Yes yes yes….. I’ve been slack and not written one g-d darn word in aaaages. If I wasn’t so fat and pregnant, I might actually care, but to be honest, I’ve been too friggin exhausted. I actually think my kids are trying to kill me with lack of sleep too. Plus my now 34 week belly seems to hold a massive party around midnight until 5 am when the baby kicks, dances, punches and hiccups allllllll night.
I’m not walking around “glowing” in floaty Laura Ashley type dress which The Captain finds sooo unattractive anyway. No. I’m running around, exhausted, screaming at The Captain and anything else that moves. My daughter actually pointed to my stomach yesterday and said the words “Teletubby” before imitating their dance, which in hindsight resembles a waddle (like mine at the moment). What did I do? Burst into tears because the hormones that are raging in my body during this pregnancy are shocking. I’ve never been one to just burst into tears openly but here I am, blubbing away at anything.
Anyhow, this is just a quickie but I hope all your Christmases/holidays/New years were great.
Mine involved travelling to Phuket (again) for a 2 week “break” (I use that term loosely) with the family. Yes, I still hold a huge dislike for Thailand but I never seem to win the “I FUCKING HATE THAT PLACE!” argument with the Captain. I’m now starting to accept he has selective hearing … kinda like our Domestic Helper who chooses not to hear us when we ask her to do something that involves actual work.
Why do I hate Thailand, and yes, I appreciate I am probably one of only a few people in the whole world that does? Well, its shit. Its dirty. The weathers unreliable. I’ve had very limited decent dining experiences there (unlike Bali which is fabulous), and it just seems sooo over. I’m afraid I’m Thailand-ist. I just don’t love the place. Also, packing for holidays with the kids has now become a horrendous job. I’m soo over traveling at the moment. I just don’t have the energy.
I spent most of my joyous Christmas “break” feeling sick, dizzy and hiding during the day in our air-conditioned villa, kinda like a Vampire. If Alcide Herveaux & Eric Northman where there from True Blood, I wouldn’t have had an issue …I’d stay there day & night just to gawk at their man parts.
I mean this mans body cannot be for real!? The Captain assures me that if he too had a personal trainer (he does), time to work out (he does, albeit not during the week as one of us has to pay the bills), a strict diet with a cook (we now have one of those too, AKA, the new second Helper who “can follow recipes”), he too would look like a chiseled warewolf/Vampire.
Anyhow, back to my story, I was in fact soo ill that when we did go out for dinner with some friends, I had to leave the meal half way through and run out of the restaurant where I was violently sick, first in my Pashmina and then in their bushes right outside the front door. What a great advert for that particular establishment eh? A big Teletubby pregnant bird puking her guts up right outside. As I said, I HATE Thailand.
New Years Eve was even less eventful with us heading back to the villa by 9.30m … despite the Captains pleas to stay out for longer, with annoying statements like “this is the first NYE I’ve not gone out and got off my head”. Errr..yeh, because I LOVE to stay in when I can be out getting drunk and partying?! So after swiftly kicking him in the ball-sack and explaining that “I AM PREGNANT & THEREFORE AN ANGRY BITCH ALL THE TIME”, he got a clue and ordered our Tuk tuk home. Even with all his wining and moaning about how he couldn’t believe we were going home before midnight, the man was faaaaaast asleep by 10pm in a deep carbohydrate/700g steak/red wine coma.
SOOO HAPPY NEW YEAR TO YOU ALL! I promise to be back writing with a vengeance and my usual bitchiness once I pop this disco queen out of my vagina. Actually I’m having a C-section …. that whole pushing thing is far too frightful for me darling.
* Images taken from http://trueblood.wikia.com/wiki/Category:Character_Galleries & Pregnant Image from following link – https://d27fcql9yjk2c0.cloudfront.net/assets/814206/lightbox/811412b8595a682aa9bb1fb27f37377b.jpg?1277153381
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.
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 …