash them. I need to clean the cupboard by the cooker. It’s truly revolting in there which is weird as it’s mostly got boxes of tea in it.

And I need to get my head around the fact that I’m having a baby in February. Because I haven’t got my head round it yet. Not even close.

But I don’t want to do any of those things.

I. Just. Want. To. Sleep.

That is not an option. So we I’ll try and neutralise the demon with a bubble bath…

In other news:

I’ve been listening to Christmas songs. This will form my daily soundtrack from now until NYE.

90% of my house is sticky.

I think the bald kitten is having a poo as I type. This really is the day that keeps on giving.


I am currently sat STARVING waiting for two sodding hours after drinking a disgusting volume of glucose to check to see if I have gestational diabetes.

I could save them some time, I tried to save them some time by telling them I don’t have gestational diabetes, but hey what do I know?

I have fasted for this. I’m so hangry I nearly legged up the selfish twat who walked past me EATING A BAG OF CRISPS. Does he not know there is a hungry mama here?

Last time I endured this horror we went to the hospital, hubs and I sat next to what can only be described as THE SMELLIEST FAMILY ON THE PLANET. I mean good grief! I kept gagging it was so awful. Then what an onlooker would describe as a sweet old man hobbled past with a trolley. Except he wasn’t a sweet old man, HE WAS A SADISTIC OLD BASTARD parading a trolley crammed with sweets, chocolate and crisps THAT I COULDN’T EAT. Parading his wares to a room chock full of hungry preggos. Did I mention that in addition to fasting last night I now have to sit for two whole hours not eating before I get jabbed with a needle so they can send off my blood AND TELL ME WHAT I ALREADY KNOW. I’m getting strong movements from bump, pretty sure it’s trying to get hold of a phone so it can call childline.

I’m not in the hospital today, so far no doddery old farts pushing sweetie laden trolleys to take out although I have just seen a woman throw-up all over the reception desk.

And another lady shout to her son ‘Armani! Get here. (Addressing patients) You don’t have to fucking stare at me. I hate coming here every time I do it just takes the piss’

I’m hangry enough to tell her if she didn’t walk round shouting profanities, maybe people wouldn’t stare. But I don’t think she’d know what profanity means and I’m quite sure she’d hit me and I’ve been specifically told to keep still so I don’t wear the glucose off.

I’m now trying to decide if puking lady and shouty lady are better or worse than smelly family. But as this is the last baby I plan on having it’s not really something I have to worry about.

I’ve got an hour and 14 minutes to go then hubs is on strict instructions to take us to Mac Donald’s. I’m ordering the menu.

In other news:

The bald kitten’s eye seem miraculously non-slimy today.

Captain demonstrated his love for me by sleeping on my face last night.

The chair I’m currently sitting on in this Zeus forsaken waiting room is apparently my arse’s worst enemy.

Caution! Lurgy house.

The Bald Kitten has tonsillitis. He has been prescribed penicillin for this particular ailment but trying to get that in to him is like tying to wrestle a screaming, crying squid. It’s horrible, hubs and I feel awful administering the meds but he has to have them. Would just get them down him easier if penicillin came in the form of Paw Patrol yoghurts.

As is that wasn’t fun enough, it seems he’s developed conjunctivitis too. I keep wiping bright green slimy nodules out of his eye and trying to mop up the abundance of snot that keeps pouring out of his nose before it gets wiped on his hand/the sofa/me. Or as I noticed earlier he just licks it away.

I’ve cracked out the Dettol. The house is starting to smell like a hospital. But my cleaning mission is being interrupted because the bald kitten needs lots of snugs! I have the fun task of boiling his flannel and pillow case and pretty much anything he’s touched before we’re collectively know as the ‘snotty eye family’ I’ve also been dodging a biscuit the boy keeps trying to shove into my mouth because Zeus only know what germs are lurking on it.

Speaking of food, he’s just not into it. Anything he asks for I give to him. Of the 70 million biscuits I’ve given him today (because he asks for them) he’s only eaten one. The others get locked, nibbled a bit and discarded. I may pick him up a Happy Meal tomorrow, he likes their chicken nuggets and I’m heartbroken to find his little round belly is not to round today.

Safe to say this week has not been fun. The boy gets upset in the very early hours and gets into bed with us. Daddy loses the most sleep because will like to cuddle him then start chatting or demanding he goes downstairs to get him a drink.

Fingers crossed the medicine suddenly works it’s magic and we get our little boy back, with all his exuberance, snacking and general ruling the roost!

In other news:

I have officially started my third trimester today.

The Nursery is still not decorated.

Staying awake all day is something I now rarely achieve.

18 weeks – feels remarkably like all the other weeks so far.

My belly is a now constant reminder that I have a little pea swimming about in my uterus. I’m starting to feel the swimming which is very reassuring.

Speaking of swimming, Will started lessons four weeks ago. They’re all about getting the little one used to water and swim ready. There are songs and games and LOTS of splashing. It’s quite a workout for us as there is a lot of throwing the boy around. One of the exercises is to hold a novelty float and kick the water as an adult holds and guides you across the pool. Except Will doesn’t kick. He shouts ‘Weeeeeeeeeeee!’ with his feet sticking out of the water whilst hubs does all the work. It’s funny as hell but a tad frustrating when you’re repeating ‘kick, kick, kick!’ in a high pitched forced enthusiastic voice whilst he has a half an hour rest in the water. Hubs does the lesson with him as I’m not quite in a condition to throw a toddler about. I use the time to swim a few lengths. It’s nice to feel weightless for a bit and will be more so the more massive I get.

Today was busy, I had a lot to contend with; young teenaged girls showing off for the lanky teenaged lifeguard. Families treating the pool like it was a resort fun pool and throwing balls all over the sodding place, lanky teenaged lifeguard not noticing on account of the girls who seemed to be doing a lot of spinning? One of said girls climbed out of the pool in a teeny tiny bikini then slipped over, got up and did the over theatrical hysterical laughing and loudly telling her friend that she had just fallen over, to let anyone who might have seen it happen that she wasn’t completely mortified. I’m frankly quite jealous, if I’d have slipped over like that there’s no way in hell I could have got up so quickly.

We’ve visited friends this weekend and spent Saturday exploring Hampton Court Palace. The boy was fairly well behaved. We had a couple of public meltdowns, he loved stamping his feel in the large wooden floored rooms because it made a great sound. I do feel for the tourists with the audio guides as they had our little foghorn to contend with. The boy doesn’t see a rope barrier as something to keep behind and we uttered several frantic ‘Will, come here!’ Before we were told off or ejected. Although I have to say he senses the desperation in your voice and the more panicked you sound, the less likely he is to come back. Such fun!

We had a long drive home (got to love the M25) so swimming was a welcome stretch after being cooped up. We also had a mega tantrum in the services because we asked the bald kitten to put back a wheeled George Pig book, he didn’t want to put it back, he wanted us to cough up the £8 for it. When it became clear that would not be happening he screamed blue bloody murder. We were stared at. And across the car park as the tantrum continued which only stopped once he was strapped in his car seat. ‘Stopped crying now’ was the sentence for the next few miles.

Swimming has worn him out so definitely an early night. I can’t imagine hubs and I will be up more later. Tomorrow I have my whooping cough jab to look forward to.

In other news:

Marms, the majestic hunter that she is has just tried to catch a fly that’s on the other side of the window pane.

I nearly fainted today, turns out I’m a bit of a fainter in this pregnancy…

Holiday countdown has geared up a notch so the pressure is on to make sure the clothes are clean tomorrow instead of spending the day drinking tea and eating biscuits…

Kids TV – pros and cons

The bald kitten is now taking more of an interest in kids tv. As much as it’s not something I want him watching ALL the time, it definitely has its benefits.

My darling son doesn’t nap in the day anymore. My golden time has gone, so ten minutes of distraction is my time to sit down with a hot drink. It’s also reassuring to know I’ve something to entertain him when I get a few weeks away from my due date. When I’m too massive to get down onto the floor to play with him and walking upstairs to the loo has the same effect as running a marathon. (Or at least how I imagine it feels to run a marathon…)

Popping on the tv means he’s distracted whilst I do the boring household things that need doing, cleaning the sink, bleaching the loo, stuff like I’d rather not do with a toddler around.

There are messages about friendship and kindness in kids tv programmes too. So he’s probably learning something…

The downside of kids tv:

It’s so frigging irritating.

Will’s current favourites are: Bing, Paw Patrol and Twirly Woos.

Twirly Woos- a family of weird round things that live in a boat and communicate through a series of annoying noises. There’s also some sort of pointy owl that I don’t understand the point of. They can sail a ship but concepts such and ‘up’, ‘down’ and ‘around’ are completely new to them.

Paw Patrol – a gang of anthropomorphic dogs with a pre-pubescent overlord. One of said dogs, Marshal, is adored by many but has zero coordination and causes many accidents. Not sure how he made the team. Don’t know why they trust him with a fire truck when he can’t walk into a lift without falling over. Evil mayor seems to persistently evade law enforcement. Evil mayor keeps cats fuelling outdated and inaccurate stereotype of cats being evil. Non evil mayor has unhealthy relationship with a chicken. So far none of the dogs have tried to eat said chicken.

Bing- a small rabbit that makes you fantasise about stabbing yourself in the eyes. Never. Stops. Whining. Lives with weird as yet unidentified creature called ‘Flop’. Flop is either a father figure or serial killer. As Bing is so bloody irritating I’ve been rooting for serial killer for some time now.

Of all the stuff he watches I detest Bing the most. I get he’s supposed to portray a toddler, but I have a toddler. I get listen to enough tantrums/moaning I don’t want a second dose from the tv…

In conclusion: kids tv has its place but: It. Will. Break. You.

If you need me I’ll be telling the boy that the TwirlyWoos, Paw Patrol and Bing are all sleeping so we can’t possibly watch them…

Why are maternity clothes so hard to get hold of?

Rant alert!

I’ve just been to Tesco and spent more money than I wanted to on bigger pants. I’ve had a near permanent wedgie for the last week so it’s definitely time to invest in larger knickers.

I didn’t but maternity pants as I wouldn’t be seen dead in those over the bump monstrosities unless I was entering a fancy dress competition as an egg in an egg cup.

The thing I find beyond irritating is the complete lack of maternity clothing on the high street. I can go and buy maternity clothes from New Look (but only the branch in the city centre, not the one closer to me) or H&M. That’s it. Sure, more places sell maternity clothes but only online, not on store.

How sodding annoying is that?! And my goodness the selection usually makes me want to weep, black leggings and stripy top anyone? Or ‘hands off my bump!’ I’d like one that says: ‘If you touch me I will hurt you.’

I’m currently wearing a maternity top I brought in a sale because I needed something to hide my growing belly at work. It’s bloody awful, flowery and frills EVERYWHERE. I don’t need frills, I’m huge. Why would I want to add MORE volume to my physique? FRILLS!!

It also seems that you pay a premium for maternity clothes, some are exquisitely made with quality fabric and worth the money. Others are just expensive shite. For the next six months I will be unable to go clothes shopping. And when I drag my post baby body round the shops to boost my confidence in February, I’ll find that nowhere considers the post-baby bod.

I have found acceptable clothes online, but I can’t try them on, I have to wait for delivery, returning items is often a nightmare, every shop has a slightly different idea what size 12 is, at some point I won’t be a size 12 anymore (chipsticks are totally my jam. No matter how sick I’m feeling I can eat sackfuls of these vinigary bites of heaven) then the whole sizing issue starts again.

And I miss wandering round the shops, picking things up, sitting in a coffee shop with my bags of exciting bits! Shopping becomes another thing on a list of things I can’t do because I’m pregnant. Is it too much to ask if a shop has a maternity range that they sell in in-store too? Apparently it is.

If you need me, I’ll be sitting by a window remembering all the times I saw something I liked in a shop, brought it and took the whole experience for granted!

In other news:

Will is now confidently saying ‘naughty cats’ and ‘Marmite! Dindins!!’ Still point blank refuses to say ‘Captain’.

Marmite now thinks she has 473 dinners a day.

Chances of us having a new bathroom before baby comes are getting slimmer everyday.