After two short (long) years of muddling through pregnancy, newborn-zombie-ness and cooing over baby drool and the amazement that my child instinctively knows how to fart, I'm finally having independent thoughts again.
Yes those thoughts that aren't penetrated by when MiniStale's next feed will be or humming the 'Wolly and Tig' theme tune whilst trying to get intimate with Mr Stale (simultaneously praying the doctor finished my episiotomy relatively attractively since I've not had the courage to squat over a mirror yet). It hit me whilst sat in the bath, having conquered MiniStales erratic sleeping, that I need somewhere to compartmentalise my thoughts and experiences through the day. Like babies do when you catch them talking to themselves.... Alas I digress.
Anyway, and more for my records, MiniStale is now 15 months old, walking, talking, blah blah competitive mummy blah. It's been a long ol' journey to get to where I am now, leaving fashion school aged 21 and a generous size 6 with nothing to do but wander around the maternity isles of Hennes, armed with a vodka damaged student loan - not how I imagined spending my mid-term first year of uni. I've done a hell of a lot of growing up since I last graced this blog with my presence (if reading my old posts is anything to go by).
Life now is steadier, by the coast, and punctuated by occasional outings with the girls to the local bars, rather than the occasional sober moments spent begging someone to fetch me a hangover-McDonald's. Hell I even go to church run playgroups now - for fun!
A x
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