Are the summer holidays nearly over?

We all love our kids, we really do! But 6 weeks is a bloody long time without a break from each other! I honestly think Olly has had enough of my face and voice. Whilst I've had enough of his selective hearing and mess! Needless to say, I think speaking on behalf of both of us, September 9th is a welcomed date! Flash forward to said date and I will be sat in my car crying a river that my baby bear has grown up and now he spends all his time with another lady.  You just can't bloody well win!

Often I see quotes, memes and general spam on Facebook that I share, but this was so apt... This is me EVERYDAY!!!

So I have been very busy of late, doing nothing, I haven't had much time to blog. Some of my Facebook friends maybe shouting "HOORAY" for me it's a sad thing though, writing the debacles of my life is a welcomed break... How times have changed!

Musical beds and teeth!
The last week has been fun and games post midnight in our household, I use the phrase fun and games loosely as quite frankly it's been neither. Olly, the secret ninja has mastered the art of getting from his bed to ours, directly in between the husband and I without either of us realising until we get a foot or arm in the face. The hubby, once his head hits the pillow, falls in to the deepest of sleeps! So much so that previously he has commented how well Nancy has slept through the night when actually she's been up and fed twice. In our room. In our bed. Next it him! I on the other hand can be woken up by either babies taking a deep breath. So the bear getting from his room to ours and in to our bed without any other person (or dog) batting an eyelid blows my mind. 
There's a lot of controversy surrounding children being allowed to sleep in their parents bed, whilst I couldn't co-sleep with Nancy, in fear of squashing/suffocating her, Olly at 4 isn't so bad. I don't believe there's a wrong or right answer to the situation. However, rule of thumb we try not to make a habit out of it. One of Steve's old managers once said to him... Don't be too hard on them when they want to get in your bed, they're not little for long. It won't be long before they're too grown up to want a cuddle.  Too true. 
Unfortunately one night last week the 2 little people and fur baby thought it would be fun to royally take the piss out if the parentals... I feel like I need a stiff drink reliving it! 
Nancy is teething and it was a particularly bad night. Crying out. She'd had pain relief, teething gel, teething powders, didn't want nursing, didn't want leaving. One of those 
parenting situations where you have exhausted every option possible but no idea what to 
do next. After what seemed like 4567633 billion hours she finally settled. Cue Molly going mad to go outside, off goes hubs to let her out. Everyone back in bed... Sleep. In comes the bear, not so quietly. With every intention of spending the rest of the night in our bed he came with Olaf under one arm, his water bottle in his other hand and was babbling about something that had happened during the day.
Knackered, exhausted and quite frankly losing the will to live, I lifted the quilt and welcomed him in. If I was lucky I'd get about 4 hours sleep at this stage. He's off to sleep in a jiffy, so are us adults. Nice comfy bed, loving sleep... BAM hand straight in my face. Then I hear Steve... Foot in his back. So hubs (with difficulty due to Olly's mega long limbs) carries the boy back to his room. 40 minutes later he's back. Hubs returns him again.. Back he comes. Nancy wakes. Hubby admits defeat and gets in the boys bed. The boy is in our bed with me. Worst night ever.
5 days later the little lady cuts her first tooth at 5 and a half months and normality (fingers crossed) has resumed.

Supermarket Hell.
Parent & child parking. What are the limits? Does 13 and 14 years old constitute as a child? Do I count for a child at 31 years old if I'm with my mum? After all, I am her child. Or does it count for lazy twats that can't be arsed to walk a few extra feet?! As you see it's a sensitive subject for me. It fumes me to see people without kids parking in them. Shame on the parents that park in the spaces too when they are childless but have a car seat in the car. 
Under normal circumstance, I don't mind parking away from the entrance and walking but when I have 2 children and it's raining I DO!!!! When you have 2 little ones you can't run to dodge the rain resulting in upset, wet soggy kiddies and a pissed off momma. 
I hate shopping at the best of times but it's even more painful with 2 kids in tow and a little bit worse when it's pissing it down and you can't get a space. 1 wet momma and 2 
soggy bottomed sproglets hit sainsburys. 
I know I have a short window of tme to do what I need to do before chaos and madness kicks in. It's a cross between challenge Anneka and supermarket sweep (google it kids!) 
Just as I think I've made it, we get to the check out. Whilst unloading, I find a quarter of the trolleys contents have not been put in by me, in fact it seems Olly had a list of his own. Nancy right on cue starts arching her back and banging her head against the seat. SWEATY UPPER LIP ALERT!!!! She starts wailing this high pitched screech, as I'm going ten to the dozen trying to pack my bags (even the cashier is helping, I think we may have perforated her ear drums) Olly the problem solver puts his hand over her mouth! What must these people be thinking. Everyone is staring. As soon as I've paid and loaded the trolley, I get her out and silence. The tears and screaming stops instantly.
Note to ones self, if you ever find yourself in a situation you don't like, scream, cry and wail until the situation changes.


(Un)Sticky situation.
As our summer sunny days are becoming numbered, I took the plunge and bought all Olly's school uniform down to wash, put on the line and iron ready for September 9th. Starting with iron in labels. Seriously, how hard can it been? Answer... Ridiculously hard.
I ordered 50 personalised labels with a little dinosaur on. I thought 50 was excessive, but that was the smallest amount. I now understand why.
Firstly, the buggars don't stay still. I lined one up on his sweater, following the instructions I covered with a tea towel and pressed. It went on horizontal, when I removed the tea towel it was on a frigging diagonal. Everyone who knows me, knows I have OCD tendencies on the appearance and presentation of my handy work when being observed by others! 
I continued hoping I would improve. 2 sweaters, 4 polo shirts, 2 pair of tailored shorts, 2 pair of tailored trousers, 2 PE shorts, 2 PE tees, a pair of jogging bottoms and a hoody. Once all complete in their own unique, wonky way I washed them (as instructed) 
As I got the first load out the wash (colours) I find said labels stuck to the washer drum. Clearly I've done something wrong. Good job I have spare labels. 
As I empty the second load.., more of the pigging things. I like to consider myself a fairly intelligent person, but seriously... Iron on labels, what's the deal?
I have attempted round two. Failing that, I have stocked up on sharpies!!! I seriously have to up my "school mum" game...

OLLY. MY BABY BEAR. MY BEST BOY IS 4!

Saturday night. The children are asleep. The husband is watching Sky Sports news. I am however wrapping presents, hanging banners and blowing up balloons. 

His playroom (my former dining room) is decorated, we've kept back some of his presents as his daddy has training Sunday morning and as he's signed up for the Leicester marathon in October he is also running almost every day. Therefore he'd left the house before anyone had woke up. They're to be opened when he's back!

Despite over a week of talking about it dragging it out and it being the last thing spoken about before bed last night, the boy us clueless! He has woken up with NO IDEA it's his birthday!!! 

As he enters the playroom enroute to the kitchen the penny drops! Calm to chaos in 0.5 seconds! 

Presents opened, wrapping paper everywhere, nancy flying around in her jumperoo and balloons bouncing around, my house looks like Jurassic World the second. 

Breakfast is consumed at speed, we get dressed and head for Nottingham! As a birthday treat and to pass by time I decided to take Olly along with my sister, mum and his cousins to Planet Bounce an indoor trampoline park in Nottingham that had just opened! I was up against the clock. The sessions run hourly so we needed to be in and parked up by 10:50am. Everyone by now has some idea about my timekeeping however We managed it.... In my head the fanfare is playing, major achievement and massive personal mum points scored!! That is until we find out we had to arrive 30 minutes early to fill all the paper work in and watch the safety video.... There's always someone ready to piss on your parade! LOLZ.

So we had 40 minutes to kill until the next session! I, never one to miss out, signed up to go in too! Sports bra at the ready, nike compression leggings on! I was a force to be reckoned with! 
We're all stood queuing up to be let in, excited united! And 12pm strikes, whistle is blown... 11am session out, 12pm session in... 
We all go running in... Think the original Charlie and the chocolate factory when Gene Wilder opens the door to the factory and no one knows where to go first... That's us! Initially sticking together we head for the air cushion (new and improved sponge pit) I let all the kids go first, then me.... Splat. As I try to get off this air cushion, I can't. I'm the big fat, 5 months post pregnancy momma that can't climb off... Cringin'ell!  As the queue gets bigger my face gets redder... They can't go til I move my lard arse! My 16 year old niece comes to my rescue! Helping hand offered - thanks Ash!

I'm soon aware that half a dozen insanity classes haven't turned me into Wonder Woman... Yet! 

Olly is having absolute blast! As are all the kids! Dodgeball, freeplay, tumble tracks... They are spoilt for choice!

We get braver & I even attempt a somersault in to the air cushion! Olly has been everywhere before returning to the air pocket, he takes a running dive and almost like sinking sand, he sinks deeper in to the cushion. Mini, my 13 year old niece offers to help. Except she's then sinking too, it's that point as a parent you know you should intervene but remember your sinking experience just 30 mins before! Luckily super Ashleigh to the rescue again pulling them out. At this point Olly and Mini are in fits of uncontrollable laughter.

The hour flies by and within 10 mins if being in the car Olly is asleep!

We get back home, the husbands back from training, more presents opened, lunch eaten and we brave Staunton Harold again! We have a safe, uneventful trip and make our way to collect presents from the grandparents. 

My parents bought the best present, science and play dinosaur fossil blocks. With a chisel and hammer you have to dig for dinosaur bones in a plaster block that then form a skeleton.  It is now I'm realising, everyone (pre-Olly/Nancy) that I pissed off with annoying presents for their children etc are getting their own back with messy, loud, annoying presents. Karma; what a bitch!

Great present nanny and grandad but the mess created is highly unwelcomed by this undomesticated, unconventional housewife... 

Happy 4th birthday Olly. You may be a naughty little ratbag, but your my naughty little ratbag. Love you the whole world babba bear xxxx 

The lost week... Part 1

I'm back... After just over a week of non-blogging here I am! I have been bowled over by the response and requests of people asking when my next post would be... Unfortunately I've been snowed under by a little think called life! I'd love to give a day by day rundown of all the exciting things that have been responsible for me not writing but I'm afraid there aren't many! All the days/week just seem to have blended in to one!

This weekend the husband even said to me "you haven't blogged in a while" see, I knew he secretly had a read when he was at work! "I know" I replied "I just haven't had time" "Why? What have you been doing?" Was his response "You've not done anything" RED MIST!!!!!
I pause for a moment, studying his face, is there a secret smirk? Is he dangling the bait, waiting for me to bite? Nope, deadly, serious face. I take a breath and refuse to retaliate. Of course in my head I'm ready throat punch him! Men; seriously clueless... Most of  the time! On "dad's day off" there is only ever playing and fun consumed! Never mind any household jobs, trips to town, food shop etc... 

So, in a bid to discover where the "Lost week" has gone I'm going to have a trip down Memory Lane! Of course there will be eventful discoveries on he way as there always is!

The bears birthday weekend! As if my mum and I weren't big enough suckers for punishment with idyllic country walks combined with my brood, we signed up for yet another.  This time it was the day before Olly's birthday, the destination of choice was Elvaston Castle! We are so lucky to have such beautiful surroundings close by, Derbyshire is completely under rated!

On arrival we park near the ice cream van, first error. How do children know if they ask you the same question (in this case, can I have a ice cream?) 568975324 billion times, that you're just going to give in to shut them up, save your sanity and everyone else in a 5 mile radius' ears. The ice cream van at Elvaston Castle has gone up in the world. Your £1.20 "99's" are a thing of the past, I think I was set back £2.60 for posh waffle cone, 2 flavoured ice cream and a flake, which I'm sure wasn't even Cadburys!!!  The positive - at this stage his hands were clean! 

So we meandered through, Molly was allowed off her lead. At almost 8 years old and after spending her first 4 years as a selective hearing, delinquent pup, she is now actually pretty good off her lead. She's soft as grease and from a distance looks like a child's teddy! She's having a sniff around, returns on demand, until she see's a squirrel. A little like Doug in the Disney film Up, Molly's weaknesses are birds and squirrels. After a few minutes of coaxing we manage to get her away from the tree where the squirrel is taunting her. Strutting along the branch like its hit up London Fashion Week. Olly is by now covered from nose to chin, cheek to cheek in ice cream. 15 minutes in and I'm getting ready for home. As we proceed towards the castle, we reach the large pond where all ducks and swans are. Families are enjoying the nice weather, feeding the birds until Molly bounds towards them (ducks = weakness) all we hear are squawks, flutters and water plus a few gasps. Molly single handily has cleared the pond area. 

Back on the lead she goes! As we arrive to the back of the castle we have a quick re-group. Olly's face cleaned, Molly has a drink of water, I rest my legs as mum does too she manages to sit in the only spot of melted ice cream on the whole 5-6m long bench. She's totally unimpressed. Olly and I are howling with laughter which fuels her rage a little bit more.

We shift round the rest of the park at speed, Olly obviously needs a wee as we get towards the car. So we find a bush, and he is at one with nature. As we make our way back to the path, I get caught by a stinging nettle on the foot....

Home now... HOME HOME HOME!!!!!

August = 4, September = school

On Sunday my little bear turns 4! This birthday is majorly being dragged out. With the football season starting this weekend, we did his party exactly a week early so my husband could be there. However, since last Sunday, whatever we've done or wherever we've been has been "for my birthday" according to my first born. 

Since he was born, I have been anxious about him going to school... He'll only be 4 and 3 weeks when he starts. I almost felt cheated out of a year that other parents have had! For the past year there's been occasions where I've been stopped in town and asked if he's on an inset day. No, he's 3, he just looks like he's 6!!!!

I panicked about how he'd settle, how he'd cope with the change, how he'd behave. We had quite the ordeal when applying for schools, we wanted him to attend a small village school where he attended the feeder playgroup. Unfortunately, as we are out of catchment, we didn't get in. All set for an appeal, we had a stressful home full of tension for weeks.  Finally after I spent weeks crying a river, 4 days before our appeal, we found an alternate school!  Just in time for their induction morning!

On the day of the induction morning, my child, who is not a morning person in the slightest (gets that from me) point blank refused to get up, get dressed, have a wash and have his wild barnet tamed. I was blowing steam out of my arse!!! The one day I needed cooperation he decides he'd rather be a little bugger and do the opposite of everything I asked. 

Project impossible was not going to defeat me, feeling like I was wrestling a crocodile, I took him on and with great difficulty (as he's a lot stronger than he looks) I won! All ready to go, we got in the car and headed on our 15 minute drive. He was a grumpy little toad all the way there, his mood didn't improve in the car. As I mentioned in another post, my time keeping or rather lack of it leaves a little to be desired! We arrive bang on time, but then have the pram to assemble and a couple of minutes walk to get to the school. Of course, grumpy storms towards the school, arms folded under his chin in a major strop like the threenager that he is. As he charges on he trips, falls and grazes his arm. Not even 9:30am and I'm ready to stick my head in an oven! 

I brush him down, give him a squeeze and a kiss, grab his hand and we proceed. When we arrive they've already taken their class photo, Olly won't let go of my leg, the heads trying to crack on with the parents meeting and I'm getting a severe sweat on. 

Just for once in my life, I'd love something important to go smoothly, I couldn't even walk down the aisle after getting married without falling over!  Everyone has that one friend that everything happens to, that's me! I am that friend. 

I leave him with his new teacher and pray for the best (seemed appropriate with it being a church school!) The parents meeting finished early so we're allowed to spy on our off springs. Of course everyone's is playing clean and nicely. Not mine, shoes and socks off, outside, upto his elbow in mud in the mud kitchen. Running flying jump in to the sandpit, charging around,. Smetimes ignorance is bliss, so I head to buy uniform. The other parents are dithering over whether a 3-4 years will be ok,. Me? I go straight for the age 5-6 and explain I may even need to swap it for the 7-8 cause they don't look very big! 

I make my way towards the classroom to see how he's getting on. When I look in I can't see him anywhere. Panic sets in, has be planned an escape?... Nope, he's just gone to the toilet. How do I know you ask? Did his teacher tell me? No. I find out when he leaves the class bathroom  with just his boxers on cause his trousers were "getting in the way"  at this point I realise he's going to be fine, this boy will not be shy, won't get nervous, he's prancing around his class in his under crackers for gods sake only 2 hours after meeting these people!

I just hope school is ready for him...

How now Frau Brow?!

Guess what's back? Back again? ONLY THE RUDDY BROWS!!!!!! 

I'm happier than a pig in.... Need I say any more? Whilst trying to do the bath production line this morning, beepity beep went mobilly. I thought it would be my mums daily "everything ok?" message, I think she sends that to make sure I've not stuck Olly in a straight jacket!  But no, sister number 1, Lisa, has come to the rescue! 

A birds egg custard is a small price to pay! I suspect some maybe wondering why she has a costly, unused MAC brow brush? Truth be told, we went to NYC for Thanksgiving in November 2012 - who doesn't love a bit of Black Friday retail therapy?!?! We both splurged on some MAC brushes amongst other products. This brush in her collection remained surplus to requirement until now!

Normality can finally resume...

The struggle is real (part 2)

Last night after returning from insanity my phone was going wild... The struggle just got harder, Krispy Kreme are only ruddy well opening a stall in the Derby Westfield or Intu as it's called now! Great. If my retail therapy addition wasn't enough reason to avoid town, this now is!

All night I dreamt about Reese's doughnuts. To make matters worse, when the bed thief (Olly) woke up this morning he wanted the TV on in our room! Of course like any awkward child would, he wanted to watch something that wasn't on any of the available channels so I flicked through the sky plus. Between trying to find an episode of  Wally bloody Kazam and attend to a now woken and starving baby, the 2014 Victoria's Secret Fashion Show ended up on! KILL ME NOW!!!! I know I'm too late for #WCW (Woman Crush Wednesday) Major girl crush/body & face envy all round. These girls are hot Momma's!  And I can say that with reason as some of them ARE mums! Bet they're the Queen MILF's on their kids playgrounds!!!! LOLZ!!

So part 2 of my struggle. Food. I love food. I think about what I'm going to have for my next meal before I've finished the one I'm eating. (Head in hands)

Last year I was going to Ibiza for one of my best friends hen weekend, I didn't want to be the "fat friend" I wanted to wear a bikini, feel confident enough to do so  and not have to rely on alcohol! My husband did me a plan (it's part of his job) and from January-May I lost what I wanted, coincidently bought myself  a Victoria Secrets bikini and partied hard at the Ocean Beach Club Champagne Spray opening party!

I gained a staggering 3.5 stone whilst pregnant with Nancy. The scary part is I lost weight in the first 20 weeks cause I was is ill, you couldn't even tell I was pregnant until 22 weeks. But the next 18+3 made up for it. She was a 9lb baby born! Between having her, breast feeding and relatively healthy eating I managed to shift 1.5 stone before having a break down.

My husband, ever the romantic, did what I had to do! Having no experience with breast feeding and dietary requirements, he got me a nutritionist! Who said romance was dead?!?  I gest.... It really was the best present he could have got me!

I had my appointment with Sarah Duffield from MacNutrition they're kind of a big deal in their field of work. Sarah has set me a plan which allows me to lose weight yet maintain the calories I need to keep breast feeding Noodles! So far I'm 13lbs down. The last 2 weeks I have fallen off the plan wagon but as of this week I am back on it!!!!!

Now I'm going to try and avoid depressing weight posts from now, they'll lose me readers for sure!!! I will however keep you mildly posted on my progress and IF it's a massive IF I get the confidence, I'll post some before and after shots!

Eyebrow update...

Just a quick update for those showing concern...

I'm still eyebrow free. Today I tried to hide the lack of them with glasses instead of contact lenses. FAIL.

So I went make up free. If you're going to look a twat, you may as well give it your all.

After all, I am an all or nothing kind of girl.

Lisa if you're reading, my desperation is at breaking point, can you get of your rump and please find me the beautiful MAC brow brush you don't use! Thanks in advance!!!

The struggle is real (part 1)

If the saying "sweat is your fat crying" then my fat must be having a full on Nikki Grahame style tantrum (if you're that one in a billion person that doesn't know who she is, watch this clip) please note bad language throughout... Sorry!

One of my best friends, Nikki (not of the Grahame variety) began Insanity classes this time last year along with her sister in law. I was suffering with all day sickness and nausea at this time as I was about 8/9 weeks pregnant! As I got fatter, Gemma and Nikki were getting fitter.

My obsessive social media disorder kicked in and I started following Insane Fitness with Victoria Sutton on Facebook and Instagram. With good intentions I committed to Nikki and myself that I would sign up for these classes post babies.

As I suffered badly during my pregnancy with Nancy I had to wait around 12 weeks before I started exercising as the pain was still there in my left hip/groin.  I guess it wasn't my wisest idea to sign up for the Color Obstacle Run or attempt to  do it 2 weeks after this with no training... But that's another story for another time!

Back to insanity.... It soon became apparent that getting a space in these classes was as hard as finding a pair of black patent Christian Louboutin Pigalle's back in Autumn 2013. I put myself on the waiting list and waited... And waited... And waited. Then out of the blue, BAM a space became available. Squeaky bum time! Off to my first insanity class I was going. This was about 6 weeks ago.

The class started at 7:30pm, "I'll pick you up at 7" were Nikki's words. "I'll drive; you're ALWAYS late. We CAN'T be late".... Ahhhhh Ye with little faith. Unfortunately her observation was pretty accurate. Time keeping is not my strength.... This is me.

It was only a 10 minute journey from my house but when we arrived I understood why. Toria is ex-military. Totally inspiring as she has a wee nipper herself but doesn't take prisoners. She's not there to stroke your ego, she's there to kick your arse and give you what you've paid for; a beasting. That aside she's a very lovely lady! 

As the music started and she opened her mouth I shit myself! Despite being a fit person pre-pregnancy, 32 weeks of very little intense exercise and just under 2 stone heavier than I was before, this was likely to kill me!

During my first class I felt sick rise in my throat a handful of times, was dripping with sweat and aching like I'd been battered with a cricket bat! I hated the class, loathed it and yes I continued to put myself on the waiting list.

I struggled to walk up and down the stairs, stand up and sit down, pick up my children and change gears in my car for approximately 4 days.  I also felt like I'd got 2 black eyes from my enlarged, milk filled bossom. I could give Katie Price, pre-reduction, a run for her money.  (Any recommendations on sports bras for the larger busted ladies extremely welcome!)

I continued on the waiting list, getting on most weeks.  My fitness is gradually improving. I do however feel like the big fat biffa at the back of the class with the doughnut forming jelly belly mum tum. I try to blend in to the back wall, unfortunately my vein pulsating, cherry head disallows this! 

Finally, August classes were released and I earned myself a place in the class! No waiting list for me! POW! I was feeling pretty damn smug! Like a twat I signed up for 2 classes a week during August... WHHHHYYYYY???????? Oh I remember, I've bought a rather expensive Ted Baker dress for the husbands best friends wedding in Dubai in November in a BLADDY SIZE TEN!!!!! 

Tonight was my first time going to class on my own, Nikki is on holiday. And yes I was freaking late.... Drives Steve mad. I never give myself enough time for anything (hangs head in shame) I under estimate the actual time it takes to do things/gets places.

My heart starts beating faster... Sweaty palm alert. I get to the venue and there's no parking spaces anywhere, I've got 5 mins til Shaun T and Toria start shouting... SSSSSHHHHIIIITTTTT!! Round the one way system I go again like a space is going to miraculously come available. This time it's 7:28pm... Waaaahhhhhh!!! So out of desperation I park a good few minutes walk and run down. I get there, pay, go to the back and pray. Pray i'll make it through a) on my own b) with the sweat on I've already worked up and c) that my heart rate can cope increasing any more.

"LEVEL 7 TONIGHT" Toria shouts, I haven't got a clue what each level entails but just thank the gods above it's not level 13 as everyone was crying about that... I've not yet had the dis-pleasure. (If you're reading Toria it doesn't mean I'm requesting!) my puddings are bouncing all over the place despite my best efforts to strap them down! My belly is wobbling, legs shaking, sick in the throat and enough sweat to bath a small child! But I made it through without my safety blanket, Nikki. 

As I came out the class I felt like my head was going to pop! I stumbled down the stairs and embraced the walk back to my car in the rain! I've come home, fed Noodles and feel well and truly pooped!

The struggle is real people! But this mummy tummy, doughnut belly, flubber what ever you wish to call it is going to go!!!

Hoardin'ell!

There's that old saying, from little acorns grow big oak trees. I've found a more appropriate one. From little munchkins grow pains in the arse.

Just before I got in to bed last night, I popped my head in to my little big bears room. He has the most beautiful face, thick long lashes just like his daddy, a cute button nose and rose bud lips. So many similarities between him and Noodles. I stared at him for a few minutes thinking to myself how something so angelic can be such a devil once his eyes open! Clearly charging up whilst he rests!

As we creep up to his 4th birthday (5 days to go) I think back to this time 4 years ago. I was massive. Disgusting. My skin stretched that much I genuinely thought it was going to split! I thought I was easily having a 10lber . Imagine my shock when he was only 7lb 9oz!!!! That was a lot of additional timber I was going to have to shift! Surprisingly I manage to escape with not one stretch mark on my tummy!

Over the past 4 years I have been terrible at discarding things. Clothes, blankets, toys... The list goes on. Only when I found out we were having a girl with Nancy did I finally let his clothes go... I wanted to cry as I did, but kept sentimental bits and bobs; Hospital to home outfit, first DCFC baby grow, first pair of shoes etc. My sisters friends daughter had premature twin boys and already had a little girl under one.  I sent all of Olly's clothes, some worn just once, to her. She got caught out and had little time to get organised. 

Before

Toys. We have enough to open our own Toys'r'us. This morning we've had the carpets deep cleaned, our beautiful dining room has been hijacked by the bear. It's turned into his playroom. With that in mind do you think every other room in the house (with the exception of his bedroom) would be toy free. That would be incorrect. 

Every parent will empathise with the small human takeover that happens. When you welcome these small bundle of joys in to your world you open your life, heart and home up to them.  At that point you the lose the right to any "adult only" areas.

With the carpets been cleaned we had to empty the rooms. So yesterday I thought I would take the opportunity to de-clutter/reduce the toys that we have. I also thought it only fair that the bear helps. After all, they are his toys. What a stupid, stupid idea from ones self...

What should of took a couple of hours took 6. SIX FRIGGING HOURS. I was raging. Six hours of my life I will never get back. Me and the boy had a serious marmite relationship going on whilst the task at hand took place.  One minute we loved each other, the next, not so much. Every single toy I put in the rubbish bag (broken, lost parts, damaged... I would donate perfectly working toys we no longer used to charity shops) he got back out. "But this is my favourite" "momma I love this" "not you throw that away, it's mine" I seriously lost the will. It was a painful task.  I felt like I had a miniature terrorist following me, sabotaging my work.  2 steps behind undoing everything I was doing.  Under normal circumstance I would've walked away and left the mess, but knowing at 9:30am the cleaners were arriving I knew I had to persevere.

I saw this on Facebook today.... This was us all over!

It was a painful experience with a hoarding child worse than his momma, a teething baby that just wants to be held (it's amazing what you can learn to do with one arm) but we survived.  I even think we had a slightly impressed Daddy when he got home. I on the other hand needed a stiff drink. Instead I had an apple and black currant cordial, downfalls of breast feeding!



Carpets are now done. Hooray. Now to return the filtered down toy collection.

After

(No) Return of the MAC (brush)

Typical Monday. Even when I'm on maternity they can still be a croc of shit. Speaking of crocs, I once saw a quote on Instagram saying...

"If Monday were a shoe, it'd be a croc"

Never a truer word written!!!!

The husband started work later today as his training times had changed. He seemed to get out of bed the wrong side. Maybe it was the fact Olly was shoving dinosaurs in his face before 7:30am which started his bad mood. Whilst I was at theatre school (where I studied my National Diploma in professional dance) we studied Anatomy and Physiology.  We were told males go through a 6 week cycle, similar to a females menstrual cycle but minus the period. They do however have the imbalanced hormones and mood swings amongst other delightful attributes. I'm not sure how much truth is in this but I definitely believe it. Olly waking up to Steve being here is a novelty as most days he's left the house before anyone has got up. I asked him if he'd read my blog. No. Was his blunt reply. Quickly followed by "when have I had time?" Sod him were my thoughts. An hour or so later I approached the subject again. "Try and have a read if you get time" I say. "I wouldn't mind your opinion" his response this time was classic Steve... "Why? I'm the only one who isn't in the title" maaasive case of only child syndrome!!!!!

Anyway, with him being here our morning got somewhat delayed. By 11am nancy was the only person dressed in the house (minus steve who had now gone to work) after 3687432567 billion attempts to get Olly to put his clothes on I gave up. I felt like I was starting the bloody menopause with how hot and flustered I'd gotten myself. I left him in his bedroom half dressed throwing himself around the floor. Nancy was lay in her cot having a stretch and a coo, so I thought I'd take the opportunity to put my face on. 

Now thanks to serious over plucking in the late 90's/early 00's my eyebrows are virtually none existent. Despite being a brunette, what little eyebrows I have are actually fair. So on a daily basis I go through the ritual of drawing them on. It's a massive ball ache but means must. I used to have  HD brows done by a fantastic lady called Elaine Coyle based in Derby. If you have brows to work with, she creates eyebrow miracles. For me it was pointless as it was dye on my skin which washed off pretty much straight away. 

So I invested in some Anastasia Beverley Hills Dipbrow and a wonderful brow brush from MAC. 

Without blowing my own trumpet, after years of practice my eyebrow game is quite strong. As I was finishing up, just evening them out Olly started banging on his bedroom window. Louder and louder, my concentration started to falter. With his banging came tears from Nancy's nursery, my palms started to sweat as I knew my time was now limited. As I returned my brow brush to my make up bag is slipped out of my hand. Almost in slow motion it fell, fell towards the bathroom floor. Twisting and turning like an Olympic gymnast. It hit the floor and rolled towards the back of the toilet pipes. To a deep, dark, unreachable place. I dropped to my knees in sheer desperation trying to salvage said brush. It was no use... It was gone. In to an abyss. Never to been seen again unless we rip the plumbing out. More chance of me being asked to be on the cover of Vogue than that happening.

As maternity pay is so crap combined with there not being a MAC in Derby, from tomorrow I will either a) offend your eyes b) be sporting a hat c) be sporting self given bangs or d) signing up for cabin fever again...

Happy Monday everyone. Only 4 sleeps until the weekend!

Momma, make a doughnut with your belly...

10 years ago weight was never an issue... Ate what I want, when I want. The same with drink... Lord knows pre-babies days I loved a drink.  Booze hound Central! 

Then came kids, partnered up with ageing

Before I had Olly I was a size 8/10 with pert bobs, a nice toned tummy, toned legs, toned everything.... The only toned thing about me now is my hair! After Olly was born I hit a state of depression; self loathing. I went a little bit doo-lally, reclusive and avoided going out a lot. 
Being a skinny Minnie pre-pregnancy, I had let people delude my mind about how I would have a tiny neat bump, look like I'd "swallowed a pickled onion" a beach ball bump. This pregnancy lark was sounding brilliant! 

Unfortunately for me pregnancy hated on me as much as I hated on it! Of course I am rich beyond all measures with the final products! I am reminded frequently by my older students at dance how I have the perfect Nuclear family! (Some psychology babble).  However, I hate it when I have a moan (may I point out that a) I was pissed off & b) I'm British; it's in our DNA) that  people are quick to make accusations of my "ungratefulness" and how I should "count my blessings".  I am fully aware of how lucky I am and never take for granted what I have. But pregnancy treated me badly. My weight soared, I retained water, I looked like the bladdy marshmallow man from Ghostbusters for Gods sake! Mentally I wasn't prepared for the drastic changes that took place with my body.  Second time round I had a bad case of SPD (not an STD as many people at work thought I said, LOLZ!) and a wonky pelvis. So I think I warrant a bitch and a moan when I feel like one!

The aftermath of pregnancy on both occasions has left me with a god awful jelly belly, I'm sure many can relate with this. The unfortunate thing second time round is I had an honest 3 year old quick to point out my flaws.

1) 4 hours after Nancy was born... "Momma, when's that other baby going to come out of your belly" 
2) A week after Nancy was born... "When that other baby comes out of Momma's belly I'm going to get a brother"
3) 4 weeks after Nancy was born... "Momma, why have you still got a big belly?" At this point there is genuine concern
4) "Momma, look, when we squeeze your belly it makes a doughnut" I have 2 little hands grabbing the excess flab and skin around my belly button and indeed, one very large doughnut is created... 

Talk about hit a girl when she's down... Right now a LARGE glass of wine would be delightful, not when you're breast feeding though... Waaaahhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!

Time to make a change, here "project pre-baby bod" was born, insert muscle emoji!

A serious case of instagreen eyed monster!

I'm a self confessed, social media addict. Like Carrie Bradshaw in Manolo Blahnik, give me the social medianisms in any form, I can't get enough... FaceyB, Twitter, Instagram, Blogs... I have spent hours, weeks, years of my life that I will never ever get back, trawling through useless information and generally being nosey.  My hubby hates it. My friend Fiona and I talk like we know celebrities when we discuss their weekly shenanigans. He shakes his head in despair and most likely questions what he's married! Again, I think this stems back to how resourcefully I use my time... Oops!

We've all been there, if you say you haven't I don't know how you sleep at night!!!! Where you've been on Instagram and clicked on that little looking glass! "discover people" you've clicked on someone who knows your work friend and before you know it you've click, click, clicked and ended up on your work friends, friends, sisters, boyfriends, cousins, next door neighbours, ex wives, step daughters page... 

I'm sucked in to the insta-hype of perfect lives, houses fit for show homes, cake making for fun extraordinaires and mums that drop their mum tums in 3 weeks. As my rested bitch face looks like a slapped backside I lure myself in to this false sense of hope that this will one day be me. LOLZ. There's as much chance of that happening as me becoming housewife/domesticated goddess of the year (insert laughing emoji) 

I find myself following insta-famous locals that I forget I don't actually know when I see them in town, shabby chic house design ideas which I'll never attempt making and handmade kids clothes and accessories based in Australia which I'll never buy from cause they don't ship to the UK!!!

2 kids, a pooch & a husband that works 6 days a week, I envy those #flatlay outfit mums, in our house in a morning it's what ever you can get away with without ironing or which can be ironed (on one side only) the quickest! 

However I feel I am doing myself an injustice! My little urchins always look the business, maybe slightly crumpled and my husband would confirm I have a slight (meaning big) shopping addiction. They start the day looking like semi-catalogue kids; the end of the day is a different matter! No ones ever quick enough to post the "after pics" though, except me! What's not to love about a 4 year old that's been rolling round in mud and hair looks like he's had a minor shock!

Haters gonna hate, my names Mrs H and I'm an instagreen eyed monster!!! 

Sinking mud can kiss my arse...

The elusive Staunton Harold trip.

On a Friday my mum finishes work at 1pm. She's a hostess for Toyota. Lovely, smiley lady who makes a cracking brew. After multiple phone calls from me whinging about my loveable rogue she suggested a walk out at Staunton Harold.

So off we headed! Molly was whimpering with excitement as we arrived! She maybe 8 years old this year but life has treated her well, she doesn't look a day over 2 and often gets mistaken for a pup! What a bitch!

Disaster number 1. The pay & display card machine was broken. Brilliant. In the middle of nowhere with about 60p between us. Mum is at the car with Nancy and Molly, Olly is jumping around over the new landscaped area like a chimp, I'm stressing. Decision? Sod it, I like to live life on the edge. Let's risk it... No ticket for us. Pow!

It was a lovely afternoon, sun shining, sunglasses on. First stop, a quick play on the park. Mum takes a seat on one of the picnic benches with Noodles and Molly chops, I go to "supervise" the boys play. Lesson number one, always expect the unexpected with my eldest. From the park he spots "the beach" to us, the reservoir shore.

Disaster number 2. Why is it that my almost 4 year old can run rings round me, literally. When not on maternity leave I am a Primary School PE and School Sports Specialist. I am going to blame the extra, post-baby timber that I'm carrying around for my slackness. The little rat decides he's going to run into the forest area. Please someone offer me some solace and agree that their patience-ometer goes from 0-100 in 0.000001 seconds when you're in a busy public place and your child WON'T FREAKING LISTEN TO YOU. Well karma prevailed and the little smarty pants fell over a branch. "Sorry for not listening Momma" loves given, grazed knee cleaned. We continued.

My mum at this point is looking mortified at the fact this is her second daughter, with an errant son, that is letting the whole of South Derbyshire know how pissed off she is with her selected hearing child. My sister Nicola set the trend with Charlie who is now 10, almost 11; still a little smart arse but has generally improved in the behaviour/listening department.

As we get closer to "the beach" Olly spots the big boys skimming stones. Molly who is good off her lead, myself and Olly head down to the water. Cue....

Disaster number 3. As we get on the sanded area there is a little creek that meanders down to the water. It varies in width. Olly being a boy, naturally wants to leap over the widest point, I reason with him and we go over a narrower section. We throw a few stones. Mum watches on from up by the path with Noodles. As I say it's time to go we head back to the creek and again Super Olly wants to launch himself across the widest point. I say not. But you know, when you're 4 and don't actually give a shit about consequences why the hell not. Over he goes, loses his balance, brand new converse (which by the way my child needs a new pair of shoes every 6 weeks cause his feet grow that fast) end up in sinking mud. Fan-friggin-tastic. Better still, what Olly does, Molly does. The white fluff ball throws herself in to the mud with him and rolls around in it. If I were animated, this is the part where steam would be blowing out of every orifice possible. I frog march them back to my mum who by now could stop traffic with her face. She did not bring us up to be public screamers. Sorry, not sorry mum. Do we turn back to the car. Nope. The mud is drying before ANY of them get in to my car. Which coincidentally is a wheelie bin thanks to the pair of them.

On we go. As we continue to walk to the sailing club. The 2 of them decide to run off up and over a hill. We've already established my fitness isn't much to scream about at the moment. Out comes rent-a-gob again.

I admit defeat. White flag well and truly raised. Back to the car we go. One baby that's slept through it all, one Nanny that can't cope with the public embarrassment, one 3 year old with a grazed knee and mud clay caked shoes, one mud clay matted pooch and a momma that's losing the will to live. Homeward bound. Needless to say we weren't invited in to my mums when we dropped her home. The only positive taken from the day. No parking ticket. Every cloud and all that...

And so it begins...

It's Sunday evening. As I sit in my lounge (which looks like a bomb site) my little noodles is on my lap asleep after her feed, my hubster is sat next to me eating birthday cake and I'm reflecting on the weekend. 
My baby bear, whom is more a big bear these days, turns 4 next week and today we've had his birthday party at a local pub play area.  This party has been "cancelled" more times than I've stood on dinosaurs these past few weeks due to his wild behaviour. I think we all knew, including him, that it was never going to be cancelled! The aftermath of a great day is a room full of new toys and the re-occurring question we're faced with every birthday/Christmas; where are we going to put them all?
Whilst getting a quick 10 mins in the tub this evening I decided I would start a blog. I've read other mums' and thought I wouldn't mind giving it a go, maybe no one will read it, maybe they will! But at least it'll give my Facebook friends a break from my moaning!
So, after getting out the bath I inform the husband I'm starting a blog, cue positive, animated, excited facials from ones self.  His response... I'm surprised you've got the time! As mentioned in my biog, I'm an undomesticated goddess. My intentions are good, my reality is crap. Maybe the time I've taken writing this I could've tidied the kitchen, resolved the bomb site lounge situation, done a spot of ironing... No such luck. Sorry hubs. You can lead the horse to water and all that...
My husband coaches in professional sport. This time of year as they start the new season he works long hours, goes on tour and like a saint signs up for a marathon in 2 months time. With all that he's not home that much at the moment.
So it's down to me to keep the plates spinning.
Noodles has had a cold for the past week so we've been pretty much house bound. As a breast fed baby she's just wanted to feed and be comforted therefore we've stayed in. By Friday all parties had a strong case of cabin fever. So we headed out to Staunton Harold Reservoir with my mum. What was meant to be a nice walk could only turn in to a disaster with us....