The things I won't do with baby no.2… (But absolutely will)

That’s it now folks… I am officially on the 8 week countdown. Which is both terrifying but a massive relief as this pregnancy has been bloody hard work with a ninja-turd-eating-toddler in tow f@*king up my plans to sit or lie down at any point in the past 7 months…

I’m trying very hard *does squinty eye concentration face as proof* to remember exactly what the hell it is you actually do with a newborn… but all my memories are a jaded blur of gin-soaked-cakiness. Which isn’t very helpful. So instead I’ve made a list of all the things I vaguely remember doing which I probably shouldn’t do with the next one. As that seems like a good place to start.

Here goes:

I won’t use the Jumperoo as a baby-containing-prison.

I won’t use the playpen to sit in and eat Hobnobs. Soaked in tequila. And my own tears. While the kids play with plugs. 
I won’t become an all-night twitter addict. 
I won’t breast-feed whilst drinking wine*
*gin and tonic… hold the tonic. 
I won’t impulse buy random crap on eBay at 3am because it makes me feel better about the area formally known as my nipples and/or vagina.
I won’t use a hand mirror to look at the area my vagina used to be.
I won’t use a mirror.
I won’t use muslins that have begun to evolve into their own form of cheese.
I won’t leave ‘those’ nappies for when the husband returns from work.
I won’t leave the house without an ample amount of nappies/wipes/spare babygros because it’ll ‘probably be fine’.
I won’t leave the nappy off. EVER.
I won’t forget breast pads on a night out. Or get drunk and try to pass off my squirting nipples as a new party trick. 
I won’t consider a fortnight an acceptable time frame between legging washes.
I won’t allow my house to turn into a squat sponsored by Fisher Price. 
I won’t eat food debris I find between the sofa cushions because it’s easier than actually moving. (It is true that everything looks like a raisin if it’s been there for long enough…)
I won’t pretend I didn’t notice the small pile of shoulder puke but wear it anyway…
I won’t lock myself in the downstairs toilet for a nap. And a twix. 
I won’t use the bottom sniff test whilst in civilised company. i.e. when the gas man calls or during a job interview…
I won’t insist any guest the baby shits on is responsible for the clean up. AKA ‘poo roulette’.
I won’t live off of cake alone because I’m breast feeding, and therefore immune to calories of the bottom.
I won’t say I’m going to buggy-fit but then just eat another pie instead.
I won’t answer the door with part/all of my vagina hanging out of my dressing gown parting.
I won’t sometimes just not answer the door/leave the house/turn up. Because I don’t f@*king feel like it. (And all the leggings are past the point of no return…)
I won’t ‘just rub the baby-rice in’ to my hair thinking it’s unnoticeable.
I WILL NOT BECOME THE PREMIER TWATTY NAPPY PRICE INSPECTOR OF THE WIDER HAMPSHIRE AREA.
But most of all I probably will. Do all of the above. Especially that last one and any involving cake and/or gin. So there.

#twattynappypriceinspector
#gin
#GIN

17 Comments

  1. Alison Bloomer October 17, 2014
  2. Emma Kershaw October 17, 2014
  3. Louise Fairweather October 17, 2014
  4. Hurrah For Gin October 17, 2014
  5. sheena October 17, 2014
  6. Nikki Thomas October 17, 2014
  7. Bex @ The Mummy Adventure October 17, 2014
  8. Tom IdeasforDads October 18, 2014
  9. Californian Mum in London October 18, 2014
  10. Donna October 18, 2014
  11. The Brick Castle October 19, 2014
  12. weekendparent1 October 19, 2014
  13. pinkoddy October 20, 2014
  14. brummymummyof2 October 21, 2014
  15. Mardy Kerrie October 25, 2014
  16. Laura Mummy to Boyz October 29, 2014

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