If you've come here looking for my taphophile and graveyard posts, they can now be found at my new blog, Beneath Thy Feet. Hope to see you there.

Wednesday 3 October 2007

I have come to the conclusion......

That I, against my best efforts I am turning into my mother. Or worse my grandmother! What has brought be to the revelation? That fact that today whilst in Sainsbury's I bought one of those 10p bags for life efforty things, because it would 'come in useful.' *shudders*

Over this last week I have been thinking a lot about the conclusions we come to about life. Conclusions such as; going bra-less past the age of 25 only serves to give you sore nipples and saggy tits. Also the conclusion that since having my two daughters my tits have become progressively more depressed and downcast. Either that or my knees have suddenly and in explicitly become more interesting.

What about the conclusions you draw upon life after having children.

You spend all your time waiting for your little darlings to start walking and talking and once they do you'd wish they'd stop. Oh, those good old days when you put your baby down and they were still there when you got back.

Also don't have any hopes about those magical first words. Like it or not it is highly unlikely that your darling prodigy's first utterance will be 'mama' or even 'dada.' The first word your child will learn and put into effective use will be 'NO!'

"Come and get dressed.'
"No."
"Please! let mummy change your nappy."
"No."
"Please eat something. All you've had all day is a dry cracker and a handful of carpet fluff."
"No."
And my personal favourite, "Can mummy have a kiss?"
"NO!"

This will be closely followed by words such as "MINE!", "SHARE!" and "GIVE IT!"

While on the subject of children I have also come to the conclusion that children and dirt are supernaturally attracted to each other. Trust me, you could be in the middle of no-where and your child will manage to find the only pile of dog poo for miles around.

Never dress a baby in white, no really, don't do it. The moment you fasten that last popper you little cutie will muster a poo of titanic proportions which exits with such force you'll be wiping it from behind their ears before they go to college!

Then there's the things you never thought you would do until you hear the little pitter patter of goosesteps. Things such as picking bogeys out of a baby's nose, tickling out your constipated baby's poo with a cotton bub, catching spit, chewed food and vomit in you bare cupped hands.

"Quick sweety, spew in mummy's hands!" Just yesterday I caught myself sniffing some suspect brown stains on Pugpoo's clothes, just to ascertain what it was you understand. Thankfully it was chocolate!

Mother Nature is a cruel mistress. Just as you're starting to get your life back after packing off your first born to school she starts whispering in your ear. Wouldn't a baby be lovely. One more can't be that much work, go on, day time TV isn't that bad. Just look at all those cute clothes and baby things.

Don't believe it! Its all lies! What woman sits there and actively thinks 'my house is looking clean for the first time in 5 years, I've finally got some me time. What I could really do with is a whiny toddler running around tearing the place apart.' I was stupid enough to listen and it wasn't until I was 8 weeks pregnant that it suddenly hit me. Bugger! That's gotta come out of there!

Being ill. Somewhere it is written in the cosmos that while your family is suffering from the plague you will be well enough to wait on them and and foot as you nurse them back to health. Then exactly 24 hours after they have returned to work or school you'll catch it, but there will be no one to look after you. Wipe your nose, pick up your snot rags and do all that general fetching and carrying. Nope you have to knock back Beechams all in One and just, get on with it.
Life ain't all it's cracked up to be.

But let's no be too negative, there are many joys to life and sometimes it throws you an interesting curve and truly my life would be boring without my kids and husband.

Only last night as I was doing the washing up I heard the melodious screeching of my eldest.

"Mum! Muuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuum! Pugpoo's standing on the sofa again!"

Only to hear seconds later.

"It's all right. The dog broke her fall."

The mind boggles!

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