Blogging has been given a back seat off late. I haven't lost interest, but I have lost my broadband and (although I'm doing it now) blogging in work is a no go, simply because I don't have the time.
Apparently Christmas is just around the corner and that the cheer and romance associated with that time off year is flying around. Well in the world of red dotting and loughgall loveliness there is no buckin' cheer anywhere!
I have now hit double figures in my second pregnancy, I shouldn't really be telling people but the roundness off my tum sort of gives it away and today for the first time I was sick, something I haven't felt at all this time. And yesterday I could have quite literally have walked, sorry run off a very high cliff. I don't know what the hell my strawberry sized baby is doing to my erratic hormones, but its not a very pleasing feeling.
I feel like sh1t, look like sh1t and am in the sh1t at work, as I have as much work to do as toys santa delivers on Christmas eve.
Pooh!
Monday 15 December 2008
Wednesday 26 November 2008
nappies or knick-knacks?
That is the burning question on my lips right now?
With my daughter turning two next week, I am feeling alot older (not any wiser) and definately a lot more tired and potty training has been on my mind. Saf loves to tell anyone in her earshot of her 'sore bummy' when the nappy has been filled and is showing a great interest in the toilet, especially the under the stairs toilet which apparently is hers. With the great thought of not having to invest in nappies everytime I enter Tesco I bought a pack of seven kickers for her last week, which she loved. Of course she had to get trying them out one night and after five different puddles of wee on my lovely walnut flooring I gave up and stuck a nappy on her. Not that I expected her to know what to do with knickers on, afterall she simply had to pee anywhere into her nappy for the past two years, but I think the tiniest tinest part of my brain thought she was a clever (possibly genius) little girl and would know what to do straight away! Obviously I was dreaming....
But now I don't know what to do. The impending Christmas period would give me plenty of time to get her out of nappies, but I feel slightly guilty that maybe she isn't quite ready and that I'm just rushing her....I suppose time will tell.
In other news, I am bloody exhausted, all the time. Thats it, I'm exhausted and ready to go home even though it's only 4.15. :(
With my daughter turning two next week, I am feeling alot older (not any wiser) and definately a lot more tired and potty training has been on my mind. Saf loves to tell anyone in her earshot of her 'sore bummy' when the nappy has been filled and is showing a great interest in the toilet, especially the under the stairs toilet which apparently is hers. With the great thought of not having to invest in nappies everytime I enter Tesco I bought a pack of seven kickers for her last week, which she loved. Of course she had to get trying them out one night and after five different puddles of wee on my lovely walnut flooring I gave up and stuck a nappy on her. Not that I expected her to know what to do with knickers on, afterall she simply had to pee anywhere into her nappy for the past two years, but I think the tiniest tinest part of my brain thought she was a clever (possibly genius) little girl and would know what to do straight away! Obviously I was dreaming....
But now I don't know what to do. The impending Christmas period would give me plenty of time to get her out of nappies, but I feel slightly guilty that maybe she isn't quite ready and that I'm just rushing her....I suppose time will tell.
In other news, I am bloody exhausted, all the time. Thats it, I'm exhausted and ready to go home even though it's only 4.15. :(
Thursday 20 November 2008
on reflection
I'm feeling slightly ungrateful today, about all my moaning over my new home and on reflection I suppose it's not all that bad- as after all I can walk around naked and have sex on the sofa if I (and himself obviously) feel like it.
Last night I had a very special visitor, my still new niece who is six weeks old. He dad brought her round but he doesn't matter! Ella is the best, so much so that Saf had to show her her bedroom. And her bed, and her wardrobe and every pair of shoes she owns! It was so cute and whilst walking around the kitchen with said niece, I caught a glimpse of myself in the patio doors with a little baby in my arms and felt a magical and yet horrendous set of emotions. Firstly I thought, oh I can't wait to do this again and don't I really suit having a newborn baby in my arms and then the guilts caught up with me when I realised I walk around my kitchen with Saf practically strapped to my waist everyday and never, ever catch a glimpse of myself and think oh isn't this lovely.
So as Ella and her daddy left, (Ella sporting Saf's baby Uggs that look like huge rolls of carpet on her legs) I promised myself I would stop moaning and enjoy my little poppet whilst she still enjoys me carrying her about and still hates men!
One of the best bits about Saf at the minute is that shes at that stage when she tries to copy everything you say. It's hilarious but it means her speech is coming on leaps and bounds. Last week whilst living the haulier life in a cement lorry she asked her dad for a bit of his sandwich! I didn't think she even knew what a sandwich was let alone know how to say it. And then last night she told me the kleen tups went in the cukburd. Another gratifying moment.
Last night I had a very special visitor, my still new niece who is six weeks old. He dad brought her round but he doesn't matter! Ella is the best, so much so that Saf had to show her her bedroom. And her bed, and her wardrobe and every pair of shoes she owns! It was so cute and whilst walking around the kitchen with said niece, I caught a glimpse of myself in the patio doors with a little baby in my arms and felt a magical and yet horrendous set of emotions. Firstly I thought, oh I can't wait to do this again and don't I really suit having a newborn baby in my arms and then the guilts caught up with me when I realised I walk around my kitchen with Saf practically strapped to my waist everyday and never, ever catch a glimpse of myself and think oh isn't this lovely.
So as Ella and her daddy left, (Ella sporting Saf's baby Uggs that look like huge rolls of carpet on her legs) I promised myself I would stop moaning and enjoy my little poppet whilst she still enjoys me carrying her about and still hates men!
One of the best bits about Saf at the minute is that shes at that stage when she tries to copy everything you say. It's hilarious but it means her speech is coming on leaps and bounds. Last week whilst living the haulier life in a cement lorry she asked her dad for a bit of his sandwich! I didn't think she even knew what a sandwich was let alone know how to say it. And then last night she told me the kleen tups went in the cukburd. Another gratifying moment.
Wednesday 19 November 2008
me no like
After four long, sometimes hard years of living with the mother in law, we have finally spread our wings into our very first 'family home.' And after my years of wining to anyone who will listen to my sad stories of dealing with life with the MIL I have to admit I am slightly missing it- not the technicalities of living with her, just the fact now I have to do everything myself and also because this new house is really just a stop gap to our very own 'built and designed by us both' family home.
In the words of my almost two year old me no like many things about the new house. Here's a small selection:
1. me no like the fact Saf thinks she is on holiday and that she has somehow got it into her head that either a. shes turned into a teenager very quickly or b. shes gonna be a tearaway, but she will not go to bed until we go. Which makes her a nightmare to get up and out in the morning and also leaves me no time to sit down on my bloody expensive, yet so worth it sofa each night and go 'aaaahhhh time to relax.' Let alone get anything done like cleaning, ironing and all the other crap things that comes with being an adult.
2. me no like the way the back door locks like no other I've ever come across. Like, when your locking it you turn it the opposite way to the way you would think. It doesn't make sense in my small brain.
3. me no like the fact I've got no wardrobes yet and my spare room is actually a glorified jumble sale housing many million pairs of multicoloured Zara shoes, sandals and boots that I have collected over the years due to the fact I've got people on the inside with lovely discount cards. The spare room also houses three suitcases full of jeans, t-shirts, shirts and coats belonging to both of us, numerous crap presents people have given us that I wouldn't put in my dog house (if I had one) let alone my own house and one very large bed- a present from my mum, just because she had no room for it. This room, correction dump depresses me.
4. me no like the fact I have no broadband. (This is maybe the worst bit)
5 me no like the fact we are now always talking about money. It used to be I'd get a phone call to work to say meet me with tea, your going in the lorry and bring a notebook and calculator it's money chat time. I dreaded these calls but they only ever happened every couple of months- now it's like everyday.
There are probably a lot more things me no like, but right now I can't think of them, but when all is said is done me do like the fact I can run around my house stark naked if I wanted to and no one can tell me not to.
And I can have sex on my bloody expensive sofa if I want... ;)
In the words of my almost two year old me no like many things about the new house. Here's a small selection:
1. me no like the fact Saf thinks she is on holiday and that she has somehow got it into her head that either a. shes turned into a teenager very quickly or b. shes gonna be a tearaway, but she will not go to bed until we go. Which makes her a nightmare to get up and out in the morning and also leaves me no time to sit down on my bloody expensive, yet so worth it sofa each night and go 'aaaahhhh time to relax.' Let alone get anything done like cleaning, ironing and all the other crap things that comes with being an adult.
2. me no like the way the back door locks like no other I've ever come across. Like, when your locking it you turn it the opposite way to the way you would think. It doesn't make sense in my small brain.
3. me no like the fact I've got no wardrobes yet and my spare room is actually a glorified jumble sale housing many million pairs of multicoloured Zara shoes, sandals and boots that I have collected over the years due to the fact I've got people on the inside with lovely discount cards. The spare room also houses three suitcases full of jeans, t-shirts, shirts and coats belonging to both of us, numerous crap presents people have given us that I wouldn't put in my dog house (if I had one) let alone my own house and one very large bed- a present from my mum, just because she had no room for it. This room, correction dump depresses me.
4. me no like the fact I have no broadband. (This is maybe the worst bit)
5 me no like the fact we are now always talking about money. It used to be I'd get a phone call to work to say meet me with tea, your going in the lorry and bring a notebook and calculator it's money chat time. I dreaded these calls but they only ever happened every couple of months- now it's like everyday.
There are probably a lot more things me no like, but right now I can't think of them, but when all is said is done me do like the fact I can run around my house stark naked if I wanted to and no one can tell me not to.
And I can have sex on my bloody expensive sofa if I want... ;)
Tuesday 28 October 2008
We got ourselves a sleepwalker.....
Why do kids inherit the strangest things from their parents?
Example: On Friday night, I was comfortably wedged on the sofa with himself at the other end watching Friday Night with JR. BTW, I shouldn't have bothered- who else thought that Daniel Craig just didn't care about Jonathan's bad jokes? It was a waste of an hour of my life.....
But anyway, through my grumbling I could hear this repeated banging, so went to investigate, and now I wish I hadn't. Stood in her bedroom, eyes closed my daughter was pushing an invisible person on her rocking snail! I tried to talk to her, but no response came so I picked her up and put her back in her bed. She immediately fell back into a deep sleep.
I went downstairs and told himself that we have a sleepwalker, which made our resident babysitter (his mum) say she was never ever babysitting said grand-daughter again! Thats a bit harsh!!! So, that night we went to bed thinking in the back of our minds that the sleepwalking wasn't really sleepwalking but a simple tired toddler getting lost on her way out of her bedroom.....yea right!
On Saturday the little toddler of mine decided mums bed was much more comfortable and so spent the night in between us, obviously quashing even the thought of nocturnal fumblings. I'm beginning to think, she never ever wants a baby brother or sister!! Like until she is 18.....and only because it would be a bit odd if your daughter still slept in your bed at 18!?
The sleepwalking wasn't over... she somehow climbed over either her dad or mum or down underneath the duvet and parked herself behind our floor lamp in the corner of our bedroom. This is where her dad found her asleep at approx 6am on Sunday morning!
So we have taken the decision to either a.tie her to her bed or b.put her rails back onto her cotbed making it a baby cot again..... We'll see
but if you see a curly haired toddler walking down the road somenight, calling for her mim mim, could you please turn her round or post her back as shes probably mine!!
Example: On Friday night, I was comfortably wedged on the sofa with himself at the other end watching Friday Night with JR. BTW, I shouldn't have bothered- who else thought that Daniel Craig just didn't care about Jonathan's bad jokes? It was a waste of an hour of my life.....
But anyway, through my grumbling I could hear this repeated banging, so went to investigate, and now I wish I hadn't. Stood in her bedroom, eyes closed my daughter was pushing an invisible person on her rocking snail! I tried to talk to her, but no response came so I picked her up and put her back in her bed. She immediately fell back into a deep sleep.
I went downstairs and told himself that we have a sleepwalker, which made our resident babysitter (his mum) say she was never ever babysitting said grand-daughter again! Thats a bit harsh!!! So, that night we went to bed thinking in the back of our minds that the sleepwalking wasn't really sleepwalking but a simple tired toddler getting lost on her way out of her bedroom.....yea right!
On Saturday the little toddler of mine decided mums bed was much more comfortable and so spent the night in between us, obviously quashing even the thought of nocturnal fumblings. I'm beginning to think, she never ever wants a baby brother or sister!! Like until she is 18.....and only because it would be a bit odd if your daughter still slept in your bed at 18!?
The sleepwalking wasn't over... she somehow climbed over either her dad or mum or down underneath the duvet and parked herself behind our floor lamp in the corner of our bedroom. This is where her dad found her asleep at approx 6am on Sunday morning!
So we have taken the decision to either a.tie her to her bed or b.put her rails back onto her cotbed making it a baby cot again..... We'll see
but if you see a curly haired toddler walking down the road somenight, calling for her mim mim, could you please turn her round or post her back as shes probably mine!!
Saturday 25 October 2008
overruled
Is that how you spell overruled?? I don't know and frankly I dont care either. I'm angry. Himself has decided that MOTD has been given preference over the factor that is X.
As it still is a very important thing/television programme/event in my quiet life, I am not a happy chappy.
btw Diana is still the best xx
As it still is a very important thing/television programme/event in my quiet life, I am not a happy chappy.
btw Diana is still the best xx
Wednesday 22 October 2008
that was the best day
When I get excited about something, should it be a new handbag, describing a lovely meal or even remembering what it was like to lie in bed on a Sunday morning himself always sarcastically asks me, "was that the best day?!!??"
It's a term I've become accustomed to over the eight years of our relationship. My reply is always the same, I wrinkle up my nose and reply "yea yea smart ass." The reason I tell you this random information is because approximately two minutes ago, I worked out that every Monday is my best day. In terms of work anyway, and I can't work out why.....
I spend every Friday off with my daughter, usually spending money I don't have on rubbish like Egyptian cotton towels or an orange coat stand, and always always on lunch with my mum (she pays every other week, it's just worked out like that, we're not that tight). I follow my day off on Friday with another day of on Saturday, where I could be found doing anything from generally nothing (in pj's) to shopping again. But from the moment I get up on Saturday, I structure my laundry like a military operation- first load in means time to get any backed up ironing done. First load in tumble dryer, second load in washing machine...... this goes on and on, until I have three loads waiting on the tumble dryer and a bloody huge pile of ironing to do. It sits and waits until Sunday.
Sunday morning comes, usually with purple lips from the red wine, and the four large blue Ikea bags are lying there on the floor laughing at me because they know what I'm thinking...'For fxxks sake I'm back to work in the morning and I must have this ironing done before I go to bed.' So therefore I spend the last day of my weekend both doing ironing and dreading what's to come they next day. I hate it, 7pm Sunday night I'm like a raging bull, I can't leave the house, that's wasting the last of my freedom, i just want to stay in my own home while I can. It's very sad and writing it down makes me feel like I've kind of got a problem.
But then I realise it's not a problem, it's family life. Work and family life. The work and family life I craved for since I was 11 years old, when my mum and dads version of it, was quite frankly shite!
The Monday comes like it always does I defiantly walk into work, deflated that this day is here again and much to my surprise work my round little bottom off. So this begs the question, why is Monday, the day I dread so productive, the day I could face anything?
anybody?
It's a term I've become accustomed to over the eight years of our relationship. My reply is always the same, I wrinkle up my nose and reply "yea yea smart ass." The reason I tell you this random information is because approximately two minutes ago, I worked out that every Monday is my best day. In terms of work anyway, and I can't work out why.....
I spend every Friday off with my daughter, usually spending money I don't have on rubbish like Egyptian cotton towels or an orange coat stand, and always always on lunch with my mum (she pays every other week, it's just worked out like that, we're not that tight). I follow my day off on Friday with another day of on Saturday, where I could be found doing anything from generally nothing (in pj's) to shopping again. But from the moment I get up on Saturday, I structure my laundry like a military operation- first load in means time to get any backed up ironing done. First load in tumble dryer, second load in washing machine...... this goes on and on, until I have three loads waiting on the tumble dryer and a bloody huge pile of ironing to do. It sits and waits until Sunday.
Sunday morning comes, usually with purple lips from the red wine, and the four large blue Ikea bags are lying there on the floor laughing at me because they know what I'm thinking...'For fxxks sake I'm back to work in the morning and I must have this ironing done before I go to bed.' So therefore I spend the last day of my weekend both doing ironing and dreading what's to come they next day. I hate it, 7pm Sunday night I'm like a raging bull, I can't leave the house, that's wasting the last of my freedom, i just want to stay in my own home while I can. It's very sad and writing it down makes me feel like I've kind of got a problem.
But then I realise it's not a problem, it's family life. Work and family life. The work and family life I craved for since I was 11 years old, when my mum and dads version of it, was quite frankly shite!
The Monday comes like it always does I defiantly walk into work, deflated that this day is here again and much to my surprise work my round little bottom off. So this begs the question, why is Monday, the day I dread so productive, the day I could face anything?
anybody?
Saturday 18 October 2008
my life right now?
yes, my life right now consists of X Factor and wooden flooring. Ok, so to you random strangers it may seem like a weird thing but to me right now in my life the X factor is a big deal. And wooden flooring, well today I had my new walnut flooring laid in my living room, this is a big deal... It's my first living room...this may not seem like much, 'woo hoo shes got her own living room' well yes, after two years of writing about homes I've got my own living room!! And it's got an amazing walnut floor on it!! ha ha, the floor is beautiful. I'm very proud of my choice.
As for the X Factor, well, it's brought my love of Girls Aloud out (again...). Right now its between Girl Band and Ruth. I can definetely say Ruth is my fav, her version of Purple Rain was great, nowhere near the man himself, but still great.
Ok, Ruth is in, yay.
It's time to end this semi-drunk post, I'm sure your thoughts are eleswhere and you have found a million spelling mistakes...
As for the X Factor, well, it's brought my love of Girls Aloud out (again...). Right now its between Girl Band and Ruth. I can definetely say Ruth is my fav, her version of Purple Rain was great, nowhere near the man himself, but still great.
Ok, Ruth is in, yay.
It's time to end this semi-drunk post, I'm sure your thoughts are eleswhere and you have found a million spelling mistakes...
Monday 13 October 2008
exhaustion
I'm too tired to even breathe, let alone think of anything to write here...
Weekends away followed by a gazillion wedding dresses, make for one tired and fed up emma. :(
Weekends away followed by a gazillion wedding dresses, make for one tired and fed up emma. :(
Thursday 9 October 2008
Major injury No. 2
I have a daughter called Safran. She will be two this Christmas and I'm afraid to say she has inherited all my worst qualities... at age one she was showing a distinct likeness to shoes and anything red! Her latest personality trait is her clumsiness, definitely something she has got from me. Last night whilst watching In The Night Garden she tried to scale a bale of bedsheets my mum had just bought for me. One wrong foot and she was sprawled on the floor after banging her head off the windowsil. Oops. So today as I left her off to nursery she is sporting a large swollen black eye. Perfect.
Other bits....
-My bank account got a battering last night- it was deconstructed bit by bit with the final outcome being that 'you are sh*t with money.' (A comment made by him- also sh*t with money...)
-Tomorrow I am going away for the weekend, to where I don't know, but I've been told to bring my passport.
-To continue with the work related dreams, last night in my sleeping state my workmate Long brought me to her house in a golf buggy. She actually lives (in my dream) in a gated community with it's own prison and airport. Her house being a old airport gate with veranda overlooking the runway! Strange.
I think thats all I can muster today.
Goodbye, do call again x
Wednesday 8 October 2008
Today I decided to have my very own blog....
Well hello,
My name is Emma and today I decided I wanted my own blog!!
So here it is , my first post and what a post to start with....
If you know me you should know that I have very strange dreams (a sure sign my mind never rests!)
Tuesday nights dream....
I was shopping with my sister in law Gillian, her hubby and my fiance in a well known Belfast furniture store. Gillian saw a sofa that she loved so I spoke to the shop owner and bartered the price from £2000 down to £1300! Brilliant job! But just then, sofa in arms Joanna Lumley came storming over to us and demanded the sofa was hers so I had to fight her for the sofa. I won. And in turn I also won possession of my new niece, Ella (Gillian's daughter who is only 4 days old)!
Here endeth the first blog and my dream...
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