Saturday, February 29, 2020

Brain dead and unpervable

That was then...

What to expect when you’re expecting indeed. 

After joining the legion of pram-people I managed to bugger-up breast feeding, stuff-up the whole sleep scenario (everyone's) and I'm still clinging on to chronic dose of mumnesia, and tangentitis. (the latter being the non-medical term for going off on a tangent every time you try to complete a train of thought out loud or in your head.)

Now apparently iodine supplements help both those things and I’ve tried that with reasonable success but I sometimes forget to take it then I get all absent minded and tangenty again..

Ooops lost my train of thought, where was I?

Oh yes, my parental journey out of the workforce and into what? My new roll as a cullinarily challenged jigsaw jockey and pram co-pilot?  Still fooling about with make-up and new hairdo’s even though

Besides, walking at the business end of a stroller deems you un-pervable anyway so who the hell cares what your hair or face are doing?  And any dude who does perv on a woman pushing her kid along is just icky if you ask me, so who wants to encourage that sort of deviant behavior?

Still, life is good (apart from the continuing sleep deprivation) and even though my maternity leave morphed into unemployment (of an official nature) I can't remember how to do my old job anyway.
But if I could still rake up a whisper of interest in writing about what the pointy heads are saying about the economy (I don't think so) it's probably even more boring than talking about pooh and vomit all the time.
But certainly not as much fun.

I am renowned amongst family and friends for bringing up the subject of ‘pooh’ in its many comical forms, whenever I am tired, or pissed. Two states that go hand-in-hand me being permanently tired and, ever since pregnancy, a two glass screamer.

When perky and sober, I prefer to mull over my redecoration plans for the cubby house, child's bedroom; both of which are looking very busy.

Well so much for introductions, all I can say is; "I am an imperfect parent and proud".

Well ok I wish I were better organised, a better cook and I could improve my score on arriving at pre-school before 9am like they ask you to.

But some days we just need to finish a really good dance session or dash back upstairs for Foxie or someone else who's only along for the car ride because "Toys are not to come to school".

Sensible rule that one; 'cos there's nothing like the embarrassment when you find Barbie's missing pink stiletto in little miss' jeggings pocket after three teachers have been scouring the playground for it.

So I had all these altruistic intentions for this blog but it's turned out to be just a bit of a crazy rant, with a side order of a few useful tips and add-ons.

Feel free to laugh at my expense - I guess that's about the best I can offer considering my recipes would hardly make Master Chef & my craft section isn't exactly Mr Maker.

Mind you I don't know if Mr M could manage a block- out circus bed tent & he doesn't do hobby horses either...

I guess the bottom line is that I am an imperfect blogger too.

...this is now.