Warning: Red Alert: Tired Pregnant Hormonal Whinge Ahead

This morning is my morning for dropping boys at school. I love this as I get to pretend to be a ‘real’ mum while also practicing miliary like drills at getting everyone dressed, fed and out the door in a calm, orderly manner.

So the irritants began when I had to spend half an hour cleaning up the kitchen even though AB had just had two days off. There was also no milk.

I got to work at 10.

I think that is the definition of a lost battle or failed military drill.

Anyway, work was grossly dissatisfying in that there was lots done but nothing achieved.

I got home, after stopping at the supermarket for milk, at 7.20ish. Felix cried approximately 1minute 30seconds after I walked through the door because at approximately 30 seconds after arrival he asked for dessert. People, I had maybe HALF my body actually inside the family home at that stage.

Bec and I have conferred before on our ability to say no to child requests without even really thinking about it because we’re so tired its just an automatic reflect, even if the request is pretty basic and requires little effort on our part. This was not one of those as they were in the midst of getting their teeth brushed to go to bed. This was a no for all the right reasons.

Anyway, I then spend the next half an hour cleaning up the kitchen from a dinner for which I was not even present. I’m talking plates in dishwasher, saucepans, chargrill pans.

So by this stage I was so fed up, tired, cranky that – naturally – I took it out on the kids. So instead of a bedtime story and song, it was a ‘up to bed’ and ‘i’m not coming in until its quiet’ type evening. I did explain to them and apologise for taking it out on them, but still, its another day gone.

I saw a new naturopath on Friday who specialises in women, pregnancy and all the craziness that goes with those two. She reckons I have excellent cognitive understanding of my emotions and what I’m feeling and why, but don’t actually ‘allow’ myself to feel them in their wholeness. This apparently makes me live in my smallness rather than the greatness that apparently all of you see in me.

So, I’m here to say, I am ‘allowing’ myself to feel tired, cranky and generally pissed off.

Image conscious

This is bad, this is very very bad… now we have pictures and I just want to play!

Before I do, however, re the shot of Mr and Mrs Federline, did you notice that oh-so-high school action of running her hands up inside his sleeves? What is she doing in there – checking that Lil Kim hasn’t slipped down his collar to hide from the Mob?

In the interest of Wednesday being Washing Day let’s visit a favourite – the Mobile Crotch Ache himself

And now, just for the record, take a look to the right

What on earth was she ever doing with him in the first place?

Here’s Shane’s current take on the issue
“Unfortunately we live in a society which is pretty judgemental on whatever you do. I have had to live with that. I have loaded the bullets myself a few times. I have made you guys’ jobs very easy.”
Yes, Shane, we’re pretty judgemental (sic) when it comes to SERIAL ADULTERY AND REPEATED PUBLIC HUMILIATION OF YOUR WIFE AND CHILDREN.


And a final juicy link to a TomKat moment, which is too much fun to miss.



indulge me…

(pic from Britney’s very own – www.britneyspears.com)

Where to look – the rouge, the cheap negligee, the no matter what latest season Ralph Lauren citrus themed polo you put on, you can not hide white trash genetics – its just compelling in the most base form. The site is a treasure trove of Britney’s remarkable insights into life…

Late night musings…

The following is because the incubus is playing with my bio rhythms, so while I’ve been snug in bed asleep since about 9.15pm, its now 1.25am and I’m as bright as a button. So much so, I just knew Felix was awake (which he was), have hung out a load of washing and thought of myriad things for Glamorouse.

Firstly – have you ever noticed in the top right corner of our site it says, “Next Blog”? Finally, curiosity got the better of me, and I’m pleased to introduce germ. For some reason it seems highly fitting that our neighbour blog has a title that encaspulates various microbes, bacteria and viruses as really, the life of a parent, particularly one of small children is basically ruled by them. So Jeremy in Cincinnati, I hope we can live in peace and harmony.

Secondly – I have further proof that I’m not deep, at least not all the time. I realised this evening that my last fall into the abyss can be largely attributed to the fact that Go Fug Yourself and Snarkywood were remarkable tardy at updating themselves and providing me with any inane material on the American rich and famous (and ideally skanky) to indulge in. There was also little going on (short of the male incantation of skankyhoe Shane Warne – who, I’ve decided is the Australian answer to Kevin Federline – and really that is a poor substitute for cheap but well deserved shots at Britney, the Olsen twins, and anyone in between) in the realm of celebrity gossip. This week however, brings us the delights of Jude Law – someone I have missed the train for in the whole swoon, he’s so gorgeous kinda way. Now we find out he slept.with.the.nanny. and after feeling immense remorse (according to her dutiful note taking, something to be commended I say) after the first deed, felt the need to do it all over again – in.the.same.night. – and then, after the horror of his child walking in and discovering them – doing.it.again. Sadie Frost must be feeling sooo vindicated and glad she is outta that bedroom. We can only hope jilted fiancee Sienna who is only 23, gets the hell out as well. I mean sure, it is impressive he can go three times in one night, we sure as hell haven’t been in that realm since our early 20s, and I’m sure Sadie and Sienna could confer with the nanny’s musings he was a good lover and made her ‘tingle all over’ but there comes a time when sharing is just plain wrong.

and thirdly, in closing, a word from our sponsor…

Ok Ok…

Lets take a moment to bask (sp?) in the glory that is not listening to me wail on and on about the ills of the world unchecked anymore.

WELCOME BACK BEC! You have been sorely missed.

I take offense at the notion I am deep on any level – particularly as I regularly critque those I work with for what they wear and their very personalities and, with my growing girth and the fact no denim will probably ever grace this body again lest it forms a tarpolin, it is a real case of throwing stones whilst standing centrecourt in a glass house, just for kicks and a giggle with the snappy dressers I work with.

I also take real issue with the zoo. The zoo blows. There, I said it. Firstly, its built on a cliff face. Secondly, my children insist on what I call impulse viewing – ie, in no logical start at the top work to the bottom order of animal sightings, but “lets see the tigers!” “lets see meer cats!” “lets see the giraffes!” blah blah blah – and screaming tantrums if we attempt anything less energy sapping and mountain climbing.

Seriously, there is someone sitting in a control room somewhere, watching zoo CCTV and laughing all the day long as parents as stupid as us indulge our children in these various whims of ambling all over the mountainside.

Finally, you are really setting a bad bad example for the rest of us with kids who actively avoid physical intimacy, let alone in.the.morning.when.the.kids.are.sleeping. I’m not shocked as I know what you two are like, but I’m disappointed. You know its that sort of activitiy that results in incubi…

Having said that, and not one to ever be outdone, AB is quietly, well actually quite publicly, rejoicing at the pregnancy hormone flow-on effect in that area of our lives and is using it as the main reasoning behind him believing the incubus is a boy.

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