How fucking exciting. Oh and its the year of the Dragon which is hugely lucky in China (I was also born in the year of the Dragon but do not consider myself a lucky person).
BTW.. The photo above scared the crap out of my 2 year olds (as well as The Captain & I) when we popped downstairs to show them some “culture” on Chinese New year. Even now, the Captain keeps waking, screaming, “man with a mask!! man with a mask!!”
Anyhow… I can’t wait to start Gina Ford all over again and am soooo looking forward to the sleepless days/nights, 3 hourly feeds, nap times, endless bottles, nappies filled with various colours of shit (yellow being my least favourite, along with the ones that keep on coming while you’re mid nappy change & resemble sausages). And the lack of sleep! Ahh… boy can’t I wait to walk around like a crazy, tired, unkempt Mum, dyyyyying to sleep…anywhere. PLUS, my 2-year-old Twins have NO idea that life as they know it is soon going to change. Yes, I’m so excited. The excitement is seeping out of my every pore.
What will be my first port of call on having given birth? A romantic dinner for two with The Captain? Time alone with Itchy and Scratchy reading books and cuddling? No. Sorry. It turns out I’m a selfish bitch. All I want, aside from a healthy child, is a big bottle of champagne (with a straw) just for me and maybe a quick call to the local dealer for a few ounces of class A’s. Hey…I’m celebrating starting all over again and I need to do some things properly. Not just that but after a year of non-stop Pilates, that body has now been beaten to shit and resembles a 50-year-old Northern pub Landlandys body after one too many Friday night Fish n Chips. Depressing? Hell yes.
Why lie and say “I’m sooo excited and screw what I look like?” The truth is, I’ve found it pretty depressing looking more and more like a bag of lard as the months have rolled on. No, I havent gained as much weight as I did with the twins (2.5 stone to be exact) but still, I personally find it hard going when the weight piles on without much effort. Vain? Yes, but I don’t care. I’m a woman for fucks sake! We are vain to a certain extent….unless you’re a raging lesbo with a crew cut and moustache (yeh, whatever, I’m generalizing). I hate that I can’t bend down to put my shoes on, hence why I now live in my wooly sock Uggs. I hate that my skin keeps getting breakouts (I’ve never had bad skin, EVER) and resembles a 13-year-old zit covered boys (minus stubble). I hate that when I look in the mirror, a different person is looking back at me. Pregnant women are beautiful? Whoever said that is clearly a chubby chaser as I am not feeling one ounce of sexy or beauty. In fact, I look and feel like total shit. AND, for those women who ARE pregnant and swaning around the place looking all wonderful….please fuck off. You are really annoying me. AND stop showing me your flat bellies?!!! Why would you do this to someone who is clearly pregnant and suffering mentally!?
Excited about the new arrival? Sure, once she’s here, I’ll be fine but until then, I’m going to keep moaning and boring the crap out of everyone. I mean, I’m sooo bored, I can’t even be bothered to watch the Kardashians on E! Hollywood, go for a walk (apparently good for you when pregnant although I didn’t do this last time either), entertain myself with belly flops in the swimming pool, or even leave the apartment. Hmmm…. maybe I’m depressed? Nope. I think I’m just missing being a drunken, happy, skinny Mum. Now, I’m soooo huge, I can only wear stretchy tracksuit bottoms, bras that are 8 sizes bigger (The Captain is not complaining about the huge boobs though…surprise surprise)… the huge list on how unattractive I feel right now is endless. The poor Captain keeps saying “I want my Wife back!” while I’m covered in sexy spot cream, looking like the grim reaper. Oh, and just to add insult to injury, do you want to know what my supportive better half did a few weeks ago? He RECORDED me snoring, then PLAYED it to his work colleague. He then emailed me a link to this monstrosity, stating, “I think there was a Rhino in the bed last night?” Supportive git. I beat him with a wooden spoon that night.
Ok, so, another part of my character that has developed since I fell pregnant (and which I’ve mentioned in past posts), is that I’m angry. Now, I don’t mean a “little angry”, I’m talking, fly off the handle, screaming, swearing like a mother fucker trucker, ANGRY. I get sooo angry over things that all I want to do is shout, OR, cry. Yes, the crying is also there. I can break out in tears at any given minute, even while shouting, eating three triple Big Mac & having chocolate… all at the same time (because I can multi-task). The ONLY time, I’m still me (albeit a boring version as I’m sober), is when I’m with my little munchkins, Itchy & Scratchy. They are the only ones keeping me sane. Ok, so they don’t get they’re going to have a new sister but it’ll keep me entertained for a while, watching them interact with their new sibling. Especially once I crack open that first bottle of white wine….
Roll on next week as Yummy Mamma is about to return ….. and she deeply misses her booze & skinny jeans.
POSITION OF THE WEEK – BELOW
I would call this one “Having a few too many on a Friday night…& inviting others for a “menage a quatre”. Don’t ask me what the blue bunny is doing but it looks to me like the Tasmanian Devil instigated the whole thing.