Happy birthday to pregnant, 35 year old, me

Someone… please shoot me now. OR take me to the nearest Four Seasons Hotel for a long day of sleep and Spa treatments while I decide what to do moving forward.  35 came around pretty quick if you ask me.  I don’t likey.  At all.  I had soo many things I wanted to do. Or expected myself to do.

First, where is that yatch I promised myself when I was 22?  Or my weekend country house, with adjoining guest house, pool and acres of land, in the South of France?  What happened to staying wrinkle free (ok mine are creeping in but its more alcohol and drug related to be fair), skinny forever, and always looking fabulous?

Well….. I’ll tell you where it’s all fucked off to.  That zest for life, that hunger.  It’s trapped inside a 7 month pregnant body which now spends its days rocking back and forth in a bedroom in Hong Kong, wondering “how the fuck am I going to deal with 3 kids under the age of 2.5 years old?”  And that’s not including my fourth child, the Captain, who needs just as much attention (if not more sometimes) when it comes to his food, picking up after him, making sure he gets time with Mummy (otherwise he starts whining in a childish fashion).  He also moans like the kids do until he has my full attention. It’s all become a surreal joke that I’m expecting to wake up from soon.  

When my birthday popped up this month, I was sooo not in the mood for it.  Why? Well, in my mind, I was going to Vegas to celebrate this milestone birthday.  Yes, that’s right. I was going to fly over there with my closest friends, and blow the doors off, in every sense of the word.  I even had Timmy Two Toes mobile number on speed dial for when we arrive in town to collect our class A provisions.  

Anyhow, as I am clearly very pregnant, none of this trip was meant to be  although I AM doing it…. next year.  So, I went out for a lovely evening with friends to a Jazz club in Central Hong Kong, which actually turned out to be brilliant and there was a huge crowd of us.  It was however towards the end of our evening when some dumb arse stupid judgemental cow turned to her boyfriend/whoever he was and stated “I would never be out at this time if I was that pregnant!”  WHAT A CHEEKY COW!  It was around 11pm when this sweeping and fucking annoying statement was said.  

I must point out that I was (a) Not dancing on any tables with my big pregnant belly hanging out in a crop top (b) swigging glass after glass of wine (only Champagne for me dahlink) (c) This had been my first night in town in months.  I have literally become Angelina Jolie and gone into hiding with this pregnancy as I hate how I look at the moment, and (d) this is my third child… so I can do what the hell I want!!  I’ve got ages before I start screwing them up in real life.  I was dressed in black (as you do to cover any bulging shape my body has now enveloped) and I was in fact sitting down chatting to friends.  

As it turns out, I was not the one to actually hear this comment.  It was The Captain who did and jumped in to speak to this ignorant idiot of a woman, who had no kids, no ring on her finger and clearly, no idea what she was talking about.  The Captain told her to keep her thoughts to herself and that not only was I celebrating a huge birthday, but that this is in fact my 3rd child and I know what I’m doing…. kinda.  The bird who made her dumb statement, then tried to backtrack and didn’t really have an intelligent word to say… mainly because she was drunk (lucky cow).

Anyhow… I have 9 weeks to go before baby arrives and in these weeks we are looking to move apartments and are going to Phuket for Crismukkah & New Year.  Apparently us Jews (I converted remember) aren’t meant to celebrate Xmas but I grew up in an hypocritical Muslim household and we LOVED Xmas every year.   It wasn’t about Jesus in our house but about getting drunk.  I LOVED IT!  It was the time to sit with all the family (& friends who popped in), to get drunk, play board games, sing, dance, argue about backgammon (stereotypical Iranians really) and eat loads of food.  My Dad would actually come home on Xmas morning after closing his shop with a crate of alcohol ranging from Spirits to beer and Rum.  I drank Baileys while I cooked the entire Xmas meal from scratch for approx 10-15 people every year, since the age of 15 (yes my parents let me drink at that age. God bless em!).   Everyone normally passed out in our house from food and alcohol consumption by 8pm, after the Eastenders Christmas Special had been on but never before Only Fools & Horses!  That was the only time I loved living at home with my folks.  

So…I’ve got our tree up in the lounge already which the Captain quite likes…. even with the disco lights/balls.  I’m thinking as the twins are not quite 2 years old, we can introduce them to the whole Xmas thing but my daughter is terrified of Santa (she started screaming when we tried to sit her on his lap for a photo last week) so we’ll give the whole Santa thing a miss this year.  As for gifts, we’re pretty skint at the moment so I’m thinking of making my own stocking fillers with satsumas, marbles, chocolate pennies, some nuts and maybe a lump of coal.

Bring on the New Year!  I can’t wait to get back to normal!!  Being sober is driving me mad.

Tags: , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

About YYTM

A (40++) Punk “wannabe”. London born/bred, parent of 3 children under 18 (twins included). Divorced. A great cook. Shockingly argumentative after 8pm on a Monday evening...

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s