Move over breasts; hello avocados!


Avacado

Image via Wikipedia

I have today returned from an awesome weekend enjoying what is labelled the “Cooper Fest” up north in Cumbria with my my partner’s relatives, meeting loads of great people and hearing various different stories. There was, however, one in particular story that was told by my partner’s, cousin’s, mother-in-law about avocado shopping….

She was explaining how one would go about determining how ripe an avocado was to see if was worth buying:

“…pick it up..squeeze it..massage it..tickle it at the top..smell it….”

Now judging from my posts you have probably guessed that I am quite crude and odd thinking so when I was sat opposite her at the dining table when she was telling this story, all sorts of things were running through my mind! I couldn’t laugh as that would convey to the other relatives I had only just met how immature and childish I was ;p

I can envisage young, innocent, naive teenage boys gathering to the fruit and veg section of supermarkets to ‘cop a feel’ of this item in practice of how they THINK handling women’s erogenous cushions should be done, rivaling the perverse nature of its fruit colleague-the banana. Maybe sex education lessons should feature this fruit alongside the banana to demonstrate how to feel up a boob…although this might put the boys off as breast aren’t green and don’t have a black lumpy exterior…

I, for one, am not a fan of avocados because I just don’t like the taste of them. I am tempted to try this method of determining their ripe-ness; not so much for wanting to buy them but to help me reminisce of the days of when my boobs were firmer and more pert before the joys of breastfeeding…

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Love your vaj!


 I was reading a copy of ‘Company’ magazine when I came across an advert for ‘FemFresh’ intimate wash, (unfortunately I couldn’t provide a pic for it), but I thought it was absolutely awesome! It is so blunt and bang on and it was interesting to see advertisers put that kinda message out there for women. If you go on the link http://www.facebook.com/femfresh you can see the pic of the advert they’re using.

You may also discover the various names that ‘it’ can be referred to; I learned a few new names myself….

As I was trying to search for a copy of the advert picture to use in this post, I came across this picture, (see above), instead. LOL! I had no idea that there were such products available!

I haven’t been able to get my hands on the ‘FemFresh’, (something that’s going on the next shopping list), but I am compensating by switching my undies from knickers to the pant like version of male boxers to show that I love my vaj. They’re comfortable, loose, less irritable and let my vaj actually breathe, instead of having knickers on which feel like I’ve got a toilet plunger between my legs to model a ‘camel toe’!!

So ladies make the switch from knickers to boxers today and sample some of this amazingly advertised ‘FemFresh’!


Unlocking your subconscious vocab


Words....
Image by jah~ via Flickr

I was sitting here struggling what to write and then the memory of one of the dreams I had came back to me. I can’t remember the exact date of when the dream occured but who does? It’s not something everyone can do…. I know it happened within the drama of me going in and out of A and E and everything.

Anyway, there I was laying on one of those examination beds in a neurologist’s office and he’s performing an MRI scan on my head. The loud buzzing and humming of the machine is going, then I hear the consultant say “Ah that’s what’s happened”. He stops the machine (when it’s supposed to last for about 20mins), pulls me out and sits me up to look at his computer screen. The illustration on the monitor is something a very young child would draw; it had a black background and outlined in white was a open skull head with what could only be described as the skeletons of fish (without their head and tail), dotted around within the ‘open head’. Some of them were yellow lined and others were orange lined.

He points in a doctor consultant-esque way with his pen to the monitor and says “..there, you’re missing your ‘Cantouse’…”

I remember waking the next morning intrigued by his dream and telling my mother-in-law about it and decided to Google it in anticipation of what it meant, if anything. The search list came up with what seemed to be spanish links to some sites and I clicked on them and found that the language on these sites was Galician. So I use the Google Translator to find out what ‘Cantouse’ was from Galician to English and I think it means ‘sang’ or ‘sing’.

Weird…. This was a word that I had never heard or seen before (to my recollection) and yet I managed to conjure it up in a dream of mine. I supposed in a way my body is ‘out of tune’ with what’s going on with my head at the moment but I’m still able to sing (I think) lol.

Have you ever managed to discover words that you never knew before?


Would YOU eat this?


Appetizing isn’t it? A bowl of thick green sludge… My daughter eats it and it tastes yummy!

No, it’s not a copious amount of thickened nose mucus; it is a baby bowl full of carrot and pea puree, courtesy of one Annabel Karmel recipes found in her book “Complete baby and toddler meal planner”

Are you struggling to find variety in your babies meals? Want a bit more nutritional info about what food to give your baby? Finding jared food a bit expensive? Then get yourselves this book. It’s a bit pricey at £15 (probably cheaper online and don’t know what the $ equivalent is) but it’s worth investing in

This book has helped me enormously because it helps my culinary skills (which aren’t very good so thank god the end result can be pureed 🙂 ), I know exactly what’s going into my baby’s food, it’s cheaper than buying jars of food and offers a variety of meals for different days so I’m not stuck of what to give her and when as it’s laid out in timetables for me. Plus, you can make large amounts of the meals and freeze them in suitable portions for your bubba so whenthe necessary mealtime comes round you can heat up the food in short time and serve.

BOO YA!

                      Mummies-1                        Culinary challenges of parenthood-0


Erections: Not just embarassing for men


It is a fact that men get erections from being excited but I experienced a similar phenomenon….from my nipples!

Here I was just sitting watching “love and other drugs” online and the nudist scenes aren’t something you can dodge from this film and my sitting room isn’t cold or anything, but when witnessing Jake Gyllenhaal in all his glory getting it on, I just went all goose pimply like a great big pimply goose, (as quoted by Alice Tinker from the vicar of dibley), with pleasure and as a result my nipples were pointing out off my peanuts on an ironing board mammories.

A knock came from the front door, I open it to find my boyfriend and his mate there and my nipples saying hello right at them! Oh dear…. Thankfully a quick rub and jiggle got them to go back down again being my escape route from embarassment, which is an advantage over the boys as such actions for their special appendage would only exacerbate the problem.

So whether us ladies are getting ready for a night on the town, or preparing for a casual social gathering where we may encounter people that we could be sexually drawn to, the question wouldn’t be “does my butt look big in this?”; perhaps it should be “will they see a nipple boner in this?”


Miss Indepedent to Miss Dependant


22nd July – that’s when it all changed. The day I started fitting like a dog having a WAY overactive dream….

I was out in town with my daughter, Kaitlyn, going round the shops (as one mother does to kill the time in the day) and I didn’t feel well at all so I got something to eat and drink and that didn’t help either…. We went back to the car to go home and God knows how I managed to drive because I feeling very lathargic, sick and somewhat stoned. Anyway, got home, put K on the floor, sat on sofa and rang my partner’s mum to come over because I didn’t feel right and not long after she came home, it started after my head had recovered from its migranious pounding.

A recurrent twitch began in the fold parallel to my elbow on my left arm and I couldn’t control it and then suddenly I’m constantly turning my head to my right all the time. Following this, my whole left arm is twitching and the whole ‘fit’ becomes more vigourous with my arching my back and twitching in my right arm and I’m crying at the fact that I am not in any control of this whatsoever; twas quite an odd sensation and experience. I am describing this from my own knowledge of the event not from someone else telling me as I didn’t ‘black out’, fall to the floor and froth at the mouth as people may stereotypically think of a fit. I was coherent in all my senses however I wasn’t able to talk very well given my jerky movements.

In the meantime, Kaitlyn is quite happily sitting in her bouncer that her nana had placed her in staring at me quite interestingly as if I was a sort of new interactive toy for her entertainment, with ‘nana’ trying to keep me calm and call and ambulance and phoned Dave (my partner) to come home. The paramedics soon arrived and put a ‘line’ in my hand drugging me with a muscle relaxant, which they had to inject about 3 times because the muscle jerking was that severe and they transported me to hospital and by the time I got there I had recovered. I felt knackered! which isn’t surprising given I had performed somewhat the equivalent of that black guy inthe film ‘white chicks’ where he’s dancing drugged up on the dance floor….

After that day, I had to return to the hospital twice due to more fits, but they weren’t as severe as the first one. If anything I felt like I was having a stroke with my whole left side frozen and had to be taken from my front room to the amblance outside in just my shirt and pants, head hanging to my left side zombified on the wheeling chair drooling as if I was some sterotypical OAP staring hopelessly at the TV or out a window in a care home.

After being kept in for 2 nights after the third visit to hospital I was diagnosed with ‘Focal Epilepsy’, where the epilepsy only affects the one side of my brain and I am fully aware of what’s going on. Because of this I am not allowed to drive for a year.

A.whole.FUCKING.year. A YEAR!!!! 6 weeks of not driving was hard enough due to having a c-section but 12 MONTHS??!! I’ve lost my independence, my freedom, you could say I’ve lost my sanity as I’ll have to stay indoors or round the same area all the time because I can’t really drive out of swindon when I want. My poor car FiFi will have to be vigorously man handled by Dave more often now rather than under the control of my more gentle hands and feet. What am I supposed to do about work? Childcare? Seeing my mates from afar? Hmmmm??? What if I am at home alone with K and I start twitching and she copies me??

Now I’m not saying that having to use other means of transport is all bad. It’s just that when you’ve been driving for a long time, (in my case nearly 5 years), and have become complacent with the perks of having a car, not being able to drive and having to depend on other people to cart you around all the time does come to quite a bit of shock and a lot of adaptation.

On the plus side I might be eligible for a free bus pass, a 1/3 off rail travel, the ease of travelling with a baby in her pushchair without breaking my back having to put her seat in and out of the car, being chatted up by some ming-heeaan bus drivers as you step on/off the bus and to experiencing sitting with all walks of life getting to my destination – Yay??

Time will tell….


FLANGE!


Ah, that got your attention 🙂 Just randomly thought I’d put that as the title to see if it would entice people to this post. If it worked then *high five!* or a ‘special’ tap on the head-your choice….

I am literally sat here in my living room/lounge – what ever you want to call it – on my own with no motivation to do anything. As a mum there are plenty of things to do: washing, tidying, cleaning, sorting out the bottles, but can I be bothered to do them? No!

It is estimated that full time mums earn the equivalent of £30,000 a year for all the work they do…..yeah…. I don’t think I am worthy of that kinda money at this rate!

I have to admit, when I was just an everyday twenty-something person getting on the world I honestly didn’t understand what mums meant when they said that they didn’t have time to eat , go out, or they were too tired and stuff like that. Now that I am a mum I totally understand where they are coming from. It is so hard to believe that there is a mammoth amount of stuff that we need to do for such a small person and soooo much to think about too.

With all the perils and hardships of adulthood I suppose it does make you think you wouldn’t mind being a baby again; all your sh*t would be cleared up, you’re fed and watered with a roof over your head for nothing, the important people in your life are there immediately when you’re in trouble, you can be picked up when you’re down, get unlimited cuddles and receive smiles and be loved unconditionally for just being yourself with no fascades of any kind