Mumaleary's Blog

Cheaper than therapy

That’s life!

on April 6, 2013

I had planned on starting this blog when we moved to the Wirral, so I am a little behind schedule.
So; just so you are all totally up to speed on my life since we got here- I have written a brief synopsis divided helpfully into two parts; Romanticised expectations and the slightly grim reality…

Romanticised expectation-
Mr L, child A and I experience a stress free and utterly delightful family Christmas with the in laws before moving lock stock and barrel to Irby.
I glide through all festive social occasions looking glowing, serene and, dare I say it, even a little sexy, my bump causes no dramas and remains exceptionally neat so I continue to look like a perfect size 10 from behind.
We rock up to our perfect new home on Boxing Day.
Everything has been unpacked by the professional moving company exactly as per my floor plans and emails.
Even the beds are made.
The Jo Malone room defusers make the place smell like home straight away.

A few days later, I feel a couple of twinges- suggest to Mr L that we head up to the hospital. (It goes without saying that I am waxed, shellacked and made up in a natural beauty sort of a way).
I sneeze out child B and am able to leave hospital a couple of hours later with whispers from the midwives about how amazing I was, no pain relief or anything. What a woman etc etc.
(Obv- I am leaving in my pre-pregnancy clothes as my figure has snapped back to that of a virile 17year old).

Husband and I get home and introduce child B to child A. A immediately takes to B and they are a perfect picture of happiness. They also sleep through the night. Straight away.

One day, whilst clearing out my wallet, I find a lottery ticket. It is a winner and therefore any concerns about returning to work are immediately removed. Perfect.
NB- All of the above happens with a brilliant soundtrack in the background, imagine all of the emotional journey bits of X factor- Elbow, Coldplay etc.

The slightly more grim reality-

Mr L and I decide to book professional removers to reduce the stress of the move. But, because we are idiots, we sort of half pack, half leave it, so feel in a total mess when moving day comes. Mr L is in Bristol, I only have half a day off, it is utter madness and I leave our first home for the last time on my own a sweaty, stressed out, pregnant mess.
The moving company are utter crap. (Yep, I am referring to you Bisley removals) and send different people to pack, drive the van and then kindly subcontract the unpacking at the other end so everything is not where we requested. My amazing, colour coded floor plans are probably used as wrapping paper. Twats.
We don’t own any room defusers so that was always going to be a none starter.
Christmas however was very lovely. Lacking in wine but otherwise fab.

Ah- on to the labour and birth of baba B… (This will, in time, get a blog post all of it’s own, it truly deserves it. I am hoping that time really is the healer that everyone says it is because I do think that it will be a very funny/ excruciatingly embarrassing story. I have already called it ‘A stitch in time’; read into this what you will!)
Suffice to say the words Texas Chainsaw Massacre were used by the midwife, I was in hospital for several days and am still open to the consultant- literally.

I did not leave hospital as a sexy size 10- this is highly likely to be down to the fact that I was not one previously. Sad times indeed.
I did not find a lottery ticket so now spend my evenings Ebaying my kidneys etc and checking my William Hill account (I am down to my last 19p thanks to a poor result at the national today)
Important to note at this point that our heating also broke and our shower has leaked into the utility.
Brilliant.

The soundtrack to these events are the sort you might hear in a circus tent.

Happily baby A did immediately take to baby B! She loves her and kisses her at every opportunity. It makes me melt and I love them both completely.

So- here we are in April….and the journey to becoming a grown up starts now…
I think that the beginning of becoming a fully fledged adult begins when you realise that your life infact is not a film, does not have a soundtrack and will sometimes be chaotic, confusing and pretty freaking messy, I am beginning to come to terms with this but it is a slow burner šŸ˜‰
What do you think are the signs of being an adult? I have some thoughts which I will share with you next time but I’d love to hear yours…

Have a great week, catch you Friday!

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4 responses to “That’s life!

  1. Mulqueeny says:

    Oh how I miss you and your turn of phrase! What utter bastards those removal peeps were – your colour co-ordinated room charts should have been a thing of joy for them. Silly people.

    And – whilst I know we are waiting the blow by blow (all Mr L can hope for) account of Dort 2’s birth – I think you should spend that 19p on a can of white lightning to toast your super tight nether regions. Well… they were.

    Don’t know about signs of being a grown up, pretty convinced I have not got the hang of it yet. But I think it may have something to do with White Lightning and vomit. I will tell you if I discover more.

    Bon courage, my love, miss you xxx

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