In Defence of Britney Spears

Well that was a title I never ever imagined giving a post, or even a single thought for that matter.

I think if we’re honest people we’re all still slightly disturbed about when Britney did this.

It wasn’t a good look.

I knew my old Dyson was on the fritz but didn’t realise quite how decrepit it was until we replaced it with a beautiful new Dyson and I got quite carried away with some celebratory vacuuming (I don’t know what it is about vacuuming with a Dyson but for me it is the most fulfilling housework I ever do, or maybe just the only housework I ever do?) and emptied the cylinder only to find enough hair to hairify (I know that's not a word or even a possibility but I’m sleep deprived so I really don’t care so much)about 12 bald men.

Previous to this Eli had gone to use the bathroom after I had showered (which was a delightful change, usually he likes to visit at least once per shower, another joy of parenthood) and exited the loo in a panic. On seeing my head wrapped in a towel his panic intensified.

“Mum, you showered all your hair off!”

I went to look and reassured him that I did have some hair left on my balding dome.

Post Partum hair loss sucks.

I leave a trail of long brown hairs wherever I go. I find them in very dubious places. I have thinning patches all over. My tresses are distressed.

Not tres glamorous.

Then I remembered dear troubled Mrs Federline as was, and that she had 2 kids really close together (which I still think wasn’t so much entirely intentional and more completely accidental, not that I’m judgmental, much) and I thought wowsers that post partum hair loss had to be really dreadful.

So maybe that’s why Brit buzzed all her hair off.

(If I could pull it off like Katherine Heigl in Grey’s I’d be tempted I’m telling you. But alas I would not be a beautiful baldy and I know it.)

Well that or that Brit really was just a total fruit loop.

30 Weeks: A Four Year Old's Perspective

Months ago Thomas came home from nursery with this picture.

In case you're wondering that's me on the right. (But isn't that completely obvious?)

Apparently my most striking feature is my gigantic googly eyes but please do pay attention to (and even envy a little) my stick thin body and arms.

It's like me and Victoria Beckham were separated at birth or something.

If you happen to be wondering who the rather round and squat person is on the left of me that would be my mother. She was visiting at the time and lucky for Thomas she was so thrilled by the knowledge that he could write his very own name that she got completely distracted from the fact that he had drawn her with an uncanny resemblance to an Oompa Loompa. Though I have to admit to being rather amused myself.

Roll on to last Sunday when Thomas drew this beauty of a family portrait in his Primary class at Church and oh what a difference a few months makes.

Again that would be me on the right.

Long gone is my stick thin body, (though I do appear to have maintained a pretty good set of legs).

Shrunken are my eyes, stupid pregnancy insomnia.

Imagine my horror to find out that this is a representation of how I'm looking these days.

Please note our baby girl dwelling comfortably within my gigantic body cavity, pigtails et al.

So do you think he did me justice? Here is a picture of me yesterday at 30 weeks gestation.

Oh and please don't hate me for not being enormous.

Or for the fact that this is by far the most near to being enormous I have been at this stage in pregnancy.

Bring on the next 10 weeks and somebody hide all drawing materials from the 4 year old.

The Secret

Remember me harping on about the Second Trimester energy boost and how it clearly must just be pure pregnancy propaganda to keep us poor pregnant souls going through the arduous First Trimester?

I have now unearthed the beautiful secret.

This is the magical key to the much desired energy boost.

Pack up offspring in car and go to your mothers house.

Enjoy the fact that in her own house she is primarily responsible for all cooking and cleaning.

Revel in the joy that she doesn't get to see her grandson's as often as she'd like so is more than happy to entertain them while you rest.

Wonder how on earth you were blessed with such a great mother in the first place when she gets up at 7am with the kids and encourages you to sleep until 11am.

Yep 11am. Like you're 15 again.

Leave 4 days later feeling completely refreshed but slightly devastated that it's over and normality ensues.

Thanks Mum, we had a wonderful visit. I may well be returning.

The Verdict?

Please pray for us that she won't get the hairy back genes that Eli got.

What I'm thinking.....

I'm thinking I had forgotten just how extremely glamorous pregnancy is. After a recent trip to my doctor I came home with old lady tan support stockings (toe to thigh no less) for my gorgeous varicose vein on my left calf (courtesy of pregnancy number 1) and Haemorrhoid cream, you know just in case, Nice.

I'm thinking it wasn't worth attempting to win some Mothering Award by sending my kids to preschool at different times of day. Just so I could have quality time with each. I could be having 9 extra quality hours of sleep a week. Surely that's of far more import than quality time.

I'm thinking I shouldn't have read Marley & Me while I was pregnant. The demise and death of that dog had me literally cowering behind the sofa sobbing uncontrollably hoping the kids wouldn't see me so upset. Also Rob's untimely arrival home had me rushing to the bathroom to ferociously splash my face with cold water in an attempt to hide my ridiculous hysterics. (He would never understand he's never owned a dog, he's of the opinion it's just a dog).

I'm thinking that this pregnancy may have cured (fingers tightly crossed) the natural disaster which is my hair. My effortlessly poker straight chocolate tresses that started growing intermittent frizzy patches during my pregnancy with Eli seem to be correcting themselves. (In hindsight I should have known he was gonna be a handful when he managed to singlehandedly ruin my hair from the confines of my uterus).

I'm thinking after experiencing the joys of morning sickness for the first time with this pregnancy that if this pregnancy introduces me to the further joy of stretch marks for the first time also that baby number 3 will officially be my least favourite child. Forever.

And finally I'm thinking now that I'm halfway done that I can't wait to find out what this little nipper is.

Good job I have my ultrasound TOMORROW!!!

Watch this space people.

Waiting......

I figured it time to provide an explanation regarding my absence when I started receiving messages of concern for my well being.

Worry not, I have not had any tragic finger loss issues that stop me being able to type/babble on. All of my digits are blessedly intact.

The truth is simple.

I'm lazy. But pregnant lazy not just lazy lazy, so that's OK , right?

I'm just anxiously anticipating my second trimester energy boost. Actually to be fair I'm still eagerly awaiting the second trimester energy boost from my previous two pregnancies that rudely never happened to materialise. Third time around I'm wondering if such a thing actually exists or if it's medical propaganda to get us through the the first trimester with an ounce of hope for the future.

By the time I've had to tell Eli to leave his wilbsy alone (potty training has provided 24 hour access to his favourite area) for the 8 millionth time each day and I get the nippers into bed and I actually have time to blog all I'm actually fit for is falling into bed with a good book.

Rob says it's really fun being married to the equivalent of an 80 year old.

So when that energy boost hits I'll be back with a vengeance. That of course could be any day now or in 5 years time when all my kids are in full time school and I actually get to occasionally enjoy such luxuries as peeing in privacy, if only between the hours of 9-3 on weekdays.

I hope I'm worth the wait!

The Real Reason I Have Been MIA

Indeed the Siswick Family is expanding this year.

On August 29th we'll be expecting numero tres to make a preferably pain free appearance.

Really we just thought when we make babies as cute as these ones below we'd be doing the entire world a disservice by not procreating further.

You are welcome world.

Rob had been hesitant to have another.

I think our lives have gotten pretty easy with the boys being bigger (well as easy as life can be with 2 preschool aged kids who fight almost constantly anyhow) and the thought of starting from scratch all over again was more than a bit daunting.

But we made our decision and what seemed like 5 minutes later (though it was several months) I was peeing on a stick and seeing our future change right in front of my very own eyes.

Of course now Rob keeps saying deeply terrifying things like,

Maybe a 4th wouldn't be so bad.

Maybe we should have two more close together again.

Easy Tiger! I only just regained my sanity from having the last two close together.

Plus this much I do know if pregnancy number 3 had been pregnancy number 1 Thomas may well have been an only child.

Number 3 has had me encounter the joys of morning sickness for the very first time.

I am now kind of regretting smirking to myself as friends suffered with constant nausea while I was pregnant the first two times. Karma obviously does exist.

This time round I don't know if my friends are more happy that I'm pregnant or that I'm sick with it. That's true friendship eh?

Never have I been so tired in my life. By the time the boys are in bed I am completely done for. Fit for nothing else but sitting on my backside on the sofa trying to muster enough energy to get to bed.

Hence the serious blog neglect since just before Christmas through to right about now. I'm powering through so that blogging isn't another thing to catch up on when I finally have energy once more. The laundry is gonna take me several months to get on top of alone.

This pregnancy I have had serious food aversions so when I actually fancy something I just go ahead and eat it. With the boys I spent the first trimester eating baked potato's, this time round has been a completely different story.

My diet has consisted of such delights as

cheese and onion pie,

strawberry trifle,

cheeseburgers and Cadbury's creme eggs.

Which leads me on with gratitude to the NHS who only ever weigh you at your very first appointment and never ever again. I have a feeling I'm gonna be really appreciative of that this time round with a diet consisting mostly of fat and sugar.

It is good to be British.

Our fish just all passed away on Thursday (fungal issues we think) and Thomas was upset (I guess he'll really miss them for the 8 seconds a week he used to notice them) so to stop him crying we told him and Eli about the baby.

Thomas wants a sister.

Eli wants a brother.

Come August someone is going to be seriously disappointed.

But for us we'll be delighted with either.

Wordless Wednesday: When Words Just Aren't Required

The Wonderful Wisdom of Wise Women

Last night I went out for pizza and a movie with friends. One of the friends was Rob's cousins pregnant wife Katie and the other was one of my closest friends in all the world, Dawn.

We chatted away like girls do and eventually the topic turned to childbirth (Rob will think this was inevitable because whenever I go out with friends this topic comes up, it is never initiated by me and I can't think of anything I'd like to discuss less whilst eating). It was only to be expected really when in the presence of a person almost 36 weeks pregnant with their first child. We were the seasoned voice of experience after all, we were providing a service really, she is hundreds of miles from home and her mother in law just left to live in China. So we figured who better to offer her support and calm her fears in preparation for labour than us.

Now thinking about it when Dawn and I were housemates we were loved by our fellow housemates (to this very day!) but they have admitted they found us, sarcastic, mean and a little bit (okay a big bit!) too harsh in our teasing when we were together. Individually apparently we were just lovely all the time. So, who better to offer you advice on the eve of you bringing another person into the world. Who wouldn't want reassurance from us when you're facing a potentially terrifying ordeal?

Despite our well meaning intentions this is how it went:

Dawn: (Mother of two girls, excels at keeping the baby in until week 41 or even 42, brave/stupid enough to survive childbirth without an epidural) "All I'm saying is if you think you're coping with the pain ok that's great. But just know that the pain is gonna get 50 to a 100 times worse before you are through and then when you realise you can't cope it'll be too late for an epidural. I wish I had an epidural with Hannah because the pain was just awful, in fact I was completely traumatised afterwards".

Me: (Mother of two boys, survivor of one C-Section and one induced labour, complete wimp in the face of pain) "If you're ruling out an epidural because you're scared of the needle and the pain associated with it, just know that the pain of giving birth far outweighs the pain of the epidural."

Needless to say if she wasn't terrified before she definitely will be now.

Our intentions were well meaning but I think pregnant people everywhere should probably have an injunction taken out against us.