This week has been a challenge. It’s fab that Millie is back to school as it’s reduced the frequency of “but Mum!” “why?” “are we there yet?” “what does this do?” “I’m bored” “I don’t want to eat that” and “why are you looking so old?”‘s. But at the same time I’ve loved having her at home for the Easter holidays and we have had a fantastic time; my purse has been rinsed harder than my washing machine, we stayed up past our bedtime every night and I am looking haggard, and we consumed far too many sugary treats I’m actually in danger of involuntarily twitching in public now! I’m broke, I’m knackered and I’m unhealthy thanks to my miniature but powerful five year old! So returning to school is the forced detox that I desperately need and I just know that Millie will be in her element quizzing the teachers with her hundred and one questions, he he he. Excuse me whilst I sip my cup of green tea and nibble on some chilled plums in silence.
I Had My Eyeliner Tattoo’d This Week
Earlier in the week I had my eyeliner tattoo’d at the Whitethorn Fields Mediclinic as a little pamper for being a mummy of two. I absolutely deserve my little cosmetic treats because God knows I’ve been a used and abused rusty milk bucket for the past year and this girl needs polishing for summer. So I was over the moon to have my appointment, but nervous as anything at the thought of needles going into my eyelids. I have to say, unbelievably it was really quick and easy and I didn’t even cry! I guess if I hadn’t have had the anaesthetic I would no doubt be sucking my thumb and hugging a blankie right now, but let’s chose to ignore that whilst I bask in my bravery. Hoorah.
And I love what it’s done to my eyes, it’s like having a makeup artist do your makeup for you every minute of the day and night, forever. This perfection isn’t coming off on no pillowcase, oh no, and I can shower with my makeup on and not look like a rabid panda when I come out! Instead I look like a swan, with makeup on. It has saved me so much time and dignity in the morning so I’m getting an extra twenty minutes in bed at least from not having to do my makeup, AND I wake up looking perfect which is a bit nicer for Luca not being greeted by a morning-breathed troll. It really is the coolest thing ever and I cannot recommend it enough.
I think every girl deserves to look and feel good and little enhancements help you to appreciate your own skin. It’s not changing who you are, but perfecting what you have and as long as you don’t go over the top then it’s a great treat and I’m all for it.
I also had my final checkup at Optimax Milton Keynes at the weekend following my laser eye surgery the other month and I am so pleased with how I’ve healed and my new HD sight. I see everything so clearly now, it’s like turning on the light when you’ve been fumbling around in the dark for years. I’m so glad that I had it done and hope that if you’re thinking about fixing your eyesight you will give Optimax a call and see what they can do for you. It’s truly life changing! 🙂
Gabriele Has Taken Note Of The Dog’s Sleeping Style On Our Sofa
Gabriele has been running his little cankle induced sockies off and is crawling, standing and shimmying himself around the house day and night. He doesn’t just walk around the table, oh no, he lifts a chubby knee, hoists himself up and scrambles across the tabletop so that he can bash and bang it with whatever he has to hand – a candle, a TV remote or my Blackberry are his typical weapons of choice. And as soon as my back is turned he’s off like a shot and trying to get up the stairs or into the dog bed, I’m actually considering purchasing a rucksack that I can cut a head and leg holes into so that I can contain him on my back whilst I work, with his arms folded in and zipped away so that he can’t catch hold of everything within reach and hit me with it.
Well I guess that’s what one year old boys do eh? My baby, my boy, in just eight days time he will have been in this world for one whole year already and I can’t imagine my life without him. The children are my world and give me the fire in my belly to keep me going and work harder and achieve more. If I could take the stars from the sky and give them to them I would. I would walk the world on my hands and knees to keep them safe and no matter how good or bad my day has gone, as soon as I have a hug from my babies and see them smile it makes nothing else in the entire world matter at all.
Gabriele is now eating everything that we eat, minus the seasoning and spice of course. When I hold him as I eat he tips his chin forward, holds his little bird mouth open with his eyes wide and expectant and gestures for his turn from my plate and it puts the biggest smile on my face. He’s had three massive strawberries his week, two full sized ice-creams, fruit yogurts, bread and butter, gravy, mashed potatoes and peas, pasta, tomato soup, baby biscotti, porridge and sweetcorn.
We’re now on the countdown to banishing the steriliser and weaning him onto cows milk which will be such a leap from baby to boy. But I have been a little too over-prepared perhaps and still have a fully stocked cupboard filled with Aptamil Hungry Baby milk that would possibly last us six months should we find ourselves living in a bomb shelter in a fight for survival. Hmm, so do I delay his weaning and wait until the milk powder runs out at the age of seventeen or do I attempt to sell it on / give it away? Decisions, decisions.
Gabriele Will Be A Year Old In Eight Days Time & I Have Made Him This Picture For His Room
And would you like to know where I am right now? Well, I’ll tell you anyway, I’m in Wales about to have breast surgery, I’m possibly already in the operating theatre right as you’re reading this, being cut open and restuffed argh! If you’ve been reading my previous posts you’ll know that my eight-year old implants are possibly PIP which is a dangerous unmedical grade of silicone exposed to have been used in breast surgery patients in England in the several years following the millennium, and as a result thousands of implants are being removed across the UK and Eurpoe. I’ve also lost fullness and volume from my chest from breast feeding two babies and need a bit of a fix for my poor udders – ha! So I am going from a 30DD to a 30F/G and will discover the outcome of my surgery when I wake up in my hospital bed a few hours after being knocked out in the noody with just a fashionable hospital gown and paper shoes for modesty!
Now I don’t know if it’s just me, but the thought of being totally unconscious and naked on a bed in front of a room full of people and a massive light makes me feel a bit exposed! So I’ve been having a little ‘spritz’ to ensure I stay as dignified as possible. Firstly having my makeup tattoo’d means that they can’t wetwipe me into a man in preparation for surgery. Secondly I shaved the little sprig of blonde hair that strangely grows on my big toes, and then I shaved the back of my thighs where stray hairs always seem to evade me and measure at least 8mm when I find them. I know that my breasts are being replaced, so I’ll be laying on my back, but what if they were trying to lift me and I fell onto the floor face down with the moon out and hairy thighs? That wouldn’t be good at all, so you have to be prepared for these things. I’m also expecting as I’ll be unconscious, if it’s anything similar to how I sleep then my mouth will flop open and I’ll dribble over my neck, so I’ve whitened my teeth and flossed to distract the medical staff from my sloppy mouth. And finally I’ve avoided all foods that are trump-inducing because Luca always gasses me with a dutch oven in the night and claims he passed wind whilst being unconscious and didn’t do it on purpose, so I’m hoping if this is true then I won’t let off a dirty roaring trump whilst laying limp with a dribbling mouth and/or snoring on the operating table.
I know I should be more worried about the actual procedure, and the fact that my body is being cut apart and stitched together. But that’s something that I can’t control, the surgeon knows his field and has the expertise, so I’m delegated to controlling my modesty, which I suspect will fail in some seriously flawed oversight on the day.
The children have been packed and podded off to their grandparents for three days during my hospital stay, it seems like a long time to be in another country for private surgery, but I’m guessing I’ll need it and the rest will help me to drug myself up with pain killers to return home. So you will have to wait until next week to see how I get on. If you have any words of wisdom or get well soon’s for me please leave them in the comment box below and I’ll read them when I regain consciousness. Otherwise I am about to scream, laugh, cry, jump, cartwheel and bite my nails because it’s time for me to go under the knife! Eek!! Mummy!! x x x
