Back to Work. The Month of Choking and Naughtiness is Over

by NML on February 21, 2010

Tomorrow signals the first time that both of the kids are going to the childminders for over four weeks. I don’t know if it’s because I know that they’re going, but suddenly the exhaustion has kicked in – a bit like when the weekend arrives and you relax and the whole weeks worth of tiredness catches up with you and sucker punches you into lethargy.

Much like when I became self employed a couple of years ago and the then 8 month old S progressively became a handful, the baby, now 10 months has really come into her element over the past four weeks. Two choking ‘incidents’, both of them on stickers… The first time it happened, S, now 32 months chose that exact moment to start badgering me with questions, ‘Mummy, mummy, what ya doing?’, ‘Mummy, can I have a biscuit?’, ‘Mom-mom, can I watch Charlie and Lola?’

Somehow I stayed calm as I didn’t want her to see my rising panic but my imagination was running wild with all sorts of scenarios. In the meantime, I had just managed to grab the end of the sticker when N jerked slightly and somehow swallowed it. The next time she choked (I’ve since thrown out S stickers…), I was spared the long gasping session and she threw up all over herself and me…

None of this compares with when I lost S in John Lewis toy department for what was probably less than 3 minutes but felt like an eternity. The staff there are brilliant and quickly rallied to get help and yet again, I was completely calm on the outside and filled with panic on the inside. I looked at the lift and wondered if she’d gone off in there – ‘OMG! She could be on f*cking Oxford Street right now!’ and then I wondered if she’d been grabbed by a lunatic.

‘Can you give me a description?’ a sales assistant asked.

‘Big head of hair, orange duffle coat, bright yellow Converse…’ and realised that anyone attempting to take my child was being brave with that outfit!

They’d told me to stay where I was so I kept pacing up and down the aisle. Next thing she came bounding over to me.

‘Mummmmm! Mummmmmmmmmmy! I’ve been playing with the toys!’

I’d never been so frickin’ relieved to see her and flung my arms around her. She was totally oblivious to my internal terror.

A customer came over to me. ‘I so admire you! I know you were scared but you kept so calm!’ and she patted my arm sympathetically and I of course started having a blub.

I called the boyf. ‘Jaysus….I bloody lost S in the toy department at John Lewis!’

Cue tumbleweeds.

‘You have got my child haven’t you?’ he said sounding like he said it through clenched teeth. Everyone who knows the boyf knows how laid back and unfazed he is, so I knew he must be cacking himself.

‘Do you really think I’d fecking call you if I hadn’t found her yet?’ and we both burst out laughing.

After them both being at home full time for four weeks (normally S is at childcare a few days a week), I realise it’s unrealistic of me to think I could run the business and have them both home with me full time too. It’s a nice dream but I did a fraction of my usual workload over the past month and my plans to become a more organised person clearly did not materialise. Half the time, the kids were fed and dressed whilst I was starving, looking rather dodgy and I struggled to keep my eyes open by the time darkness was upon us. They’re like a whiriwind of mess and it seems I have two headstrong divas on my hands – S sleeps in sunglasses and tiaras, N just howls in indignation or waves her hands in ‘flunkies come here’ motions when things don’t suit her.

I loved listening to the two of them howling with laughter at their in jokes. S says ‘whoops’ and they both fall around laughing. We’ve also played hide and seek a lot – S tends to hide where I hid last…

We had a blast and the kids despite them fighting over everything from pieces of paper to who gets to sit beside me or on me, they’re really becoming little pals. But I am looking forward to having some time to myself tomorrow. I won’t know what to do with myself! Oh that’s right…I have shedloads of work to do…

{ 2 comments }

Behold the worst gift I was ever given by a boyfriend: Clear Heeled Stripper Shoes

by NML on February 16, 2010

clear platform heels

Image source

After poking into the distant past to take the mick about the time I got engaged and pondered climbing out of a window, I felt it only right to ’show off’ (I use that term exceedingly loosely) the dodgy shoes I referred to. Behold the worst gift I was ever given by a boyfriend. Admittedly it was just before they were adopted as the mainstream shoe of choice for shimmying around a pole and going out on the stroll, but still…

I was twenty two and yet again, very naive – he was about ten years older. His sister had brought herself a pair whilst on holiday in the US so for him I guess it was like some whacked out version of social proof. If that weirds you out – remember the episode of Friends when Rachel dates the guy who’s always playfighting with his sister and she ends up drawing the line when she finds them in the bath together? Whilst I was spared a bubble bath episode (praise be), this was them.

There’s no nice way to say that I detested them on sight and yet, at his insistence, I wore them on an outing to the pub where everyone was hanging out. With a pair of ‘flesh’ coloured tights that accompanied them. They weren’t my flesh tone that’s for sure… Anyway, I could barely walk in them. I’m petite but I felt like Miss Piggy on stilts and everyone was looking at me whist he beamed proudly.

I actually thought I was going to break my neck. I’m really clumsy anyway – there was the time I tried to make a dash for it when I bumped into a guy I had a crush on. I was wearing high wedges and I tripped and fell, sprawled on the ground in front of him and queue full of people. Last week, I attempted to jump over some soil and stones at the cemetery ( was afraid I was going to step on a grave…) as I tried to get to the burial service for my uncle. Instead, I came crashing down on my left ankle (was wearing high heeled FMB’s) and there was a massive gasp followed by howls of giggles from the crowd. I missed the burial as I had to be carried back to the car…

I digress anyway…

Me in the stripper shoes lasted twenty minutes and then demanded to go home and they were never, ever worn again. They’re now in shoe hell somewhere as I chucked them out as soon as I ended things a few months later.

{ 2 comments }

V-Day Memories: The One Where I Got Engaged & Then Contemplated Climbing Out the Window

by NML on February 14, 2010

My mate Claire from The Good, The Bad & The Ugly is doing a blog carnival for Valentine’s Day themed around the title of her blog, so in true me style (late as well), I’ll share a funny, albeit bad V-Day story. We’ll call it…The One Where I Got Engaged…and Considered Climbing Out the Bathroom Window a short while later…

Prior to being with the boyf (who incidentally is cooking me a fabulous meal as I type this), I’ve had more dodgy V-Day’s than I care to remember. Dodgy underwear, furry handcuffs, sex dice, one of those enormous padded cards like what you used to get in the 70s and 80s only I got it in the late 90s… Satin covered with a big dog on it and so big it drowned me out…

To be fair, none of these gifts will ever be as bad as the pair of clear heeled stripper shoes an ex gave me for Christmas one year and insisted that I wear them to a gathering at a bar…

It’s not just about the gift clearly but I think what stands out to me is that I was jumping through hoops about V-Day in the past because I wasn’t really being myself and admitting that I really wasn’t that fussed about any of these guys. They were buying me gifts and taking me out to dinner but I didn’t feel ‘cared’ for and actually, some of the ones who were real dipsticks almost expected me to be grateful that they’d thrown me a ‘bone’.

There is of course, The One Where I Got Engaged. V-Day 2002. Really I do wonder if I’ve been on crack in the past… I actually thought that as I was being asked to get married that I should say yes. Lunacy I know, but I was young, very naive, and looking for love in all the wrong places.

I actually knew about the proposal in advance and was sort of dreading the whole thing because he, Mr Brownsuit (so named by this blogs readers a few years back for wearing brown from head to foot – something black folk really should not do if they don’t want to look like a big piece of poo), badgered me and removed every drop of romance out of the whole thing. He talked to me about the budget, made quips about how I should be grateful, and then proceeded to bitch and whine his way through dinner at the very dark Chinese restaurant near Baker Street.

In fact, he was so annoying, we had an argument shortly before he proposed and he told me that I wasn’t allowed to ‘dwell’ on things – he was 34 and I was 23 and he was very bossy and controlling. We had what I thought was a passionate relationship but it was actually just very dramatic especially with his jealousy and possessiveness. Seeing an opportunity, I told him that we didn’t have to do ‘it’ tonight but of course he totally disregarded what I said, and got down on one knee a short while later. He had this look that said ‘Don’t you dare make a t*t out of me’ and to be fair, you can’t exactly say no when someone asks you in public.

I have this tricky habit of breaking out in uncontrollable giggles when I’m nervous or scared so of course I annoyed him even further and had to gather my composure.

‘Just do a legger!’ a voice chimed in my head.

‘Don’t be silly! Can’t you see he’s trying to show you how much he loves you! Maybe he’s behaving like an asshole because he’s nervous and doesn’t think you’re interested!’ another voice chimed.

I did one of those ridiculously tight smiles and murmured yes.

‘Be a little bit more bloody enthusiastic!’ Mr Brownsuit said snidely. Really I must have been on crack!

So I went into the faking orgasm mode but toned it down to ‘feigning happiness at my dodgy engagement’ mode.

He slipped the solitaire ring on my finger and I admit that I thought it was a little small – interestingly, as I convinced myself of the relationship, it inflated in size and only shrunk as we approached breakup time.

Everyone clapped and cheered and we shared an awkward kiss like that awful one between Whitney Houston and Kevin Costner in The Bodyguard.

‘OMG! Are you f*cking crazy?’ reverberated in my head.

It was the weirdest engagement I’ve ever been at although admittedly I’ve only been engaged once…. The tension was weird and he turned into Mr Personality as strangers came over to congratulate us. To watch him wax lyrical about us, I wondered if I was engaged to Jeckyll and Hyde.

I excused myself and went to the bathroom where I admit that I wondered what would happen if I did a bunk and climbed out the window. But it was quite high up and whilst I’m petite, I’m not a snake or a contortionist…

When we got back to my flat, where my best mate was waiting with the champagne and a look that said ‘Keep it together and let’s talk later’, he had a right go at me and to be fair, even though he was out of order, he was right to be annoyed because I’d said yes to something that I really should have said no to. I didn’t want to create anymore conflict (this became my theme) so I decided to suck it up (figuratively and literally by downing the champagne) and start acting like a happy engaged person as I felt like I’d made my bed and had to lie in it. We lasted another 14 rocky months where I came up with every excuse not to plan a wedding – just opening a bridal magazine had me get panicky like Carrie did with the wedding dress when she was engaged to Aidan.

I’m very chilled about Valentine’s Day – it is just one day. Thankfully I’m older, wiser, and not looking for big empty gestures and I’ve also learned the big lesson to not just go along with things and hope it’ll sort itself out later.

{ 6 comments }

When are you getting married? Yawn…

by NML on February 4, 2010

just not married written on car windowIt’s hardly top secret but ‘the boyf’ has that name for a reason – we’re not married. Now I know I used to be an unwitting commitment-phobe but really, I’m very much over that. There’s nothing dodgy about why we haven’t got married but between two kids in quick succession, moving, credit crunch, and me becoming self-employed a couple of years ago, I have to say, getting married hasn’t been high on the agenda. But sweet baby Jesus and the angels, people keep asking ‘So when are you getting married?’ and sometimes it really gets on my nerves.

This one time, in bandcamp (joking), a close friend interrogated me for nearly 20 minutes over the phone about why we hadn’t got married yet. By the end, I half expected to look down and see myself tied up whilst the chair got dragged across the room to a makeshift alter where the boyf would be waiting also gagged and bound. I mean hell, I know we give a good par-tay, but it felt like it was seriously bothering her, and if I’m truthful, I find myself wary of getting on the phone with her for longer than a few minutes…

Another friend recently asked when we were getting married and I deadpanned ‘We already are’ and they looked genuinely panicked for a moment that we may have got married behind their back without saying anything.

For the most part, I use the opportunity of people’s nosiness to take the p*ss a bit and I certainly don’t feel pressured, but it is very irritating to have people project their insecurities. I’m not suggesting people can’t ask but I do wonder why people ask dumb questions like this.

Just like when I was single and people would ask in barely disguised ‘morbid’ curiosity ‘Why are you still single?’ as if expecting me to reveal secret horns and a tail, or at least a flaw that could explain it all away and make them comfortable, the questions come because when they imagine themselves in my position, they believe they’d be worried.

I’m sure it’s also because they think we’ll get a karaoke machine in for the occasion…

[click to continue…]

{ 2 comments }

Farewell noughties – A decade of assclowns, love, and hilarity

by NML on December 31, 2009

Jaysus…I realised I was in danger of coming back here in the next decade. Really can’t believe how much more time has passed since my last visit. Forgive me readers for I have sinned, it’s been about five months since my last confession/bitchathon. Where have I been? Discovering that two children equals double the shock to the system and flying by the seat of my pants, working like a mofo, vertigo for a few months, and dealing with my crackerjack family. But forget that! I feel in honour of a new decade, I had to look back on ten years because this has been a hilarious and yet at times highly painful ten years. Let’s see….

2000 – The Year I Ran Off to the US, Ditched BeeGee and Acquired a Replacement Assclown

I was 22, an ad exec making great money, going out with BeeGee, a guy ten years older with a penchant for dancing 70s style no matter what the genre, wisecracking about threesomes to my mates, and totally eroding my self-esteem. By the time I ran off on a great adventure to the US in June of that year, our 2 year relationship was barely existent and I had lost faith in my company after I was racially harassed and they handled it badly. All of this didn’t stop him turning up with 24 hours notice the following month. I’d already met a new assclown by then… BeeGee and I had a major bustup. He went home. I decided to move to the US and started university, only to run home to Dublin by the end of the year, to get away from the other assclown and expensive uni fee’s.

2001 – The Year Moved to London, Went Out With a Manchild and Met Mr Brownsuit

I started the year with insomnia as BeeGee was waiting for me when I got home and badgered me for 5 weeks and coupled with the other assclown calling, my brain went into overdrive. I got accepted into uni and on 31 Jan I moved to London – yay! I was robbed within 2 hours whilst having a sneaky shopping trip in H&M – hilarious! I loved uni life although I attracted a stalker from my class almost immediately… Dated a guy three years younger and the novelty wore off when I realised how immature he was. I met Mr Brownsuit. There was no initial attraction yet we started dating. He wore black leather trousers and a cream jumper to our first date and nearly killed myself laughing! He was very jealous and very annoying – I thought we had a passionate relationship. In reality, he was a pain in the arse.

2002 – The Year I Got Engaged & My Life Derailed

Despite the fact that Mr Brownsuit (he was actually named this by readers after I bumped into him at an event dressed in brown from head to foot) was a total pain in the arse, we got engaged on Valentine’s Day. I should have been on cloud nine, but I admit I wondered what would happen if I did what they do in movies and climbed out the bathroom window of the restaurant. I think I thought that surely if we got engaged, the happiness would follow. Unfortunately the misery followed instead, and at some point, I’d either lost or gave away any power I had as he became a control freak. A very dark year….

2003 – The Year I Called Off the Engagement, Graduated, Got a New Job, & Fell in Love with a Guy with a Girlfriend and Became Mysteriously Ill

The first six months of the year were spent fighting for a relationship I didn’t want and finishing my degree. On the 1st June, I walked away from the relationship. Moved in with my aunt, got a job, and became instantly attracted to Male Best Friend (MBF as christened here on the blog) who had a girlfriend. What followed was 18 months of pain. To add to it, in August of that year, I woke up one morning and couldn’t see properly. By the end of the year, my eyesight had totally deteriorated and I became like skin and bone.

2004 – The Year I Got Veeery Ill and Started Blogging

Hmmmm, turned out the mild eye infection was an immune system disease called Sarcoidosis where the immune system attacks healthy organs. By the time I started steroids, I couldn’t breathe or walk properly and it was attacking my spleen. Somehow I juggled all of this with the craziness of being involved with MBF. I started trying to date and after one of the funniest dates (probably for all the wrong reasons) I’ve been on, I started blogging – yay!

2005 – The Year of the Epiphany When I Started To Fight For Me

Oh what a year of drama! I’d ditched MBF, thought I’d met a great guy, The Contender who soon became Dot Dot Dot Man because he kept sending me one line text messages with ambiguous dots on the end and saying ‘chat soon’ and then disappearing. There was much hilarity en route but it was me ending it with him and then sharing my realisations that I liked unavailable men and that I had commitment issues which, not only changed my life and relationships, but also attracted a whole new following of readers who were going through what I was. I also came off the steroids and became ill within a month. They said I’d have to go on steroids for life or keel over when I was 40 from pulmonary heart failure. I declined and decided to fight for myself and went to see a kinesiologist and started to get better. Oh and I started Baggage Reclaim.

2006 – The Year I Found Love…Found An Extra Sister…And Got Knocked Up….

I started acupuncture and was in remission by April. I briefly datedThe F*ckwit doctor with some hilarious dates. I told him to get knotted and thought I’d chill out on my own and met the boyf a few days later. The rest is history. Joking! Totally different to anything before, I accepted he wasn’t too good to be true and started enjoying it. We were on a weekend away in Rome when we realised I was pregnant. It could have been disastrous but it so wasn’t. Oh and this was also the year when I found out I had another sibling…five minutes before I met her. This was also the year that a lot of people found out I was a blogger, especially when the Daily Express featured me and I walked into my office to find the whole company logging on.

2007 – The Year I Became A Mum and Suspected I Wouldn’t Be an Employee Again

After being worried how I’d get the bambino out of my va-jay-jay, I ended up with an emergency c-section. One minute there was just the boyf and I, and then she was here and it was like a new little mate to hang out with. I also became a home owner, turned 30, and thought about throttling both of my parents as they kept being a pain in the arse, albeit with very funny results. This will also be remembered as The Year When My Mum Turned My Baby Shower Into a Hot Date. Oh and I started Bambino Goodies as a ‘little experiment’.

2008 – The Year I Finally Started Blogging for a Living…And Got Knocked Up…Again…

I went back to work for four days and it was all a shambles, which gave me the excuse I’d been looking for. Totally by coincidence, exactly seven years after I moved to London, I became self-employed – woohoo! I released my first ebook, Mr Unavailable and the Fallback Girl and the blogs continued growing. I made plans…and then I found out I was pregnant again. I got very stressed towards the end of last year and kept worrying about how I’d cope.

2009 – The Year Of Growth..And I Became a Mum Again

For a start, my family expanded and we welcomed another little girl in April. She’s a gorgeous, feisty, cuddly bundle of att-i-tude! The business also grew even though I’m supposed to be taking it easy (ooops), but I also learned a hell of a lot more about myself. The boyf and I are still very much loved up, and the learning actually came from my crackerjack parents who I had a series of bust-ups with over the course of the year. I’m excited about a new year with lots of exciting stuff with my little family and finally getting to crack on with my work plans. Oh and this was also the year that MJ died which gave me even more of an excuse to be silly and break out the MJ moves at parties. Some things never change…

Happy new year! Happy new decade! See you in 2010!

Natalie/NML xxx

{ 13 comments }

← Previous Entries