Happy Friday, Janette Krankie and early starts

So lets start with the positives, because the sun is shining, the birds are shagging (true story, there are two pigeons going at on the roof over the road),it’s payday and most importantly it’s Friday which means I have 2 days of having both my husband and my boy around me to look forward to. Happy days ❀

I’ve also just changed Eli’s bedding, which means his room is finally ready for project Bigger Boy Bed. All parents of toddlers and older kids will be familiar with project Bigger Boy/Girl Bed, it’s something that they have either naively looked forward to thinking it heralds the transition from toddler to child or have, more realistically, dreaded it; knowing that the reality of freeing a 3 foot drunk midget was more hassle than it was worth. I think we all know which camp I’ll fall into but the reality is, he’s too fucking heavy to be lifting in and out of the cot all the time. There’s nothing else for it; the bars on the cot bed will need to come down, we’ll need to uncage him.

Preparation for project Bigger Boy Bed is massively underestimated I think. It’s taken us weeks, primarily because I need to do it in tiny stages to save buggering myself but also because danger is a sneaky bastard. It’s everywhere and in everything, and just when you think you’ve got the room ready you realise that the lovely bunting you have strewn all over the place is potentially a tarzan rope, or that the owl door stop could run at your wombfruit full speed Chuckie style and peck his leg off now that there is no cage to keep them separated. There’s danger everyfuckingwhere. Taking down that flimsy wall of MDF bars opens up a whole new world to your darling little mentalist. They can get out of bed, run around, destroy shit, or pull things over. I’d love to think that Eli wouldn’t notice, that he’d stay cosy in bed and not change, that we could move his bed time stories from the couch to him lying in bed and us reading beside him (it feels a bit sinister showing him books and pictures through a set of bars), but I just know that he’s going to spend the next few years either twatting about or appearing like a Janette Krankie (ever noticed how much she looks like Nicola Sturgeon by the way?) in ghost form by my bed at 2 in the morning. I’m not taking down the bars RIGHT THIS MINUTE because we need to wait on the baby gate for his door to prevent example B coming to fruition but everything else is pretty much ready. He has some new wall stickers, bedding and lights to keep him interested in staying IN the room, we’ve replaced the farm house dresser that had all of his baby shit in with a Kallax which is now bolted to the wall in case the feral little fucker decides to climb it and we’ve got rid of the nursing chair and replaced it with a cheapy wee couch so that if he DOES get out of bed he can go and grab a book and sit on the sofa like a civilised little boy… OH HOW HOW WE FUCKING LAUGH. Anyway, I reckon it’s looking quite good.

It’s also Burger Friday obvs which always causes great excitement, mostly for me its got to be said because by this point in week I’m pretty fucked off with the amount of veg I’ve been eating; not potatoes, I NEVER get fucked off with potatoes, potatoes are life. I mean I know “they” say that it’s good for you but honestly, all it does is make me shit or stink and neither of those qualities are up there when looking at optimal version of me. Being slimmer is no good if it means you’re a stinky smelly bastard. That said, it’s working innit, it’s melting fat or something so I should hush my mouth and get on with it. So I am.

I’m being really careful about what I’m eating for obvious reasons but I could kill for the convenience of a sandwich most days. Cooking from scratch all the fucking time can be v dull. I’ve never been one for micro meals or owt right enough, they just never seem to taste of anything but I was a right sucker for things like frozen pizza’s or chicken dippers back in the day (makes it sound like it was decades ago… I’m only talking last year). During my “rest” today I watched a right interesting programme on the telly box about processed food though; now I know it sounds dull and NONE OF THE FUN and you’re right, it’s not up there with porn or Great British Bake Off but I do like factual programmes so I watch a real variety of factual shite including this sort of stuff, and when you’re “resting” you’ve no choice but to watch shit you maybe wouldn’t normally watch anyway – it’s the actual law. Anyway, the usual stuff cropped up about additives, sugar, salt etc and then some general advice about steering clear of “convenience foods” and lo and behold there was a can of corned beef on the telly. Now, this is where I my interest peaked, how many people would class corned beef as convenient? Corned beef in can form is nothing short of physical fucking torture. There is NOTHING convenient about opening that can with it’s wanky “key”. The label curls up like a pensioners foreskin, the “key” falls off the fucking time and you’re in a constant state of anxiety as you twist the fucking life out of it that you’re going to lose a digit. It’s the Krypton Factor of food. So to find out that once you’d GONE through that carry on that its pretty much full of lard and arseholes was a kick in the flaps – especially as I’ve two cans in the cupboard sat there waiting to make Stovies (Google it). The lean stuff mind, not the full scale lard version…. I’m not an animal. I’m in two minds whether to make the Stovies and pretend I don’t know what’s going on, or to chuck them. I do hate waste mind so I’ll probably use them but eat it very quickly so I can try and forget about its contents.

Now that I’ve started my descent from “positive” to full scale “corned beef ranty psycho” I can ACTUALLY start detailing my day; I didn’t just want to launch into it cold with no foreplay as it were.

Today has been shit. Its started being shit at half two this morning when Eli started crying and continued until he got up for the day at 3.30…. yes AM. We tried everything to get him back to sleep but the little fucker was not for playing ball so we were all sat downstairs watching telly from half four on wards. It’s a soulless time of the morning that, there’s nowt on telly, it’s still dark (albeit I could hear Davie and Agnes beginning to stir) and every bone in your body is telling you that you’re off your fucking head being up at this time. On this occasion I couldn’t agree more with my bones.

So there we were watching back to back Bing’s via Prime when Christiaan turns to me and asks the question that’s been on my lips for months; “Do you reckon Flop’s fucking Ama or Paget?”. It was a good question, I’ve always thought Ama had the makings of right harlot whereas Paget has her shit together with the shop and farming Pando out to whoever will take the trouserless little flasher. So we discussed it for a wee while did Christiaan and I, and we decided that Flop’s probably not got it in him to pump anyway and that Ama probably trunk fucks him. Standard. This is a very real example of why you shouldn’t be up at this time of the morning kids, your parents minds are terrible places with no sleep.

In some ways I was alright with Eli being a twat this morning, I mean I had the luxury of being able to go back to bed later whereas Christiaan had to work. I had tried to convince him to stay in bed and let me look after bollockchops until a more civilised time but he was having none of it. He stayed with us the whole time and THAT’S why this man is the most epic kind of husband and Dad, he’s always there for us, he always supports us and he never see’s us as anything other than a team. He’s also got no beef with watching Bing and discussing trunk fucking, or with doing endless jigsaws from 6am onwards (not with me). Christiaan you lovely man, I adore you, thank you for everything you do ❀


So the wee man was shipped off to nursery at half seven and I went back to bed. I’m not in a good way at all today really. Not because we were up so early, it was on the cards anyway, but I don’t think it helped. I slept straight through till half eleven and only woke up because the cat was screaming in my face, I’m going to punch his furry face one of these days. Today was a day I could have slept all day, easily but it wouldn’t have done me any good – no matter how much sleep I have I never feel refreshed so there’s a constant balance to be had between sleeping because I’m shutting down and NEED to and sleeping because I’m tired. Today I shut down just long enough to allow my brain to reset a bit but I’m still a million miles behind myself and both Christiaan and I have decreed that it’s safer I don’t drive to go and collect Eli today so he’s going to finish up early from work and fetch him. We’re so incredibly lucky to have the support of work – gaffer, if you’re reading this, thank you.

Why is it so bad today? Fucked if I know, it could be because my period is starting (blokes STAY WHERE YOU ARE, I promise not to get my rollerskates out and sing Dr Alban) or it could just be luck of the draw with this fucking illness. I’ve not pushed myself in the last few days really so there’s no excuse, it just is what it is and I’ll ride it out until I’m out the other side.

I’m really hoping that I’m on better form tomorrow though, I’d love to get out for a bit. Even if I have to sit in the shade. There’s a fun day thing on in the next town with bouncy castles n stuff and I’d really like to take Eli so that Christiaan and I can at least pretend we’re living the Instagram life for an hour or so. Not that I’ve got grand hopes of Eli loving it to be fair, we’ve to pay to get in but the price includes a BBQ, which of course my fussy child won’t fucking touch and he may or may not be arsed about the bouncy castles. He really is a funny little fucker to figure out at times. We’ll go though, if we can, and we’ll see what Eli makes of it; it’s a short journey and there’s plenty of places I can sit when we get there if I can’t drag my arse around, so it it’s geared up for our convenience.

So we’ll see what the day brings….

Today’s synopsis:

  • Highlights
    • Eli’s bedroom is looking grand and bar fitting a stair gate, we’re done
    • Another really lovely day out there, it’s been cracking watching the boats on the water back and forth
    • I met a really lovely fellow Mum on that cold Facebook bloggers hell hole I mentioned yesterday. Lovely Helen from Twins, Tantrums and Cold Coffee is worth a visit if you’re on the look out for another blog to read and have either twins, a toddler or shit cold coffee… or all of that actually
  • Lowlights
    • Meh, I’ve not moved a lot today. I managed to get dressed but not showered and I’m feeling shite
    • It’s taken me 4 hours, and counting to write this… it’s been edited 7 or 8 times. It’s not like it’s Black Beauty, it’s a sweary fucking blog… I’m officially brain dead.
    • Eli was up at daft o’clock and will likely be mardy wee git when he gets in (anytime now – I write this early remember)
    • Period has arrived so I’ve got that to contend with n all – booooo!
  • Whats on the menu Mellars?
    • Breakfast – negative…. I slept through it
    • Lunch – a wee bit of pasta with a fucktonne of mushrooms and onions and some garlic and herb philadelphia light
    • Dinner – COME ON! We all KNOW what’s on the dinner plate tonight. BURGER!

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