I didn’t blog about it or make it public because honestly I can’t be dealing with constantly replying to d&%heads with shitty questions. Like I legit got asked if I’m 100% sure I’m not having twins because I look rounder.. b*#&% I’ll give you a ’rounder’ lump on your head!
“This one has to be a girl, otherwise you got to try again”.. b*#&% wot you mean ‘try again’ like it’s some damn lotto ticket my floompoof can eject out every Sunday. (This idea of having both genders for a perfect family is bollocks btw)..
“Is ur husband happy?”.. The f@*k you mean is he happy? HIS SEED DID THIS.
“Are you craving chalk?” ..seriously wtf? Just because some pregnant ladies on TV do, doesnt mean EVERY pregnant lady does. Gad daym.
Plus it’s not like I even remembered I was pregnant half the time! ..Well with the circumference of Africa and eyebags to the floor, it’s not too hard to forget, but catering to a demanding toddler took priority… sorry 2nd child, but let’s face it, you’re not going anywhere in that womb and your life on the outside will be tagging along with your ‘active’ brother… lord help me. But thanks for the reminders by karate choping the ribs tho… really needed that ontop of being used as a climbing frame.
But anyway shes here! Whoohoo.. Although can’t celebrate as I’m too busy concentrating to not cough, sneeze or breathe because you know, can’t be dealing with my uterus falling out my backside… Not that I would be too devastated.. 😂
I’m totally living the glamous life of overstretched vest tops because the god damned melons have tripled as I’m a human cow again. Having no clue what day it is, how to tell the time or why the DVD remote doesn’t work with the TV box; there should just be the same b@$t@rd remote to do everything and it’s just ruining my life and causing me to be PISSED THE F OFF because now I have to move my fragile ass from the doughnut ring before the toddler really loses his shit for not watching Jake and the Never-shitty-land Pirates *breatheeeee* .. Seriously f you remotes.. and now back to being too terrified to sit down, let alone pee or poop..
On top of looking like the gruffalo with a birds nest made of hair and cocopops, the toddler still believes that I belong to HIM .. so when this baby sister is suddenly ALWAYS hanging of mummy’s boob, it’s now time to kick up the tantrums a notch. Whilst Naked. With knives… Nothing like sending your b*tch running back to you..
And so here we are, a family of four. My family of four. Complete.
If anyone else says “oh give it a couple of years then have another two”, like my mother in law.. I’ll break your legs.
Let motherhood x2 commence.