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Showing posts from 2015

Bees.

So, I've been convinced Dude was going to be weaned at least four times.  Once when he bit me so hard I looked down expecting to see a piece of my nipple missing.  Once when I went to Amsterdam for three days.  Once when he turned two.  Once when I went to Texas for five days. Obviously, none of those times was "the time Dude was weaned".  The boy is, and always has been, a boob jockey.  You should see how happy his little face is when I get out of the shower.  He has been known to climb into my lap on the sofa, assume the position, tug at the neck of my shirt and demand "bees".  (Insert obligatory "bitty" joke here.) Let me set the scene for the last couple of weeks in our house.  There has been the usual amount of coughing and spluttering, and just for fun we added in the obligatory flu immunisation.   This saw both kids spiking a fever on and off for a couple of days.  At one point, Dude walked past my lovely clean bra drying on the door handle

Eight weeks.

So, yesterday marked the eight week milestone with my Thrive supplements.  I thought I'd update, as I've been pretty quiet about it since the first week or so. Let's just start with the fact that I haven't lost any weight.  That said, it's not marketed as a weight loss product, that's just one of the side effects for some people.  Also, I've made really terrible food choices in the last couple of months.  *lol*  I'm still dealing with some depression and eating disorder issues, and those will take time to sort out.  Plus, I don't get regular unbroken sleep, which is one of the big things that people say matters with healthy weight loss. I've seen major changes, though, in the following: The skin on my stomach and the backs of my arms doesn't feel thin and crepey anymore.  I've noticed firmer, more elastic skin, and for me those are major problem areas, so I'm pretty happy about it. My hair is growing noticeably faster, as are

Karma, you b*tch.

So, today's our eight year wedding anniversary.  We've had a hell of a ride, and the last four years have been over the top crazy and amazing what with Madam and Dude joining our little troupe, but that's not what I'm going to talk about right now. No, what I want to talk about is karma.  The vindictive b*tch. This morning, while stripping the bed during Dude's morning ablutions, I saw a spider.  Let me elaborate.  I saw a huge, nightmare inducing, size of a compact car spider, on the bedroom wall.  I think my heart stopped for a moment, but when I regained use of my fear-frozen limbs, I managed to order the spider not to move and ran to the bathroom for a what even I have to admit was a ridiculously huge wad of loo roll with which to dispatch said beast. When I ran back in, he was still there.  Staring at me.  Daring me to approach him. I dared. Yes, I made awful faces while I dealt with him.  Yes, I shuddered uncontrollably before, during and after the p

Grody, Dude.

I had an NCT committee meeting on Sunday night, just a general catch up to go over recent and upcoming events, and while I was there I received a text from Himself.  Apparently, Dude had taken advantage of my absence and floated one in the bath.  Not even a small one.  A hefty, full size poo.  In the tub.  Which of course meant that Himself had to fish it out, drain the tub and shower the boy.  I, of course, found this highly amusing. Until yesterday. I really needed to wash my hair, and Dude had painted himself with the Nutella from his toast, so I thought to save time and take him in with me.  He likes to sit under the showerhead anyway, so I got on with washing my hair while he played with his dinosaur.  (This is not a euphemism.  He keeps a t-rex in the bathroom for this very purpose.)  I got out to throw on some clothes and planned to grab him once dressed. That's when he started shouting. Now, I figured the water had gone cold.  This has happened before.  Or, there wa

Thrive life, y'all.

So, after the last post (sort of during it, really) I started to break out in hives.  Like, all over my body, red, raised, stinging hives.  Spreading, changing formation, travelling fun.  I ended up in A&E for a hefty dose of steroids and antihistamines and was told it was stress.  Go figure.  So, I had to stop the boot camp and the running, and have been trying to take it easier, get more sleep, drink more water, etc. to destress and get my body back to normal.  I was completely gutted, I thought that I was finally on my way to being more active, healthier, perhaps even thinner... meh. Anyway, a friend in the states has been posting about this stuff she's been using for almost a month.  She's lost over a stone, has loads of energy and feels generally fabulous.  Honestly, I didn't put much credence to it, I'm pretty skeptical when it comes to "miracle pills".  Ketones, green coffee, whatever the heck else is out there, it all sounds too good to be true (

Asshole.

So, it's been a weird month for me.  I had some childhood stuff rear its ugly head through a trigger I didn't even know existed.  It manifested in a few weeks of bulimia and smoking, a lot of feeling miserable, one long and involved unaired blog post, and a few very honest conversations with various family members.  I've kicked the bulimia (for now), haven't quite managed to give up the smokes, but have started some positive behaviours by attending a boot camp twice a week and running a couple of times a week with a friend or by myself (with Dude in the pushchair of course). As part of my attempt at a fresh start, I attempted a conversation with another family member that has been estranged for a while.  Bad idea.  See, I'm an asshole. So let me just put this out there.  I embrace the asshole-dom.  Pretty much every bad thing I had to live through in my life came from people not having the difficult conversations.  It wasn't "their business" to tal

Ugly American (ombre).

So, I've never been super picky about my hair.  If I got a bad cut (and I've had a few) I figured I could either cut it short and start again or wait for it to grow out.  No big deal. However, I never paid big bucks to get it done.  If I wanted the colour changed, I did it myself.  Sometimes Himself helped.  I went through just about every colour of the rainbow in my twenties, including blacklight sensitive shades, just ask The Mimi.  *grin* Anyway, I decided that for my 35th birthday, I wanted to try the ombre thing.  Sister Two has had the blonde version for a while, and I like the way it looks, but I've never been one to do anything halfway.  Purple was the way to go.  I trawled Pinterest for a good picture to show the stylist and settled on the below. Cute, right?  I know, I've not got fringe, a thin face, or a swanky hat, but I figured it was a good jumping off point for the shade of purple I liked.  You'll notice, the colour starts below her chin...

Fingers.

I'm used to little fingers in and around my mouth.  Most of the time they're forcibly inserted for the purposes of making me pretend to eat them, eliciting giggles from both bratlets.  Sometimes it's to make a grab for my barbell, which has thus far (thankfully) been unsuccessful.  Other times it's to share food.  It's a regular occurrence. So when Dude sat in my lap earlier while I was attempting to check my email, I didn't think twice when he shoved his stubby little finger in my mouth. That's when I felt something squish. I can tell you, I looked up from my email sharpish.  I pulled his finger out and saw with mounting horror something looking suspiciously like poo.  I'm frantically casting my eyes over his body, and I won't lie, I'm gagging a little at the thought that he's dipped that stubby little finger into the back of his nappy, when I realise that he's scraped bird poo (the lovely green goosey kind) off my shoe on the floo

Boobs are a touchy subject.

So, an old friend of mine (we'll go with OF for this one) in Texas had a baby right before Christmas.  As you can imagine, I was pretty excited to meet the sproglet and to catch up with those who so cleverly made her.  I proceeded to sort through some of Herself's small things, choosing a few of my favourites to pass on, and a few silly little gifty things, and made plans to pop by OF's parents' house to say hi. Let me just lay this out for you.  I had the whole family in tow, which was understood before we were invited.  Perhaps, hindsight being what it is, I should have arranged for the first visit to be sans bratlets, but it didn't occur to me at the time.  So here we are, jet lagged after the HellFlight and spotty sleep, arriving to meet the fresh baby, and first thing I see is a huge well decorated tree with a pile of beautifully wrapped presents beneath it.  Now, as we discussed in the last post, that's Dude's version of catnip.  So I'm already a

Furious flights, familial festivities.

Since we've procreated, we made a deal with our respective families that we'll alternate Christmases.  One year here in the UK, one year in Texas.  This year was a Texas year.  Yee haw. Himself, being the savvy consumer that he is, searched around for the flights.  He found the best deal for the time we wanted to spend in the States and booked it for what was, to me, a staggering £2600.  Just out of curiosity, he checked a few weeks later.  The same flights were up to £4000.  A week or two before Christmas he checked again. £7000. For.  The.  Same.  Flights. Because apparently the Reason for the Season is for the airlines to squeeze as much out of people wanting to spend the holidays with their families as they possibly can.  Gross. Anyway, we piled into the cab on the morning of the 22nd to head to the airport.  Little did we know that the ride to Heathrow would be the last moments of peace we had before we hit the tarmac in Dallas.  I can't even tell you how bad