Me: Don't panic! Mummy to the rescue!
Her: Yes. Mummy, resc me.
]]>After Yags eloquent post on one source of internet addiction, I was moved to write this missive about another...
New links from my never ending list of Etsy favourites. Don't blame me when you're poor.
Caitlin Shearer - fey inked girls, love this one Never Grow up, (look at the text in large size)
Rudman - ruffs for every occassion
Dandee Designs - calling cards and pretty tags
Blue Citrus Art - photography
Paper Stories - cards and letterpress
It's her new war cry.
Mummy? MUMMY! I don't yike this outfit.
*sigh* Well go and change then chick.
4 minutes later I am summoned by furious shrieking to rescue her from the depths of a tricksy t-shirt or some such.
Because I didn't have enough washing to do already.
3 outfits before breakfast this morning.
Mummy? I don't yike this outfit.
But YOU chose it! 10 minutes ago...
Today we were in the loo of a cafe. I was engrossed in the contents of Sherbs nappy.
Mummy? I don't yike this outfit.
Hmmm? Well I'm afraid it will have to do Sprog. We're not changing now, lets go and get a bun and a drink... Sprog, you're naked.
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Also, she is a princess. When she is not perfecting her quick change routine she likes to be a princess. I'm not sure where it came from - I promise I have mostly encouraged her to be a priate or a bear.
Mummy? I'm a princess!
Hmm? Are you?
Yes I AM!! And I can do princess dancing.
You can?
I can. Do you want to see my princess dancing Mummy?
Oh goodness yes, I'd love to see your princess dancing.
She takes a deep breath, a pause, mentally readies herself for her performance... and then proceeds to galumph about the room on stiff and chubby little legs, crashing into the sofa, waving her arms and muttering Baa Baa Black Sheep under her breath. Every time she lands she farts loudly, and the performance continues for 30 seconds or more. I think I am going to die laughing until her ernest little face looks up at me, wide green eyes looking solemn and worried.
I am a princess Mummy? With princess dancing?
Yes chick, you are a beautiful princess.
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She persuaded her father to buy her a princess magazine. The free toy was a horrid plastic princess doll complete with "TWO SUMMER OUTFITS!" Well, one outfit is a ball gown and the other is a bra, knickers and a tennis hat. I'm not entirely sure what sort of a princess she is. I was watching Sprog play with the doll;
"Come on Princess, put on your shoes... and put on your teerahrah on your head... and put on your bra... Oh dear Princess, where are your breast pads?"
]]>M has been investigating what watts we've been using.
Illuminating stuff.
Update: The Table o'Doom
I didn't go to the gym last night, I went home, made bolognaise and a handbag charm and nagged my husband for working when feeling ill...
Then I went to bed and listened to PMK's gravelly voice telling me to imagine myself slimmer. This is always a stumbling block for me, as I've tried and tried, but I just can't imagine myself slim like I want to be. I know that that visualisation will help me towards success, but I just can't see it. It's not like I've ever been slim to know what to get back to. I've been slimmer I guess, but even then I was still 2 stone off my goal weight.
Oh well.
Today's eating plan - again, trying lots of variety... and to make sure I'm getting enough protein and carbs, and cooking from scratch.
60g oats and 1/2pt skimmed milk
Banana (mid morning snack)
Salad of artichoke hearts, flageolet beans, roast red pepper, mushrooms and balsamic vinegar. It doesn't really whet my appetite though.
2 Marmite rice cakes (mid afternoon snack)
Steak, sweet potato, carrots and green beans. Perhaps some blueberries for dessert.
I still feel like I'm doing this all a bit blind, but I'm going to scour the internet for recipes with the right balance of protein and carbs etc. I'm still taking my Benefibre, although only once a day now because I don't have my low fat Fromage Frais in the evening anymore. I'm also still taking my Centrum multivitamins.
Gym tonight - I'm going to try and do a load of weights and exercises on my arms and legs, and then do a run tomorrow night.
]]>Remember my recent foray into the world of online bead stores?
Well, I decided to go ahead and make my handbag charm without getting the jump rings... and look!
... I don't wanna get left behind.
Photograph by Irena Rudman.
Lovely work by Irena Rudman on Etsy. Me likee.
So. I did it. I cancelled my WW subscription. I'm paid up til the 9th September, so I shall go along for a couple of weeks and make my goodbyes.
Now begins the hard work. I need to pull together a wide variety of healthy, cooked from scratch recipes that I can cook quickly in the evenings post gym, and make sure I'm sticking to portion sizes etc.
I need to pull together an exercise regime with PTD's help that again, gives me enough variety.
I need to get creative with my lunches, and have a repertoire to choose from.
I need to manage my weekly shopping so that I have the required ingredients when I need them - this means menu planning for the week ahead before we go shopping.
Any recipes/links gratefully received (bearing in mind that I can't eat fish, and am not a fan of some nuts).
I feel like I am justified in going out and buying myself a nice pretty planner to do all this in... am I?
I feel like I've just thrown myself off a cliff and there's no safety net.
Now, more importantly, should I go home and nurse my sick husband, or should I go to the gym and do some exercise. Stupid question really - my head's telling me I should go to the gym... so that's where I'm going.
Out.
]]>I am a little bit in love and in awe of builder Mike Holmes*. I wish I could diagnose a building problem like that man can.
His programme 'Holmes on Homes' fixes mistakes that other builders have made. A bit like a building avenging angel. Yes, I admit it, I am addicted to DIY programmes, ahem.
Today he fixed a kitchen that was put in badly. When I mean badly I mean very badly. The cupboards didn't have room to open properly. Drawer fronts did not meet drawer innards. Appliance doors could not open as they jammed against the cupboards. The worst thing was the shoddy builders nearly killed the owners son. Mike testified in court as their expert witness. They had left a drinks bottle in the kitchen filled with clear liquid that the child thought was water. It wasn't, it was some horrid burning chemical.
I salute you Mike with my cup of darjeeling, melting golden brie on french bread and a handful of dried cranberries. Late lunches rock.
EDIT: Proof for Snags
*I also love our local hardware shop. I now have the perfect sandpaper recommended by the shop owner himself as used on his seven gunky hall doors. What a hero.
