Spider in my Bra!

One of my least favorite things about Australia is the spiders, they just move so darn fast! But, having said that, my experience with them has been minimal as I seem to have an eye for them and catch them before they creep under my bed when the lights go off. This morning however I was not so lucky! I was carrying Harry down the front steps to the car when I saw it too late. The web I had just broken with my enormous bosoms!
It almost happened in slow motion! The spider, who was probably sleeping when me, Giganto, created an earthquake in his seemingly peaceful world. I realised too late that said spider had fallen victim to gravity and fallen down the black hole, otherwise known as my cleavage. I squeeled "spider"......."aghhhhhhhhhhhh"................"spider in my boobs" as Tim came racing down the stairs to find me gratuitously grabbing my own boobs with my spare hand and for some reason kicking my knees up in a body conditioning fashion, hoping to squish the little bugger so it would not set up home in the warm surroundings! I am so glad there were no neighbors around as I looked hilairous grabbing my boobs and spinning in a circle hoping to whip the spider out like a tightly wound spring. Alas, it was not so, it was flattened beyond all recognition as it sadly fell to the ground it's legs splayed in all directions.
Harry found the whole thing hilarious, thinking we were playing a game but now he was a little dizzy and vomited into said previous spider haven and into my bra. At least I can put them to good use....spider house, vomit catcher...etc etc...

At least I didn't drop him!

LMFAO, WTF?

What is it with acronyms in modern day language, we seem to be too lazy to swear properly.

I just read Kathryn Kendell's ever so entertaining blog....Get Your Tits Out....for the OAPS! That would be Old Aged Pensioners for those non-acronym peeps!

Whereby she hilariously describes breastfeeding her monstrously hungry baby in the local supermarket only to be stared at my an old man, who's wife was pushing the trolley, only to trip on his feet and land on his bottom. His wife seeing what happened starts to berate him for getting his "kicks" at the local supermarket.

You know, I did not LMFAO! I actually laughed my fucking arse off!!! Shortening it into 5 letters fails to encapsulate the sheer hilarity of the story and my joy in a full throttle tummy laugh that shocked most of Berowra out of it's slumber!!

I feel obliged to share Kathryn's story, the women is hilarious, what can I say?

Mind you, it concerns me more that his wife thought he was getting his "kicks" from watching a women breastfeed....some people!!

Some people!

Well I have to make a promise to myself to blog more, it's cathartic and after the few days I have had, cartharticism (?) is what I need. Don't think that's a word but frankly...never mind! Spell check says it should chromaticism but I think that means something entirely different.
I have SHINGLES! That's right it deserves all capitol letters as it is THAT important. I have a right shoulder I can't itch and a left shoulder that cramps cos of having to carry Harry on that side so I don't infect the bugger. It's like when you have headlice at school and everyone thinks you're dirty, which is not true, headlice, or to use the nicer word "nits" (not) actually like clean hair so nah! I have the "pox" but I am clean I swear!
I watched Dating in the Dark the other day, WTF is wrong with some people. The dichotomy is reality TV could be quite interesting if the subjects had something intelligent to say but anyone with any intelligence wouldn't be seen dead on a reality TV show. So we are left with the drongos of society talking shit to each other. This one couple got on really well, lots of chemistry but when she saw him, she said " Oh, it's like 5ft 7" I can't date someone that short" What? You total fuckwit! It's not as though he wasn't good looking. In fact he was totally gorgeous. That women deserves to be alone!
Nuff said!

Strange Lady at Coles!

So I had a bit of quiet yesterday shopping at Coles as Harry had gone to sleep(which he never does)and I was at the counter when the lady at the counter engaged me in conversation.

NB. I see this lady all the times at Coles, she smokes like a trooper and I see her texting in her lunch break with a plate for one from the local chicken shop,

But I digress. She looked at the pram where I had covered Harry up,

"Is that your baby?"

I thought, well if it isn't then someone is missing something.

"Yes, this is my child!"

"How old?"

"Three months........"

I gingerly lift the scarf covering Harry,hoping he's still asleep.

And there he is, fast asleep, little gem that he is.

"Ah, he looks like a porcelain doll."

Excuse me?

"His skin is all white and shiny. I collect porcelain dolls you know.......

Pause......

"I haven't got any baby ones though......

Longer pause, should I say something?

"Actually I do have one baby, it's a crying baby....not like yours."

Yes, thanks-you. Your crying porcelain baby doll is nothing like my baby.

I think she forgot to take her meds that morning.

Wardrobe what?

So I decide to go through my clothes as I am so freaking cold I need to find long trousers and I seem to have lost the will to tidy and find most of my clothes draped over the drawers or on the breastfeeding chair I don't use. What do I find? I own two pairs of long trousers, one are cargo pants which while comfy, well, look like I don't give a shit about my appearance and the other is an old paid of pregnancy trousers which have the elastic going in between the legs, you know, it looks like blond public hair is sprouting out of the fabric. So I gots to thinking. My wardrobe is terrible. If I had even a semblance of decency I would not leave the house but alas I do but thank-fully Laura Ashley has a sale and I buy some fat pants for the post preggers body.
Really! I should do something about it but to be honest I can't be bothered. I enjoy the chocolate too much and let's be honest I don't think the battle site has recovered yet. Which reminds me, my IT department call the other day to take over my computer to fix something for me, and you can imagine my horror as I realise as soon as the IT man takes control that I have a few web pages up that should not be seen ranging from "Sex after vaginal birth" and "Nipples, why do they look so purple!" I excuse myself off the phone to prevent any embarrassment for the poor man. Oh I don't care personally. I tell you after childbirth and breastfeeding, there isn't much that can a) put me off my dinner or b) makes me socially uncomfortable.
Mind you I still can't bring myself to breastfeed in public. It's not that I disagree with it, in fact quite the opposite, I am all up for feeding in public. The problem is I still look like a deranged mad woman when I feed Harry, in fact it's quite hilarious!
Now, I'm off to finish putting my clothes away except for the Laura Ashley trousers which need taking up as I am so short but let's be honest they'll still be there in 4 weeks waiting for me to take them to the tailors!

No no, ignore that!

So not only ignore the first blog, but also the second which I published in error highlighting my inability to follow the simplest blogging rules!
So I thought about something to blog about but a funny thing happened on the way to the blog. I got distracted which seems to be my "thang" right now! It's the funny thing about being a new mum, you seem able to keep a little human being alive with A grade King Island Cream but on the other hand seem unable to fulfill even the simplest of tasks such as managing to put on an outfit suitable for the outside world or to actually leave the house with mascara on both eyes, (true story) and never been so glad to carry my mascara in my baby change bag) As a wise woman once said to me "motherhood highlighted my serious anger issue" and I have to agree!
Back in the days of Yor/Yesteryear/Days gone by (AKA BB, as in Before Baby) I used to refer to those days when nothing was going right and everything is an emotional roller coaster as "Cup of Tea Days" given that even spilling a cup of tea could bring me to tears. However these CoTD's has actually become a normal day in the life of me!!! Please don't take me the wrong way I am completely fine and not on the verge of a mental breakdown but for some reason I can cry at the drop of a hat. This would have been a useful tool when I was training to be an actor and could not cry on cue, now however it's an Oscar worthy performance when I do, and I do so often. It must be something to do with the hormonal imbalance when you give birth to new life, perhaps your body and mind get re-wired. I used to think I had tremendous empathy for my fellow human being but now it's just an annoyance.
Well it is to me anyway. I was watching Extreme Makeover the other day, you know the program where they take rather unfortunate looking people and give them all the plastic surgery known to man and turn them into someone they wouldn't recognize in the mirror. Anyways, I digress, again. So I'm watching this show and the victim, um I mean, person chosen, is yapping on about not seeing their mum for over two weeks and I think to myself, what a tool, but my eyes however have another idea. No sooner had that thought crossed my mind that my eyes, in complete contradiction to my mind, fill up. And I don't mean in a "oh that's so nice" kinda way, uh uh, I bawled like a new born baby. It was pathetic! Thankfully I tend not to wear make-up these days unless I go out somewhere where there's people as I would have permanent mascara smudges on my cheeks from the regular bawls!!!

Ignore that!

First blog!

I suppose I should think if something witty to start my blogging life but I am afraid that nothing comes to mind. I am especially uninspired given that my Foxtel has well and truly died a horrible death leaving me to contemplate actual human interaction. I mean, how dare the universe, not only did I have a total crap nights sleep. I was awoken at 3am, not by baby Harry, oh no, but by some dog wanting to go for a pee. Upon opening the bedroom door I was greeted with the smell of "new poo" which had been deposited next to Welly's bed (bro's dog) so had to take all the pups out for a pee, get back into the bed and the cooker decides to have a spak attack and start emitting a high pitched noise that I couldn't turn off. Now safely ensconced in bed my shitty alarm went off at 5am to pump (yes as the baby sleeps my boobs won't). I couldn't bear to get up and so re-set it for 6am. All down and dusted as I decided to pump on the toilet, well I wasn't ON the loo but just sat on it. I got back into bed only be awoken by Harry needing an actual feed. So I get up, find there is no Foxtel, feed Harry while staring at a wall and then realise that Leroy (bro's other dog) has pee'd on his bed and is now sleeping on the sofa. I mean wouldn't you if you'd pee'd in your bed. So the 3am toilet visit was completely pointless and I have completely lost the point of my post. I suppose I should separate this into readable paragraphs but who on earth is going to have the patience to read this crap!