Friday, 13 April 2007
Baby groups
I must say I am immensely proud of the life I lead now, very respectable, husband, son and dog, soon to be member of a parent and baby group. I am not sure what goes on at these groups, what is the protocol, what is considered acceptable conversation pieces (probably best not to mention the gorilla, not until week two anyway). Is there a dress code? Are we judged by the pram we choose, the clothing our babies wear, will we envy the “Mary-Ellen” that is picture perfect, cooks brownies and her little Johnny said “mom”.
Gorilla dating
So you get the general picture, my life is full of odd events, like dating a gorilla or accidentally dating a cousin.
No, its true, I went on a date with a guy I met at a club, who seemed surprisingly normal and nice, we agreed to meet at a local pub. Whilst waiting on him to arrive, I know not playing it cool, I never did master the turning up fashionable late thing, I glance over at what appears to be a hen party and at that point my attention is drawn to a gorilla entering at the bar. Kiss-o-gram, hen party, it all makes sense, until instead of grabbing the bride to be and forcing her to kiss, undress, put baby oil on him or whatever it is these guys do, he actually heads in my direction. I assume there is someone sitting behind me but no he actually kisses me on the cheek, and sits down whilst declaring how hot it gets in the costume.
Yep, its my surprisingly nice and normal date, who works as a kiss-o-gram. Anyway it is amazing how easy it is to forget you are sitting with a gorilla after the better part of a bottle of the house white that is, until, he jumps up, claims to be right back and heads to the other side of the bar where a small birthday party appears to be in full swing, yes my date has just kissed and fondled Sarah, Office Assistant who has just turned 21 and who got to kiss my date. Do you know I cannot remember his name, but I remember Sarah, the 21 year old office assistant.
No, its true, I went on a date with a guy I met at a club, who seemed surprisingly normal and nice, we agreed to meet at a local pub. Whilst waiting on him to arrive, I know not playing it cool, I never did master the turning up fashionable late thing, I glance over at what appears to be a hen party and at that point my attention is drawn to a gorilla entering at the bar. Kiss-o-gram, hen party, it all makes sense, until instead of grabbing the bride to be and forcing her to kiss, undress, put baby oil on him or whatever it is these guys do, he actually heads in my direction. I assume there is someone sitting behind me but no he actually kisses me on the cheek, and sits down whilst declaring how hot it gets in the costume.
Yep, its my surprisingly nice and normal date, who works as a kiss-o-gram. Anyway it is amazing how easy it is to forget you are sitting with a gorilla after the better part of a bottle of the house white that is, until, he jumps up, claims to be right back and heads to the other side of the bar where a small birthday party appears to be in full swing, yes my date has just kissed and fondled Sarah, Office Assistant who has just turned 21 and who got to kiss my date. Do you know I cannot remember his name, but I remember Sarah, the 21 year old office assistant.
One hairly leg
Just who is responsible for this 80’s revival? I am willing to tolerate the music, let’s face it, its nice to hear the music that you danced to at the school disco, kissed your first boyfriend to, stood in the corner watching other people dance with their boyfriends to. Now I am not saying I didn’t get asked to dance, well actually I don’t think I did get asked to dance that often, I was a late bloomer, given my tiny chest I was a never-bloomer. My husband often remarks that he should get me under trade descriptions act, the night we met the wonder bra and fillets were in use not to mention the heels, the reality, a 32B chest and 5’2”.
But why oh why won’t anyone teach these kids that the leggings aren’t that attractive, the ra-ra skirts, I mean honestly why would anyone think that that was a good idea. Do people still have mirrors?
So I am half dressed, in non eighties inspired clothes, and half shaved, yep only one leg done and tiny monster wants fed. How do the yummy mummys do it – I guess they don’t really, they have a highly trained team of professionals that beautify them and their babies, and just as they are leaving the house to face the world they are handed their designer babies in their designer prams, who never cry, don’t get food all over their face and are just too perfect.
My husband and dog got me gift vouchers for a massage and facial for Christmas, I look like I have a young child, I have that look. Now normally I don’t get stressed by a pampering session, but I am lying on the table, in just my panties, in a darkened room it is at this point I remember my one shaved leg. Would I have time to wax the other leg before the petite, prefect beautician returns? But no it has to be one shaved leg as the door creaks open, there are no words! “you are very tense” no kidding!
But why oh why won’t anyone teach these kids that the leggings aren’t that attractive, the ra-ra skirts, I mean honestly why would anyone think that that was a good idea. Do people still have mirrors?
So I am half dressed, in non eighties inspired clothes, and half shaved, yep only one leg done and tiny monster wants fed. How do the yummy mummys do it – I guess they don’t really, they have a highly trained team of professionals that beautify them and their babies, and just as they are leaving the house to face the world they are handed their designer babies in their designer prams, who never cry, don’t get food all over their face and are just too perfect.
My husband and dog got me gift vouchers for a massage and facial for Christmas, I look like I have a young child, I have that look. Now normally I don’t get stressed by a pampering session, but I am lying on the table, in just my panties, in a darkened room it is at this point I remember my one shaved leg. Would I have time to wax the other leg before the petite, prefect beautician returns? But no it has to be one shaved leg as the door creaks open, there are no words! “you are very tense” no kidding!
Yummy Sleep
OK so I have decided that I wasn’t born, I just arrived aged five, house trained, toilet trained, take out in public trained! My reasoning, its just after midnight and I am just off the phone to my mum who is watching my son for the night to give me and hubby a break, and yes I was in bed, sleeping, how I remember when early nights weren’t for sleeping.
Where was I, oh that’s right, phone, mother, babysitting. “He is crying” she stressed, “Um yup I can hear him”, they tend to do that, babies that is, they tend to cry. I am the youngest of three, and I am fairly sure that we must have cried at some point, from what I understand my older sister lives up to her star sign of cancer the crab, I heard stories that she cried until she was two years old, taking breaks for eating in between crying fits.
So is this the same for all grandparents? Do they just forget how to handle babies – is it a skill that you hand back when your own kids are grown up, “So what should I do?” Let me think, baby crying, food, nappy, teething or all of the above. “Have you tried feeding him?”
“Should I do that?” So I am wide awake now, my son a few short miles away falling soundly asleep after getting a nice warm bottle of milk.
Time for my love affair to resume, this is my affair with the bed! Do you know that yummy feeling, the one you get when you know you are just about to fall into a nice dream filled sleep, the kind of sleep that makes you stretch like a kitty in the morning and despite the kitchen full of dishes, the laundry basket that is making its own way to the washing machine, the husbands smelly trainers in the hall and the bathroom needing condemned, you still feel like nothing can get to you when you wake because you have had that yummy sleep. Wait what’s that noise, all noises, feelings, smells and tastes in my dreams are pre approved, but this is not right, its familiar but its not right or welcomed for that matter.
“That worked, he must have been hungry, he’s sleeping now! Goodnight”
So long yummy sleep.
Where was I, oh that’s right, phone, mother, babysitting. “He is crying” she stressed, “Um yup I can hear him”, they tend to do that, babies that is, they tend to cry. I am the youngest of three, and I am fairly sure that we must have cried at some point, from what I understand my older sister lives up to her star sign of cancer the crab, I heard stories that she cried until she was two years old, taking breaks for eating in between crying fits.
So is this the same for all grandparents? Do they just forget how to handle babies – is it a skill that you hand back when your own kids are grown up, “So what should I do?” Let me think, baby crying, food, nappy, teething or all of the above. “Have you tried feeding him?”
“Should I do that?” So I am wide awake now, my son a few short miles away falling soundly asleep after getting a nice warm bottle of milk.
Time for my love affair to resume, this is my affair with the bed! Do you know that yummy feeling, the one you get when you know you are just about to fall into a nice dream filled sleep, the kind of sleep that makes you stretch like a kitty in the morning and despite the kitchen full of dishes, the laundry basket that is making its own way to the washing machine, the husbands smelly trainers in the hall and the bathroom needing condemned, you still feel like nothing can get to you when you wake because you have had that yummy sleep. Wait what’s that noise, all noises, feelings, smells and tastes in my dreams are pre approved, but this is not right, its familiar but its not right or welcomed for that matter.
“That worked, he must have been hungry, he’s sleeping now! Goodnight”
So long yummy sleep.
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