Moving House, Smashed Windows and a Few Beans

So back in the day when I was deluded, I remember saying how much I loved moving house.

*note to self- taking a gun and shooting yourself in the foot would be less painful*

In our old little two bed terrace I could never of imagined how much crap I had secretly stored away in any available space. I am going to write to the government requesting that when you give birth, babies should exit the womb with a warning sign stating how much stuff you WILL waste your money on and become inexcusably attached too. 

Week 1- The renovation

The new house that we have now moved into could only be described as a runaway fugitive from a pre-war museum.  This house was committing crimes as quickly as Lindsey Lohan necks a bottle of vodka and gets behind a wheel. Floral carpets, walls, curtains and ceilings were only the start. All in a array of colours from the rainbow. We had one week to turn this migraine into a home. Cue two large pots of Magnolia and enough gloss to keep you on cloud nine for the next several years. By the end of the week muscles were hurting I previously did not know existed. 

Week 2- The move. Thankfully Isabelle was taken care of and only being at the grand age of 20 months had more sense than me to retreat to grandmas. Woofs had also escaped to a boarding kennels. Leaving me and Ste to fight it out alone. All was well in the morning until the sofa arrived. Cue stress. Our average size sofa was no match for the mouse size living room door. So obviously in this situation you bring your dad in who has never been famous for anything other than driving huge trucks and creating ludicrous plans. By no means was he trained to remove our 9ft window embedded in antique frame. Me on the other hand chose to hibernate in the upstairs bathroom with taps on full power. 30 minutes In I dragged my sorry numb backside to view the damage but when you see four grown men grinning like Cheshire cats that lost a pint of cream but got rewarded with two pints of beer, panic automatically sets in. The only words muttered from them was "run". Thanks of the reassurance guys!!  On entering the living room the sofa was in and so was the window. Hmmmmmm. Behind me I heard an intake of breaths and someone squeaked "have you seen it". Seen what? At this point I spotted IT, the crack right through the centre on the window pane. While a few strong words were muttered, I realised it could be worse. My sofa was in, my window was in, now with a touch of Art Deco. 

The afternoon continued to decline from here. Finally finishing the day around 3am  when not even the dirtiest Kebab shop is open. Stale bread and a tin of beans was the only thing either of us had the energy to prepare. 

It is now three weeks later I swear I'm still unpacking crap. Where does it come from? Where do you hide it? Any suggestions please leave below. Getting rid is for some reason, unspeakable. 

Till my next rant, Farewell

Miss Savvy- Mum

Xoxo

A Giggle A Day Keeps The Doctor Away (I Think)

I've spotted a few of these around and find them great motivation to smile even on those days when you don't want to lift and eyebrow let alone grin. I think all Mum's can relate to them in some way. Go on have a giggle on me. 

Miss Savvy- Mum

Xoxo

Survived a murder trial

Do you ever have those days when you want to kill your partner? No ow well just me. I feel a bit sorry for men as no matter what they do they will never win with us women. It's not that we are too demanding, I believe we are just too well equipped with knowledge. Now usually I would think this would be a benefit, to a man however I think they find it slightly ego shattering. The other day me and my partner argued over isabelles chicken curry. Yes I said chicken curry, you have now learnt that those pathetic arguments that almost end in a divorce are normal. As like tonight curry was our problem not only did this argument last for approximately 3 hours it also meant we didn't eat the lovely meal that had been made for us. The reason for this post is just too show you that stupid arguments are so normal. We were one of those couples that never argued until Isabelle was born. I don't know why things have changed to be honest. Maybe it is the change of situation, the strain of now caring for not just yourself but a vulnerable and easyily led child. We now bicker on a daily basis sometimes it worries me but you know what if we can't resolve an argument that started over curry, who didnt empty the bin or some other more lame reason, then I personally don't think we should of been together anyway. A couple isn't a perfect picture, nothing in this world is perfect but it's how you deal with your own family's perfectness that matters not the way to get to it.

Just incase your wondering how this wonderful argument started we couldn't agree on wether Isabelle should try the curry or not. This ended in tantrums, walking out and a lot of words not appropriate for child consumption. That was just our behaviour. 

In the end Isabelle didn't want the curry anyway. That's just how life goes.

10 things your learn as a mum

1. The 5 second rule does apply. When your child drops there dummy, juice or food on the floor (inside) you will not have the time or the energy to re do which ever item it is they dropped. Just give it them back. 

2. Don't try and look immaculate, it's pointless. Within 10 minutes your child will of sicked, snotted or spilt on you. 

3. Scrunches are cool as a mum. It means you have accepted your life. 

4. If you haven't showered for days. It's ok your too busy being a good mum. 

5. It's ok to just vac the carpet that's visible when guests are coming. They don't know any different. 

6. Wearing jogging bottems and not going running is practical not irresponsible. 

7. Wiping your children's nose on there t-shirt when no tissues are available is just being environmentally friendly. 

8. Only ironing once a month or never at all is just using your common sense. 

9. Have NHS helpline on speedial. For those unpredictable moments when your child eats the coals of the fireplace. 

10. Cuddles. Grab them, hold them and cherish them while you can. 

The longest about me, you will ever read

From the day I found out I was pregnant my life changed. Oh my gosh I'm carrying a baby was my first thought, followed by holy cow I'm having a kid! Help! Don't get me wrong we planned this pregnancy and I was estatic but deep down I wondered what the hell I had let myself in for.

6 weeks in still working two jobs and maintaining a house I could feel my body changing. Not only was I peeing like it had gone out of fashion my food had decided it didn't want to take the usual exit out but rather direct itself north and enter the toilet, bucket, bag or anything else handy at another route. By 7 weeks I was signed off work, with severe morning sickness. I hate that phrase, I reckon a man invented it. Morning, afternoon and night sickness is what describes it a whole lot better. At this point I was being sick a record number of times a day. If I say 50 I ain't exaggerating. Food what was that? if I saw, smelt or even came in to contact with the stuff, my insides would make a steady route upwards. By nine weeks the doctors had re-evaluated my situation and diagnosed me with hyperemesis gravidarum (a severe form of  M*?#*!g sickness) fluids where now not contemplatable either. I spent my days in bed, wishing for the next day to come. 

At ten weeks and nearly two stone lighter than when I began pregnancy I was taken into A&E. All I could do at this point was cry, I didn't have the energy for anything else. 

     I will always remember the nurse that saw me. He sat me down and laughed "don't worry you will have forgot about all this in 2 weeks or so" If I would have had the energy I would of punched him right there and then. There is nothing more patronising to a pregnant women to be told by a man don't worry it will be ok in then end. May I ask "how the hell do you know?" I ain't sexist but when you have hormones rushing through your body at a million miles an hour every man on the planet should no longer exist. 

Anyways he sat me down linked me up to one of them heart rate, blood pressure machines and turned a funny shade of white. He then had the audacity to smile at me and tell me my heart rate was where he would expect someone who had just ran a marathon at full speed to be. Thanks for that! I know I'm dying now god damn help me man! 

Within 5 minutes I was given some form of relaxant and hooked up to fluids. While they ran more tests. From there the next few hours is a blur. I was living on some planet near Pluto with a bottle of wine and a joint in my hand. What ever he had give me was amazing..........

I will write the rest of this story at some point but for now that WAS me. 

Me now. I'm Clare, I've got too the splendid age of 23 the time to start debating which anti wrinkle cream is best. I live with my partner Ste he claims to be a Chef I still argue this fact with him. I infact think hes a really bad pot washer but for arguments sake, hes a chef. Thankfully hes older than me the grand age of 28 so every morning I can wake and thank my lucky stars I am 23. Im kidding Ste. No hate. Our little girl is now 14 months old and called Belly-boo. I know, she will kill me when she's older. Real name Isabelle. Last but not least there's Layla she is technically a dog of the border collie breed but in our house she's the demanding child with low self esteem. Despite all this I love them all dearly and actually wouldn't of been here without there love and care. Well except Isabelle if she weren't here I'd probably be sat right now in a sticky floored bar with a glass of vodka and pretending to know the words to some ridiculous dance song.

 Hmmmm how life changes