Double Blogs Much.

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Double blogs today, you shaking blinks of bling-fest. I adore chill days and simply because they’re simple ๐Ÿ™‚ AND I get to blog twice, without the madness scurrying around me like glittery, dramatic pumps of circus. I’ve slipped out of the black maxi dress. I mean there’s only so much dressing up you can do, when you have no where to go. I was sprawled on my sofa like Cleopatra, in my big hair, diamantes, eyelashes and too much lippy…and when the hubby had popped out for a big of golf, (we’ve managed to have some ‘us’ time today, which was very much needed. Yeah I spent some of the time rubbing his tired husband shoulders…whilst I moaned about my tired wifey bump…but on the whole, it was delicious. He’s lovely. I’m lucky. Yet not as lucky as him. ;)) But yes, where was I? Once he had pulled an ‘Elvis’ and completely left the building, (and I don’t mean ‘pulled’ as in gotten felt up by a Vegas act, who fancied a bit more than a cock tail..reminds me of a time when my friend Gay Adam was pissed up in a Vegas elevator, with a martini in his hand and a bunch of Elvis acts squashed into his lift. He looked around and quiteย unsureย of what was going on, due to his drunken state said, ‘Can you see them too?’) Anyway, yes…(and again ๐Ÿ™‚ ) once Keiran had left, I looked in the mirror and thought why am I dressed like this, when i’m doing nothing but chilling at home at 9 months pregnant? I quickly stripped off, flung my dress in the laundry basket (which I once had a fight with after a drunken night with Harriet) and comfied into a pair of giant blue and white checked boy’s pyjama bottoms and lemon t-shirt. I’ve never felt comfier. (Still no undies on.)

So, my mum pops around to drop off some milk…no real reason for it, other than her being a mum and thinking I might need milk. Sweet. I love all mums. It doesn’t matter whether you’re a yummy mummy, an old school mum, a rocky chick mum, a good mum, a quiet mum, a feisty mum, a working mum or a stay at home mum…if you’re child grows up and says, ‘I have a great mum…’ you did a grand job. I mean, you can even be a BAD mum and have you’re child say, ‘I have a great mum,’ meaning maybe you weren’t as bad as you thought you were after all. I alwayss thought I was on top of the world, yet it wasn’t until I was a ‘Mummy’ aka MI.L.F ๐Ÿ˜‰ that i became W.O.M.A.N.

As my mum drops the milk off in the kitchen and check on my bump-a-lumpa…she ventures outside with me, as I do that whole ‘throwing things in the right bins malarky,’ a process I hate because I think it’s a boys job. Yeah, ti’s good to recycle and all that jazz..but can I really be arsed. NO. Give me an imaginary rum any day.

She looks at me, giggles and says, ‘there really is no point to wearing any clothes.’ I had no idea what she was rambling on about. But she was giggling so I figured it must be hilarious in some respect. *Throws mustard glass and orange juice carton in the green recycling bin*

‘You have you’re bum out, because you’ve ripped the back of your pj bottoms. You’re front open, because they are boys pyjama’s meaning you have your button flies open and no knickers on AND THEN you got that too small stretched t-shirt glazed over your top, which is now completely see-thru so I can see your Jelly Baby belly button and nipples. PAHAHAHAHA.’

That’s what she said, whilst I was garden recycling. I looked at myself through the patio window and yeah I didn’t look too bad. ๐Ÿ™‚ Bums are for hanging out…nipples are there for peeking…open crotch is never good…but I really didn’t know and well the rest is magic. We both pissed ourselves…(laughed not wee’d..as that would be awkward by a shed) and then she flew off in her Mercedes to feed my father a curry. I want a curry.

Keiran’s happy today, he loves a bit of love and wifey, so he’s filled to the brim with joy. As he left I told him that he wasn’t allowed to talk to any girls…in fact I screamed it at him out of humour. He did an angry pouty face at me, but smirked like he adored it really.

We’re doing everything new in the bedrooms right now. So before the baby gives us a ‘thumbs up,’ we’re clearing everything out, decorating a little and moving all new furniture in…wardrobes, curtains, beds….not for the baby..but for us. ๐Ÿ™‚ We have no idea how to work it all, as we’l have 2 yr old Ruby and the newborn both throwing hissy fits, so we need to tag team them. Keiran’s getting his own room, hence the new bed etc…with a child and I will have our room…with a child. PARENT TAG TEAM.

Now, all this was MY idea. Yet it’s gotten Keiran a wee bit too excited because he will now have his OWN ROOM. His own ‘CAVE.’ His own ‘Boy Palace.’ I mean for crying out loud. He looked at me today and said, ‘ I can’t wait to get my own room and new wardrobes. It will be ALL MINE and everything will HAVE A PLACE & you’re not allowed in it…the kids can come in…but you can’t.’ What?

I’m going in whatever I want. But really, he’s actually hardcore excited about it all. Apart from the fact that he thinks that the babies will all be in my bed and he’ll have his own room, so (and in his own words…jokingly of course) if he wants to bring back a local and bonk her he can. I laughed in his face with a ‘whatever!’ then told him that I’d set her on fire, so there was no point. He laughed and then decided that I’d do, but did a weird kinky face like having a separate room and inviting me into it was sexy and weird…like an odd yet dirty role play. He can talk the talk can my dearest husband when he believes he wants to play ‘funny.’ But lets talk ‘real life,’ if you can’t contain yourself when I’m simply walking down an isle, with a 60 year old Asian man, in a white frock, without crying your eyes out, in a rather romantic moment of love…then you can’t handle ‘local in the room next door to me’ without fearing the wrath of The Wunna. ๐Ÿ™‚

We’ve got nothing to worry about because we’re in love. Yeah we have our major dodgy moment mixed in with minor dodgy moment…but most of all there’s love.We’re doing the right thing. If anyone has anything to worry about it’s him when i’m skinny and hot again…hellooo waistline and ego in stilettos. I’ll be a nightmare, i’m sure. Yipppeee! Plus, i’ll venture back into entertainment making me glitzy once more and BAM..you have ‘ooh laa.’

I wonder what time Rubes is home. I should be making use of this time and chilling, not scraping bits from my baby brain and attempting to blog at you about of boredom. ๐Ÿ™‚

I think I need a snack.

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