Hiya,
With less than 72-hours until myself and Mr Warehouse will be on our holiday in Tenerife, suffice to say that we are very excited. The question is do have we got everything ready and are we fully prepared to board the plane? No. The answer would be no. Have I packed? No. Has Mr. Warehouse packed? No. Has anyone done anything besides from getting their hair and nails booked in at the salon been done - Well that stuff is booked, but everything else is being left till last minute as per usual.
But there has been a valid excuse for this weekend it was a bank holiday in the UK, our last one for a while as the next time that we have a day off from work legitimately will be for Christmas. Normally I will try and plan to go away to somewhere with the dog and Mr Warehouse however we were very busy this weekend with social events and also a bit of overtime we were certainly stack to our eyeballs. Friday was an easy day in terms of both work and evening, but after a hard and long week at work I was more than happy for the extended weekend, all in the knowledge that the next time I see my desk I will be less than two days away from my holiday.
Saturday started early with Mr Warehouse going to work overtime for the morning, and being the only driver in the household I had drawn the short straw by taking him to work. At 5.30am. But after an extended lay-in and a chill out on the sofa with the dog I was more than ready to start my day, again. Although there wasn't much left of the day to start giving the fact that I collected Mr Warehouse and went into town for a mooch and some last minute holiday shopping. Heading home in order to bake the remaining cakes for the christening the next day we were going to, we had little time to catch a breath before we were around to Mr Warehouses Brothers in order to look after their children. It wasn't until 3am we got home on Sunday and shattered, in our haste to get into bed and some sleep before morning we forgot to put our alarms on. As a result we woke up at the time that we were due to be leaving for the church in order to arrive in time for the christening. It was not going to be possible to make it to the church in time and so therefore we decided that we would wait in a car park of the reception venue so that we could await the new arrival.
Unfortunately due to the gloriously sunny weather it was getting rather warm in my car and as a result the icing had a split. They looked like a four-year-old had done them and to hand them over to the mother of the child would have been an absolute embarrassment. Feeling depressed and at an absolute low-ebb due to the fact of my cupcakes were melting I said that I didn't want paying for them in the state they were. The disappointing thing is that I had been working on these cupcakes from the moment that she had asked me to do them, trying to work out the different ways that I would be able to carve out a centre and fill it with a rainbow. Hours has spent the last several weeks stuck in the kitchen slaving away trying to make the cupcakes look as beautiful as possible. And to top it all off we ended up arriving at the venue and realising we had forgotten the christening present. So safe to say that Sunday was far from perfect, for me at least.
Today was far more relaxed with a cheeky Nando's lunch and mooch around town for some bits for the house / dog sitter (AKA Miss Tweedle-Dee) whilst we are away. Seeing family this afternoon, Mr. Warehouse and I are now relaxing in preparation for going back to work, but only for a few hours. Next time we talk I might be writing to you from a beach or beside the pool with a cocktail or two ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Showing posts with label Babysitting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Babysitting. Show all posts
Monday, 28 August 2017
Monday, 10 April 2017
Ready?!
Good evening,
So a thought occurred to me this weekend. Am I ready? Looking at Mr. Warehouse on Friday evening after a few hours in the park wearing out his Niece's and Nephew's, my beloved other-half sat relaxed on the sofa with the littlest of three children, all seemingly pooped from the exertion. Difference is that only a few moments earlier I was cradling a crying baby with no clue as to why it was upset. Was it hungry? No I was trying to feed it and the milk was not being graciously received. Was it soiled? Nope checked that - Five times. Was it hot? Not sure so I took off some layers. Was it tired? I don't think so as every time I put it down it cried and screamed even more. Did it want to be held? Refer back to being laid down. Was it sad? Probably.
To be fair I have no clue and zero experience when it comes to children. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb are both bemused and concerned with my lack of motherly instinct and general attitude towards children. The amount of times I have said to myself and others that "It'll be different when its my own" and all along I was kidding myself because now, I am actually starting to wonder if it is a false lie that other parents say when your just not ready for kids.
I look at my own childhood, because I imagine that is where it starts. I was an only child up until I was about five and that is when my brother came along. Little as he always was to me, he was my little Bro and I was furiously protective over him, right up until the moment I was kicked out. Even to this day I find myself defending him and explaining that there must be a reason for some of his strange and sometimes hurtful actions. Growing up though, other than my brother, I never had any real hands on contact with babies or smaller children. My mother was told that after my siblings difficult birth another pregnancy could be the end of her and so it was just the two of us.
When I was in my mid-teenage years, rocking out to My Chemical Romance and Enter Shikari, along came the first of three cousins, all in a quick succession of one another. With them all approaching their early adolescence I am sometimes put to shame with how much they know already. Sex Education is starting earlier, as is Drugs talks in Personal, Social, Health and Educational studies. At their age I though weed was some kind of plant that your grandma hated and would make you pee the bed if you picked it. I suppose it is education of a generation so as not to make the mistakes their parents may have made.
I have very few friends that are single and ready to mingle, not that I am of course. Most of the people I know are with someone long term and either getting on the property ladder, having children or getting hitched. But I question sometimes if I am ready for all of that commitment. In fact, looking through social media, I have very few school friends that have not gone on to have children young. Now this is not a blast to young moms, and dads, ho have had their children whilst young themselves. Hey good luck to you, because my limited experience of looking after children, and within that the sparse moments I have had looking after children on my own, I question honestly how it can and is done. Only a handful of people in my friends list have a university degree, or have travelled extensively. Most of them without kids just poodle on through life, fixing up their room with new Instagram style photo-walls and tweeting about how the morning jog was just the best.
Thinking about it life is great without kids! I am far too selfish, self-obsessed and consumed by moi to have children yet. People have said that "children will be the making of you and all your narcissism will melt away once you have babies" but I doubt it. I will have to wait and see what the future holds but right now there is a world to explore and a whole cupboard of alcohol under my sink that needs t be drunk ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So a thought occurred to me this weekend. Am I ready? Looking at Mr. Warehouse on Friday evening after a few hours in the park wearing out his Niece's and Nephew's, my beloved other-half sat relaxed on the sofa with the littlest of three children, all seemingly pooped from the exertion. Difference is that only a few moments earlier I was cradling a crying baby with no clue as to why it was upset. Was it hungry? No I was trying to feed it and the milk was not being graciously received. Was it soiled? Nope checked that - Five times. Was it hot? Not sure so I took off some layers. Was it tired? I don't think so as every time I put it down it cried and screamed even more. Did it want to be held? Refer back to being laid down. Was it sad? Probably.
To be fair I have no clue and zero experience when it comes to children. Miss Tweedle-Dee and Miss Tweedle-Dumb are both bemused and concerned with my lack of motherly instinct and general attitude towards children. The amount of times I have said to myself and others that "It'll be different when its my own" and all along I was kidding myself because now, I am actually starting to wonder if it is a false lie that other parents say when your just not ready for kids.
I look at my own childhood, because I imagine that is where it starts. I was an only child up until I was about five and that is when my brother came along. Little as he always was to me, he was my little Bro and I was furiously protective over him, right up until the moment I was kicked out. Even to this day I find myself defending him and explaining that there must be a reason for some of his strange and sometimes hurtful actions. Growing up though, other than my brother, I never had any real hands on contact with babies or smaller children. My mother was told that after my siblings difficult birth another pregnancy could be the end of her and so it was just the two of us.
When I was in my mid-teenage years, rocking out to My Chemical Romance and Enter Shikari, along came the first of three cousins, all in a quick succession of one another. With them all approaching their early adolescence I am sometimes put to shame with how much they know already. Sex Education is starting earlier, as is Drugs talks in Personal, Social, Health and Educational studies. At their age I though weed was some kind of plant that your grandma hated and would make you pee the bed if you picked it. I suppose it is education of a generation so as not to make the mistakes their parents may have made.
I have very few friends that are single and ready to mingle, not that I am of course. Most of the people I know are with someone long term and either getting on the property ladder, having children or getting hitched. But I question sometimes if I am ready for all of that commitment. In fact, looking through social media, I have very few school friends that have not gone on to have children young. Now this is not a blast to young moms, and dads, ho have had their children whilst young themselves. Hey good luck to you, because my limited experience of looking after children, and within that the sparse moments I have had looking after children on my own, I question honestly how it can and is done. Only a handful of people in my friends list have a university degree, or have travelled extensively. Most of them without kids just poodle on through life, fixing up their room with new Instagram style photo-walls and tweeting about how the morning jog was just the best.
Thinking about it life is great without kids! I am far too selfish, self-obsessed and consumed by moi to have children yet. People have said that "children will be the making of you and all your narcissism will melt away once you have babies" but I doubt it. I will have to wait and see what the future holds but right now there is a world to explore and a whole cupboard of alcohol under my sink that needs t be drunk ...
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
Monday, 3 October 2016
Battle of the Vom!
Evening All,
So after last week's dreamy slumber, I am most definitely back in the reality of Blighty. I would say I am enjoying life as I know it but with the last couple of weekends being spent puking and poorly inside the flat, I haven't had much opportunity to venture outside and explore apart from my morning commute.
It all started last Saturday when I went out for a lovely brunch with my Auntie and Grandma from my Mother's side. With my pre-teen cousin in toe I soon felt a whole lot older as he started to "Dab" his way through his iPod in the middle of Sainsburys. Nevertheless getting home afterwards I made myself some lunch and, with Mr. Warehouse away with Mr. CWG at a gamers convention in Birmingham, I looked forward to an afternoon of catching up on shite TV. Crunching down my Tivo Box I suddenly started to feel a pain in my stomach. It was almost how I would imagine a stomach cramp or period pain to be, but as the afternoon continued and the evening set in it got worse. By the time Mr. Warehouse had arrived home I was bent over, crippled with the pain in my abdomen. Taking a couple of paracetamol I curled up on the couch and watched some Saturday night telly, but after being violently sick numerous times, I finally fell asleep on my boyfriends lap before being carried to bed.
Waking a few times throughout the night to be sick again I was still exhausted when the sun broke through our window. Although feeling much better I put it down to maybe eating some dodgey chicken, out of date milk or just a twenty-four hour bug. Feeling much better I thought nothing of it and continued to work the following day. With the working week dragging by in a haze of things to do, office gossip and chitter-chatter we were all finally at Friday. And up until then I was looking forward to the weekend. Mr. Warehouse's brother was taking his fiance out for a birthday meal and wanted us to look after the kids; a six-year-old, four-year-old and a four-month-old baby. We had happily obliged (There was a takeaway in it for Mr. Warehouse and I ... We're not stupid haha) and I was actually looking forward to a weekend playing Momma's and Dadda's. I had already started to carve out my leading role as bad cop and designated an area for naughty little ones, whereas Mr. Warehouse had firmly got into his role by supplying our cupboards with chocolate and sweeties!
But after I returned from lunch on Friday afternoon I felt an all too familiar twinge in my stomach again. The cramping had started again. Looking at the clock and seeing it was gone half-one in the afternoon I considered my options. "There is only a couple of hours left in the working day, just make it to four-thirty and then you go straight to the doctors, you hear me!" I told myself, egging me on. It didn't work. Within a few hours I was falling apart. I had been sick in the toilets, multiple times. So much so there was now nothing left to come up, resulting in a lurid yellow bile consisting of stomach acid and not much more. As I returned to my desk, mascara awry and nice 'Friday' hair now in a messy bun I didn't need my work colleagues to tell me I looked rough. I felt it. Finding my manager downstairs I ushered him over and explained I had to go home after being sick. I didn't want anyone else to get it if it was serious and in all fairness, I knew I couldn't answer the phone and vom at the same time.
Calling a cab and waiting the half-hour or so for it to arrive was excruciating. It seemed like every time I wretched it made it worse, adding to the already tight and tense muscles in my abdomen. I felt as if I was giving myself a six pack, which of course would be very difficult since I was a size 18/20. Getting into the cab I closed my eyes hoping that the journey would be swift. It was not. "This is certainly not the fucking time Taxi-Cab Man to be giving me a sceneic tour of the Bedfordshire countryside surrounding Kempston and Bromham!" I thought to myself as I opened my eyes for a second to make sure the cup I had "borrowed" from the canteen was in place for any "spills". Concerned, the Taxi-Cab driver asked if I was OK but with all patience lost I exclaimed, louder than I probably needed to:
"I would be if I wasn't throwing up into a cup in the back of an already late taxi en route to the Doctors because I think, I have come down with an fatal case of Gastroenteritis! Now unless you want this stomach smoothie all over your seats I suggest you put your foot down!"
Arriving at the doctors, barely able to walk without puking I fell into the arms of my awaiting boyfriend. Staggering to the front desk I checked myself in a I think I must have fallen asleep on Mr. Warehouse as it seemed very quick I was seen. Into the doctors office-room-place I sat, still with half of a boots counter running off my chin, my hair in a Mrs. Trunchbull bun and sick probably down myself I was certainly far from last weeks "Girl I would want to marry" I thought. Examining me from top to tootsies the brilliant lady nurse diagnosed me with having a viral infection and because I studied in my Science and History of Medicine classes I knew that the only way I would be getting better would be rest, pain relief and sleep. I had probably just had a second bout of it after Saturday since my immune system was low and had been attacked once more. Leaving the surgery, I was given a bedpan-thing to be sick into and a box of tissues. Boarding the bus I must have looked a fucking state. So I chose to sit next to the prettiest girl and make myself look a little better, all whilst trying to infect someone skinnier than me. Bitch!
Getting home I was hoofed into bed by my dear Mr. Warehouse and told to sleep. But after periodic snoozes, retching and violent vomiting fits, I couldn't wait until morning broke and I could shake this all off. Waking the following morning on Saturday with very little sleep behind me and a bucket of proof at the edge of the bed I tried to carry on as normal, nibbling at things and drinking plenty. I snoozed most of the day and felt much better by late-afternoon. I didn't want to let down Mr. Warehouse's brother and the children as they were looking forward to coming over to see their Uncles house as much as we were looking forward to hosting them, so I kept quiet about my episodes the evening before. But, spending the night curled up on the sofa, Kiddies half asleep and baby napping too, it was the perfect evening and much better than what I was anticipating. Bad cop didn't even have to rear its head. Well, at least until the children went home!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
So after last week's dreamy slumber, I am most definitely back in the reality of Blighty. I would say I am enjoying life as I know it but with the last couple of weekends being spent puking and poorly inside the flat, I haven't had much opportunity to venture outside and explore apart from my morning commute.
It all started last Saturday when I went out for a lovely brunch with my Auntie and Grandma from my Mother's side. With my pre-teen cousin in toe I soon felt a whole lot older as he started to "Dab" his way through his iPod in the middle of Sainsburys. Nevertheless getting home afterwards I made myself some lunch and, with Mr. Warehouse away with Mr. CWG at a gamers convention in Birmingham, I looked forward to an afternoon of catching up on shite TV. Crunching down my Tivo Box I suddenly started to feel a pain in my stomach. It was almost how I would imagine a stomach cramp or period pain to be, but as the afternoon continued and the evening set in it got worse. By the time Mr. Warehouse had arrived home I was bent over, crippled with the pain in my abdomen. Taking a couple of paracetamol I curled up on the couch and watched some Saturday night telly, but after being violently sick numerous times, I finally fell asleep on my boyfriends lap before being carried to bed.
Waking a few times throughout the night to be sick again I was still exhausted when the sun broke through our window. Although feeling much better I put it down to maybe eating some dodgey chicken, out of date milk or just a twenty-four hour bug. Feeling much better I thought nothing of it and continued to work the following day. With the working week dragging by in a haze of things to do, office gossip and chitter-chatter we were all finally at Friday. And up until then I was looking forward to the weekend. Mr. Warehouse's brother was taking his fiance out for a birthday meal and wanted us to look after the kids; a six-year-old, four-year-old and a four-month-old baby. We had happily obliged (There was a takeaway in it for Mr. Warehouse and I ... We're not stupid haha) and I was actually looking forward to a weekend playing Momma's and Dadda's. I had already started to carve out my leading role as bad cop and designated an area for naughty little ones, whereas Mr. Warehouse had firmly got into his role by supplying our cupboards with chocolate and sweeties!
But after I returned from lunch on Friday afternoon I felt an all too familiar twinge in my stomach again. The cramping had started again. Looking at the clock and seeing it was gone half-one in the afternoon I considered my options. "There is only a couple of hours left in the working day, just make it to four-thirty and then you go straight to the doctors, you hear me!" I told myself, egging me on. It didn't work. Within a few hours I was falling apart. I had been sick in the toilets, multiple times. So much so there was now nothing left to come up, resulting in a lurid yellow bile consisting of stomach acid and not much more. As I returned to my desk, mascara awry and nice 'Friday' hair now in a messy bun I didn't need my work colleagues to tell me I looked rough. I felt it. Finding my manager downstairs I ushered him over and explained I had to go home after being sick. I didn't want anyone else to get it if it was serious and in all fairness, I knew I couldn't answer the phone and vom at the same time.
Calling a cab and waiting the half-hour or so for it to arrive was excruciating. It seemed like every time I wretched it made it worse, adding to the already tight and tense muscles in my abdomen. I felt as if I was giving myself a six pack, which of course would be very difficult since I was a size 18/20. Getting into the cab I closed my eyes hoping that the journey would be swift. It was not. "This is certainly not the fucking time Taxi-Cab Man to be giving me a sceneic tour of the Bedfordshire countryside surrounding Kempston and Bromham!" I thought to myself as I opened my eyes for a second to make sure the cup I had "borrowed" from the canteen was in place for any "spills". Concerned, the Taxi-Cab driver asked if I was OK but with all patience lost I exclaimed, louder than I probably needed to:
"I would be if I wasn't throwing up into a cup in the back of an already late taxi en route to the Doctors because I think, I have come down with an fatal case of Gastroenteritis! Now unless you want this stomach smoothie all over your seats I suggest you put your foot down!"
Arriving at the doctors, barely able to walk without puking I fell into the arms of my awaiting boyfriend. Staggering to the front desk I checked myself in a I think I must have fallen asleep on Mr. Warehouse as it seemed very quick I was seen. Into the doctors office-room-place I sat, still with half of a boots counter running off my chin, my hair in a Mrs. Trunchbull bun and sick probably down myself I was certainly far from last weeks "Girl I would want to marry" I thought. Examining me from top to tootsies the brilliant lady nurse diagnosed me with having a viral infection and because I studied in my Science and History of Medicine classes I knew that the only way I would be getting better would be rest, pain relief and sleep. I had probably just had a second bout of it after Saturday since my immune system was low and had been attacked once more. Leaving the surgery, I was given a bedpan-thing to be sick into and a box of tissues. Boarding the bus I must have looked a fucking state. So I chose to sit next to the prettiest girl and make myself look a little better, all whilst trying to infect someone skinnier than me. Bitch!
Getting home I was hoofed into bed by my dear Mr. Warehouse and told to sleep. But after periodic snoozes, retching and violent vomiting fits, I couldn't wait until morning broke and I could shake this all off. Waking the following morning on Saturday with very little sleep behind me and a bucket of proof at the edge of the bed I tried to carry on as normal, nibbling at things and drinking plenty. I snoozed most of the day and felt much better by late-afternoon. I didn't want to let down Mr. Warehouse's brother and the children as they were looking forward to coming over to see their Uncles house as much as we were looking forward to hosting them, so I kept quiet about my episodes the evening before. But, spending the night curled up on the sofa, Kiddies half asleep and baby napping too, it was the perfect evening and much better than what I was anticipating. Bad cop didn't even have to rear its head. Well, at least until the children went home!
'Til next time, Love A.Lou xx
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