Author: Veronica

Dave – ‘Hey Ronni! What are these?’

Veronica – ‘Condoms. Duh!’

D – ‘There are heaps here.’

V – ‘I know, we never used them.’

D – ‘They are studded! Dude!’

V – ‘You can have them if you like’ (although god knows what he will use them for. Water balloons? God, I hope so.)

D – ‘Awesome! Thanks Ronni.’

V – ‘You’re welcome.’

D – ‘I think flavoured condoms would be better for you guys anyway.’

V – ‘Uh, flavoured condoms taste like crap. Plastic crap.’ *shudder*

D – ‘No! These ones taste nice.’

[Oh god, how does he know that? Had he been trying them himself? DUUUUDE!]

V – ‘Dave, I think it is impossible for condoms to taste nice.’

D – ‘No, these ones really do…’

V – ‘Dave, if I wanted Nat to taste like something, I have a perfectly good bottle of chocolate sauce in the cupboard.’

D – ‘Dude! I didn’t need to know that!’

[David has gone green and shaky looking]

V – ‘You forget, we are trying to GET pregnant, not PREVENT pregnancy.’

D – ‘Uh…um…uh…’

V – ‘That was so worth it to see your face. Keep the condoms.’

D – ‘Uh, thanks.’

V – ‘You’re welcome.’

Disclaimer. I promise tomorrow I will be back to talking about regular fluffy (ie: not sex) stuff. No wait, actually I can’t make that promise. You know, something might come up that needs sharing.

Welcome home! I’m not entirely sure where you have been, the Mediterranean perhaps? Because goodness knows you have returned perky and in good health. Which is rather contrary to the last month of drought, dry and despair you left me with. Nathan thanks you for that by the way.

Now Libido, you timed your return brilliantly in order to be here for the impending baby making of this month, however we seem to have a small problem.

I CAN’T DO A FREAKING THING ABOUT YOU!

[Not properly anyway]

And you know, that makes me just a touch stressed (like head explodingly stressed) because my rather unliked friend, The Period has decided to stick around for a little while longer.

[It has taken up nearly double it’s alotted time frame for ruining my quality of life and of sex for that matter]

Now, I know my doctor told me that if The Period decided to hang around, then I should take another month of the pill, but honestly Libido, I know that it scares you away and that in turn makes me rather grumpy.

[No orgasms make for an uptight housewife. Just sayin’… You know, I scrubbed my walls today and did all the laundry…]

Hopefully we can come to some sort of arrangement because Nathan’s Libido is missing you and somehow blowjobs just aren’t doing much for me.

[Go figure]

So Libido, what I am asking you is can you talk to The Period and tell it (and it’s goddamn cramps) to fuck off already? Because I am rather over it and my wrist is going to get sore sooner rather than later.

And plus you know, the baby making can’t start until I stop facking bleeding.

Lovingly (because I missed you)
Veronica

You know my daughter? The sleepless one? She has me worried*.

Tonight after dinner she played. Then she wandered down the hall to her bedroom, stood at the gate and asked for her bottle.

So I dressed her in her pajamas, gave her a fresh bottle of water and cuddled her in bed for 2 mins. Then I left her.

She fell asleep!!!

All by herself and all before 7.20pm.

Can you feel the relief positively oozing off me?

——–

Remeber how yesterday I mentioned another poo incident? (Yes, it does make 2 incidents in 3 days. Yes, I am a lucky lucky mother)

Well, the second time I took photos.

(Don’t you just love me? Sharing, caring. That’s me!)

I also took photos of Amy’s pooey feet, but they ended up blurry. Whoops.

And then we had a slight incidence with Amy falling and landing on an egg cup and cutting her ankle. Let us just say that there was blood. Alot of blood. And tears. Alot of tears.

However a Mummy kiss, boobs and a bandaid makes everything better. Once she realised that the bandaid had to stay on, she was off and racing again.

This is the ankle AFTER pressure was applied, boobs were administered and the bandaid had been on for 5 mins.

Poor little pet, the bandaid stuck to the scratch (yes, it is only a scratch) this morning and had to be pulled off. My solution? Remove all the sticky bits and let her do the painful part herself. We had no tears. Woo!

——–

*I’m not really worried about her.

…cook Cornish Pasties with a Toddler in tow.

Make the pastry. At various intervals remove Toddlers fingers from the flour/butter/milk.

Cover the pastry and place in the fridge. Stop the Toddler trying to wee on the puppy (I couldn’t make this up).

Check your mince defrosting on the sink. Sigh and complain about how you forgot to get it out of the freezer last night.

Stop the Toddler climbing up and removing books and DVD’s from the bookshelves. Stop the Toddler sitting on the puppy. Clean up the puppy wee. Clean up the Toddler wee.

Peel potatoes and place on the bench. Stop the theft of the potatoes by giving Toddler an apple. Sigh when you notice all the potatoes in the Toddlers lap, along with ALL of the apples.

Slice the potatoes finely, dodging Toddler fingers as you go. Curse the setup of the loungeroom that means the couch is up against the bench. Wonder if locking the Toddler in her bedroom is worth the effort.

Finely dice carrots and onions. Pretend that tradtional pasties contain carrots and onions.

Stop the Toddler removing all the carrots from the bowl. Put the (now full) bowl on the bench behind you.

Yell as the toddler removes your knife from the bench. Growl. Lots.

Then find the bandaids and patch the Toddlers thumb up.

Check the mince.

Discover the frozen bits in the middle. Get shitty and stab the mince with a butter knife to break it up. End up using your fingers.

Yell as Toddler tries to eat raw mince. Growl when she won’t get off the bench (she was trying to sit on it).

Sigh as Toddler has a full blown tantrum on the floor.

Mix salt and pepper into the meat and set aside.

Wash hands and cuddle Toddler until she is happier.

Remove the pastry from the fridge and roll it out using a wine bottle. Curse your lack of strength as the pastry refuses to yield. Use all your weight on the bottle.

Stop the Toddler from poking holes in the (now rolled) pastry. Give her a glass jar and some pastry of her own to roll.

Resume rolling pastry and cutting into circles.

Freak out as the Toddler sticks pastry in her nose and ears. Clean Toddlers ears and nose and try to distract her with her blocks.

Fail.

Slowly put together the pasties and crimp the edges. Stop Toddler eating the onion skins.

Place pasties into a moderate oven and baste regularly with milk.

Cook the rest of the mince and serve with tortillas. Discourage Toddler from putting the tortillas on her vagina before eating them.

Finish eating and feeding Toddler.

Baste pasties.

Lots.

Wonder what that smell is. Toddler comes up and says ‘Yuck! Bum!’

Notice Toddlers feet. Chase down Toddler and clean poo off her feet.

Clean the carpet.

Clean more of the Toddler.

Swear that you are buying a potty tomorrow.

Wash hands and baste pasties more.

Once pasties are golden brown remove from oven and discourage Toddler from trying to eat them while still hot.

Serve with tomato sauce.

I know some people noticed my new header (if you can’t see it clear your cookies and refresh the page or click over from your reader) and I just want to give a big thankyou to Angie from Rio Oso Designs for it.

Sorry that it took me so long to get it up, but now it is here it looks amazing. Thankyou SO MUCH!

I actually won the header design in a competition. First thing I have won, EVER!

Now I need to modify the colour scheme a little to suit it, but that is work for tomorrow. Or whenever I get a chance to actually get near my computer to do more than check emails and write blogs.

———-

Easter was good fun. Unfortunately we sort of forgot that chocolate contains milk.

And Amy’s tummy doesn’t handle dairy products.

After Amy pooed 2 times (and I still hadn’t clicked that it was chocolate induced) I let her run around with no nappy on.

I know, I am STUPID.

Oh yes, she did poo on the floor. She even had the decency to TELL me she pooed on the floor, just not exactly where she pooed.

So there I was trying to herd a toddler and a puppy away from poo and I didn’t know where it was. Somehow they both found it while I didn’t.

And they walked in it.

All through the loungeroom.

And yes, I was a bad bad blogger (but a good mother/housekeeper heh) and didn’t take photos because I was much too busy trying to stop Seven simutaneously eating and walking poo through the house.

Fun times.

Do you know how hard it is to put a puppy outside, while wiping a toddlers feet (so that she didn’t make any more mess) and cleaning up millions (yes, there were millions. No, I have no idea how they managed to take so many steps in so little time) of poopy footprints?

Then I accidentally locked myself outside.

Next Easter if we still have dairy issues Amy is getting dark chocolate.

And no nappy free time.