Ransacked

Please help. My house has been ransacked. The Playroom was hardest hit. Apparently, the thieves love cheerios...

In the kitchen, we found evidence of vandals...

Judging by garments found at the scene, the thieves are believed to be female and around 2 and a half feet tall.

This, I cannot explain.

One of the thieves was spotted leaving the scene of the crime.

Happy Wednesday!

Great Weight Update

WAHOOOO!!!!!! We have lift off! And by that I mean that in the last week, 2.7 pounds of manky ol' fat has been lifted off my oh-so-fine bod! On top of that, I have shaved an inch off of my magnificent bosom (Seriously, I resemble the prow of a ship) another inch off of my waist and my total body fat has dropped from 27.5 to 26.7!!!

Having always been a fan of the "Drop it like it's hot, shed 10lbs in 10 minutes so long as you're willing to; drink nothing but this cayenne pepper and maple syrup concoction/live on cabbage soup/eat everything with chopsticks whilst simultanaeously doing jumpjacks" school of diet success ( Despite never losing a single pound I might add, apparently, nachos and cheese don't figure highly in these weight loss programs) I was more then a little leery of this whole "slow and steady wins the race" approach.

I am definitely a product of my times when it comes to getting in shape. I want results and I want them NOW tends to be my way of thinking. If I could put myself in the microwave and melt off the pounds, I would. However, seeing as how I can't fit my arse into the thing, let alone the rest of my lovely, ten week post baby self, I am giving the old sensible diet and exercise plan a try, and GUESS WHAT?!?!?

It works! Apparently. if you eat less and move more, you really do lose weight! Genius!

Whoddathunkit?

2 down, 18 to go...

Typing in a Pub Whilst half in the bag...

The sign outside said live music.

I was in.

I was one footloose and fancy free mama who'd left the kids and my inhibitions at home...

He was one man with a synthesizer, a drum machine and a yen for American country and western music...

We never spoke. I never even saw the bastard (he was on the other side of the pub.) But he gave me the finest 60 minutes of uninterrupted musical joy I've experienced in a long time.

He played the hits, one after the other and I sang them. Oh how I sang them! Garth Brooks, Kenny Rogers and a particularly memorable version of Neil Diamond's "Forever in Blue Jeans."
I got a few funny looks from the bartender but hey! In the words of Bob Marley (and as sung by my magical, silver tongued synthesizer/drum machine man) "Don't Worry! Every little thing is gonna be alright!"

It's amazing how fast a glass of wine hits you when you've spent the better part of the last 2 years pregnant, breastfeeding and sober.

I think I need to get out more.

Night Weaning

It was the recipe for the perfect blog. Take one long term breastfed toddler, add a healthy dose of teething and one daddy bear who is decidedly NOT Mr.sunshine and Roses when woken from his beauty sleep in the middle of the night. Now, minus one momma bear to the spare room and watch the proverbial hit the fan.

At this point, you may be shaking your heads and going, "huh?" Well, allow me to fill you in. We have decided to night wean the snot queen. For reasons of health (mine) and sanity (also mine) not to mention the current economic climate, "Mama's All Night Dairy Bar" is reducing it's night time clientele. From here on out, I shall be servicing but one tiny patron between the hours of 8pm and 8am.

This patron is not the Snot Queen.

For the last two nights, myself and the tiny one have retired to the spare room whilst daddy bear and herself have spent the nights alone and milkless together.

We expected mutiny.

We expected fire and brimstone raining down upon us.

We expected a calibre of tantrums this world has never seen.

Instead, for the first time in ages, we got a good night's sleep. Twice.

Now, I'm not complaining, but I can't help but wonder, WTF?!?!? The first and only other time we tried to withhold her night time feed and "wait out" her tantrumming, we waited for over two hours. Do you know what two hours of unrelenting screaming by an eighteen month child can do to your psyche? Do you know what sort of heinous acts you can almost be driven to? Seriously! Tranquillizer darts start to seem like a reasonable option.

So you can understand our fear and trepidation when we decided to cut her off cold turkey. How would she react to this sudden removal of her... I mean my breasts? What would she DO?!?!?

Well, nothing really.

The first night, she woke up two or three times, but instead of inciting world war three, she simply crawled over to where I'd usually be, looked around for a minute, cuddled up with her dad, and went back to sleep.

The second night (last night,) started out ominously enough with a ten minute screaming session where she held on to her poor mouth (she's teething) and cried to break your heart. Mine did. It was all I could do not to rip off my bra, run in and hold her in my arms. Her daddy did great though and she went back to sleep. For. The. Rest. Of. The. Night.

Not a peep. Not a whimper. Nada. Apparently, it's a case of "out of sight, out of mind" (and mouth!)

I can't stay away forever though. It won't be long before myself and the small one return to the family sleeping grounds and that my friends, will be the real test.

That being said, the spare bed is REALLLLY comfy. I might wait just a teensy bit longer...

Will Sell Soul for Sugar: Part 2

The nicest thing just happened to me. I was sitting here, about to have a lazy look through some of my favourite bloggers when I heard something come through the mail slot. Something distinctly non letter like. Something bigger. More solid.

Something sweet.

Something Oaty.

Something to enjoy.

Guilt free.

I love my friends. Thank you lovely, you made my day:) (Please read last post to fully understand just how happy this has made me.)

Will Sell Soul for Sugar...

Oh God... Need biscuits... Must. Have. Sugar. NOW!!!

It is day 4 of my "Lose Weight, Get Fit, NO MORE EXCUSES!!!" diet and excersize plan and I am DYING for biscuits. I'm not talking about a simple "mmm... I could really go for a biscuit right about now" sort of craving. I am talking about a full blown, oh my god, have to have it, would rip your head off for a thick, soft, buttery flapjack filled with loads of sweet, oaty goodness.

Damn you tinygreenmama. Damn you and your oh so divine flapjacks that you just HAD to bring into my house yesterday and that I just HAD to have a taste of. OH. MY. GOD!!!!! We are talking heaven in your mouth. I actually spent all of the girls' precious nap time yesterday scouring the internet in search of her secret recipe. Did I find it? No.

I found every other flapjack recipe on the planet, but nowhere could I find the one that she swears by. I was sickened. But, I figured, oh well! Maybe it's for the best, I won't be able to make the flapjacks and I'll go to bed and by tomorrow the craving will be gone. Right?

WRONG!!!!

I woke up this morning with a yen for flapjacks. By midday, the "Yen" was an all out craving. It was back to the internet to continue my quest for the magic "guilt free, diet friendly, nothing bad for you, super good for you, eat as many as humanly possible and still lose weight" flapjack.

Apparently, it doesn't exist.

Sigh...

Of course, I am breastfeeding... And they do say you need to up your calories for that. And considering the fact that I'm breastfeeding not one, but BOTH of my babies... Well! I'd say that a few flapjacks wouldn't go astray. In fact, flapjacks are filled with oats which are great for milk production (Can somebody say Moooooo...) so really, by denying myself the flapjacks, I'm putting the old milk factory in PERIL and that is a risk I am NOT willing to take, even if it does mean making myself a GINORMOUS pan of flapjacks and inhaling every last one of them before J gets home.

After all, he's trying to get fit too but he's not breastfeeding and I really wouldn't want to put temptation in his path.

Sigh.

The things I do for love.

A rose by any other name...

My brain is on strike. Somewhere, on a hot tropical island, it is sitting at one of those umbrella tables with a nice, cool summery drink. A daiquiri maybe? Or a Margheurita (without the salt. Blech) Or maybe it's on a cruise. A Disney Cruise or something, having it's picture taken with Mickey and Minnie whilst deciding between shuffle board on the upper deck or salsa lessons in the main lounge.

Either way, the result is the same. I am blogless. Dustbowls are blowing through my mind. There is nothing, not a single scrap for me to write about that won't get me a) Beaten up b) Arrested or c) Divorced.

Speaking of... Can you get divorced if you're not married? It's just that once you have two kids together and a joint bank account, "breaking up" just doesn't sound serious enough. It's the same with labelling each other. Boyfriend and Girlfriend is what we were before the kids, the house, the arguments over damp towels left on the bedroom floor (Seriously, it takes 5 seconds to hang it up) and all the rest of the stuff that goes with being madly in love parents of two who plan on spending the rest of our lives together and just so happen to not be married.

"Partner" sounds a bit too cold and clinical. Partners have stainless steel kitchens, live in converted wearhouses and wear funky rimmed glasses. Everything they read or listen to is "Independant" and everything they own is fairly traded. They travel. A lot. In a nutshell, they are cool.

We are not that cool.

We are also not married, so "husband" and "wife" are therefore out.

What does that leave? Not much really. Friends? Well we are, but I'm friends with a lot of people that I don't have kids with. Lovers? Um... did I mention the two kids? Besides which, it just sounds so trashy. Imagine introducing someone as your lover. Lovers are like mashed potatoes or onion rings, they are something served on the side. They are not the main dish.

You know, considering the fact that 1 in 3 children born in Ireland last year were born to unmarried couples (Gasp! Shock! Horror!) I think it's time we were given a Noun of our own.

Any suggestions?

(Hey! Looks like I did have a blog after all...)