|Are you having a daff?!|
Talking of overdosing, I have just troughed half a packet of Oreos (never eaten them before...who'd have thought it?!) and a WHOLE bag of Mini Eggs all by my very merry self. And then guiltily latched the baby on in the hope she might drain a few calories from my appalling choc consumption today. I have no willpower at all. I is, like, well rubbish.
Of course I don't breastfeed purely so I can eat what I like (honest guv) but I know that for every ounce of milk Sweet Child guzzles, approx 20 calories are burned. Bring on the baps, the vessels of nutrition.
And so looking at my packet of Mini Eggs and the Oreos, that baby has got a lot of work to do. Poor kid, hope she likes chocolate milk.
Anyway, I need to man up as I am giving up chocolate, biscuits and sweets next week for Lent. 40 days? Man I can't go 40 minutes without a sugar fix so I am going to be seriously tested. Looking forward to a shed load of pancakes beforehand though. It will involve Nutella and bananas, lemon and sugar, almonds and raspberries. And I might just stick a Mars Bar in one for good measure.
Now, it's Friday night. What are you all doing? And what I am doing? I am sitting on the rug, waiting for all the floors to dry as just done late night housework. But stupidly I am trapped on the rug in the centre of the living room, like I am stranded on a desert island because I didn't think it through while I slopped fresh linen-scented water all over the floor around me.
It will take nearly an hour to dry so I have nothing to do except blog. If I walk on the floor, my footprints will dry and leave marks. Oh god I am so boring. I used to actually have a life on a Friday, believe it or not. I used to drink gin cocktails in fab bustling bars in Bath city centre. I used to go clubbing until the early hours.
Fridays used to be cool. Now today, I spent two hours traipsing around Asda with Sweet Child in the sling, trying to do a food shop but getting stopped by all and sundry to see the gorgeous baby "what I produced". She is lush, I am gushing with love for her, but two hours in Asda before two school runs is stress city.
So tonight I'd rather be unwinding with a small glass of wine (don't want to upset Sweet Child when she feeds later) and a good film. But the Prince has decided to whine in a reeeally loud voice every 20 minutes and then be fast asleep when I go to check on him. My patience is waning. And now I can't check on him, because I am trapped on my rug island. The floor is still wet. Darn it.
By the way, wanna see how similar my girls look? This pic below was taken ten years ago when the Princess was three weeks old.
And this pic was taken six weeks ago when Sweet Child was three weeks old. Both are wearing the same dress. Peas in a pod, huh?!
Oh and in between a million nappy changes, wiping baby vom from my shoulder, producing more milk than a Fresian cow and getting trapped on my living room rug, we've hit the beach whenever the sun shows its little pale face...
Warning, my next few posts may be grumpy without chocolate........