Good morning, well almost afternoony, my little gorgeous balls of ‘hot stuff.’ I’m feeling fresh, alive and confident today and because i’ve not only have i enjoyed a highly productive weekend, but alongside snagging myself a bit of a new job and spending the most wonderful time with my delicious Baby Ruby, (which means the world to her, which polished my karma belt ff with a *wink*…hello Mummy of the year) but i ALSO do not look like the ‘state’ that i have upon my sofa right now. Nothing makes you feel better than having a complete ‘state’ on your sofa, to remind you how sensible you’ve been in comparison and therefore how much better you are doing in your week already, than ‘the state.’ I mean, for crying out loud, it’s MONDAY. If you are still ill from your weekend at lunchtime Monday morning, then you simply can’t handle ‘the party.’ In my mind the only way ‘party animal-ing’ is okay,is if you have no responsiblities, like a family, a child, a life,or a job…and if you do, you ‘party’ and STILL get up in the morning and tend to your duties on top form…even if you feel like shit. However, for now, i don’t care, because having a state on my sofa is actually making me feel so much better about myself. #pullyourselftogether Plus, it also keeps trying to make me feel sorry for it, because it’s been puking…which is all the more hilarious. Erm, you’re not dying of cancer. You got fucked up at the weekend and now you’re ill. #nopitypartyfromme Being Tee-Total, never felt so good. (For those of you who are also in a state on a Monday morning. Firstly you should be ashamed of yourselves and secondly, if you’ve done the shame thing….it’s sad that you’re actually wasting precious days of your life actually recovering from something so pointless. They are days that actual sick people wished they had.) However, if you are a ‘state’ do feel free to hang around people, who aren’t at all feeling as shit as you, because it really does make them feel good about themselves.
Okay, back to me,t he glitzy Queen of Kitten love. (Who isn’t a ‘state’ and feeling delicious.) Saturday was amazing. A day that I completely dedicated to being a mummy. I’m always a mummy, yet when you have a day out of ‘just you and baby’ if really does make you’r world complete and dollies that is just what Rubes and I did. I wheeled her to a garden centre to go look at Christmas decorations. As soon as we got there, her little face lit up with absolute delight, as she looked up at me, all wide eyed and excited pleading to be able to leap out of her buggy and go an a massive Christmasy rampage. Within a second, she was in and out of everything, with all crowds around her an ‘oohing.’ She was wrapped in tinsel, playing with Christmas Ferris Wheels, weaving in and out of beautifully lit Christmas Trees and giggling at the top of her voice at all that was going on around her. Everything was ‘C’mon Mummy! C’MON!!’ And with a little *squeak.* I bought her all sorts from a monkey to a random Christmas bauble and a Born to shop’ torch? Lord knows?? I do always say it, but it really is those moments that matter. Those moments that you joyfully remember during your times of withering away. At the end of the madness, she cuddled my legs, worn out, but smiling and without being prompted said ‘Love you’ and then weirdly asked for ‘meat.’
Straight after that i had to take her to the supermarket. I hate supermarket shopping with a passion and well when you’ve got to go, you’ve got to go. However, i guess the plan is to maybe NOT get your little one super excited before hand. Ruby had her own shopping trolley to pull around. Which we both loved. She enjoyed every moment of it and politely and quite obediently weaved around the appropriate isles that we’re requested of her, with her trolley and shopped. Know that at this point, i was pushing around a giant buggy, filled with Christmas shopping, i’m pregnant and i have my own supermarket shopping basket and one year old with a her own baby sized pull trolley and NO HELP.
Yeah..after 15 minutes of absolute perfectness…it got messy. Real messy.
Long story short, it ends in mayhem and crying and tantrums and everything everywhere. I was in an updo and eyelashes calming and cuddling my loin fruit who was devastated at the fact that she couldn’t eat all the chocolate in all of the land. I looked nutty. Yet happy. Weird combination. However, in my moment of panic, (panic only begins when the tantrum gets so large that there are now people watching whilst they wait in line…i was at that stage, with the buggy, the Christmas stuff, the boobs, the shopping, 2 trolleys, pregnant and a one year old and zero help, came a man…a beautiful man. (Any man who saves the day i regards as beautiful and because they came in and did a caring ‘man’ thing that men very rarely do.)
Anyway, he was tall, he was older, stylish, and posh. He had dark, dark hair and a mystery about him. I had passed him through the isles a few times as i shopped. Okay, so as Wunna land is swilling downward in a Christmassy, supermarket panic, this gentleman, places down his shopping, walks out of the queue, slowly walks over and starts helping me. My stuff was EVERYWHERE, literally everywhere and Ruby had now decided to lay on her tummy in the middle of the supermarket floor crying.
So, this gentleman, saunters up, warmly smiles at me and with a calm hand to my back, assures me that he was here to help and begins to gather up my shopping and placing it on the self checkout counter, for me, scanning my goods, whilst i look after Ruby. HOW AMAZING and just because he’s a good guy. He was like a superhero, but in a long grey business man’s coats. I immediately felt calm by him and comforted. He had a ‘Daddy’ glow about him and due to having such a wonderful father, i always love the quiet, calming, sensible men. I feel automatically ‘wooed’ by them and safe. He wasn’t an abnoxious, loud, tanned party boy. He was a sophisticated man, who knew what he was doing in life. That always calms good women. We don’t look for instability. Unstable men don’t make good husbands, fathers or life partners. They’re lost. Women dont want to have to look after a boy. We want a man to take care of us, who we can rely on.
Okay, so I tend to Ruby quickly as possible, as i’m now feeling bad that he’s helping and i keep apologising to him the entire time. He just calmly looks at me, smiles and tells me it’s not a problem, that he wanted to help me and that the world was right again. Lol. By this point, every woman at the cashier/checkout was looking at their partner like they were an absolute waste of space. I love guys who show other guys up. This guy was like a random, out of nowhere, posh, stylist, supermarket, angel!!! I think i might have even imaged a cape.
So, i eventually get to the checkout, like a damsel in distress buy much calmer. I had totally lost my ‘va voom,’ but it weirdly worked for me. Probably because i looked grateful.But anyhow, men like that don’t they. It makes them feel macho. He’s pretty much done everything and i insist on scanning my last few items. He gave me that right, out of respect. (I like that. It means he’s not controlling.) However, then says, ‘what else do you need to get done before leaving?’ As he places my packed goods under the the buggy!!! Every supermarket needs one of him. I did tell him that, and he replied with a smile and told me that he was actually a ‘banker’ and that his skills would be rubbish in a supermarket.
Anyway, we get talking and i’m thanking me repeatedly like an idiot, in a beige faux fur, whilst trying to place Ruby in the buggy with a bottle. (Of milk, not rum. ) And i just i tell him that i’m fine. Infact i actually said, ‘Thank you so much sir, i mean, i can’t thank you enough, I feel really bad. But i’m all good nwo i think, i’m just going to get the baby sorted, buy a lottery ticket and then i’m going home. But thank you, thank you…..’
So, whilst Ruby is calming down and i’m finally managing to place and belt her into her giant buggy for ‘nap time.’ He tells me to ‘hang on’ and sort of swiftly runs/glides over to the kiosk, (i had no idea what he was doing,) he buys me two ‘lucky dips’ on the lottery and returns with them in his hand, and passes the ticket to me, with a ‘there you go,’ don’t worry, you’re worth it, i just wanted to help.’ Then just like that he goes back to his own goods and rewaits in the queue.
I swear…i’m speechless. What a good good man!!! I even mulled through it in my head. Is it because he’s older? Is it because he’s successful? Is it because he’s lonely? Is it because he’s just a decent human being? Is it because he’s been raised well? Is it because he’s confident? Or is it just because he’s stylish and wanted to flaunt his outfit at crowds, whilst do gooding?
So what i’m going to say to you Ladies, is that i did look and he WASN’T MARRIED. (We’re women we look. I explained that to a guy the other night, who thought women see married men as a pulling challenge. Exact opposite. Women expect men to already be dirt bags, so if they hit on a married man, or married man is looking at them suggestively for attention, or even hitting on them, they play along, just so they can tell everyone they know what a dirt bag he actually is, stamping the fact that men are dogs to all woman kind. It then lessens the worth of the man in question, so the women can then go ‘he might have a wife, but he’s an absolutely dog.’ Making them feel better than both him and his wifey. Simples. )
Anyway, back to my supermarket hero. No ring. Meaning that he is out there in this world somewhere (I know Emily, get super excited ) and is perfect husband material and if there is one like him, then that must mean there actually are lots like him, waiting to be discovered. I mean, he didn’t even try and hit on me for anything. He literally just helped. Awwwww…..
I’ll have to write about the other stuff i had to tell you, in the next blog later, as it seems that those 15 minutes of help managed to make a big impact on my mind this morning.
It’s the small things that make a difference. Now, i’m off to lunch. Cya x
Blogging later on about Rubys little comp.