The resembelence is uncanny

Now that the Wonder Weeks app has done a runner and left me high and dry with an 18 month old (for anyone who doesn’t know about this app and has a baby, it’s genius) I’ve very slowly and unwillingly come to the conclusion that it’s because B is no longer an actual ‘baby’. Which is shit because that saying about time going really quickly is actually too true. I mean he will always be my baby but he’s turning into a fully fledged human that can take bites of things without smearing it all over his face (within reason) and if I happen to ask him to bring me something (which obviously I rarely do…) he does it!

What I have also realised is that he has gone from dependent baby to a resident drunk. By that I don’t mean I ply him with alcohol, obviously. However he has managed to take on the persona of a drunk person, not dissimilar to his Dad, minus the actual alcohol.

I must admit I’m a little jealous of the fact that he is able to achieve this state of delirium without even a morsel of gin or wine and no hangover…

So I’ve come up with a few behavioural indicators that your ‘baby’ is turning into a drunken toddler:

  • You remember that song that used to come on in the club during your Uni days that made everyone turn into raving monkeys with springs in their shoes and slut drops galore… Well that. Except it doesn’t really matter what song it is, as long as it’s music. If there is music, they will twerk the living day lights out of it.
  • Cheese, cheese and more cheese. They literally can’t get enough of the stuff. With chips is obviously better but I’ll let him figure that one out when he’s old enough to pay for his own kebab.
  • The drunken stumble… which obviously worsens the more tired they become. This can have catastrophic results which leaves you dreading the nursery drop off for fear of being reported to social services and equally the gust of the dog’s fart within 1 metre of their nostril will cause them to drop and roll like Ronaldo at a football game.
  • Downing their sippy cups like the bell has just sounded for the last round at the pub… obviously with a massive gasp at the end like they’ve just run a marathon.
  • Napping in their clothes and sometimes even their shoes – because waking them would be hell for all involved.
  • Text messages get sent… random people’s Facebook posts get liked… selfies get taken.
  • It’s a good idea to jump off things, whether there is a safety procedure in place or not.
  • Being in control of anything with 4 wheels that vaguely resembles a car is generally not going to end well.
  • Thinking it is totally ok to punch mother in the boob by way of affection
  • Open mouthed kisses are totes ok; the more slobber and tongue the better apparently. Although I do secretly love these, gross but lovely all at the same time.
  • Getting into the car seat is much the same as getting your husband in the taxi at the end of a night out, human sized shoe-horn required and then intermittently opening and closing the window to stop them from falling asleep (or vomming in the case of husband) so you can get them home without having to then do the fully-clothed-try-to-get-them-into-bed-still-asleep thing.
  • Taking all their clothes off and then crying about the fact that they’re naked, oh and it’s totally ok to walk around with no pants on at all!
  • Stairs – every drunk person’s nemisis. Which obviously means going down on one’s backside and even that is dodgey territory.
  • Oh and sleeping in the dogs bed is also totally legit, as is tucking into their biscuits.

So really, who knew that when you got up the duff you were basically going to have spend a good couple of years being faced with the daily reincarnation of you or your husband on a night out in miniature form.


Diarrhea, diarrhea…

It comes out of your bum, like a bullet from a gun… diarrhea, diarrhea!

So this pretty much sums up our week. My poor, sweet innocent baby has had the never ending shits for nearly a fortnight now and we are barely clinging on.

I obviously feel compelled to write about it because it’s become a pretty constant feature in both of our lives and obviously a problem shared… makes absolutely no difference  in terms of digestive movements but writing about it is at least therapeutic for me!

Now love makes you do all manner of weird and wonderful things, and the love of a child… Well, that knows no bounds. I can honestly say hand on heart, if I could swap bums and bowels with my little dude then I would willing do so. It also apparently makes you immune to vomming all over them when they smear their turd all over you, the furniture and the passing pooch.

As you can imagine, being a first time mum/panic-ker/manic-googler, when things go slightly awry and Google fails me or scares the crap out of me, we go to the doctors! This place it seems, has become my second home and I’ve actually started to position myself and Bodes in our ‘usual’ spot upon entering.

Now this week, I’ve added another string to my motherly bow… turd excavator. Oh yes, I actually had to don a pair of purple latex gloves and basically shovel my child’s faeces into a very tinie, tiny tube that I think even a mouse would have difficulty in maneuvering into. And just wait, the guidance that came along with that from the receptionist was – “if you could just make sure it touches all the sides that would be great”. Oh of course, no problem… because diarrhea is good like that, really compliant.

Then, to my absolute horror I was told in order to stop said diarrhea in it’s tracks I had to starve the poor boy! Well, I lasted 2 hours – at a push. Bodes actually dragged his highchair from the utility into the kitchen. Now if that doesn’t say hungry child I’m really not sure what does.

So, to sum it all up… I’m absolutely not succeeding very well at this whole situation and as it stands we are currently living on a knife point whereby we haven’t had any stool movements as yet today which is a good thing but I’m sure Mount Etna will make her appearance at some point, no doubt when it’s really convenient.

Things I have learnt though…please feel free to take any of these on board should you find yourself in a similar disposition:

  • sharts are bloody-minded farts sent down from the God of Feaces to mess with you, your toddler and your nappy supply. Always, always check a fart.
  • English muffins – excellent bunger-uppers
  • As are banana’s – these humble fruits are beyond talented
  • When enabling free-nappy time after an incident, double check the entire area. This avoids shitty forearms should the little cherub need picking up bare bottomed at any point.
  • Towels, towels and towels – pre-bedtime cuddles with In The Night Garden and more bottom breathing time requires towels. Cover up and hope for the best.
  • Oh, and whoever said a Chamomile tea bag on their bum would get rid of nappy rash is lying their tits off.


My vague attempt at healthy…

I bloody love Christmas, and to be frank it’s mostly about the food for me… presents, great obviously but it is the one time of year when it is totally ok to go beyond indulgent, eat pudding and cheese for breakfast and the prospect of gaining half a stone in a mere 10 days is completely acceptable. Well for me anyway, it’s a necessary festive covering to see you through the winter months, that and not shaving your legs…

However, the issue I have with Christmas and the festive period is the sudden and rapid shift in levels of acceptable eating.

One minute you’ve got every advert telling you to absolutely fill your face, Matchmakers are £1 a box, Gin weighs in at a minuscule £18 a bottle compared to £25 (you’ll know which Gin if you recognise the price reduction…) and then WHAM! Run fatty, run! The clock strikes midnight and all of a sudden you catch sight of yourself in a mirror and it’s like Beauty seeing the Beast looking back. Not pretty. Wine and cheese apparently doesn’t make you beautiful in the cold light of New Years Day.

You’ve also got all these skinny, toned celebs on TV telling you to buy their new fitness DVD or basically die from over exercising your jaw – no one ever mentions the fact that they filmed these DVD’s about 5 months ago and they’re currently sat stuffing their faces or being papped by Reveal with their Christmas gut hanging out of their tinie tiny bikini in Barbados…

Gino DiCampo goes from smothering all manner of things in goose fat to dry ciabatta and a bit of pesto if you’re lucky. It’s obscene.

Let’s also not forget the really welcome arrival of swimming lessons starting again, a week after New Year… Let’s get naked (practically)! Just what you need after eating the equivalent of Tesco Express on a daily basis.

I’m not even going to go into the gym situ that seems to take over the country like some rare virus that lasts approximately 3 weeks until they all get bored and come to their senses. Don’t get me wrong, I’m up for exercising… just not in mass.

So obviously I’ve let all of the above get to me, like pretty much everyone else in the country and I’ve started to look at myself naked through squinted eyes in the vain hope that this makes it marginally better until I can shift the extra 5 (ahem, maybe 7) pounds I’ve acquired… I pretty much blame Mint Matchmakers for this. I’m sure if we were in America I could wangle this as a law suit?

In order to remedy this cyclical situation which hits us every year, I was enormously relieved to wander past the Matchmakers yesterday to see with great relief that they had gone back up to £2.50 – this by the way is far too much money and angers me somewhat but there we go, a blessing in disguise some may say.

I’ve also started this magical thing with two of my friends which basically relies on shame and peer pressure with a touch of competition… we do Watsapp Weigh-ins every Monday. We take a snapshot of the scales with our little trotters on them and basically have to confess to any naughties we eat over the course of the week, with full acceptance of the fact that you’re going to get mild verbal abuse for wavering… we also did this before my wedding, it actually works a treat. Brutal, but good.

And lastly, frozen banana breakfast smoothies… another glorious use for all the lovely bananas I love to fill our house with. Que happy husband. These are actually pretty delicious and so easy to make as you’re flying out the door, with or without child under one arm…

Recipe as follows:

  • One over ripe banana, chopped into chunks and frozen
  • 200ml milk – normal, soya, almond. Whatever takes your fancy.
  • 1 or 2 tablespoons of oats
  • Good squirt of honey or a teaspoon depending on if you’re jarred or convenience
  • A generous sprinkle of cinnamon

Chuck it all in a measuring jug, one of those Sports Direct protein drink things, or a pint glass and whizz it up. If you’re fancy use a Nutri-blender of sorts.

And basically, in my world, that’s as good as it gets… Apart from palming off portions of my dinner for Boden’s freezer suppers to make me feel slightly better.



Delicious balls of meat…

For anyone who wants to give my meatballs a bash, these are one of my husbands favourites… FYI. These are ridiculously easy and Boden goes nuts for them… I also appear to live for carbs so these are a general family winner.

This does Kobe, me and two portions for Bodes (it’s a little rich with the tomatoes so you’ll have to gauge how your little people will fare with this one). The recipe goes like so:12512826_1956212914603259_70630095642253658_n

  • 1 onion finely diced
  • glug of olive oil
  • 1 pack of meatballs, I’m partial to the Sainsburys pack of 12
  • 1 x 500g carton of pasatta
  • tablespoon tomato puree
  • 2 teaspoons lazy garlic
  • slosh of red wine
  • tablespoon of balsamic vinegar
  • chopped mushrooms (if you’re a fan, my sister hates them)
  • good sprinkle of oregano
  • same again for basil
  • 200g tagliatelle
  • seasoning

Fry off the onion in the olive oil, add the garlic and meatballs and brown it all off. Once that’s got some nice colour on it, splash the red wine in and let it simmer down for a few mins. Then add everything else apart from the pasta, season and let that bubble away (lid on if possible to avoid it looking like a murder scene). Good steady on salt until after if you’re sharing. If you have time let this simmer for a while to really get the flavours going.

While that’s cooking, crack on with cooking the pasta and once that’s done drain and add it to the meatballs.

Sprinkle of cheese and you’re done.

Super, super easy and I think pretty tasty.