Tuesday, October 6, 2015

Chocolate oat cookies

I am in the final few weeks of my pregnancy and god what a chore. I'm too tired, really, to be bothered to do anything strenuous and as my SPD seems to have gotten a lot worse over the past week my daily seven mile walks have had to stop. Ahoy continually expanding arse.

What I have continued to do though is cook and bake and I've been thinking of yummy things to make to put in Lil's lunchbox (little fusspot won't eat school dinners unless it's fish friday). She is a massive cookie lover (definitely my child) so I've been trying to come up with a recipe that doesn't contain a shit ton of sugar because I don't want a bollocking from the school about healthy packed lunches. So after some experimenting, here we go...

100g butter, softened
4 tablespoons of sweet freedom (or agave syrup)
1 egg
120g plain flour
120g rolled oats
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon bicarb of soda
Chocolate chips (I added 6 tablespoons of dark chips)

Mix the butter and sweet freedom together, add the egg. Pour in the flour and mix then add oats with the baking powder and bicarb of soda. Once mixed altogether add the chocolate chips. Roll into small balls, about 5cm, and flatten out. Bake in oven for 10 minutes at 180 degrees.

It's really as simple as that. No faffing. And they're super tasty. I didn't just eat three of them.

Thursday, September 24, 2015

The hormonal bear

I can't hold it in any longer. I HATE BEING PREGNANT. I really hate it. I mean, it's amazing to be able to grow a baby and being a woman shits all over being a man. BUT I just really don't like being pregnant. I'm at that stage where I'm moaning to anyone who will listen and even if they aren't listening I'll still moan. 

I'm uncomfortable. And not that annoying uncomfortable where you've eaten too much and can't get comfortable (that normally happens to me on a regular basis), OH NO. I'm so fucking uncomfortable I want to punch myself in the face so hard to detract from the uncomfortableness I'm feeling. Or maybe chop the top of my finger off or something, just a slither of finger that will grow back. I feel like if this baby gets any bigger, my stomach will split open down the middle and blood and guts and baby will fall out. And if I have to turn over in bed one more time my pelvis will crunch and crumble into a billion pieces of bone. I am a large, slow bear who just wants to hibernate. That is what being heavily pregnant relates to. A big old bear in the winter. I am a hormonal bear who wants to hibernate but can't because she cannot get comfortable.

I can also imagine this is how it feels to be three years old and have to exist. To be asked to do something by your parents like pick up a toy or eat your pasta and it's like how fucking dare they ask me to pick up this toy? Who do they think they are? It's a bit like that. I want to throw myself on the floor (it would be a struggle) and scream and kick until I turn blue. How fucking dare I be this heavily pregnant and uncomfortable. It's awful. Something so amazing making me feel so irate all of the time. And this is the part where you go, oh but you're so lucky to be pregnant. I KNOW I AM. I am blessed (vom), I understand that. But it doesn't make it any fucking easier carrying this great lump of a child. I'm five foot two and I usually weigh the right amount for my height and right now I weigh almost two fucking stone over that. DO YOU KNOW HOW UNCOMFORTABLE THAT IS FOR SOMEONE SO SHORT?? I don't think you do because I am the only pregnant woman in the world.

So I'm going to God damn complain about it because as a woman whose body struggles with pregnancy, I'm allowed to. I'm tired. I ache, like devastatingly ache. I'm devastated that I ache so much. That it hurts so bad. I want to be one of these women who are so at one with being pregnant but I am not. I hate it. It is a means to an end, the end being a baby who is no longer kicking the shit out of my insides but who is keeping me up all night screaming. THAT I can do. I'm happy to do that (not that I will have much choice, it's what I signed up for... I just didn't sign up to feel devastatingly uncomfortable). I'm welcoming the pains of labour, I know they hurt (I laboured to 6cm) and I know it's going to hurt even more if I end up having this baby naturally. Well bring that shit on. I want a burney vagina, not burney ribs. Not sore insides. I want a sore vagina. Cracked nipples. Give me all of that just, get this pregnancy out and give me that baby with her high pitched screams and tiny fingers. 

I am never doing this again.

Friday, September 18, 2015

The rats

I am so close to the end. So close, I can see it, I'm just not fucking close enough.

I've had the major rats this week (not another week, surely, I hear you ask). My lovely child who is normally so chilled and fun to be around has turned into a bit of a nightmare. I was going to call her an asshole but, y'know, bad mother's do that (eye roll), her behaviour has been an asshole (better?). Can you tell I'm gunning for someones, anyones, guts today? Call it general four year old bullshit, call it the transitional phase, big changes... call it what you want, it doesn't make it any sweeter and to be honest I'm pretty over it.

Today I have sent a shitty email to my local MP about some wanker parking on the main path on the way to school meaning I have to cross a dangerous road EVERY DAY that has no crossing, just lots of blind spots and raging traffic every morning because the school run turns people into dicks. I've scowled at the traffic warden who couldn't do anything about said wanker, death stared at the idiot who bumped into me because she was too busy looking at her phone to notice my huge pregnant ass walking along the path, tutted at the idiotic teenage boy who almost ran Lil over on his bike GET OFF THE FUCKING PATH YOU LITTLE SHIT and sighed and sighed and sighed at everyone else because... PEOPLE.

Now don't get me wrong, I'm well aware I'm lucky these are my only problems (as well as chronic heartburn and a vagina threatening to fall out). I'm very aware. But it doesn't mean I'm not going to moan about them because they are my problems and I'm British so I'm going to complain.

everything hurts

37 weeks is approaching and I've been thinking of ways I can kick start this little monkey into getting her ass out of me. EVICTION NOTICE. I mean, if she doesn't come on the next full moon and I end up being wrong I'm going to be pretty disappointed. The moon is always screwing me over so I thought perhaps she could do me a favour just this once and use her moony vibes to help me get my body back.

Screaming, non-sleeping newborn tiredness has to be better than a challenging four year old and her teenage attitude, it has to be. At least I'll get a few weeks off the school run (that has only just started, I know) to spend snuggling with a baby who probably won't want to sleep but can't answer back (the only difference being Lil can, sleep seems to be pretty erratic with her right now).

I know I don't have long left, please don't keep telling me. I'm sore and tired and weepy and ragey and the end feels like it's never going to come. Just send me all your eviction vibes and pray that next weekend I'll be swept up in the newborn tired fog all smiley and exhausted with an intact vagina...

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

A school morning

6:30 Mum can I watch Youtube? No, it's time for breakfast. Can you help me wipe my bum I need a poo? Oh I don't need a poo anymore.
6:40 *eats breakfast at 1mph* Why do you think people are bad sometimes? Is it raining? Can I have a biscuit after my breakfast? Let's just finish our breakfast and we can talk about it while we are getting dressed.
6:50 *still eating breakfast* Mum, do you think I'll learn anything new today? Do you think Caitlynn Rose will have pigtails or plaits? Is it nearly the weekend yet? Less chatter more eating, we need to get ready!
7:00 *slowly finishes breakfast* Can I watch Youtube now? No. Do I have to get dressed? Yes. Can you get me dressed? No, you know how to do it yourself. I'm hungry. You can have a banana once you're dressed.
7:06 Mum can I have a snack? Once you're dressed. Are you going to have a shower? Yes. Are you going to wash your hair? Can I dry it for you? I washed it last night. Can I watch Youtube now? Yes for ten minutes.
7:20 What are you wearing today Mummy? Is it cold outside? Can I check the weather on your phone? Is the baby awake? No she's sleeping.
7:24 Shall I wear my wellies today? Is it going to rain? Your phone says it isn't but it's cloudy. It's not supposed to rain today, no. I want to wear my wellies.
7:29 I'm going to go and do some drawing while you get ready. Ok I'll be down in five minutes.
7:31 Mum are you nearly ready? I want to go to school now. Half an hour and we'll leave. Ok I'll count to 60 thirty times then shall I? Yes Lil, ok.
7:33 Is it time to go to school yet? NOT YET.
7:35 I'm hungry. Have a banana.
7:40 Shall we play Barbies? We don't have time now, later we can.
7:50 I'm just going for a wee. Is it time for school yet? Nearly.
7:54 I've washed my hands Mummy, shall we go now? Can you put my shoes on for me I'm tired. Can I do some colouring? Pop your shoes on and grab your book bag ready. Colouring later.
7:57 Do you want me to do the washing up for you? Is it time to go now? It's ok thank you, I'll do it when I get home. Almost time to leave!
8:05 I'm ready Mummy, can we go now? Yes, do you need a wee? No I just did one, I don't need a poo either. Ok I'll grab my coat.
8:10 *walks out front door* MUMMY I NEED A POO.