I wanted to share some interesting conversations I had this week. Please feel free to share yours in the comment section.
– saying “no, you can’t climb in the fridge” to my toddler about three times a day. I mean thirty.
– Our lifesaver and babysitter told me that her brother is now a sister and he is happy to take the unopened makeup I have.
– Discussion over the dinner table with my husband that shitting your pants is more common than one would think. I told that when you are pregnant a fart isn’t always a fart. He nodded and said, same when you are guy, but just always. I like that we can talk about everything.
I’ll finish off with some marriage advice from a younger generation:
Do you guys have anything that you feel that you need to stop doing?
I guess we all do ..
For example, I need to stop forgetting things upstairs that needs to be taken downstairs. Especially since it takes me approximately 50 years to go down the stairs with a toodler.
She takes two steps then watches the view (the wall), sit down for a break (need a breather), stops just to laugh at something or to scream at something or just stops to turn around and walk upstairs again (yeay, let’s start over from the beginning you little …….)
Second thing is put oil all over myself and then go to pee. I can explain.
When you are pregnant and getting ready to get yourself in to an elephant state you pretend that oil will save your skin from stretchmarks and looking like one of the characters in The Expendables.
Sure, it’s probably a trick from retail again to ensure we spend our money on unnecessary things in cute bottles that smells good but it feels good to be shiny and slippery. So I have this routine that I came up with when I expected my first and every night I pretty much drown myself in oil and THEN add the fattest Nivea body lotion I can find. After the process of rubbing it in, I have more layers of protection than a polar bear and would be able to withstand a winter in the North Pole. BUT!
Its at this point I always realise I need to pee.. and people, the damn toilet seat is not meant for a slippery butt. I feel that I should report myself as a “new miss” (if my house had an HSE department) every night.
Occasionally other butts have been hurt in this process. But this butt is hairier and doesn’t slip as easy though.
When your hair is straighter than your carpet on the floor, you get super excited to see some kind of volume. This might have been after a wedding party hair do but it counts. Until you take a shower and you turn in to your normal self.
We were at a wedding in Sweden two weeks ago. I paid a small fortune to get my hair looking like a cinnamon bun kind of way on my head. A small bird family would be able to live in there for at least a week. Or so I thought. I guess the hairdresser didn’t include hairspray in their price and half of it fell down after an hour. That’s when you are happy you have a husband that might be suspiciously feminine and don’t mind getting his (well hidden) hairdresser skills going and put it up again. Don’t know how. Don’t care. It lasted all night and I didn’t have to pay him.
Whats up bloggerz? Are you enjoying the summer?
Summer in Dubai means one thing – try your best to get out of here as fast and as long as possible. This is obviously just possible if you are not working so the rest of us have to enjoy a little vacation instead and the rest of the time you get to know the inside play areas really well. Yesterday I went on one of the slides in our favorite play place so many times that my pants ripped. Not that I noticed it anyway. Well, not until a few hours later when I had been walking around flaunting my left butt cheek in the worlds biggest shopping mall, during peak time of course. Good thing I got a hell of a butt.
My husband had his birthday this weekend. He was happy that I arranged a surprise but not so happy that he realize that he actually was turning 35 and not 34. He is determined he lost a year somewhere. I said yes, it’s called getting a child.
He was also determined that I am plotting his murder after he saw his cake that I ordered . No, the guy is not dead. He is just drunk! My husband is English, come on.
After dinner my husband was on his way upstairs to put out little daughter to bed. I suddenly had an urge…
ME: Oh wait! Can you please bring my bra upstairs!
I take it off and throw it at him.
HUSBAND: Great, thanks?
ME: Nice catch. Why so shocked?
HUSBAND: No, nothing. Nothing surprises me.
ME: You should just be happy it wasn’t a tampon.
HUSBAND: As I said, nothing would surprise me.
Good thing I’m cute.