The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 9

Considering I haven't chronicled my parenting faux pas since September 2008 you could be forgiven for thinking that either,

a. I have obviously learned from my mistakes and reached new supreme levels of parenting,

or b. I was just too lazy to blog about what a failure I am.

I know what you're thinking.......

It has to be B.

And you'd be right.

Here is a sterling example of how I haven't come any closer to achieving Super-Parent status.

I was 37 weeks pregnant.

We went to get the few (mostly pink) things left on our baby list.

Me, Rob, Thomas, Eli.

We lost Eli.

Here.

At one of the biggest shopping malls in all of England.

It turns out buying tiny pink clothing doesn't excite Eli.

He wandered off.

We panicked.

I ran the length of the place in my heavily pregnant state dragging a 4 year old in flip flops behind me. (Do you have any idea how hard it is for a 4 year old to sprint in flip flops? Or how amusing a 37 weeks pregnant woman looks running?)

After the longest phone conversation known to man between the customer services lady and the head of security it was confirmed he'd been located.

I nearly squeezed the life out of him.

And sadly it was in that moment that I realised that if that recipe of shock, panic and trauma coupled with the fastest running of my life didn't manage to dislodge that baby from my uterus then she was never gonna come out without being evicted.

Bummer.

The Sleep Grinch

It would seem that my remaining loyal readers (all 6 of them), who didn't remove me from their google reader during my long sojourn in the blogging wilderness would like photographic evidence of our Libby aka little Roo, Lady May, Mayflower, Libskerino and approximately a trillion variations of each.

We're all about nicknames in the Siswick household.

So here she is:

2 weeks

10 weeks
14 weeks
Very 1st Christmas at 4 Months
She is now 4 months old (I almost accidentally put 14 months then, but that's just how long it actually feels like we've had her and how long it seems like since I had a good nights sleep) and adored slightly more each day.

She is currently a big fan of licking just about anything that gets within a tongues reach of her. Which we're hoping she outgrows before she starts school.


Oh and in response to this post. Her DNA was kind to her, no hairy back gene for Libby Mae.


Eli's on the other hand is thickening up for winter. You'd have to see it to believe it.

All is not right in the galaxy........

It would appear that after more than a decade of being ogled and adored by women globally and let's face it ladies it's not for his footballing prowess (and I can appreciate a quality cross or free kick as much as the next person), David Beckham is now actually trying to repel women.

First there was this hideous beard.....

and then this dodgy new hairdo....

(Don't even get me started on that suit or the fact that Charlize Theron hosted the World Cup draw whilst not even attempting to pretend she had a clue what she was actually promoting. I swear she was only there to smooch Mr Beckham and for that she should no doubt be commended).
Then tragically both together.

I am now sadly being forced to reconsider my 13 year long crush on him myself.

My allegiance is definitely wavering.

One things for sure, I won't be getting a David Beckham mug and jigsaw for my upcoming birthday like I did the year I turned 22.

Let that be a lesson to you David.

Separated at Birth?

Out in the car running errands with Eli we stopped at some traffic lights.

"Wow look Mummy, it's Tom and Jenna!"

I glanced around immediately to see where my brother in law and his girlfriend were.

Then I saw this:

I honestly can't figure out if Tom and Jenna should feel offended or not.

Watch Out People!

You know you're completely out of the blogging loop when you log in on blogger and it kindly informs you that you have 261 unmoderated comments. For a mere second I let it go to my head a tiny bit and felt tres popular indeed. Right until I scanned the comments prior to moderation and found each and every one to be completely identical, all offering me Viagra.

Viagra? Are you kidding me? I have 3 kids, the smallest of which it appears failed to read our family sleeping policy prior to arrival in chez Siswick and is killing me slowly, mostly a brain cell at a time. I think I'm likely down to approximately 12 remaining right now.

I need a pill to keep me awake in the morning and another to put me to sleep at night preferably for at least 8 gloriously solid hours. Viagra I can live without, it is surplus to requirements here.

But is this what the blogosphere has come to in my absence? Spam comments? Uncool.

It was a humbling moment when I came to the realisation that if I neglected one of my kids as badly as I have neglected my lovely blog these last 12 months or so social services would've intervened long, long ago. Surely my blog is as worthy of my love as my offspring?

So I have used up all my paltry excuses for not blogging:

I'm pregnant and tired-check.

I just had a baby and am even more tired-check.

I fell over because I was so tired and fractured my shoulder-check.

I can hardly string a sentence together due to combined tiredness from pregnancy, having a baby, fracturing my shoulder and having to contend with dear sweet beautiful Libby whose single goal in life is to ensure I never get a good nights sleep-check.

No more excuses people, I'm back on the blog.

And I mean it!

That is my only New Year Resolution.