The ramblings of a would-be writer/full time mother/full time nutter
Okay, so I am finally getting back into this thing. Husband relinquished control to me ha ha, so have lots of little bits and pieces of me all over the web. Gross, that sounded rank there.
Okay, anyway, getting down to it now. It has been a very long time since my last post (about 7 months shock horror). The last I wrote was about my gruesome birth, which upon reflection, no one really wants to know about! My son is now 7.5 months old and getting bigger every second.
Becoming Mum
Okay, so first of all, what is the correct spelling of that word? The version I just used doesn’t quite look right, but ‘sleepyness’ doesn’t feel right either. Hmm…Okay, so if any intelligent people happen to stumble upon my little site, please feel free to correct me. Seriously, i could use the help….
Anyway, I did not sign on this morning to ponder the spelling of a word, but it does actually prove my point.
The worst thing about missing someone, is the feeling of abandonment and isolation.
I have never been a needy or dependant girl, so colour me suprised when I started pinning for a certain someone……
I’ve lived alone for years and been incredibly independant from probably too early an age, so it did come as a suprise when I found myself missing the dude.
I have never been the type to let my guard down enough to be that dependant on someone, and was shocked to find myself a lil bit scared when he went away.
I could spend a lifetime in the shower. Random statement, I know, but I really seriously love being in the shower. Especially the one at my old house, which was so powerful it left bruises! But, with every up there is a down. And the downer of my showertime? Drying time! I hate it! I am at this very moment sat typing this (well dur…), wrapped in a fluffy towel and hair piled on top of my head. I just hate having to get out of the shower, dry myself off, blow dry my hair which more often than not, makes me look like a startled hedgehog. It makes me all hot and bothered as well, and just reallly frigging annoys me! Takes me forever too cool down after blow drying, and if I want my hair to actually resemble a style? I have to straighten it. Now, I’m a girl. I like girlie things (sometimes), but more often than not, I just cannot be assed with all this pampering malarky. I wished I was one of these seemingly natural beauties that crawl out of bed looking stunning and fresh looking. But, God did not grant me these luxuries. Instead, he more proves the suspicion that He is infact a him, not a she as all those feminists would have us believe. Only a dude would grant us hair that frizzes at the slightest hint of moisture or humidity, skin that struggles to breathe naturally (what the hell does that even mean, anyway?) and jeans that are either super comfy, or flattering to the tooshie, never both. A woman, would have been much more sympathetic.
I’m really struggling to get motivated this morning. After sending (now this is the part where I am realising that speaking of the other half could occur with some frequence, so to protect his identity we shall name him ‘Fax’) So, after sending Fax off to work with his backpack and lunch box and thermos of tea, I got on with practice Mummy duties. Sorted out the washing, organising that evenings dinner etc etc. Normally, I would go back to bed for a little kip once Fax leaves for work, but with a busy day ahead I decided against this, opting instead, to shower. And thus my dilema sits before me. To blow dry, or not to blow dry….