A bit of honesty.

Let’s just take a moment to talk about newborn photos. Yes, the gorgeous, squishiness of a new baby looks adorable in any photo but what about me?
What about me, the mum who now has a double chin from weight gain and a flabby belly from, well, the obvious. What about the bags under my eyes and the poor make up application because I had about 5 mins to do it in between screaming babies? What about my thinning hair, because I swear I’m going to go bald fairly soon?
People say “love your body”, “you look amazing”, “you’ve just had a baby, go easy on yourself”. The thing is, I don’t mind how I look! I actually think I look fairly decent but in photos with professional lighting that picks out ALL YOUR FLAWS, I look like a drug addict going cold turkey. Lighting like that should NEVER be allowed. I went in to the shoot thinking I looked nice. I went home thinking it was successful. Then the photos arrived. I literally could have cried. I know babies make you emotional, but still.
G man looks super cute. How couldn’t he? Have you seen him? Cuteness personified. M looks good. E looks mischievous. I look terrifying. I literally look like I’ve been up all night (I probably had) and hadn’t seen the sun, since, ever.
I’m sure most of you who have these shoots have gorgeous photos and love them.  In fact, I’m sure everyone who’s had a newborn shoot looks gorgeous with their bubbas. I however seem to be the exception to the rule. My pregnancy glow has well and truly gone. (debatable as to whether it actually ever came tbh)
Seriously. The fact that I had a double chin came as a complete shock to me. I was like “woooahhhh…I have chins. Plural.” Double chins are fine btw, just not on me. They do not suit me. As proven by this photo shoot.
I want a nice family photo of us all where I don’t look like a gutsy hobo Marc and the kids have taken in off the streets.
God damn you ice cream and milk shake cravings! (I don’t think these were actually legitimate cravings, maybe I was just being gutsy.)
To end, I would post a photo of myself from said photo shoot for you to see what I’m talking about, but no one deserves that torture, so have one of G man instead.



Bribes, tantrums and cuddles.

When you wake up in the morning you have a decision to make. Do I do my hair and makeup so I actually look like a functioning woman who has her shit together, or do I leave it for the hundred other jobs I have to do today?
The latter usually wins out in my case.

We went for a walk yesterday and when we got back, I looked in the mirror. My ponytail had bits coming out everywhere from where George had pulled it out. I had baby sick all down one shoulder from an earlier burping incident and on closer inspection, the seat of my jeans had some yellowy stain on it. I’m assuming/hoping banana. Marc let me go out this. This is the norm for me now so he didn’t think anything of it. I’m glad I barely know anyone here. Jeeze.

So yes, every morning I have the option of getting up that little bit earlier whilst they’re all asleep so I can perfect my eyebrow arch, or sleep a bit longer and wake up in a panic to one child screaming and about to wake the other up, throwing on husbands joggers to find I have them on backwards but THERE IS NO TIME to put them on the right way and grabbing any top that’s nearby – usually covered in sick, snot, or dribble – or if you’re super unlucky, a combination of all three.

Today is one of the looking like a crazy person days. I’m praying one of them has a nap before the delivery man comes today so I can at least cover the dark pits underneath my eyes.

George just coughed sick INTO my mouth. My life ladies and gentlemen.

George is 5 months on Sunday. WTAF. He’s supposed to be my baby forever. How has this happened?
He’s so different to E as a baby. He doesn’t sit up (very well) yet or have any teeth but he loves grabbing things with his hands and playing with his feet. E didn’t use her hands till food was put in front of her. Priorities.
He’s a super chilled baby although he’s decided he likes to be held for the majority of the time. Who can blame him. I’d like to be carried around all the time if I could. My sling has been a Godsend but he’s getting a bit heavy for it now.
G is a proper little porker. He keeps flitting between the 75th and 91st percentile. I’m having to express twice a day so that I can give him a full bottle at bed time as well as a boob feed. Seriously. I hope this isn’t a sign of things to come or we’ll have to take out a loan just to feed him.

Elizabeth, oh E, my little diva child. She is becoming more and more independent, if that’s even possible. I am not looking forward to the teenage years. For all her tantrums and strops, she’s actually been a little sweetie pie. She put all her toys away yesterday without being asked. It’ll probably never ever happen again. She’s been giving G man lots of hugs and kisses too which is lovely. Actually been mega impressed with her this week, we tried mackerel and calamari for the first time  – loved it! She did get extremely upset with me though when we ran out of fruit…..she kept listing them. “melon? apple? banana? ” at least she’s crying because it’s fruit and not over chocolate. The crying has taken on a new level though. Louder and shriller. I’m not sure if this is a result of M being away Monday to Friday or just a progression of the terrible twos.


We had our first solo outing today! Only to Homebase to get some flowers to plant in the garden, but I’m counting it as a major achievement. Especially since I had to have E out of the pram and walking freely. It could have been a disaster. She could have decided to play hide and seek in the shop or just plain run off like she normally does but I was prepared. My secret weapon? Chocolate. Yes, I was one of those “I’m never going to bribe my child” childless women. Now I understand. You do not reason with a two year old. You can play to their good side, until they get tired, then BAM. Game over. The chocolate bribes come out and man do they work. I had to really stretch them out (because I’d already eaten the rest) but she was fab and was even happy enough to carry some pots for me.
When at the till, did she shout “CHOCOLATE” at me? Yes. Did I care that I was getting disapproving looks from the obviously childless people in the queue in front of me? Nope. I’d had a successful trip with two kiddies on my own. Nothing was bringing me down.

Anyway. It has taken me 10 hours, 2 cups of tea, a can of Pepsi , a bowl of ice cream (my lunch), two clothes changes and a short nap to write this. Hopefully it’ll be a bit quicker next time!