Tieing shoelaces and hoovering

The seventh month or 32nd week of pregnancy is here and I am now feeling every minute of those weeks both mentally and physically. At the minute I cannot;
a. Tie my shoelaces.
b. Paint my toenails.
c. Admire the new waxed regions I now own!?
d. Bath the bubble, unless I'm in it with her.(And then there's no room for her...)
e. Wear trousers who's ingredients list don't contain 99.9% lycra.

However, I can;
a. Flop on the sofa at 7pm and feel like I've run a marathon even if I haven't.
b. Read endless stories to the bubble whilst she rubs my belly and not feel guilty about the dishes.
c. Guilt trip himself into hoovering the house from top to bottom.
d. Cry whenever I want and not have to give a particularily sensible reason to himself- 'it's just my hormones...'
e. Watch my little bubble with so much more admiration and love than ever before. I think it's the hormones again....

However, I can do these things, but really I shouldn't;
a. Think about when number three will come along...... twos' plenty for now. Yea right, who am I kidding I really want to supply the NI football team with 50% of their players.
b. Dream about bringing this one- also a girl, I just know it- home to live with us.
c. But when I do point b. I think of the 24 or 48 or maybe even 72 hours before hand and scare the s**t out of myself.
d. Smell the bottle of witch hazel chilling in preparation for being needed in my fridge. I wretch every time, time travel back two and a half years, remember the bruising and pain, feel sick and shudder, but only for a second before the butterflies appear and I feel very excited and grateful again.

As I sit here and type, the bubble is sitting in the window watching Mr Tumble who is learning her sign language. She's such a star. Smart and loving. I can't wait until her little sis (or brother if my instincts are wrong) it sitting beside her and I'm still on this seat typing about the two little stars I've got.

what a difference a day makes

Yesterday evening I felt exhausted, emotionally unstable, cross with myself that I had been horrible to my mum and very angry with her stupid partner. The bubble wouldn't go to sleep, the dishes were abandoned and i went to bed feeling low.
This evening I feel five million times better and I owe it all to an old mate i fell upon on facebook. At tech 5 years ago we were unseperable, I lived in her house during the week, rent free and cruised along the two years of media studies in her pocket- and her in mine.
With tech finished she went down her editing road, I down the writing path and one not so long motorway seperated us.It was the same as when I left high school, I left the friends behind me and never saw them again. With C it was the same, but thanks to the wonder of tinternet, I have spent tonight ichatting to her and catching up. shes getting married on halloween night (so her) she's just bought her first house and she got a credit on a film that got a bafta!
So this evening, the dishes are done, bubble is asleep from half eight and I am now gonna totter off to bed happy that I found a friend again, who A. doesn't work with me or B. doesn't belong to my own or his own family.
My very own friend, remade all by myself!

down, down, down

I had truly forgotten how a depressing day during pregnancy with lots of tears totally wrecks you. Well it does wreck me anyway.
On second thoughts it's probably the vast quantity of work my brain has been doing today trying to convince myself that my mother is not as big a fool as she really is and that her 'partner' (real name should be conniving money grabbing bas**rd) doesn't deserve to be knocked down by a bus tomorrow morning- one that I have miraculously learnt to drive....which in fact he does.... maybe even tonight... but then that would involve jail and my life is much more important than spending it in jail all over him.

KEY POINT- just entered into my brain- Here is another excellent reason why I deserve my lotto numbers to come up. Besides the A3 Sportback with black suede interior and black roof cloth. A hitman- I don't need to do jail at all, all I need is enough money for a hitman. And a good one at that, one that can seek out baldy bast**ds.

Oh that felt good.
These words are for you, you prick...I may sound like a pregnant looney- well I am- but I'm one million times the person you will ever be.
Ha.
Rant of sorts over, I don't feel quite as bad now for loosing the plot earlier during work, where my workmates must have thought I'd gone slightly mad.

Grow up

Five months or so have passed since I let my tangled brain unravel on this page.
I could blame the house move and lack of internet, but I really should just admit it was laziness.
But as today is my birthday I've took the sudden notion to open the chambers again.... (do brains have chambers???)
Twenty-five today and never been kissed- yea right. Twenty-five, six months pregnant with second child and living in sin is more like it.
Apparently I've reached my limit with himself, 'time for a younger tradein' to be exact. Which might explain the peculiar happy 90th birthday card I received from him this morning. Realistically I should be dropping him soon, he's 30 in June.
This post has really no meaning, other than hopefully it will get me back on the blogging track.
Au Revoir.
(Details of presents will be listed in due course)

New year, New me... I promise

I never make New Years Resolutions, whats the point you always break them anyway. But, today I decided to make one that I will endevour to stick to....
I'm not a morning person, I'm just not I can't help it, it's just not in me to be a cheery, smiley (as I see it false weirdo or on drugs)person in the morning.But today I decided I had to attempt to be a little bit nicer in the mornings, but only at weekends. Together with the flu that engulfed me, christmas niceness and pregnancy hormones I managed to spend much of New Years Eve Eve in tears on my living room floor, wining like a baby that I was no good, falling apart, not remotely able in keeping one child, a house and a job nevermind two... That sort of thing. It was an arguement with himself that I had been having all morning in my head, festering away until I finally cracked and screamed many, many obsenities at him. And all becasue he shouted at me to get up in the morning and I didnt like his tone.
He to shouted many obsenities and flaws in my not so perfect self and made me think 'wise up and grow up, you are not an imbosile you do have the self discipline to be half nice in the monring.'
In other news, this was the quietest Christmas' I have ever encountered with the in law family. Long gone are the days of waking up to Louis Vuitton, Mulberry and Gucci labels under the tree, now it's Baby Gap, ELC and Toys'r'us. But I dont mind seeing Saf's face when she opened her presents (and mine and her dads and her nanny's and her aunties) was priceless.
I have had two glorious weeks of whats that? whats that noise? changea my bum pease.
Today she wanted to change my bum too..... I may be slightly mad, but I'm still able to use the lav, thanks love!

Christmas cheer? My arse

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!

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. :(