Okay like I said in my last post, I’m running behind with actually posting my pieces. Although I’m constantly writing and am up-to-date in “real time”. I’m just too slow at actually getting them online and up on my site. I’m of course going to blame it on the fact the I’m one busy Mumma (aren’t we all!). But regardless, my New Year’s resolution from here on in is to get them out there faster and more frequently.
As I mentioned in my last post, I suspected my prolonged “morning sickness” was getting more intense. Indeed it was! This week I’m 15 weeks pregnant and find myself constantly chained to the toilet, head rammed in the bowl, except now I’m actually vomiting my guts out. This is all while The Little Guy tries to wrap his head around the fact that the majority of my attention has shifted from him to my rampant hurling. Like I have a choice!
During one of these spewing sessions The Little Guy decided to come into the toilet to see what all the fuss was about, only to find me slumped over the toilet bowl. He then looked me up and down disapprovingly and proceeded to demand, “when are you taking me to the park?!”. Don’t you just love their sense of self importance? Apparently he hadn’t an ounce of sympathy for how rancid I not only looked, but was clearly feeling. I replied with “sweetie, Mumma is feeling reeeeaaallly sick right now. The park may have to wait”. The park may have to wait? What I really wanted to say was ‘screw the park, I’m dying here!’. He then placed his hands sternly on his hips and said, “well I’m hungry then, get me something to eat”. I thought to myself, ‘seriously buddy what’s with the attitude? Do I look like I wanna be here?!’. In a world of hurt I replied with “right now I can’t move from this spot, so I’m happy for you to go downstairs and help yourself to fruit in the fruit bowl and crackers in the cupboard. Then when Mumma feels up to it I’ll make you some lunch.” Seemingly satisfied with my response, he skipped away to the kitchen. God knows what he was really going to help himself to? However to be honest, I wasn’t bothered. He could of raided my (precious) chocolate stash for all I cared, as long as it meant I got a few moments alone to ride the porcelain bus in peace. With the state I was in, the last thing I needed was a 5 year old barking orders at me. Sheesh!
Funny thing is, it could of almost been a scene from a hectic New Year’s Eve party where I smashed myself in my earlier years. It probably once was, but that feels like a lifetime ago. How times have changed! These days I’m feeling just as hungover, except it’s not my fault. Not sure which I prefer? Lol.