I Am The Walrus

One of my favourite things to do at the moment is cook for myself. Or eat food others have cooked for me. Or buy take-away instead of cooking for myself. Or stopping at the 7/11 to buy a packet of chips to eat on the way home. Magnum ice-creams are also nice, but I am trying to avoid them as they may harm the unborn.

When I feel concerned about my high transfat diet I think of Kendra, and her steak and chips, and I imagine how much fun she must be having, and how great she looks, and how Hank and her like to LOL alot together and I find my community. We're so similar, me and Kendra, it's uncanny.

I wonder if she also leaks into her sweats?

Kendra says...(wish I'd said it first)

Hank and i just moved into our new home just outside philly and one of our favorite things to do now is cook together!!! Hank is definitely the head chef in this relationship but he’s teaching me everything he knows haha. By the time this baby comes i’m going to be a gourmet chef!!!! LOL.
Here’s a pic of us making steak and eggs for dinner
There’s nothing i love more in the world than putting on my sweats and hanging out with my hubby!!!
from http://kendrawilkinson.celebuzz.com/

Please don't tell me I am glowing

Old World European Sophistication

Non, je ne regrette rien

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z6boxoksi3U&eurl=http%3A%2F%2Fwww%2Eulike%2Enet%2FThe%5FPhantom%5Fof%5FLiberty&feature=player_embedded

Question is: can he?

Leo feels like dancing
Because of you

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XucbKof0HcU

The first time ever I saw your face

Every time I feel down about the demands of being a parent, and a parent-to-be, I google image an ex boyfriend. This always comforts me, although not because it brings back any nostalgic pleasure, nor because he was ugly. There is no nostalgia, and he wasn’t ugly, in fact I found him quite dashing (even if most of my friends found him strange, weird, “challenging”). The memories his photo brings back is one of icky disgust. The sort of “eugh, I fornicated with that!”, the hope that no one in the world remembers our tryst, and that he, most of all suffers from some sort of early onset dementia where he can’t quite remember my name, and therefore track me down. The thing is, his image shows me what could have been, rather than, thank god, what is, even when the “thank god” bit is the furthest thing from my mind, pre the google image viewing. So thankyou, Mr Icky, for reminding me to stop bloody complaining, for reminding me of what counts, and most of all, for what might have been.

Please, do not smile

I don’t like other people smiling at me because I am pregnant or because I am walking along with my toddler.

When I am with my toddler, those cute smiles others love giving “isn’t he just adorable!” are not appreciated. Why? Because I live with him. He is cute. He is adorable. I know this. But when I am walking up the supermarket aisle I am actually concentrating really really hard on making sure he does not smash/eat/scream without my approval. This is hard work. Your smiles do not make it all worthwhile, I get my fulfilment without your affirmation.

And please do not smile at me waddling along the street heavy with my unborn. I am uncomfortable, my hips hurt, I am possibly wearing urine soaked underwear due to the perilous state of my pelvic floor, and quite likely my underwear has long ago crawled up my arse crack due to my uncontrollable expansion. And I am not enjoying this. If you really care, come do some washing/cooking/babysitting for me. I would appreciate that.