Sunday, 18 December 2011

Week 15- Overpriced ties

We're going back home for Christmas this Wednesday, home being three homes now as we take Nancy to see all our parents. Hopefully this trip will be calm and uneventful, unlike last time. I've got nearly everyone's Christmas presents, thanks to the wonders of internet shopping. Well e-bay mainly. I went a bit nuts yesterday bidding for a tie for my dad and ended up spending nearly thirty quid on it even though my budget was a tenner. Who spends thirty quid on a tie? Dad doesn’t even wear ties as he spends most of his time underneath the bonnet of car.

Monday, 12 December 2011

Week 14- Christmas 24 channel and sniffing babies

Nancy was weighed again, she's now 14 pounds 15 ounces, so has put on 11 ounces in 2 weeks, which is apparently very good. She's feeding loads at the moment so my boobs are either massive like Jordon's or totally stringy like a deflated balloon, and I can stretch them out by pulling my nipples which I've never been able to do before. Apparently they don't go back to normal. Another thing no-one tells you until it's too late. This is why French women alledgedly don't breast feed and look so fantastic.


I went in for a meeting at work this week, it was like the two worlds colliding, and I realised how little I've used my brain over the last three months (unless you call the expanse of Lee Child crime thrillers a source of intellectual stimulation.) I'm not sure how you're meant to balance the two things, work and motherhood. I enjoy both in very different ways, but it's almost like being two different people. Maybe I've had the luxury of always having jobs I can be myself in that it's never been an issue before, but I don't think it's the done thing rocking up to work 2 hours late, being self congratulatory because you're dressed and have brushed your teeth, only to discover you have sick all down your back. The role of mum will be very much left at the door. Not that I have to worry about these things for a while but it's worth a ponder.


On the other side of that coin, I'm loving that Ulrika and Ebba are now free during their days. Last week, we spend an afternoon eating jam tarts and watching the Christmas 24 channel, and because we were doing it together it was totally guilt free. And when the guilt or listlessness does creep in on other days when I'm on my own, I have a look at a photo of Nancy from 8 or 9 weeks ago to remind myself of how small she was and how quickly the time goes by, so that I enjoy every moment with her.

I love the way she smells, I bury my nose into her neck and sniff her. And if she's been asleep for a long time I miss that smell, and have to resist from sniffing her in her sleep.

She's outgrown almost everything she started with, and we've moved onto her 3- 6 month clothes. I wept as I folded the clothes up and packed them up for Ben to give to one of his colleagues who's expecting a baby girl in February. How ridiculous, but I couldn't stop myself. God knows what I'm going to be like when she has to go to nursery.

Week 13- cooking curries, fat mums and falling out with the man in the shop

So there is now another shop that I intend avoiding in our area, and unfortunately it's the one just round the corner that sells milk and bread and all the useful day to day stuff. The man who works in there the most has already put me in a bit of a situation, as I went in there last week to buy an onion, and he said ‘are you making a curry?’ (which I thought was a bit of a stab in the dark from just an onion) to which I replied ‘no, but I’d like to.’ It turns out he is a chef every Wednesday in a curry house in Hove and asked if I wanted to come down and learn how to make a curry one Wednesday, I said I would even though a) there’s no way I can with Nancy and b) I don’t actually want to. Anyway, every time I go in there he makes a big thing of forgetting the menu and I act disappointed and then we both get a bit embarrassed.
So I went in there yesterday to buy either milk or bread, I forget which, and I had Nancy strapped to my front, and he says, ‘how is he?’ and I say ‘she’s fine’ and he says ‘he’ll be talking soon,’ and I say ‘Nancy’s only three months’ and he says ‘ahhh he’s big like his mum’ and I’m totally gobsmacked, and reply ‘yes he is.’ Cheeky shit. At least it got us off the curry convo but I thought I was doing pretty well with the old weight watchers, and now I’m back to big fat step one. On the plus side I’ll have to walk about half a mile to the next shop so that can’t do me any harm.


Christmas negotiations still under way. I am starting to realise I am a bit uncompromising and a bit selfish.