So, now I’ve admitted to being pregnant (even to myself), I appear to have lost my ability to write…. anything. It’s like my brain has shut down because it’s pissed off with me for being so careless. Or maybe all the blood is now pumping elsewhere which would explain why I keep forgetting things (can I smell smoke?). So…..who loved, or loves, being pregnant? I mean, its ok to say (or scream) “NOT ME!!!’ Its boring too!! There’s nothing to do!! I can’t friggin drink when I want, take Magic Mushrooms or do any kind of acid. It’s no wonder we need to sit at home “nesting”. We’re bored shitless so we start organising all our cupboards. It’s not because we’re nesting. Its to keep our minds off partying until Baby comes (or is that clearly just me?). What else are you going to do with your time for fucks sake?! Knit!? Give the Husband blow-jobs to whittle away your days? Sod that. I’m going to cry, moan and be a bitch. I can’t help it though…. it’s my hormones.
This time round, not only was I soooo shocked when I found out, I’d been drinking up a storm and trying to set some sort of world record for how many units a woman of my size and teeny weeny stature could get through. When the Doctor told me I was “with child”, my reaction was less than maternal. In fact, I was a little livid and delirious with resentment. How was I going to have a drink & smoke now? What the hell was going on!? We were just starting to get our lives back and feel normal again. The Twins were becoming a little more self-sufficient ie. can eat with their fingers now. Our days of sleepless nights were starting to narrow and we knew Kindergarten was just around the corner (freedom for me!). So…. on hearing that I had to go back to square one and deal with shitty nappies, puking on everything, preparing bottles, sterilizing everything, waking every 3 hours to do night feeds, getting to know my new baby and all that comes with him/her…. I was not impressed. At all.
Also, the first time I was pregnant was through IVF. That pregnancy was not only planned but something we’d dreamed of. This time, I’m like a pissed-off London teenager (without the rioting), desperate for a drink and some party time. Also with twin 1.5 year olds running around the house non-stop, there is no time for rest, ever. The last line was drawn today when our Helper commented to me with a sweet smile on her face, “Maam, you are fat”. I should have fired her on the spot but of course, I can’t live without her at the moment. I mean, who the fuck would watch the kids while I’m napping? That’s the other things which is also pissing me off. I’m in the in-between stage where people don’t know if you’ve suddenly got fat, or are pregnant. It’s really annoying me. I’d rather just have the belly now, or not at all. This stage makes things awkward as everyone’s left wondering why your tummys protruding, plus I’m surrounded by pregnant women (half my apartment block has knocked up angry-looking women in it. I think there’s something in the water) at the moment and this is causing “bump envy”. Most are a few weeks more pregnant than I but look HUGE. I want that bump just so people know I am in fact pregnant and not just had pasta for lunch (which lets face it, I did. And at breakfast. hey, I’m pregnant. fuck off).
So what joys have I experienced thus far? Here’s a little list of complaints (those of you who are expecting may recognise some of them):-
My Husband, “The Captain”, is pissing me off constantly. In fact, I’m sooo angry with him that I apparently woke him in the middle of the night last week and told him (I have to quote this) “I FUCKING HATE YOUR GUTS”, before going back to sleep. I don’t remember any of it (for all I know he could be lying) but it sure does sound like me at the moment. Why am I soo angry with him? Hormones? I don’t think so. i think my subconscious is pissed off with his sperm for impregnating me at the worst possible time. Plus it’s his fucking fault we are now in this position! If he hadn’t insisted on marital sex (we had been doing Vodka Jelly shots the night of the immaculate conception BTW), we would be living a quiet happy alcoholic life with toddlers growing into little kindergarteners and I could focus on drinking in peace, while writing.
Everyone is pissing me off. Everyone. Everything. Argh…..I saw a ladybird yesterday and screamed at it for landing on my windscreen. I then burst into tears because I’m a fucking nutbag pregnant bird.
Farting. Non stop stinky farting. It’s actually becoming a problem in small spaces, and while queuing at the supermarket. If you ever see me in a lift, I suggest you wait for the next one unless you want to die by fume inhalation. The Captain, a professional Farter, is actually sooo disgusted, he sometimes cries before leaving the room (from the stench, not emotion).
Headaches that are constant. These headaches are actually the worst part of being pregnant (aside from gradually turning into a mini elephant). I had them last time and they’re getting worse. This makes me even angrier and more of a bitch than normal. Plus, you can’t take ANY fucking drugs that actually work, to sort these damn headaches out. What am I left with? PARACETEMOL (pointless if you ask a hardcore pill taker like myself) and cold patches for my forehead. I may as well strap ice to my head with a tea towel, sing to the moon and dance around a fire to make the pain go. God is definitely a Man. Bastard.
Nothing fits me and I don’t have enough maternity wear. It’s really winding me up when I open my cupboard and nothing fits anymore. If I have to borrow the Captain’s jeans again this pregnancy, I think I will kill myself. I’m determined to keep the weight gain to a normal amount this time. No more eating for 4 excuses and no more triples dinners and snacks. I’m not talking about pregorexia but seriously, how the fuck did that stylist Rachel Zoe stay soooo skinny while pregnant?! her arms were like sticks for crying out loud. As for Victoria Beckham…. well, I like her actually, so I’m not going to bad mouth her. Aside from saying, how the fuck did she stay sooo well maintained during her pregnancy (ok, yes, aside from the millions, private chef and personal preener to keep her looking good at all times). I currently feel like shit. When my skinny jeans don’t fit me. this makes me feel worse and then I decide the only thing to do is scream obscenities at the Captain. Everythings his fault anyhow (I blamed the weather on him yesterday).
I want to moan non-stop about anything. What the fuck’s that all about? I was soo chilled and happy last time I was pregnant. This time, I’m like a stereotypical hormonal crazy pregnant woman. Oh, and I cry about everything. Everything. The toothpaste ran out this morning and I blubbered away for about 20 minutes. I then cried some more in the car when I saw an advert for Pampers on the back of a van. I think I threw a can of beans at it while driving. I’m angry clearly.
Pro’s of pregnancy:
1. As a lifelong sufferer of insomnia, I’m actually tired by 9pm every night. Another reason why I can’t write for shit as this was my sacred time to crack open some wine bottles (unless I’d had an all day drinking session) and write. Now, I can’t keep my eyelids open long enough to watch E! Hollywood (I’m missing vital story lines for the Kardashians).
2. Oh and I’m creating a life. Yes, I do know this and I’m not being an ungrateful bitch. I’m having a moan (read above complaints if you’ve forgotten or already switched off with boredom).
Therefore my apologies in advance for any shitty scripture that is thrown your way over the next few months. I’m clearly not high on anything at the moment which has challenged my fantastic writing abilities (I’m also wanking non-stop which is making me go blind. joke), although that will all change once I pop this sprog out. In the meantime, I will have to deal with the shame of writing about crap until then.
It’s all the Captains fault. Him and his damn happy Penis.
* Photo above taken of The Grand Canyon, USA, while in a Helicopter…trying not to be air sick.
As those of you with children know (especially children under the age of 14 months), trying to go away on holiday like you used to (before you had kids), is near impossible. In fact, it is impossible. Gone are the carefree days of packing a few bikinis, a sarong and a couple of books…. fuck…. just to read a book without interruption would be bliss (and that’s because of The Captain, not the kids). The Captain used to marvel at how light I used to travel while all his things were pressed and packed in order to ensure minimum creasing with all the white linen clothes (to compliment his tan) he had ready for our nights out. Now, preparing for a holiday, I feel like a mad crazed woman trying to plan some sort of military coup, while my husband stares on in sheer disbelief as I pack food, nappies, baby wipes, medicine (they’re teething at the moment…oh how much fun is that?), teething granules, etc for 5000 days. When you review the amount of shit you actually have to take on holiday, you’d rather just stay at home. Its waaaay easier.
Was packing for this holiday any easier? Errr, NO! We have just got back from a few days in Koh Samui, Thailand (2.5 hour flight but with a screaming child, or two in my case ….it may as well have been 15 hours of torture). Itchy and Scratchy were in tow, along with our Domestic Helper (or ‘Domestic Goddess” as I like to now call her). Before leaving Hong Kong, we had to review, over and over again, which Hotel were we staying in? Which flight would have the least impact on the kid’s routine and therefore hopefully minimize crying on the plane? Could we take a buggy around with ease or would we need our baby slings? Do we use the crappy travel buggy or the posh one (Phil & Ted’s) I had to buy on arriving in HK because my Out N About wont fit on any of the bloody pavements?! The temptation to stay home with the twins and ask The Captain and the Domestic Goddess to go on their own was HUGE! The Captain did not agree with my thought process barking, “How fucking hard can it be woman!? Everyone goes on holiday with their kids!!!” and talked me into what was meant to be 5 glorious days of sunshine in Koh Samui.
Now, what I’m about to say will piss some well established travelers off big time, but, I’m going to say it anyway (that’s the beauty of being anonymous after all). I HATE THAILAND. Yes, it’s true….. and although it deeply upsets my Husband, I’ve said it now.
I’ve never been a fan. I have always had crappy weather, shit food and a dodgy tummy. The class A’s are not very good either, and we even arrived the day before the Full Moon party kicked off. Did I see one dodgy magic mushroom omelet? NO!! Did anyone offer me drugs of any kind?! NO!! Was I disappointed once again?! Err…. yes. You can’t even purchase a Valium anymore without the Pharmacy wanting some sort of prescription. Damn it all.
Sooo…. going away to a place I’m not a fan of pissed me off, especially when my husband is one of those annoying breeds of people who not only LOVES Thailand, but would probably live there if he could. He also traveled the world 5 times over by the time we met, so people who travel annoy me generally and the more they say “When I was traveling….bla bla bla…..” it fucks me off no end and I feel the urge to either stab them with my fork (if I’m eating), or stand up and urinate all over their rainbowed, “we sang Kumbaya my Lord under the stars, while wearing our tie dye shirts because Daddy forgot to send us more cash, after hours of yoga” story (if I wasn’t eating). I hate hearing the stories. I dont want to see photos of you jumping out of planes in New Zealand either. It all annoys the shit out of me.
I have to stress, this is not because I am an imbecile with no desire to see the world. It’s the complete opposite actually. Its utter JEALOUSY. While everyone and their dog was off doing Gap years, or had a chance to go traveling in their late teens or early twenties, I could not. I couldn’t even visit France (had I wanted to) and that was only across the pond for us Brits. I WANTED TO TRAVEL!! Boy, did I fucking want to travel, like a dog needs to sniff its arse, but I couldn’t afford to.
No money equals no holidays, as Mum & Dad (the tight gits) were not going to just give me money to piss off for a few months or a whole year “to see the world and find myself in India”. Unless you count a week in Falaraki after finishing up at University, which to be honest, doesn’t count. Plus for those of you who have actually been there (& lets face it, probably caught crabs off some very hunky tall Northern bloke with tattoos), you cannot argue for one moment that it is not anything other than a complete shit hole. And yet it was the only holiday I could afford to go on to celebrate getting a Desmond (2.2 in my degree). Plus Mum & Dad chucked £100 my way towards my £200 holiday. I was chuffed to bits at the time!
Since then, I have to admit, I have become a huge traveler but as I’m older, and lets face it, can’t be arsed with the usual shit I’d put up with in my twenties, I like my surroundings to be 5 Star all the way. I call it “Flash Packing for the 30 plus generation”. I couldn’t go away to anywhere decent until I got a job, paid my mortgage and started saving a bit here and there. It’s very simple really. I mean, how the fuck do these kids who have just finished University, or College, afford to go traveling without in some small way, being a spooner?? It’s just impossible. I could never do it myself and had to prioritize. Move out of my parents home, or go traveling? I knew right away which one I had to chose, plus I couldn’t smoke my bong at home without a few tut tuts from my parents (no they were not joining in on my daily appreciation of Skunk…. which is a shame really as we would have got on soo much better).
So…. off we all went to Koh Samui and what happened (aside from my son having a mini lose-it throughout the entire flight there, which involved holding him in a friendly headlock for the journey)?? The Captain surprised me with a few extra days holiday there. Oh Joy. Not only that, but we had no sun which was no great surprise to me (ok, an hour here or there) which is fab for the twins but shit for my now gaunt, pale and spotty complexion. Also, I got sick. Proper puke and shit sick (I’m not even being that graphic here). I was staying at a 5 star resort so really, I should have gone and shown the lovely smiley “Sa Wa Di Kah” girls in Reception how sick I was but I couldn’t pin point if it was the afternoon cocktails that had done it, or the ice cubes my drinks were saturated in. Hmmm…..
Anyhow, the kids had a great time although getting around is near impossible with two very different little people. Plus, while they both loved to swim before, my daughter has now taken to screaming every time she sees the big orange rubber ring appear (her floatation device for swimming in, not a condom), while her twin brother now jumps into the pool with delight and humps anything near him. Now other Mums of twins will, I’m sure, nod knowingly to how different their kids are, but seriously?!? This isn’t just different; I’m starting to wonder if they really did share the same womb at the same time? Aside from one being blonde and the other dark, these two kids are complete opposites. They actually try to bite each other and my daughter doesn’t even register her twin brother is there. Very odd. If they didn’t look like mini clones of The Captain, and myself I would put money on the fact that their tubes had been switched in the IVF clinic.
So, I’m back from my brief stint, I mean, holiday, in Thailand. Back to trying to fall in love with Hong Kong. Back to being home sick for my friends, and yes, family too…at times anyway (until they all arrive at once to visit…. they are in fact like London Buses. None for ages and then we have loads show up at the same time… how splendid).
I’ll keep you posted on my state of mind, once I see how next week unravels …