I know what you're thinking. I do.
You're thinking, "Oh shit, now that The Little Mumma is knocked up, all we're going to hear about is constipation and swollen ankles. Borrrr-ing!"
And okay, it's true, I have been backed up like a motherfucker. No shit. Literally.
But I never get the swollen ankle bit. Oh, except after my caesar with LD – my legs blew up like blimps. Freaky.
Anyway, yes, being knocked up is almost certainly first and foremost on my mind. Not least of which because I have been sick like dog (please read the Italics with a Russian accent for full effect).
But I totally have other things going on.
For instance this –
I have a fully weaned baby. Finally. And yes, the above photo is bloody adorable but if you're asking me if I miss it the answer is no – on account of the fact Zee had a light beard coming in that was starting to irritate my skin. True story? No, Zee is not shaving just yet but I tells ya, this baby I'm currently baking is being weaned at 12 months on the dot. I am cutting that sucker (sucker!) off. 12 months -BAM! You're outta here.
And in unrelated but equally thrilling news, I bought a Collette Dinnigan dress for an upcoming wedding. It was $395. I paid $79.95. Also, it's an extra small that I can still fit my little tum into which means I can wear it post-preggo, too. Tra la la.
And also, a warning. When you leave your children and their father home alone while you gallivant around town (read: attend an antenatal check-up), this will happen:
Daddy had begun to clean it when I ordered a halt so that I might take photographic evidence. Handy hint: it takes metho to clean black texta off a varnished table. Which means once you're finished scrubbing, you can pour yourself a nice glass with orange juice and call it a damn party!
And finally, I turned 35 years old. Not by choice though. The cruel hand of time has it's way with me each and every year. In my defense and because my vanity knows no bounds, I posted this photo on Facebook defying my friends and family to deny that mine was still the face of a child. And now, I defy you to do same….
That's all the news that's fit to print, loves. And also, it's 12 past 9 which means I am actually unconcious while typing this.