My brain and body are not on speaking terms

Its the small things that does it..

Like during this week I was so amazed that my nail polish lasted forever and ever. No, there might not be so much excitement going on right now so maybe I’m a little bit easy to entertain..

Anyway, my nail polish was kind of chipping off but I couldn’t remove it. I even tried with nail polish remover and I was amazed! It didn’t even start to become soft. Omg! I had a normal manicure but I paid for a normal one and it lasted kind of like a shellac. Amazeballs! Then I realized I tried to remove my nail polish with makeup remover.

Good news was that it was actually a whole lot better than the three times (yes, I’m a slow learner apparently) I did the other way around, I tried to remove my makeup with the nail polish remover.

Yes, it stings.

A lot.

Oh brain, where are thou.

But I still mean it

I don’t know if Bette Midler said this or if it was the Pope. Just don’t known with the internet these days (and peoples preference in women clothing). Really love the thought though. Who is right when it comes what someone else looks like anyway. Why do we always have to dress and look the same?

* sneaks away to H&M and buy the exact same clothes as that hot woman at work wore the other day and think thank god for mass production so the prices can be kept low *

Sit still and smile for the camera

There are several photographers out there that are focusing on family photos.

“Great memory guaranteed”..

“Capture the moment”

I say it sounds very good. I would also say it doesn’t necessarily look that way.

But who am I to judge. Maybe other people have kids that sits still and smiles.

A hole in my tyre and in my wallet

I have a slow puncher on my car. Apparently it doesn’t mean that I have a professional boxer slightly on the lazy side hidden in my trunk. I wish. It would have been more fun than changing a leaking tyre.

For you who have been to Dubai or heard about the place, you will know that cars are a big business here. Expensive cars. Fast cars. Super cars. My car is none of that. I have a soccer mum car which is wrong in so many ways. Not the car. But soccer. Everyone knows it’s called football.

Anyway it’s necessary with this kind of information that you see below. Just so you as a parent know that when you get your child it’s first Lamborghini or Rolls Royce, don’t go all crazy (again) and change stuff that makes it go even faster or lower or jumping higher or whatever is cool.

This town is full of super cars which are entertaining to look at. When I see cars with doors that open upwards all I think about is how you would get out if the car flips upside down. Is that a mummy thing? Or am I just always thinking worse case scenario..

Doubt that will ever be a problem of mine. My son would be lucky if he ends up with an upgrade of a Superman floor mat… To his room.

Oh, hello there! I’ve missed you, dear reader..

Apparently I haven’t written anything here for six months:ish. This thing happened called baby, or rather second child syndrome maybe. Going from one child to two felt like going from one child to a school class. Then adding a full time job in to the equation and I get it. I get it why sometimes months fly by and you don’t hear from friends with kids. I felt busy having one but this is a different dimension.

The little boy hasn’t been a big fan of sleeping. During the sleep regression I asked my boss if I could by a little hammock but it still hasn’t been approved :

New sentences that are commonly used in our house nowadays:

– Don’t lick the baby! (To dog)

– Don’t lick the dog! (To baby)

– Don’t lick your shoes! (To toddler)

– Stop blaming grandma for the poop in the corner! (To husband)

The last one may or may not be true.

Anyway, nice to be back. What have you been up to?

The boy of my dreams

He is finally here, the little boy of my dreams. He is absolutely perfect, hairy like a little monkey and farts like an onion infused caveman. The way I like them.

Yesterday he made me very proud by pooping right in to the hands of my husband. I was just thinking to myself, “wow, that’s brave” when my husband undressed him and carried him around naked while I prepared the little bath. First, an innocent fart followed by an “oops” and then he pooped all over my husband who tried to save the situation by holding his hand around babies little butt. The look on someone’s face, when you have your hands covered and full of shit, is priceless. And you just don’t know where to start to save the situation. And it’s so, so painful to laugh when you’ve had a cesarean. But worth it.

The ninth month outfit

I’m not having a lot of options anymore considering I ripped my maternity pants like a true hippo. I have surrendered to tights and I’m proud of it. Who ever invented tights should get the Nobel Peace Price. I’m sure it has kept people from fighting over the years and created peace within women’s minds. Who has the urge to fight when you are wearing comfy clothing? You would be like “naaah, im wearing my eating pants, let’s do brunch instead.” I’m pretty sure people that fight are hungry people in skinny jeans.

So what do you wear when your maternity clothes are getting too small and you only have a few weeks (days…) until the little one arrives..

– Husbands clothes (this might require a big man). You can also borrow someone else’s husband but might be strange.

– Naked – great for all itching. Bad for the working environment. Gotta love maternity leave.

– Wrap yourself in a sheet. Pretend you are an Ancient Greek.

– Leaves, go Adam and Eve style and hope you got some good glue and that it’s warm outside.

Let it all hang out, Bob. I’m with you.

I ate it all

So here I am sitting and eating peanut butter and Nutella straight from the jar. Using the same spoon like a proper rebel. People tend to ask if there is anything I will be missing about being pregnant. Yes! I will miss being an absolute pig and getting away with it.

Does this mean I don’t do these things without a baby in my belly…no, not really but probably less. A lot less actually. I’m not sure what I’m trying to say here. Nowadays I’m searching the fridge and the pantries like a sniffer dog. I know what’s there as I’ve just looked around a few minutes ago but still..I can’t stop.

I eat chocolate cake with both hands, shuffling it in to my mouth like there is no tomorrow.

I will also miss putting everything on my belly and calling it party trick. I do this every day and send my husband a picture like it’s the most amazing thing that ever happened. But I can’t get over having a picnic table with me wherever I go.

Little baby can come now. I ripped all my pants and I have nothing more to wear. I’m expanding and my closet is not.