Parenthood and Christmas Eve: Releasing my inner pisshead(Part 1)

Every single year, the week before Christmas is mental busy, getting everything ready, finishing buying presents and then wrapping the damn things(I fucking hate wrapping presents), and then the dreaded food shop, and I look forward to that point on Christmas Eve, around 5-6-7pm, when all is done, the table is set, everything is done, and I can sit down.

And get absolutely fucking smashed.

I’m not a huge drinker, but I love a drink.  A nice glass of cold Prosecco, a shot of Baileys, a cheeky cider, mmmmm.

As I’ve got older it’s less about the cheapest shit available to get me as pissed as quickly as possible, and more about finding a nice tipple to enjoy, and get slightly silly at the same time.

The hubbo had the perfect quote last year, when we had finished dinner, and he announced it was time to get merrily fucked up.

God, I love that man.

I love a good traditional Christmas – I’m not a regular churchgoer but I do follow religion to an extent, and the whole meaning of Christmas to me is so special.

The two year old is excited and has a mass of presents, and I can wait for him to open them, same for hubbo and our family, I love seeing people’s faces and reactions to Christmas presents.

Me, I’m not fussed if I get sod all.

But I do enjoy getting shit faced. 

Any other time of year, if you did a food shop at 6am and your trolley was piled high with copious amounts of alcoschmol, there would be serious looking people from certain organisations waiting at the checkout to check you into rehab.

But Christmas is amazing, for a whole week you can get really fucked up any time of the day and no one bats an eyelid. Siiiiick.

Starting now, on Salted Caramel Irish Cream Liquour, out of a measuring glass as I can’t find anything else, it’s lush, strong, and enhancing that warm fuzzy feeling.

Alcoschmol makes the chemical menopause and it’s vile hot flushes so much worse, I’m currently slightly sloshed cooking dinner and dancing to Band Aid running with sweat and burning alive from the inside out.

Sing that shit Bob Geldof, cheers.

Merry Christmas Eve all!


Christmas Eve-Eve…

What a day!

This was me at 5.45am:

Yep, outside Tesco waiting to do my Christmas food shop.  It was quite busy and I had had an awful nights aleep, I couldn’t see let alone function.

I was home and done by 7am and the brat was still asleep.

Obviously hubbo was at home with him, no need to call social services just yet…

We didn’t do a lot all day, despite there being shit loads of jobs to do I’ve been cold and aching all day.

I am switching to Fluoxetine for the Big D tomorrow, I’m slightly nervous but hopeful it’s going to help.

It’s been a lovely festive day, despite feeling poorly and exhausted, I can’t wait until Christmas Day is here and all the stress is gone, I love it I really do, but this year I just want to sleep.

There hasn’t been any substance to my blogs or hardly any swearing of late, I apologise for this.  I’m running on empty right now and I’m hoping a few days rest will recharge my batteries and I’ll be back to my usual sarcastic cussing self.

Peace, love, and all the usual gubbins…


Driving home for Christmas

Work is done for Christmas, woo!

The week before Christmas always frazzles my brain, so much to remember and do, and I’ve stupidly decided to do my Christmas shop tomorrow at 6am(ouch).

I can’t handle my own child when food shopping let alone when it’s busy, so I’m leaving him in bed and praying it will be quiet…

Today was pretty good, for three amazing reasons; I had Chinese food; I got given wine as a present; and I discovered RollerCoaster Tycoon Classic has been released on the iPad.

As a closet geek and a mega fat bitch plus an occasional pisshead, all of the above made me so happy!

Girls who game are generally deemed pretty sad, complete geeks, and there doesn’t seem to be much in the way of encouragement for girls to game.

I’ve loved games such as RollerCoaster Tycoon, Transport Tycoon and Theme Hospital since I was young; I couldn’t tell you why I love them so much, they just give me a warm happy fuzzy feeling. Lush.

I wish I could be like the hubbo and play games for hours but I have the attention span of an overexcited puppy, but the above games keep me occupied for hours and take me back to my yoof.

Watched ‘The Holiday’ last night with the hubbo, never seen it before and was surprised, it’s a lovely film, beautifully written and a unique story, we both enjoyed it and agreed it’s a warm fuzzy feel good film.

So the chemical menopause has got so shit it’s ridiculous, the hot flushes have been unbearable and I’m so tired and run down, I don’t know if it’s that/Big D/everything causing it or something else, who know.

Imagine being chilly, wrapped up in layers, brrrr.

And then someone sets you on fire. 

That’s exactly how it feels, but makes me feel queasy with it.

Doctor has recommended I try HRT to see if that helps, fingers crossed it does, I can’t keep stripping in public….

Bit of a lame one today, I’m shattered and need some zzz.

Nighty night.


Morning snuggles

I’m so tired it’s ridiculous.

Toddler kept waking, hubbo kept snoring, I am running on coffee and festive cheer.

Hmm. Just coffee then.

Day off today, I stayed up stupid late wrapping presents, and writing lists to make myself feel organised when literally I’m so disorganised this year I can’t handle it.

Meeting my mummy friends today to take the kids to soft play, which I’m hoping isn’t going to be stupid busy, I am barely in the mood for my own child let alone hoards of overexcited children on school holidays. Bah humbug.

An early wake up call of ‘mummyyyyyyy….poo?’ and a large coffee later, and we are having one of those treasured moments watching ‘The Snowman’.

I turn into a proper soppy shite with this film, I find it so magical, I get so teary.

It’s one of those moments where I remember the heartache of being told we couldn’t conceive naturally; the months of heartache; and then I thank my one lucky egg that our little miracle happened and how bloody lucky we are.

I will never forget that heartache, and every day I thank the big man upstairs(Him not the hubbo) for giving us W, miracles do happen.

I can remember watching this when I was younger and thinking how on earth do the parents sleep through all of that? They sneak into their room, ride a motorbike round the garden, and the parents just sleep on through.

My theory?  Bob and Deirdre(fuck knows if that is their names but we will go with it) had too much advocaat, went a bit crazy and passed out.

“Bob, what the fuck is that kid doing, is he riding your bike round the garden?”

“Fuck knows Deirdre, he can’t hurt himself, quick, go back to sleep and ignore it”.

We all do it, when baby/toddler/child wakes up in the night.  You are laying in the dark, hoping and praying that the snoring adonis next to you will wake up and go see to them.  You stick a foot out, brrrr it’s cold.  You keep waiting, hoping that they wake and see to the crying one.  Eventually, they wake up, and go and soothe the small one.  You think “yes, I’ve won”.

And then you need a piss.



Random acts of kindness

Monday’s and Tuesday’s are brat free, I work two days a week on Reception in a dental surgery, I’ve been in dentistry for fifteen or so years now, in various different jobs, and I quite enjoy it, it’s nice to be me and not mummy for a few hours.

The weeks before Christmas are notoriously busy in the dental world; everyone seems to be either skint or crunching toffees – which culminates in the Great British Oh-Shit-It-May-Hurt-Must-Get-It-Fixed-ASAP.

It has been crazy busy, today has presented every sort of dental emergency going; I’ve looked after babies, wiped away tears, been shouted at, lost a patient(he bypassed reception I mean, we didn’t kill anyone), and all sorts of the usual things I deal with daily.

But today I came across something I have never ever experienced in my whole working life.

I can’t go into details, but a patient was unable to pay, and another patient, a complete stranger, insisted on paying the bill.

I’ll admit I cried, I couldn’t believe how lovely it was, a true genuine act of kindness!

Thankyou, you beautiful, kind, wonderful soul, you have made my day, and proven to me that there are still kind people in this world.  

And then someone left a set of (used) false teeth on the desk. 

Fucking great.


Diary of a menopausal bitch aged 31

Yep, very young for the menopause, I hear you.

My lady parts were shot to shit before I had the little monster two years ago, I mean my tummy lady parts and not the foo region.  Yes, I call it a foo, let’s face it, there is no nice name for our nether regions, male or female… Anyhoo… Carrying a nine pound baby around for nine months, a nightmare induction, excess amniotic fluid, an express delivery via the sunroof and then nearly dying did my body no favours, and I’ve had a few problems ever since.

After seeing a specialist they suggested shutting my baby making systems down and putting me into menopause for a few months to see what was going on, and to try and settle things down.

This is done by having a tiny implant insects into my tummy once a month.  I’m not going to lie – it was the thickest scariest looking needle I’ve ever seen, and I was a wreck, but it wasn’t too bad, I was more nervous about how it may make me feel.

The first two months on Zoladex I felt amazing, I had so much energy, everything stopped, and I had no pain.

I’m now in month three and don’t I know it.

The hot flushes.  FML.

I can’t sleep they are so bad – it’s a constant cycle all night of burning hot, and then freezing, it’s bloody miserable.

I have HRT, but not keen to try it, so many horror stories, but I can’t continue to sweat my tits off and burn alive every fifteen minutes!

Two work days ahead now…. I hope I don’t burn alive…