Hey weight a minute!
Read time: a couple of minutes
Apologies in advance: it’s late; the grammar, sentence structure and general blog hasn’t been proof read so 1000 apologies!
So I’m not a massive social media kinda girl, and yes I totally appreciate the irony that I am blogging (in my defence only twice a year at this rate) but the reason we started this whole blog was not to become social influencers – I actually just chortled at the thought of me being a social influencers – I can also hear my mates chortling (and yes I just googled this word so thought it appropriate to use twice in this paragraph) as they read this. The main reason was to throw a little humour at this whole mom experience and give you a gap to laugh at us, laughing at ourselves because, let’s be honest, this – hands down – has to be one of the hardest things you have ever had to juggle. Aaaaand we wanted the people who pick this blog up, mainly in the middle of the night, to know that it is totally normal to actually f*cking hate it on the odd occasion. I said “it” not “them” before we start getting any snarking comments about being child-haters.
Hating things like the lack of sleep – which is a-whoooole-nother blog, constantly being covered in something not so kiff (so much could fall into this category), changing a nappy and getting poo particles on your hand … you with me! Strongly disliking first world problems like never being able to look at your diary again without every page being covered in black pen circles … and aggressive ones that have gone through most of the pages from an over eager threenager. Never being able to get shit fully-done, use both hands, finish a sentence. Hating having to always say “noooooo”, “sloooowwwly”, “careful!” – I totally get why those buggers don’t want to listen because it is blady monotonous just saying it! Today I tried to go easy on the warnings and let these turds experience the world old-school style. Let me tell you it was a shit idea as we totalled up the injuries this evening; one pinched stomach in a cupboard, a couple of couch jumping wipe outs, hair-loss (theirs not mine – clips these days can be blady hardcore … you see – doing it again – warning!), two bruises from attempting the balance bike on the gravel and a lipstick jab to the eye.
Tuesday morning early
I’m lying in bed (not my own obvs) and it is 0.31am. I’m listening to my son practising all his vocab in the room next door (boys can be such aholes) and I am smelling like chunder while my girl child suzas (farts) up a storm; welcome bug. It has been full blown Russian roulette out here in our house tonight. The ultimate Ching Chong Cha for which kid you got to man handle as our house erupted in “maaaaammaaaa” at midnight. The girl one is yacking and seems to be the main patient zero bug-carrier and the boy one … well he suffers from fomo so if okes are up so is that little turd.
One thing I have learnt as a mother is NEVER EVER play all your cards at once. You need to be able to bust out the trump card riiiight at the end; stay one step ahead of the kids and at least two or three of the hubcap. Tonight, I was not on top form!
I had picked the girl one on the back of her being able to speak English. My thinking was that she could tell me when she was about to vom or borsh (poo) and we could kick down to the loo. So as I lay in bed next to patient zero, I 100% giggled waaaaay too early while I could hear my hubby shushing the boy one, whom we have now nicknamed the Badger. (If you’ve ever watched the “Honeybadger don’t give a sh*t” you’ll know those things are next level heckies. The badger bites a snake, which then bites him back. They both die but 20mins later the badger wakes up to chow the snake. That pretty much sums up our kid; next level Badger.
So my hubcap is in with the Badger listening to him repeat “dada dada dada” 47 times a minute and shouting “braaaaaap braaaaaap” at the top of his lungs. We did a fundraiser last Sunday for our little girl’s school which was a motorbike fun ride so the sthuthuths (motorbikes) are the topic of toddler speak at the moment.
I let out a real live LOL – if that still stands for Laugh Out Loud? Sadly, I’m excruciatingly behind the times as I am balls deep in new business ventures, kids and living in the now and when I get to social media it is to try and catch up on the latest news so I don’t look completely doff when peeps say stuff like “oh my tits heckies what happened to Notre D hey!!” and my obvs response is “ja I know!” – unmmmmmm nought wtaf happened – zero clue … zero! “Just popping to the loo” … open up Facies (Facebook) and see the whole blady cathedral has gone up in flames. Gasp. Process. Catch up on a few bullet talking points and back to the convo. “Ja did you see that Scientists are on the hunt for evidence …” .
So the Badger has been awake since 11pm and still chatting to his father who is lying in the bed trying to sleep between getting kicked in the head, the nuts and the boy shouting “brrrraaaaaaaaap braaaaap”. Kids are f*cking relentless! Hahaha.
Suddenly my Ching Chong Cha victory backfires (bad pun – more chortling). She announces that she needs to “burp”. Holding her hand over her mouth, we wrestle the mozzie net, run down the passage with my bra-free boobs flapping all over the place and me firing off words of affirmation “well done my baby for letting mommy know you needed to burp, gooooood girl, keeeeeeep it in, sh*t sh*t, nearly there!“ … just in time to reach the loo where I usually enjoy so many seconds of catching up on the news. My hubby is probably thinking “ja suck it you azzie (a-hole) for laughing at me getting stuck with the Badger”, as he hears frantic trampling down the runway to the bathroom.
So on the topic of flapping boobs – bet you couldn’t have called where this one was going hahaha. Oh my tits, how hectically does your body change after kids. I often look at mine in the mirror and get the serious giggles. It literally looks like it is smiling at me, caesar scar and all. My boobs, which make up the eyes of the ‘smiling face’, aren’t nearly as perky … or close together … or straight … as they used to be and there is a mouth (caesar scar) that looks like it has a fat top lip (my kiff new post-baby boep). So after I have had a good laugh, I stop and give myself the mirror talk. Enough is enough. Time to drop a few kgs even just for the sake of being a bit fitter for running around, and lifting 30kgs of kid all day.
I had a moment the other day which gave me a gentle nudge to start exercising a bit; a little WhatsApp convo with a few mates a couple of weeks back:
Me: Guys I wish you could see what I am wearing! No time to change between bath and dusting the kids.
Mate: Pic please!!!
Me: I just can’t! I’m crying with laughter. I just grabbed broeks out the drawer and landed on a pair from my hens party which still have the tag on and for f*cking good reason too! There is so much muffin top I could start a bakery and my bum has literally eaten up all the cotton.
So to get motivated – I’ve been punishing myself by not buy new clothes while I try and dust a few kgs off the ol’boep – f*cking ambitious I know 😂 – I have literally adopted the “fit in or f*ck off” attack on my wardrobe and body. I wear active wear regularly in the hope that it cuts off my circulation and triggers … no activates … a “get thin” hormone or I just get thin by association because I am in my blady active wear. I realised that biting manageable size chunks off this weight loss ordeal, would be the only way to go when my daughter said “Mom, this is a beautiful shirt – I can see your pretty skin where those nunus made holes” … moth-eaten, stretched Cotton On tees is all that is keeping me clothed these days.
So I am going back to the drawing board and just going to conquer this in a happier and healthier way. Exercise at the start of a-hole hour (which we have 100% been sold a lemon – it lasts waaaaay longer than an hour), with our kids, outside, and include them in the process because after all – most of the weight gain is from hitting a brick wall wider and higher than you could have ever imagined and coping with it; wine, flattening everything on their plates that they won’t eat and snacking in between breathes.
I miss my boobs. Buuuuut this chubby little smiling body of mine has produced some effing amazing little things whom I love and adore and kiss all day and REALLY laugh at. They honestly bring me SO much happiness even though at times we whisper some horrendous things under our breathe!
So cheers (with a Kale smoothy obviously) – here’s to all of us who are on the path to get a little bit fitter and a little thinner to really enjoy being active with our kids. I just keep thinking losing weight will never be the hardest thing you will have to do in your life … those little buggers are already here hahaha! #motivation