Friday, 20 December 2013

Warning! This is not a baby announcement post. Cos it's late, innit.

Yep, I shall get my (non) laughing gear around this piece of tropical perfection ce soir, to entice out Baby Carol/Noel/Jesus/Holly etc etc.

And before you ask, no I haven't had the baby (does it look like I have?), yes I know I'm massive (thanking you muchly), no I have no idea when he/she will make an appearance (who am I? Derren Freakin' Brown?), no I am not dreading the birth at all (a total lie...) and so on.

Honestly, the school run is taking double the time as the world and his wife interrogate me. A couple of mums are merely looking at me now with a pained expression and walking away.

One mum actually studied my bump on Monday and said: "So you haven't had the baby yet then, have you?"

I was wearing this dress, hardly hides the curves of my belly does it?! Maybe its my hormones but I am beginning to purse my lips at completely stupid questions like that.

Sugar Plump Fairy

RAAAAAH! I feel better for that. Sorry.

I also keep getting felt up by a woman who works in Tesco Express. She keeps leaning over the counter when serving me, and gropes my bump, sighing and declaring: "It will come soon."

But she's been saying this for weeks and there is still no sign, yet I am a week overdue today and getting twitchy about the whole Christmas shindig.

While she fondles my bump lovingly, you could almost forget that there is an entire queue of people behind me, with urgent purchases and tight deadlines. Because this member of staff is simply lost in Babyville. Lost, I tell thee.

Then it gets rather awkward and I turn and face the customers behind me, mouth a "sorry" at them and do my best to prise her off me. Twice a week at least this happens.

I'm all for people touching my bump, I find it fascinating so can understand others wanting to cop a feel. Unless you are Robin Thicke, then I'd find it rather distasteful.

I guess the Tesco lady's reaction to me is far better than her colleague's.

He served me on Monday and greeted me with "Hello dear, where's your moustache?"....

(how would anyone else react to that?)

Admittedly his first language isn't English but it still threw me to the point where I was rendered speechless, finally muttering "I don't know..." before running back to the car to check my face.

What else rhymes with "moustache"....can't think what else he could have been asking me.

Anyway moving swiftly on, I recently came across this shop. Bet there are LOADS of treasures in there, shame it's not a charity shop. How I wish normal sized clothes fitted me.

I have found time for  a couple of cherry tree purchases actually.

This larger cake stand (Scope £1.50) makes me so happy as I now have a family of three!

This little glass jelly mould addition also makes my little family complete.

Mmmmm the smell of my Festive Cheer candle is lush!

So here's hoping that my pineapple will soon make my little family complete.

Derek Trotter, eat your heart out.

Hope to be back with baby news soon!

Monday, 9 December 2013

Christmas time, mistletoe and.....beards

When I said in my last post that I have a thing for men with beards, I didn't believe for a moment that all my dreams would come true.

Look at his cheeky festive hand!
 We've had a festive weekend, and no, not just so I can indulge in fake white beards for my own personal pleasure.

I promised Father Christmas that I had been a good girl but Mrs Christmas pointed at my bump and snorted "I don't think you have my dear!". True, I can't deny it. Shenanigans have happened that make me slightly less good than usual, it's got to be said...

He even said I could sit on his lap, but I didn't want to break the poor chap's knee caps so I left that to the kids.

So we rode the Santa steam train:

 ....and we've been to a Christmas tree festival:

Fake plastic trees.............they were all merry and bright

This was my fave, a tree with a curry theme. Yummo.

You think you've seen it all, then they come up with this.
A poppadom bauble....
Even the angels were made of Indian takeaway menus. Genius.
And we've pigged out on roast  dinners and stuffed our faces with mince pies while all huddled up on the sofa watching The Goonies. I resemble Chunk more and more as each day passes.....

I am nesting nicely now and all my hospital bags are packed. Four days til due date. I'm so busy nesting, I haven't so much as sniffed the inside of a cherry tree shop though. Sorry to disappoint.

I am feeling so Christmassy, even though it looks like this where we live. It's still cold though. Brrrrrrrrr.

Saturday, 30 November 2013

Here hair here

The lady in the St Barnabas cherry tree shop gave me some very wise words this week, for finding a girl's name for my baby (I think it's a boy but she was having none of it).

Apparently it's this, so take heed anyone out there who is with child. You  simply walk into a newsagents, pick up a copy of The Sun, turn to page three, but you don't ogle the page three model's breasticles. Oh no, you look at her name. And that is the name you choose for your baby.

I kid you not.

The cherry tree woman was convinced she was having a Gary (I'm guessing it was the 80s). But it turned out to be a girl. And the page three model that day was Sam Fox. I bet her daughter Samantha is oh so chuffed, don't you?

I have zilch boys or girls names this time. But I shall dwell not, it will come to me. And if not, The Sun may have to be my saviour. Ha ha, the woman was so serious I did my best not to smirk.

Smirk I said, not twerk. What IS that all about? I'd feel a right berk if I should decide to twerk, making you all smirk. I have no balance at the moment, dancing is a thing of the past. So is prancing. But not romancing. No I am still all about a bit of romance. Maybe it's me hormones.

You see, the Husband's beard is coming on nicely. Actually, I'd go as far as to say he is looking hot. I MUST try to get a picture but keep forgetting to take a sly one and he is not one for posing.

I have a thing about beards this pregnancy. No, I'm not fancying Brian Blessed or anything yet. And neither do I find Noel Edmonds attractive. But there's something about a hairy chin that is getting me hot under the collar!

Hormones. Blame me hormones

When I was pregnant with the Prince, I had a thing for the rapper 50 Cent. I think the Husband was a bit miffed, as 50 Cent was the polar opposite to my beau in every single way (how I love my skinny, pale Yorkshireman). But oh my! When I was preggers last time, that rapper could have taken me to the "candy shop" any flipping time he liked.

Until I gave birth. Then I was over it. I don't even remotely think about Fiddy these days, and I certainly wouldn't dream of looking for him in da club.

But beards? Man, I even look at the H&M model and the older grey beardy model cardboard cutout in TK Maxx and feel the fire in my chubby loins. How sad is that?!?!

Just hope I don't go off the whole hirsute fizzog thing when Junior arrives because I think the Husband will keep the beard regardless of my lust.....or lack of.

On a different note, I was THRILLED when Kerry sent me these two Ladybird books last week that she found in a charity shop in London, as not got them in my vast collection. Oh they are fab! She's a good girl.

 I am making little hats still but can't get the sizing right. Just made two boys ones but it's hard to know whether they will fit the baby, the four year old or the young Brian Blessed that I married....... 

 Right that's me done. I am due a week on Friday.

Watch this space to hear all about how I moaned and groaned. And that's just the noise I make while trying to get my underwear on every morning so Lord KNOWS the sounds I shall make in labour......

Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Babies, birthdays, showers and onesies

I only have just over three weeks to go, before Brian/Brenda arrives into the world, adding just a smidgeon of extra chaos into this whirlwind family. If the baby DARES to join this crazy team that is, sometimes it's so noisy I think he/she will simply refuse to make an appearance.

If you're thinking 'bout my baby it don't matter if it's pink or blue.....

Where has the time gone? Well, I am finally truly nesting and resting while the countdown commences. The Husband and I have been sleeping on the sofa bed in our living room, while our hideous "All You Can Eat Carrot, Pea and Broccoli Buffet" bedroom (more on that in a future post) was stripped down to bare wall, plastered and lovingly decorated by my beau. Actually he didn't do the plastering bit but did all the rest in any spare time he had (which wasn't much).

Meanwhile I - looking like Jabba the Hut who had overeaten at Pizza Hut - had to thrash around in a little sofa bed in our lounge, and live for three weeks with the house in complete chaos. I looked like one of those poor obese women who eventually need to be crane lifted from their house. I groaned every time I tried to change position, I dipped into the middle of the sofa bed, my leg cramps were dire and my mood was slumping somewhat. Our mattress was propped up at the top of the stairs and squeezing past it was a mission, our bed was dismantled and propped up in precarious positions all over the landing, the Princess had most of our bedroom stuff in her room.

And all I wanted to do was nest. Yet I couldn't. I couldn't get in our wardrobes or the linen cupboard, I couldn't hoover anywhere. I was seriously fed up.

Imagine if I'd gone into labour last week.........

Now we are back in our bedroom and it's like waking up on holiday. It's calm, serene, fresh and fabulous. And now I can slow my pace down, and concentrate on packing my hospital bags and choosing a pram. Yep, not got round to that crucial thing yet either.

Thrown into the mix in the midst of all this was the Princess's 10th birthday on Saturday. I can't believe how ten years has flown by so fast, it's frightening.

This was her six years ago, aged four!

Chocolate button eyes!
 And her on her 5th birthday. What a dolly.

Here she is waking up on her 5th!

And here is the Princess waking up on her 10th!
All crammed in the sofa bed. Blurred as too early!!!!
She wanted a Onesie party at home this year with her class chums so that's what she got.

We had Saturday morning to reclaim our bedroom, once the carpet fitter had gone, and put the bed back together, other furniture back in, sort out the Princess's room, sort her party food, get the house ready, celebrate her birthday and wait for the party to begin. It was all a little too much for a heavily pregnant whale like me. But it was brilliant and she loved it.

She wanted a chocolate birthday cake for the tea party and I made
 pink sparkly vanilla cupcakes for the girls to take home with their party bags
They all played Twister, scoffed pizza and watched a movie with popcorn and marshmallows and then we played Pass the Parcel. It was a four hour party and they were really well behaved. The Prince had a whale of a time deciding which girl he loved the most!

They are all obsessed with Ylvis singing The Fox. My ears rang after a while but now I can't get the song out of my head!

Yo, this is me at nearly 37 weeks, taken this morning after my midwife visit. Hearing the baby's heartbeat never fails to thrill me. The baby is going nuts today, its movements are almost painful and it is head down. I hope it stays that way.

One direction

T'other direction. Boy bump I think.
It's gone high again, it had dropped last week.

This was me last week:

Bed in lounge. Shudder....

Cherry tree items purchased today are this ASOS top for £4 (bit steep and of course it doesn't fit me now, I've eaten so much cake I've zoomed past my weight gain limit. Whoops).

And a Grobag for the baby, for £1.50. So cute and pale blue is fine whether we have a baby Brian or a Brenda, yah?

And finally, last week my fabulous neighbour friends held a surprise baby shower for me. It was gorgeous! I only have the below pics as am waiting for the better ones to be emailed over.

I am blessed to have so many fab friends who live either next door or just a few houses away. One knits, one crochets, one loves her wine, one has exactly the same sense of humour as me, it's a darn good blend and we had a lovely afternoon.

Just slightly overwhelmed

TOTALLY spoilt!
One made a whole cake stand full of these sweet baby cupcakes...

Now I am reflecting on the forthcoming labour. Wonder which advice to take........


Hopefully be back before I am a mother of three..........yiiiiiiiiiiikes!!!

Monday, 4 November 2013

The kids are alright

So, I've just had another "weekend", two days of rest and am here on this glorious Monday morning feeling refreshed and spritely....ahem.

To me, a weekend should be relaxing and fun after a flipping hectic week. But in my world, a weekend can often be harder work because the Husband works every other weekend. That's the entire Fri, Sat and Sunday wiped out. And my family are miles away.

I have a wonderful set of friends here, some I've only gained in recent months, who tell me they are always around if I need help and support but I am too proud. Plus its their weekend with their husbands to do family things. I could never trouble them and I guess deep down I feel I achieve a lot on my own without extra assistance (still don't have a tumble drier or dishwasher either!) My lovely next door neighbour even offered to come in to do my ironing while I rested.....she is a busy mum of three and I was so touched but said I was OK (the truth is, I don't iron anyway. It's my big failing in life, call it domestic sluttery).

It's all the more harder now because of the nearly 35 week baby bump. I can't really bend down (or step into my mammoth-sized underwear), so my kids tend to refuse to pick their clothes off the floor just to watch their weeble of a mother moan and groan and she bends over and struggles to get back up.

Yet when they look like this, my heart melts:

Of course they are so much nicer when asleep

It's also frustrating that I can't chase after the Prince when he calls me a "git face" which apparently he has picked up from watching a scene in Matilda. (Has anyone watched this? I don't remember the phrase "Git face" being in there...........) I'm not proud that he calls me this. Sometimes he will hug me and then say "I love you, you fat git face" and cover me in kisses (which makes me think he doesn't understand what he is saying). Other times he will shout it at me when cross. If I could run and pick him up and chuck him in his room I would.
(oh and he says the "Face" bit of "Git Face"  in a strong Yorkshire accent for some reason, no idea why. So occasionally I have to control my smirk...)

Saturday mornings always start well. I take the children to the pool for the Princess's swimming lesson and then we head to my Bumps meet up group in a cafe. I adore this cafe, it is the hub of the community.

My kids delight in having their own private table with drinks and cake, while I loll around on a sofa with other oversized-bellied women discussing pelvic floors, maternity pads and chocolate addiction. They are all first time mums and think my children are wonderfully behaved. Which they are. Until I get them home.

This weekend has been particularly tricky as they have pretty much squabbled non-stop for the entire two days which is exhausting in itself. I put it down to the extra E numbers from the epic trick or treating we did on Thursday night when they brought more sweets home than Wonka could dream of producing.

I'm surprised they weren't sick (I discovered that while I had been rationing them, they'd found my secret stash and helped themselves).

I hoped the Princess would do a
far more attractive one

"This is the best day of my entire actual life," the Prince squealed with gusto on Hallowe'en, as it finally dawned on him that you can just knock on a front door where ever you spot a lit pumpkin and be given free sweets all night.

So they've fought this weekend. The Princess is nearly ten and should know better. But apparently while I was chatting to my mum on the phone, the Prince pretended to be a puppy and licked the Princess's arm as she tried to watch TV. It eventually drove her mad and she pushed him and his saliva drool away...a bit too hard and it resulted in his bonce meeting the wooden floor and creating a beautiful red bump.

Then a bowl of cereal was swept across the floor. I was told I am a "horrid old woman" more times than I care to remember. Horrid, yes, but old? 38 isn't exactly a pensionable age is it?

Then there was a meltdown at a birthday party, a scrap over what TV show to watch ("I hate Surprise Surprise, turn it over you git face") a battle at bath time, refusal to do a bedtime story and by 9.30pm I had to sit down and do my freelance work. I just wanted to drink gin and rock forwards and backwards. But they've gone back to being lovely. Hmmmmmph.

So, adding a third into this crazy mix shall be interesting. I am certain my blog will suffer, although no doubt there will be some interesting material to write about.

Anyway, I feel tired today, a little hoarse from shouting more than I should have but have some nice things to blog about too.

Firstly, I was in Somerset last weekend to pick up my children (my brilliant parents had them for three whole nights in half term for the Husband and I to rest...this did me the world of good. Shame it didn't last!) and came across these beauties all in one Oxfam. Another mum reached the children's book shelf before me so I'm ashamed to admit I had to do a rude swoop, grab, pay and run.

I am also the proud owner of these boots which I picked up from my local Scope.

These boots are made for stomping

They had been in the window for £35 which I thought was steep but really loved them. Then I discovered they were Bertie boots. Then I got home, googled them and discovered they are £140 brand new.

So I rushed (OK, waddled) back to Scope to buy them. And they'd gone. They weren't in the window. I hate losing a bargain. I went home defeated.

A week later I was in the shop again looking for treasures and lo and behold, the Bertie boots hadn't sold at all! They had just been removed from the window display and were in the shop on the top shelf with all the other boots. And were reduced to £30.

I had a good look at them. Took them to the till, and was allowed to have them for £25!

So I did. And I feel no shame. I think charity shops charge far more than they should and I donate everything to that particular shop. I love these second hand boots but I feel £25 is reasonable for both parties.

Trouble is, I have cankles and swollen feet at the mo so can't even get the boots on, but they will fit in the new year. Indeed.

Steve models them better than I can at the mo!
In other news, I crocheted a hat for the Princess. I love it. I am rubbish at crochet but did this all myself and she is a happy girl.

And as I have also made a baby blue hat with matching blanket in case we have another son, I also felt I should make a baby girl's hat just in case.

And if it's a boy, I can then donate the smaller hat to Scope.

Karma for the Bertie boots, see?

Next weekend the Husband is off and we are decorating our bedroom. More on that next week. At the moment we are sleeping in our tiny lounge, our bedroom is in bits around the house and it's AWFUL!