Well here’s a post I never thought I’d write… But it’s become clear that I need help! You see… Since V was born, I’ve been having trouble with, well… My pants!
Pre-baby, there was no problem – my knicker drawer consisted of mini, bikini, thong type under-garments (of course there were the granny pants too). I had a separate drawer for matching bra and undies sets – some sexy, some practical, some girly and flowery. All good, yes? I thought so, anyway.
Post-baby – and it’s all gone tits-up (no pun intended). My bras don’t fit anymore – I’ve gone up five, yes, 5 cup sizes. So I’ve packed them all away, hoping that one day (soon) they will fit again.
Within seconds of taking the nappy off him he started letting off tiny farts in quick succession. I knew what was coming, and I panicked. Oh no he’s going to do a poo on me! I do not want to change my bedding now – where’s that f**king nappy? Whoa-no! Too late!
Dear Big Mr
I am thoroughly peeved at you at the moment. I cannot believe after almost 4 years of our little mr being alive you actually FORGOT to put a nappy on him last night. How the heck did you forget something as important as a nappy??
It really isn’t fun to STEP IN POO that has fallen out of our son’s pyjama bottom’s at 7am in the morning (ESPECIALLY WHEN I HAD JUST GOT OUT OF THE SHOWER).
You’re nearly four weeks old now and weigh 9lbs 5oz. You take up every waking moment, even if it’s just being so adorable I can’t help but waste time staring at you. I looked at pictures of you from the day you were born the other night and got upset, you were a tiny little monster and now you’re a real person. You’ve grown so quickly and it scares me to my very core. I sometimes wish I could freeze time and stay in a moment for months.
You have learnt how to pout, you enjoy listening the The Black Keys, you stare at the TV when Timmy Time is on… You snore too which is very endearing. Shame the same can’t be said for your father…
Like this? Read more…
My Birth Story – sort of…
Yes I have had a pooh during birth – I thought it was the baby coming but sadly it turned out to be a pooh, ‘it’ was taken away without any fuss or ado but we all knew that I had just crapped on the bed.
Sometimes during childbirth funny things happen and sometime they do not.
An example of not funny: When I was experiencing painful contractions and turned to Papasaurus to ask him “What time is it?” (to gauge how far apart the contractions were) , he replied “Chico Time” and then picking up on my inner rage building changed that to “err Hammer Time?”
An example of funny: The sound of the midwife running down our stairs only to knock herself out on the low ceiling. Now that was funny.