Tuesday, February 21, 2006

When I was 26...

... It was a very good year
It was a very good year
For married bliss
And nappies full of poop
And feeding baby gloop
That I would mix,
When I was 26

Recently every time I look in the mirror I see more and more white hair on my head and it's freaking me out a bit. You know how you spend so many years not really liking yourself but thinking maybe some day somehow you'll manage to get thin/fit/pretty/organised etc. Then, one day it dawns on you that not only will this never happen, but that you've already been as thin, fit and pretty as you'll ever be. In the past. The days are gone. Now, if you know me you know I'm not especially vain, but it has been a bit difficult to bend my mind around the fact that it seems I went from my-life-hasn't-quite-started-yet student to grey-haired, podgy(-er) middle aged-looking mum. (Incidentally, I know several of you reading my blog are either older than me or used to go to school with me, and right now want to kill me. I'm sorry! I honestly don't think people who are 25, 35 or 45 are old or unattractive. Unless they're me.)

I had to sit down and think about this. Because, as prone as I may be to self-depreciation regarding my looks (and this is totally different to being vain, you understand. It's being anti-vain. I am the black hole of vanity. Compliments within a 25 km radius get sucked in and collapse until they are the size of a single dot -oh wait, or is it a pimple?!) even I realise that generally, we want to be attractive because we're hoping it'll get us what we want in life. And right now, I have everything I would have said I wanted from my life if you had asked me 5 years ago. Everything. I just wanted to put that down in writting, so there is no room for misunderstandings. I've got a lovely, wonderful, gorgeous husband, who, as an added bonus, still thinks I'm kind of nice (-Despite? -Because.) I've got an amazing baby (even if she's a bit annoying sometimes,) I've got a house, a cat, I'm healthy, my friends and family are healthy, I've had an education I enjoyed, and I can stay at home and be Matilda's mum full time. My life is perfect.

So don't get me wrong, I'm not really complaining about getting old.

I just wanted to get it off my (middle aged, saggy, wrinkly) chest.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

The Truth is Out There

Well butter my butt and call me biscuit! (I've been dying to use that phrase...) The child eats! Could it be she'd been abducted by aliens? After a couple of weeks' worth of me trying to shove lovingly prepared home made food down her gullet, it seems like a switch finally clicked (switched?) in Matilda's mind. Two days ago, she acted as if I was trying to poison her if I dared present her with anything but breastmilk. Yesterday, in just one day, she scoffed down banana, pear, potato and carrot, in unheard of quantities. Now she'll grab the spoon herself and shove it in her mouth, screech if the next spoonful takes a bit longer, and generally try to show that no matter how much she's had, she still needs more. Wey-hey, I guess this means I won't have to send her to school with breast-milk-pudding in her lunchbox.

Of course, happy as this all makes me, I have to mourn the fact that... sob... my baby's lovely, sweet smelling (YES! IT REALLY WAS!) breast-fed poo is gone forever and has been replaced by normal-people-poo. The stinky kind. This morning I opened her nappy ("Oh pooh!") and I just had to call Pete over to show it to him. I'm telling you, this kid is giving the cat a run for his money.

Poor Pete completed the illness chain we've been having over here with a bang; he got diagnosed with pneumonia. He'd had a temperature that wouldn't go down for a couple of days and back pain, so he called NHS direct where the nice people told him to "take an ibuprofen or a paracetamol every 3 hours." (Better known as the "put some Windex on it" advice: I had called a couple of days ago with a suspected ear infection and was told to "take an ibuprofen or a paracetamol every 3 hours.") Luckily he went to hospital when the pain got worse and it turned out to be a pretty nasty case of pneumonia. He's still staying home but he's getting better (and is doing baby duty now so I can blog, mwahaha.) Here are my two darlings relaxing today:

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Thursday, February 09, 2006

Naturally Shameless

It has NOT been a good few weeks. We're quite a healthy family normally, but we somehow managed to spend the past three weekends ill -first Matilda, then me, then Peter. Screacher had a temperature for a day, and then just a cold -basically, she spent the week spewing ectoplasm from her nose and screaming every day, starting at the same time, like clockwork. The only thing that worked (exorcism nonwithstanding) was to give her Calpol, which she gulped down with relish.

Unlike all the other types of multicolored gloop that we've been trying to feed her. While she was ill I stuck to breastmilk, but after she'd recovered we went back to trying to shove mush down her throat quicker than she can spit it out again. The child does not like anything, it's uncanny. If you liked the disgusted by carrot face, you will love the grossed out by banana face:

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Atleast it proves she takes after Peter in some ways. I mean, this refusal to like food obviously does not come from OUR side of the family.

Hands up those of you who think if we served Cat, she'd eat it:

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Matilda discovers her true demonic nature and decides that instead of eating her greens, she'd rather take over the world:

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Really, who does she remind you of, that we know from interpreting? Come on Virus, Blondie...?

I had to include this, it's from Hathor's web-comic. This is priceless because... you guys... I have to tell you; Breastweighing, I've done it. IN PUBLIC. Yep, more than once. It's amazing how being a parent gets rid of all your inhibitions. Well, either that or I'm naturally shameless.

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