Just got back from registering my little ‘Baby Ruby’ at the Pontefract Registration Office. I’m always dead nervous, when I enter official buildings, that were built in the days of old. The people in them always seem to want to *spit* me out. Looking like a cast member from ‘Gypo Wedding’ didn’t do me any favours. I really need a bundle of new clothes. Being preggo and having to wear fuschia joggers for 7 of the 9 growing months, kinda buried me in a rut of ‘fashion crime.’ I’ve lost my bambino weight, yet still feeling a bit too safe in my preggo clothes. I’m like a proper ‘whispers in her sleep’ weirdo, right now. I did however, rock the faux fur right into that joint of ‘registration’…with these ridiculously ginormous eyelashes of ‘hooch,’ flat knee high boot and a pinny. I actually got my faux fur sleeve trapped in my baby’s bottle, which again isn’t too promising, when you’re in whore eyelashes and trying to give off the impression that you really really are a decent human being. (I always want people to see beyond the lashes. It’s the way I test how clever a human is.)
We got there…late. (Pete’s vain as hell. He goes through 42 outfit changes for a simple, ‘I’m a new daddy’ stroll.) I have to get baby bottles and nappies ready, whilst bronzing my left cheek and kissing Ruby on her right cheeky. We’ve actually got the hang of this whole parent thing now and we’re pretty damn good at it. It’s definitely a 2 person job. I mean, we were prepped for a whole night time circus of ‘Ruby won’t go to sleep’ drama. Yet just to prove us wrong…she made the executive decision to sleep through the entire night. Pete laid there in his red boxers and I laid there with ultimate fear of her crying. Then we just went to bed because she must’ve got bored of us. Whenever she sleeps through the night, i’m always thoroughly proud of myself. Like it means i’m a really great mum. Lol. (Pete’s really into wearing his tight red boxers right now? He wears them everywhere and to do everything. I mean, i’m sure i’ll open a cupbaord one day and find Pete in there adorning the ‘reds.’ Last time I opened a door…I found him bent over, naked and rummaging in a laundry basket. A normal boy, would simply *blush* or do the ‘helicopter.’ Pete closes the door, only to open it with a sock on his willy, whilst doing an impression of a mildy disabled French teacher. I’m obviously bringing out the best in him. ) I wish you could see what we have to go through in order to attempt to raise a delightfully happy baby. It’s certainly a jolly rollercoaster. Oh and we utterly appreciate all the lovely messages me recieved from you all offering to help us out and take care of our bambino, whenever we feel half full.) Know that after deciding to soldier forward…we’re doing pretty alright….for now. My mum did come around yesterday evening, in order to prop me up emotionally with her asian ‘fighting’ talk. I always love the magical Burmese ‘fighting’ talk. It does greatness for my confidence. I really do have a great mum. (Ooh i’ve found grapes. grapes are never good unless they’re either pre-squashed to form wine or they’re being fed to you in a glamourous ‘Arabian nights’ kinda atmosphere.) Infact Pete’s friend Loreto came over yesterday in between meetings to bring us gifts and have a peeky at the fruit of my loins. I believe the boys were astonished that they were now grown ups. They also (whilst in *awe* of my daughter) managed to describe everything Ruby did as…‘Minature.‘ I love that!!!!
Anyway yeah..(God my stomach muscles are KILLING from the merry stroll into town.) We ended up going to about 33 different supermarkets for our weekly shop. Pete enjoys a supermarket and indulges with the finest buys ‘Morrisons’ has to offer. (I totally ran into a gent by the garlic bread, who i last saw in a strip club, doing alcopops and hip/hop ‘shoulder bumps’ to Kid Rock. I mean, whatelse would one do in a strip club to Kid Rock. I didn’t know what to say really other than mention stippers..by bread? Very Chrissie Wunna. But I did aske him what he was up to…and well he responded with a ‘Living the high life…’ Followed by a delightful face of utter sarcasm. He did a face that was screamed ‘Get away from me Wunna…with your life of wonder and all that! You will get spat on. 🙂 ‘ I tottered off with my pram and and rather ouchie vagina! I mean OMG..when will it stop being so swelly. It feels like a humped back whale.