So! I’m happy to have the hubby home. It’s delicious, he’s gorgeous and every common glamour puss enjoys the company of such a lethal combination….especially when you are married to such. (I’m enjoying his rough undone hair and tanned face. Gimme! Gimme! It’s made me home spray tan in celebration.)
I’ve nested, i’ve cleaned, I’m moaned, giggled and mooched about for a wee kitty while. I’ve been excited about this whole bed delivery that was meant to be occurring this afternoon and low and behold, what a fucking surprise ( *Gin here*,) it hasn’t arrived, had no intention of arriving and after a few angry preggo phone calls, it will now apparently be making a delivery appearance tomorrow and ‘for definite’ according to their head office. We’ll see! I want the bed and I want it now. Delivery people suck. Why can they never make it to me on time. If it doesn’t appear tomorrow, there will be fisticuffs and phone tantrums. Knowing my luck, i’ll go into labour during the madness. But whatever, the bed is fully paid for, we’ve been waiting for this moment for a couple weeks now and well…it’s not here. Do your job..get it to Wunna land.
So, now that’s sorted and my Mum and Dad came around to tend to Keiran and his poorly knee. My Daddy used to be a orthopedic surgeon and Keiran has a dodgy army soldier knee that he needs help with. They came to care for him and bring us both an electric massager, that I can’t actually use HURRAH. (You can’t use ANYTHING when you’re preggo. It’s devastating.) They also bough Ruby a new chair and table to…well just have. 🙂 I’m thoroughly grateful to have such wonderful folks, but it’s hilarious because as i’m trying to throw things out,new stuff keep coming in…making my job futile…but glitzy and with boobs. Typical.
I mean for ages now, i’ve wanted to clear the kitchen out, as we literall yhave everything dumped in it. I’ve finally gotten around to do it, yet my thoroughness has terrified my husband. Before..and probably when he thought it would never get done, he was all ‘Wife, clean this all up, throw it all out, clear it all out. I need space.’ Now that I have…(and i’ve done a rather crazily amazing job at it. Like i’ve always told you, i’m ace at throwing things out. I’m not clingy and i don’t keep receipts from 1982 incase one day it may come in useful.) Anyway, today I threw almost EVERYTHING out. EVERYTHING. Boxes, paint, bullshit here, crapola there and Keiran got all nervous,like I was stripping away his soul. Lol. He’s turned into a hoarder and i’ve turned into a maniac. 🙂 So now he can’t handle the fact that i’ve thrown it all out. It’s un -nerved him and all I’ve heard from his is ‘Why?why?’
I just looked at him and explained that it had to be done because it was all shit, I want it all out, we have a new baby on the way and well I want a dining table in the kitchen. He looked terrified and said ‘When? Why now?’ JESUS! I simply and strictly said, ‘NOW.’
I’m not playing, it’s all going ‘heave-ho.’ He’s quite attached to his stuff, so i haven’t touched anything that belongs to him. However, that now means everything that is littering the place now only belongs to him. There are boxes and well all sorts of nonsense just plonked anywhere, in the living room, bedroom, kitchen…including a flipping BIKE that doesn’t even belong to either of us in the kitchen…and well now that i’ve cleared all my stuff out, it has underlined how messy all his stuff is. I like it. 🙂 Now he can’t do the ‘You’re messy’ speech at me…Even though it’s annoying it’s good to date boys that need to keep hold of things and simply because when they can’t face throwing things out, it means they are clingy. When they are clingy, it means they are of a personality where they will not find it every easy to throw YOU out. I’m dangerous…and well my past has proved my theory. When I mean business…i mean business. I’m tolerant until a point, then it all flies curbside if i feel it needs to be. I’m loving our relationship right now. It’s perfect. i just wish we were wallowing in our millions already, so that we had the space, the enjoyment and the ‘yipppeee’s’ that we want in life. We’l get there. I’ve promised myself that after this baby, the dreams coming true game is ON.
I want the mansion, the life, the career, the everything and well we’re almost there. We can do this…and we’re doing it together as a family.I think we’re lucky and fated to be together. I’m currently waiting for both of our tv shows that we’re on to air. Neither have yet and keep getting pushed back or have no air date yet. They were meant to air at the beginning of the year, then they got pushed back to Spring and well now it’s Summer. It’s so annoying and i’m terrified that they won’t make it onto your telly boxes…but they will, when the time is right. The shows are too good to not.
I’ve just completely a bit of moaning and demanded kisses. I can’t carry this bump around ANYMORE. COME ON SON! I’m watching ‘Real Housewives Atlanta…’ (My fave show) and i’ve just spray tanned out of boredom. I want to look glammy during labour and well i’m oddly pastey right now, which is hardly the way to rock up to a full on baby birth. I mean I even have my full on half head hair piece at the ready that i’ve named ‘KoKo.’ (Don’t hate.) If you have a hair piece and you’ve failed to name it, you’re not a Queen of Glory. I was initially going to name Baby Ruby…’CoCo.’ Yet everyone telling me that it was far too stripper…i refrained from doing so, but I do adore the name. Pete didn’t like it, so we went with Ruby, my favourite gem stone and the colour ‘red.’ Now my lucky hair piece has been named ‘KoKo’…so i’m delighted…life is good. (My weave is still baggy.)
So, tomorrow, i’m sorting out headboards, wardrobes and bed deliveries. I’m happy but on my veyr very last legs. This bump is too much for me now and i am dying for a champagne. NOW.
This was just a quick blog to report my life to ya. I love you, I miss ya…and well thank you for following my life.
Please do send me ‘Bring on the birth’ vibes. I do not at all want to go overdue and simply because that whole ‘sweep and stretch’ (where a stranger jabs their fingers in your ‘lady part’ terrifies me.)