Now who’s the exhausted a**ehole?!

Imagine, I’m there drinking another gallon of coffee at 6pm last night in a bid to feel and look less like a dug-up-corpse for parents evening. It had only been microwaved once so I felt like I was transported to Starbucks, Riverside MotherF*cker.

Fast forward to 10pm, I’m ready for our rock-star-bed-time and now Casey is fully unconscious. Meanwhile I’m so caffeinated I can’t feel my face and that mixed with this anxiety bastard that wont let me sleep as of late, plus the anticipation of one of my closest friends about to give birth any moment, I lay there checking my phone every 5 seconds making sure it was still working.

Obviously the second I fell asleep he woke up in a ravenous frenzy demanding alllll the ounces and by the end of the animalistic feed we were both ready for the long nap. He slept for another 6 hours which is up there in epic proportions to normal.

Only to be woken to messages of an out-of-the-blue engagement – the second of the week (feeling the love guys) and the arrival of Baby! I mean at what point could I sleep after that! ❤️💙

 

So its made me realise, if I wasn’t up with Casey, I’d be up for another reason and sometimes, it’s just easier to blame someone else.

 

In other news, while taking out the rubbish this morning, I noticed this little sock situation…

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My sock voluntarily did the roll thing – Circa 1994, Year 2 – where the ‘tighter the roll, the closer to God’ or some shit. And while my love for a sock/sandal combo knows no bounds at the moment, this takes me back to when your social status was based entirely on the roll quality.

How I long to go back to a simpler time.

Hx

Warm fuzzy Bliss

So I figured as I’m currently in the ‘warm fuzzy’ point of the day, where I’ve just put my eldest to bed and she’s voluntarily kissed my forehead telling me she loves me more than the world, that right now is a better place to start than any.

(Although it could just be the glass of bubbles I’ve just poured…)

Motherhood is tough, it really isn’t for sissies and you need to be thick skinned – mostly, I’ve learnt, for the moments I’ve been faced with recently like when my 2.5 year old has told me she doesn’t want to be my best friend ever again or that once again, Daddy is flavour of the moment for both of them!

In all fairness, Daddy is always flavour of the moment. They’re his kryptonite and one look from them seems to ignite an irrational emotion in him that has been completely absent till now – Tears from just looking at our sons tiny hand or after he’s put our daughter to bed and she’s been heart wrenchingly cute. So obviously his threats are empty as he gives in to their every whim. It really is true what they say, girls wrap their Daddys around their little fingers. Although in this case, even our sons fingers are causing him to surrender into a ball of warm, fuzzy Bliss.

Meanwhile I’m bad cop for even implying that our daughter can’t go to bed wearing a dress she’s been wearing all day. Daddy put her to bed so naturally when I went to check on her she had it on under her pyjamas.. and that right their is his answer for ‘negotiation’ something essential in all parenting journeys.

And so I think I’ll end it there, before the warm fuzz wears off thinking of what impractical choice of nightwear she’ll be in tomorrow night. 😅

cheers 🥂,

H x

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