Wednesday, 29 September 2010 I mean Bags of Fun

Let the pleasant side effects commence.

If I offered you a new drug, never mind what it does, just assume something amaaaazing, and I told you there were a few side effects, though, as a caution. The side effects include constant nausea, audible retching at your desk at work, tummy bloating 15x it's original size if any morsel of meat is consumed, poos like tiny scratchy beach pebbles, teenage puberty skin, shrunken clothes, and emotional *vulnerability*. These side effects of the amaaaazing drug will continue for at least 3-4 months prior to any visible benefit from the drug. After which time, at least, others will notice some more obvious physical modifications from the drug, and compliment you on your successful treatment.

Some initial side effects mercifully fade, although others, such as tiny scratchy rock poos and tummy bloating 15x it's original size, worsen, and the rating changes from 'mild to moderate', into 'Serious Adverse Events' with severe intensity. After 8 months of successful treatment, additional effects become incorporated into your treatment, such as sciatica-that-would-cripple-any-lumberjack, as well as Appaloosa style skin blotching which rivals any prize horse. You will succumb to a torture session lasting 6 - 52 hours, although kindly supervised by a practice nurse. Then, the drug suddenly takes effect! You will be presented with the amaaazing something that has been promised from the beginning.

Would you take it? Is it worth it?

How people continue through the ages procreating under these conditions, I don't know.

At work, I have been finding myself not able to control a retch or two, like proper gagging retching, sitting right at my desk! In an open concept office! "Ahem, hem hem cough cough" I say, "Oh, I've got a cough!" I say, as I retch again into the cold blue face of my computer. With that style of office, luckily many people have become accustomed to blocking out the background noises, so I think I am clear, for now. This is evidenced by a comment I made today to my across-to-the-side colleague, as a lady walked by with very squeaky shoes, 'squeak mew squeak mew squeak mew' as she walked in front of our desks. I said "She must have a kitten in her shoe!". He didn't laugh. Because he didn't hear me? Or because it wasn't funny? I'll never know, but I'd like to assume it's because he didn't hear. Hrumph.

Many people take loads of drugs, with crazy side effects. Today I just had a conversation about this weight loss drug, which makes you poo loads of crazy gross fatty poos. What a terrible side effect! ZILLIONS of people take it, though, GAzillions, even. Because they want to shit themselves thin! Good for them, the choice was worth it for them.

I'll take the drug I have offered up. I do think it IS worth it. The choice is worth it for me, too.

Monday, 27 September 2010

Dreadful eating

I will preface this by telling about my husband, and his obsession with quality food. He is not one to settle for 'whatever's around', 'this and that in the cupboard', or 'just some leftovers'. He is a master of re-creation, a wizard of foreign cuisine, a guru of little known secret ingredients. He (most) often actually uses the cookbook, and does things just right. There was even an incident once, which required me running out in the village streets at night, to make a (seemingly) covert oil exchange; David my neighbour and good friend's man was sent out with a bottle of pure vegetable oil, and I with my empty glass container to receive. Under the lone streetlamp available between our houses, he carefully poured my pale golden requirement. Apparently, olive oil has too much 'flavour' and couldn't possibly be used in cooking chinese food. Good lord NO! NOT the OLIVE OIL - AAAACK! It was either me get sent out in my slippers in the night to get the right kind of oil, or no dinner - he wouldn't entertain the thought of cooking with olive oil, the nerve.

It's oil!

Me, not so much. I CAN cook, and I do. But, honestly, left to my own devices, a nice can of Chef Boyardee (how I miss thee, a Canadian canned ravioli for the real homebody gourmet, way better than the Heinz and Branston's we have going on here), a PBJ sandwich, or Supa Neggs will do just fine. No time wasted, I can get on with my evening. I haven't got time to cook for an hour and a half for just me, and then start eating at 8:45 pm. That's a killer schedule I cannot handle. Oh, Supa Neggs you ask? It is actually soup and eggs, which has, for clear reasons, become known as Supa Neggs. You heat up a can of soup with a bit of extra water in a saucepan, and when it's crazy boiling, crack in 2 eggs, and slowly swirl them about and they cook into little eggy bits through the soup, sort of chinese style. Then a few drops of Tabasco and the delicious healthy concoction is finis!

When I do put the effort in and commit to cooking, I am always a freestyler. I have actually learned from cooking with Mike as sous chef generally what goes in what type of cooking, and just bung in the appropriate friends of ingredients, ta daa! Chinese needs ginger, garlic, soy sauce, and rice wine vinegar. Indian needs cumin, coriander, mustard seeds, and turmeric. Italian needs tomatoes, basil, garlic, and parmesan. Supa Neggs needs soup, eggs, Tabasco, and a saucepan. See, it's easy to cook!

Now that I am on my own, I am left to my own devices. I actually quite looked forward to the eating of 'whatever's around', 'this and that in the cupboard', and 'just some leftovers'; it was going to be liberating, relaxing, EASY. I started off well with this philosophy, while still trying to be healthy - after all, those vegetables and ingredients were still in the fridge from when Mike was visiting here last, I couldn't let them go bad. Healthy(ish), but really sad. So pathetic were my self-offerings I had to take some pictures of my worst meals (attached). One night I even used a pot of my youngest son's mush that I even deemed not good enough for him anymore, so as not to waste it, I added it to my sauce. It did turn out to be one of the better meals, actually. But then again that meal used a cooking pan, so it was a step above.

Don't worry, I am still cooking OK for the kids. The steamer is always in action, as well as the mini oven, for good old neglectful cooking. I love timers! And anyway, baby #3 has ruined my plan for my relaxing year of eating whatever I come across. Grrrrr. Maybe THAT's the reason this happened? Although my husband is away, it's just someone else making me eat quality food now. Dammit.

Sunday, 26 September 2010


Yesterday I was going to write about my success at going to bed at 8:30 HA HA take that household jobs! but went to bed instead! I have been so exhausted, a symptom of my new found friend which is classic and common pregnancy woe, or just pooped from doing all the household jobs myself after putting the folks to bed? Who knows. All I know is that at 9:30 I say ugh god I MUST get to bed, and somehow I can never get in before 10:30. There is some bermuda triangle in my house, between the kitchen and TV room and the bed, that whirls me around picking up playmobil men and muslin squares and knickers and won't stop whirling me until 10:30. Then the bathroom bermuda triangle gets me too, how brushing my teeth and checking out the state of my face takes so long....perhaps because suddenly I have been cursed with some spots unreachable on my back (Curses! First time in my LIFE!) and now I am alone I am contorting trying to take care of those little troublemakers. Figures now that I am alone I have a problem that NEEDS someone else to solve. Uh, yeah, not like that's the only one!

So, treasures, and household jobs. Lovely youngest son, while I am running the bath and he has naked time (so cute the two of them running around naked, somehow they are so much happier once the clothes are off) I hear grunting outside in the hall, OH no! I try to catch him I know a poo grunt when I hear one, but too late. As pleasant a surprise as that type of thing can be, it was a pleasant surprise to find 2 reasonable logs. I really thought I had dodged a bullet there! I picked them up in tissue doggie pooper scooper style, and barely a mark on the carpet! Phew. He did a wee also so I went to the other room to get the carpet spray, only to find him back in the same spot, pooing (this time the second batch was a terrible poo!) then stepping in the terrible poo, and walking across the hall to the bedroom! AAck I grabbed him as fast as I could, poo all over him bum, legs, feet, wiped him suspended in the air as best I could and chucked him in the bath. He had kicked all of the bits everywhere, punctuated with reconstituted raisins, little footprints all over. Helpful older son, full of instructions "Here is some paper towel, you spray on the poo and I'll give you some paper", I am scrubbing away, "You need to spray some more, more poo over here, you'll need more paper", Ya thanks buddy, I'm working on it! Bless him, after the worst was gone, he got down and 'scrubbed' also, more like a light pretend scrub and then "All done!" but the thought was there.

On the tummy side, I have busted out all of my maternity clothes from the loft. Clothes I thought I wouldn't see again. Clothes I was going to sell in the 'Nearly New' Sale at the school last weekend. Good thing I never got around to it! I have already sold a lot of my baby things to a friend, which for some items is annoying but otherwise I am OK with, actually, as there just isn't space for 2 playmats, 2 chairs, bouncer, ring of neglect, nursing chair etc etc the toys are just so BIG there's no space anymore. This poor child will be in the era of 'make do'. I think I plan on just surviving as a strategy. No finessing anything this time. The most finessing I will be able to muster is grabbing that spray bottle of Vanish, and scrubbing when I need to.

Thursday, 23 September 2010

Oh Dear.

I have just started back at work after my maternity leave, at the beginning of September. The first week was good, I eased back into things quite easily (as I worked from home the whole week!). That also gave my younger son some leeway to adjust to his first week at nursery, so I wasn't slugging away, torturing him with loooooong hours, poor thing was traumatized enough. At least I had institutionalized my older son already, that lessened the emotional trauma. I had him in nursery just before I had #2, because I figured I'd need a break and to give the baby some individual attention. Those were the carefree days of maternity leave, when the baby slept all day! As the 'baby' is now 13 months old, those days are long gone and they are both wild monkey's now.

Then I had a strange teambuilding day for work. It didn't end up 'bonding' us at all - I think we ended up bickering more than ever! So that wasn't a good start back. Then I had this disheartening burst-my- enthusiastic-bubble 1:1 with my manager. That wasn't a good start either. I ended up crying like a sissy moron in the meeting room, and he had to get all this paper towel to mop me embarrassing. But I DID seem a bit more emotional than usual. I even cried all the way home in the car (over an hour! well on and off, but you know how it is) and then again when I got home. That should have made me suspect something. My work trousers weren't doing up right either...but it had been a year since I'd tried to squeeze into more snug professional attire. I weighed myself and I was not really any different than before - not enough for my zippers to be resisting!

Hmmm and my suspicions grew. I asked a couple of friends who had just had babies if they had any spare tests around, leftover. I assured them I was just being silly, I am sure it's nothing. Too bad they didn't I had to wait longer. I considered getting one from Morrison's, but thy are like 10GBP for 2 tests! Crazy rip off. I wasn't feeling THAT worried...yet. Then I did feel queasy all the next day. Mental? Maybe I was imagining it, as I was feeling paranoid? I ordered some online tests anyway, only 2.18GBP for 10, what a bargain! I figured no loss there, if I am just silly and paranoid.

That was Thursday, and the tests came on Monday. I didn't know what wee wee vessel to use to dip the thing into, so I grabbed an egg cup (in the dishwasher straight after!) and did my little test. The last 2 times I tested for my 2 kids, it was all finessed and planned, so I tested early and it took ages for any faint line to show up, I needed different angles, different lighting to see anything at all. Hmmmm. Not this time. IMMEDIATE big fat line. HUGE. God how far am I?

Pregnant. How far pregnant am I? I can't believe it. What a wally. What will they think of me at work? What will I do? My last period was on our (nightmare) holiday, early August. So.....what...6 - 7 weeks pregnant.

So as if my year wasn't going to be challenging enough, alone, paying the bills myself, raising the kids myself, working 4 days a week (at least not 5...) good lord now I am pregnant too? I am sure it will be OK early on, when I am small-ish. When mama starts getting large, though, times will be tough. When I am a waddling enormo, with a bad back, and both kids are ill and whining and need carrying around, how will I do it? By myself???!!

Actual single moms, I salute you. I find it hard, just keeping on top of things, the way things are now. And I am CRAZY tired. Like so tired people are saying 'you look tired...are you alright?' ya, thanks for telling me I look terrible ;) At least actual single moms don't have the ready made facilities for getting pregnant again, also. I can't believe our luck - it was the absolute last chance hurrah for my husband to have before he left for his year away! What are the chances of that!!!???

BTW we weren't trying, far from it. So teenage girls out there, heed my warning, the withdrawl method does NOT work!