My name starts with an A and I can buy:
2. Anaconda (don’t want it)
3. Alefant (always wanted one with an E but this one will do)
4. Arkansas (I don’t know anything about this state. All you Americans reading my blog, is this a good deal? Maybe Alaska is better?)
5. Alphabet (I’ll just buy all the other letters and BOOM the world is mine. Gosh I would be a great dictator)
Why isn’t dictator spelled DICKtator? Are there any female ones? Or any that are not dicks?
So what would you buy with the first letter of your name?
We have been going through the news the last few days. Me and my genius baby. Side by side we read the whole shit.
We gave up an ate the news instead. Because if there is something my child has taught me, it’s that whatever you feel about something, just eat it and then decide if it’s good or bad.
Actually no. She didn’t teach me that. Food poisining thought me that.
TRX is a work out. Im just clarifying that if you, like me, thought it was some kind of dinosaur. And when my trainer asked my group “have any of you done a TRX session before” I thought to ask if that was a trick question because no, I don’t feel like that about animals and I’m pretty sure that’s illegal even though they are all dead since a million years.
TRX is supposedly for the cool kids on the gym block. You put straps on to something like a wall or a door and then work with your own body weight. You pretty much pull yourself up in different directions and hope that you keep balance and that the strap holds you up and don’t let go. Because if they let go, they will break your face.
If you have a mean Spanish teacher that tells you that you are a fuss and need to put straps on your freaking feet (!) you might end up falling graciously to the ground and yell “I wanna go home!”
I didn’t fall as I have awesome balance. Gracious like a tanker truck. My trainer told me “that in e Spanish e , I say you are strong as vinegar”. Apparently a good thing. Apparently also a joke. I don’t have any muscles.
I haven’t read any books lately as there is not much time for that luxury. Well, if you don’t count those squeezy children’s books about snails and bananas. If I do read something it means mostly going online and googling things like “why cant I lick my elbow”, “is it dangerous to wash makeup off with acetone instead of makeup remover. Asking for a friend.”
I do have some books that I find interesting and wish I had time to read. The first one: How not to hate your husband after kids. Found this in a book store the other day and it appealed to me considering how many times I thought that exact sentence in my head. I might have expressed it too and that’s why my husband don’t mind to do the night feedings anymore. Win/win. I’m happy and well rested = he gets to live.
Next book: The shit no one tells you. I actually read this book when I was pregnant and I had time on my hands. This is when I learned that my life would officially be over once the baby had been squeezed out. I also learnt that I would talk about poop more than anything and never sleep again. That was a nice and positive book that made me cross my legs. (Yeah I know, too late right… )
Calm the fuck down – parenting technique. I would love to read this one. I’m pretty calm as a parent but I might keep a few extra copies in my bag to hand out occasionally. I’m sure I would make many new friends on the playgrounds.
…..said no new parent ever because once they do, they don’t.
Getting out of the door with your little one can sometimes feel like you have packed for a travel around the world. Twice. Sometimes I feel like packing our house, buy a caravan and forever stay in it. I’ll just bring my entire home wherever we go.
The other day we went to one of the shopping malls. Yes, one of those again. The ones we have been to 240 times this summer as to been a kazillion degrees and we chose to live in the desert. I unpacked baby, stroller, life etc out of the car. While walking away from the car I felt complete and cool. Like I was born to be a relaxed mum. I had everything under control. I grabbed the car keys from my pocket and in an insanely cool way, I reached the hand over my shoulder and locked the car without even turning around! My 7 months old baby even looked at me and said “cool as ice, mum”. Well, I’m sure she would have if she could speak.
After shopping we walked our little walk through the parking garage to search for the car. And we found it straight away, which never happens, but the reason why was because it was easy to spot.
There is currently a lot of poo in our house. Poo-talk, poo diaper, real poo etc. I guess everything that comes with a new, little human being. There is also a lot of love and poetry in our house. Inspired by poo. I thought I’ll just share some with you.
Cotton candy makes me happy.
I don’t want to change your nappy.
Cotton candy in my hair.
You don’t have anything clean to wear.
Cotton candy – please don’t make us part.
That was not just a fart.
And this one is written by my husband who is currently in charge of night time poop explosions:
My little girly twirly doo,
She likes to do a poo,
In the night at half past two.
When you have a very wide ass I’m sure that things knocking in to you doesn’t really bother you. Perhaps it feels good. It might just be feel like a little pinch and for a very brief moment you are wondering if a tiny little bug bit you somewhere but then again, no. If you are bothered you might even look around for that little bug as well.
Anything to the right? Nop!
Anything to the left? Nop!
Hmm, what was it?
It was ME and my HUGE stroller that you actually saw coming on your right side but you chosed to ignore and instead you turned left, walked two steps and bent down to tie your shoe right in front of me. You stopped like it was a freaking crash on the high way and you had to brake for your life. You stopped like there was no tomorrow. You stopped like the aisle wasn’t almost 10 meters wide and absolutely no other people close by…..except for me. 10 meters of excessive, empty space for you to bend down on.