What a week!

Somehow, it appears to be Monday again - which means I've spent another week neglecting my poor little blog.
But I have excuses! Lots of them!

Firstly: I had a birthday. yes, I am officially 29. And 12 months. Gulp.
(not to worry though, promise I won't be going in for any of that 'proper grown up' stuff.)
Anyway, those of you who follow my twittery nonsense, will know that my Mr had the week off, and was cooking up a surprise for Saturday night... turned out to be a VERY big surprise, in the shape of a party! Had a fantastic time, still have no idea how he managed to keep it under wraps so long... sneaky little monkey.
AND, he even took care of the LD & let me sleep in till 10am the next day, and I escaped hangover free! Good Times :)

(some of my birthday loveliness :D)

Secondly: The rest of the week was spent enjoying some quality Daddy time :) We went on a few mini-day trips, Daddy came to his first baby clinic (LD now weighing in at 16 1/2 lb!!), and we went to the teddy bear's picnic at the childrens centre (so cute :D), we went out for an awesome lunch on my birthday, and even squeezed in not one, but TWO mummy & daddy jaunts to the pub! So yes, safe to say, it was a good week.

Thirdly: The Daddy went back to work Saturday, but to cheer us up, the LD and I went to lunch with Kelly & Piran, and Mrs OMG - yay! The lovely Kelly had scored us a free feed at Pizza Express, so Three Ladies, Two Babies & A Bump, had a thoroughly pleasant time, and will hopefully be doing it again sometime soon :)

And todaaay, my poor little man had his third appointment with the nurse for a dose of evil pointy needles :( He was a very brave little monster though, and now it's all over till he's one, hooray :)

So yes, that lot, is why I've been such a rubbish blogger.
Hopefully things will be back to what passes for normal now, and I can start catching up - I have a bunch of lovey awards to say thank you for, and my google reader is bursting at the seams... who do I see about getting an extra hour in the day?

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Three Magpies or Four?

Remember the Magpie rhyme?
One for sorrow, two for joy, three for a girl, four for a boy.

Well, on the way to our 20 week scan, we didn't see a single black & white birdie.
Big help.

I knew from the start that I wanted to find out the flavour.
Of course I was more concerned that my little space prawn was doing okay in there and that everything was ticking along as it should be.
And I honestly had absolutely no preference either way, I was 20 weeks pregnant with my first child, more excitable than 20 small children full of sugar on Christmas Eve - either way, pink or blue would have made me grin like a loony, really didn't matter.
BUT, I did want to know.

1. I'm a neurotic control freak. I like lists, I like to plan. I like to be in the know.

2. I hated the idea of the sonographer knowing something I didn't. It was MY baby, in MY belly, how would that be fair??!

3. I'm not really a fan of yellow.

The Daddy wasn't 100% for finding out- one day he wanted to, next he didn't, next he'd say it was up to me... not that it mattered - I was fully prepared to bully him with the whole it's inside meeeee argument :P
But I didn't need to- the big day came, and we both wanted to know.

I lay there nervously - part scared and panicky (please let everything be okay, please let everything be okay), part inwardly squeeing & hoping the little prawn wouldn't be hiding his or her modesty.
On went the jelly, out came the proddy thing.
And there was my baby.
I instantly welled up just like I had the first time and grabbed the Daddy's hand.
The sonographer pointed out the spine, the feet, the heartbeat.
'Is everything good' I asked?
He said it all looked perfect, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I grinned at the Mr & he said 'go on then!'

'Do you know if it's a boy or a girl??!' I gushed
'I know', said Mr sonographer - a little too smugly for my liking.
'Because we only want to know if you're definitely sure.' (told you I was a control freak!)
'You're having a boy.'
'And you're really really sure?'
'Yes. If it's a girl, she's got the biggest testicles I've ever seen.'
Okay, pretty sure then.

The Mr & I grinned at oneanother, clutching our new baby pictures, gazing lovingly at our little boy.
It was like peeing on the stick all over again, our special little secret that only we knew.

Not that it lasted long - we were soon telling anyone that would listen about our blue bump, buying babygrows covered in monsters and robots, deliberating over the perfect name. So much fun.
And I loved that I could start calling the bump 'him'. Every morning when he kicked me awake, I'd give him a rub & say 'morning little dude!'.
When daddy left for work, he'd kiss the bump and say 'Bye little Dude'.
Space Prawn was a prawn no more. he was our little dude, and we couldn't wait to meet him.

And while I can absolutely understand why some people choose to wait, I'm still glad we didn't.

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You know you're a mummy when...

...you lose the ability to frivolously spend money.

Yes, it's true. I've lost my senseless spending spree gene. Where did it go? I don't know. Will it ever come back? Only time will tell.

Let me explain...
last weekend, The Daddy and I decided to take The little Dude on his first trip to Brighton. (That's code for mummy has dropped some baby weight so deserves a little Primarni-based treat.)
The Daddy had just got a little bonus at work, and since we'd been super frugal for a few months (and did I mention, dropped a little baby weight?), he offered to treat me to a wee fashion splurge. (Yes, I love that man.)
So we jumped on the train and off we went.

First stop, Primark. Always fills me with excitable giddiness. Generally, on hitting Primark, I'll spend around £50 & come away with 2 big brown bags full of loveliness. I have a specific route I always follow so as not to miss a single rail of bargainous fashion - you may call it sad, I call it efficient. It's a big store. Basket in hand, Daddy pushing pram behind, off I went.
Forty minutes later (told you, it's a big place, and I'm very thorough), in my basket was a top, a bag, a brooch, and a necklace. Total cost: £10. Pathetic.
Upstairs to bambino goodies - picked up a few bits, but still not terribly impressed.
Queued and paid, left a little disappointed, but still hopeful that H&M would yield better results. (especially as there are now TWO branches - deep joy!).

After a Starbucks vanilla latte to energise & regroup, we hit store number one.
Come on Hennes & Mauritz, lay your couture goodness on me.
Or just three pretty dresses in the whole place, all in stupid little tiny size sixes.
FAIL.
We're down, but not out. There's still the original H&M in Churchill Square. Where an emo-punk-princess bomb appears to have gone off.
DOUBLE FAIL.
Okay then, H&M Kids.
NOW we're talking.
Pretty much my whole splurge budget goes bye-bye on tiny clothes covered in robots and monsters and such.
And that's when it hits me.
I actually don't mind.
Sure, I'm gutted to not be strutting home clutching bags of new pretties, but I can't wait to see my little man in all his new goodies :)
It's official, I'm a mummy.

My 'haul' for the day looked like this:


The Little Dude's, looked like this:


That's the way to do it!

Of course I'm not saying that I'm done with my wayward shopping spree ways altogether, but it seems that without me even noticing, my priorities have really changed. Which is probably a good thing, if a little disconcerting at first.
I even find myself reconsidering SALE bargains - 'sure, it's only a fiver, but that fiver would buy a week's worth of nappies' - that is scary stuff.

Got me thinking though, I'm only 4 and a bit months in - what other madness is going to creep up on me out of nowhere? So, my lovely friends, do tell- what have been your defining 'OMG I'm a mummy' moments so far?
(And somebody, please, tell me I'm not likely to suddenly stop loving loud noisy guitar based music & discover a penchant for Ronan Keating. Please?!)

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If it ain't broke... don't be a lazy bum & stay in bed!!

Today has been something of a rite of passage. Not a good one though.

Let's rewind...
Friday: Let the daddy's 4 day weekend commence! Much joy, quickly cancelled out by the dread that was the mummy having a date with the dentist to have 2 wisdom teeth yanked out. Ouch :( But an hour or so later, still numb, but determined not to waste any more weekendie goodness, we trundled to town in search of lunch & cold drinks. (medicinal purposes, obviously.)
Whilst lunching, got a text from a friend to say she'd had her baby in the early hours of the morning - yay :)
So, off we trundled to the hospital for a visit. (via mothercare for teeny sleepsuit purchasing - little minx had decided on being 2 weeks early so was weeny, very cute though. But didn't make me want another. Honest.)Finally got home at around 7pm, having been out since 8.30am. Loooong day.

Saturday: *gawjuss* sunshine, so despite much leftover dentist pain, decided it was too nice to stay in, promptly went for a long walk along the seafront with the Mr the baby & the dog, stopped off for pub lunch in the beer garden (pear cider- far better wisdom tooth painkiller than ibuprofen!), long walk home, crashed out in front of rubbish Saturday night tv. Looooong day numero deux.

Sunday: Again, scrummy weather, decided it'd be a good idea to jump on the train & go to Brighton. Much pounding of highstreet later, got home, cooked dinner, zonked. Yeah, Looooooong day hat-trick.

Monday: More sunshine? Why you are surely spoiling us Madame Nature! There was a big ol' fete/procession/charidee affair on in town, so we went & had a nosey at that, and then as is tradition on Bank Holiday Mondays, headed to the pub for their daytime-kids-welcome-karaoke affair. (My sister works in the pub & one of my best mates does the karaoke - be rude not to :D)
Got home all walked & sung out, and yes indeed, that made 4 on the looooong day tick chart.

Back to today...
the little dude was awake at 5.30am. Bear in mind that he is a dream baby who usually lets me sleep till at least 6.45, and had hardly any naps yesterday, so I was (foolishly) hoping for a reasonable lie-in. Still, he was quite happy laying in bed with me till about 7am, then started shouting for a bottle.

Here's where it all went wrong.
Usually, we get up at 7am, Dylan enjoys breakfast while watching GMTV, we play for a while, then he goes for a nap at about 9. That's been our routine since he was about 4 weeks old.

Today, I was an exhausted, sleepy, lazy mummy.
So when Daddy made up a bottle & brought it into the bedroom, I thought 'Ah what the hell' propped the little dude up in our bed, and fed him there. All good. Don't know whether he was just super comfy or exhausted from the full on weekend, but he fell asleep again pretty much as soon as he was finished, for a good 2 hours.

He woke up FULL of beans, demanding to be fed, entertained, changed - all the usual.
The window for his afternoon nap came & went.
His afternoon feed came & went. Still no sign of sleep.
We played, we danced, we listened to The Guillemots.
Nope, not tired.
We read a story.
Not tired.
Got to about 4pm & the cranky kicked in with a vengeance.
Cuddles didn't work, rocking didn't work, singing didn't work.
He cried.
I cried.
Daddy got home at 6.30, mummy was frazzled & relieved.
7pm bottle came and went.
8.30 - FINALLY, a sleeping baby.

So now, my head is pounding & I'm twice as tired as I was this morning.
Lesson learned? Do not mess with the routine.

Not ever!

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