So Gabriele has been a cheeky little chicken nugget recently, and on more than a few occasions he has actually fallen asleep during his lunch with his baby spoon still in his chops! How rude yet totally adorable at the same time. It’s so sweet watching his little eyelids flicker as he fights to stay awake and his chubby little cheeks quiver as he suckles back one last mouthful of puree before giving in and throwing his head back and closing his eyes like he’s suddenly been hypnotised by Derren Brown.
And if he’s not busy sleeping during his dinner then he’s insisting on feeding himself his milk and nodding off on the sofa, it really is a baby’s life! I really feel like our little boy is growing so fast, being seven months old today there is no way that he could be regarded as a dainty newborn anymore and now I’m beginning to think about our chubby cherub’s first birthday party! How exciting! 🙂 I can feel some cake baking coming on.
I’m so excited to say his second tooth has now come through as the other day it had cut his gum but not shown itself. So now he has two halfway-out shiny little pegs right in the middle of his bottom gum and I’ve been a complete bird-spotter trying to catch a snap of his first pearly whites with my camera; as of yet he’s managed to evade my paparazzi attempts by stuffing anything within reaching distance into his mouth to chew on, and if I put my finger on his bottom lip to open his mouth he just bites that instead! But fear not, I will get my snap, possibly when he’s sleeping like his Daddy, with his mouth wide open and snoring!
He is dribbling more than a burst pipe from Thames Water at the minute and his chubby little fists are becoming so precise, he actually selects his objects carefully, pursing his lips and raising one eyebrow and when he thinks we’re not looking, suddenly he takes his moment to strike and snatches things off of the side and they’re in his mouth literally within seconds before we can react and put up a fight; Drink bottles, leaflets, coasters, mobile phones even! Nothing is safe, God help us when he’s crawling. He’s growing ever closer by the day and can now fully support himself off of the ground on all fours with his head up, but instead of going forward he decides to rock back and forth on the spot like a praying mantis. If there’s anything in his way like a cushion or a teddy he head butts it into submission. It really is hilarious to see and I’m currently making a mental note right now to catch it on video. 🙂
He is also a keen baby-biscotti and rusk fan and partakes in a little dribble-nibble before his bottle of milk at bedtime each evening. And I spend the next twenty-four hours discovering and cleaning off camoflagued pieces of biscuit mixed into his hair, eyebrows, toes and wrist-creases.
Both of the children are poorly at the moment and I can’t help but feel like a wartime nurse preparing the spoons and syringes of strawberry Calpol in the morning with the milk bottles and cornflakes before school. They’ve both had raised temperatures and been a little pale but never stop smiling and I beam with ridiculous amounts of pride at their contentment and high-spirits even though they’re unwell. I’m hoping it will pass quickly and not develop into snot-central, but Millie’s started sneezing a fair bit and I can’t tell if it’s down to Gabriele’s teething or immature immune system around his older sister that’s making him off-balance. I guess we’ll just have to wait and see, and pray silently to the Kleenex God’s to bypass our house this winter!
Millie’s been having a few mishaps at school recently and as soon as I’m smiling and laughing about something she’s done, just as quickly I’m straight-faced over something else. She really has such a dramatic experience of school she could give Eastender’s a run for it’s money on story lines. The other day she tripped and hit her nose on the toilet door in the cloakroom for which I received a very serious CSI-style body print-out to acknowledge her injury, and not long after that she took a violent tumble when she tripped over a xylophone in the common room! Well, I never! And being the somewhat cheeky mother that I am, I couldn’t help but chuckle to myself over potato peeling for dinner at the thought of xylophones endangering children at school; Those poor teachers and their guidelines.
She’s made us so extremely proud of her reading capabilities and reels off her three letter words with ease ‘mum’ ‘dad’ ‘cat’ ‘dog’ ‘hat’ ‘pot’ ‘hot’ there hasn’t been one that she hasn’t managed to do yet, although I’m holding back from introducing her to ‘gym’. She’s been making some fantastic cards for the family, writing ‘I love you’ in perfect cursive handwriting instead of ‘I loe yoy’ previously, on the envelopes and taking pennies from her piggy bank to put them as little gifts into the cards. Bless, it makes my heart swell just thinking of her Tate&Llyle smile.
We had a little scandal which I like to refer to as Buttongate last night when Millie decided to confess to ‘robbing the school’ of coloured buttons because she thought they looked pretty and wanted to show them to her grandparents as she’d stowed them in her coat pocket for safekeeping. And in a somewhat psychiatrist manner I gently probed her as to why she took them. She confessed that she knew it was wrong to steal but that she’d be returning them with a condolence card to her teacher stating ‘I love you’ and promised not to steal again. We had been scheduled to spend some of her pennies at the craft shop that afternoon but it was closed when we got there and she’d briefly mentioned something about wanting to buy some buttons but I wasn’t aware she’d stuffed her pockets with her schools finest! Thankfully, being the little Mrs that she is, she confessed, sentenced and charged herself within the same breath for her offence to both my shock and amusement. And this afternoon I checked with her teacher to ensure they weren’t thinking of pressing charges, because I guess you never know! So fingers crossed that’s the end of that and there’ll be no more itchy fingers or I’ll be sewing her coat pockets shut and hanging her mittens on a string instead!
And with it being Monday today, it’s the dreaded day of checking in with the weighing scales. I have tried and tried to do a poo this morning after eating a massive four course dinner last night but to no avail, and the fact that I have caked two layers of foundation on to hide my dark circles and pasty white winter skin, I think it’s safe to assume that I’m presently carrying at least an extra six pounds in excess cargo, totally not in body fat, just poo and makeup! Of course…
Having shaved my legs, brushed my teeth and conditioned my hair I finally stepped cautiously up to the scales like an aerodynamic swan, poised and primped to within an inch of an eyelash to hopefully provide a minimum amount of body weight. Holding my breath my mind battled with itself over which way the numbers would fall this week, so many takeaways, a tube of pringles last night, a four course dinner and a Chinese only hours ago. But on the other hand I’ve been thrashing it at the gym and lifting more weights, upping my intake of water and being more active than ever. No, I just can’t call it, it may as well be down to the toss of a coin for as close at it feels.
And as the magic numbers ticked past I was both elated and dismayed to see that I am yet again at a stalemate, damn you taste buds and thighs! My mortal enemies succeed once again to prevent me from losing weight this week. I am completely to blame for my own greed and I hold my hands up, or should I say pig trotters to mark my failures. I just can’t help it, I truly love my food too much to cut back.
Now I know that my body has physically changed and I’ve trimmed off a lot of lady-lard since giving birth and the pregnancy treats I consumed, but I still can’t help but feel dumpy. I don’t feel slender and elegant, just stodgy and stumpy and I know it’s probably down to my excessive eating habits, which are just as excessive as ever now that I’m gyming and needing the extra energy to work out. But I honestly thought that I would feel graceful again if and when I lost my baby weight, and currently I feel more disgraceful than ever, but I still have around half a stone to shift, which may be why.
I’m toning my muscles finally and feeling the tautness of my stomach and thighs, and so I should for all of the sit-ups I’ve been doing recently and I’ve got the arse burn marks to prove it – ouchie! So looking at my gym routine ten weeks after signing up and I’ve mellowed into a pretty dandy schedule now. I feel like I’m visiting an old friend when I step through the gym doors, hang my bag, lift some weights and then jump on the bike for around fifteen miles a night. But boy-oh-boy don’t I sweat, like a big fat pig in cling film I’m literally drenched and BO’d to the nines by the time I’ve finished my cardio and it’s the most unattractive thing in the world. I love the feeling of working out and the pure energy and lift that it gives me, but I bloody stink and sweat drips, DRIPS off of my face and neck and splashes onto my legs. It’s sick and satisfying at the same time and I’m laughing as I write this. I know that it’s common knowledge that ladies don’t perspire, and if we did it would smell of sweet rose petals and lavender, but I think somewhere along the genetics line I may have had my DNA crossed with a man and/or wild bore because my pores literally pour and my shower sponge cowers from me along with the shower gel when I step into the bathroom in my sweat-soaked spandex!
So I’m making it my absolute mission to fill up my chart each week and as if I skip on a few weights and sit-ups during the week I force myself to play catch-up on the weekend as a deterrent to play truant with my tally which has worked a treat. Luca has been to the gym with me twice recently and I’m hoping that together we can become Batman and Robin (obviously I’m Batman), partners in crime, or against it? Keeping each other on track and eating healthily together each evening. So far so good, but we’re only on our second day and couldn’t really fail as we ate all the junk we got on our food shop the minute we brought it home so now there are no nibbles aboard the good Ship-Sixpack even if we were to be tempted. But I like to think it’s my rock solid willpower saving my thighs so far and not my lazy purse.
Gabriele is still keeping me on my toes over bedtimes and milk-stops at night. I would absolutely love to brag to everybody and anybody who cares to listen willingly or not about how long he sleeps, should he one day sleep through, but alas there is still the unscheduled baby bicker at night and clicking chops in search of a milk bottle at some ungodly hour to contend with first. But the day that my peaceful sleep comes will be bliss, and I expect it will reverse the ageing process to my face immediately and apologetically overnight!