So without further ado, here's how we entertained ourselves today!

(WARNING this blog post contains images of a naked nature that some viewers may find shocking/amusing/quite tasty (delete as applicable!))

Enjoy!

 

As well as our pressie for our new bubba we also decided to truly get plastered and make even more mess! We made a cast of Lorelei's little arm . . .

Finally I managed to sweet-talk the darling husband into allowing me to make a mould of his gorgeous derriere - (I did however have to play the pregnancy card I'm afraid!)

Well out of the kindness of my heart I have decided not to be greedy and instead am going to share a few images with you! - Now don't say i never do anything for you! ;-)

(Sincerly hope Jay doesn't mind his bottom being published on the internet! Alas will worry about this later!)

Had forgotten exactly how much fun Plaster of Paris can be!

Hope you enjoyed viewing!

Hasta L'vista Babies!

Steph x

I have been a naughty girl in not posting for a few days, and for that I am very sorry.

I don't have any great excuses for my lack of entries, though i wish i could say i have been extremely busy leading my glamorous and fabulous lifestyle. Truth is I have been alternating between busying myself with shopping sprees, (which i suppose is quite glamorous and fabulous when you think about it) and battling with hormonal bouts of despair, (which is neither glamorous or fabulous.) So i guess you could say i have been a suicidal shopper of late. Neither of which have been worthy of blogging.

To satisfy your curiosity however, I'll briefly fill you in in my recent purchases. So here goes . . . I went to the shops and i bought . . .

*A travel system, (for the baby, although Daddy is so far gaining the most enjoyment from this buy, fixing it all together and wheeling it around the house on a regular basis.)

*A carseat (that fixes onto the travel system.)

*Bottles with teats shaped like boobies, (again Jay has been suitably impressed by this.)

*A breast-pump, (to remind me that in a few weeks I shall function in much the same ways as a cow, which is a plesant thought.)

*Some nipple pads and disposable pants, (in contrast to the sexy lingerie and stockings i once spent my pennies on.)

*Maternity clothes (dresses, tops & PJ's)

*Make up

*Hair Removal Cream, (because for some odd reason my body has decided it really ought to produce lots of extra hair to er keep me warm during my pregnancy(?!))

*Hair Dye (for the hair on my head!)

So you see I really have been putting the retail therapy theory to the test!

Alas retail therapy alone hasn't been enough to keep the dreaded hormones at bay. I'm on a real emotional rollercoaster at the moment, with highs and excitement and plunges of sadness and worry and I'm driving myself around the bend so goodness knows what I'm doing to those close to me, (my poor husband being a perfect example! Sorry Jay.)

I am trying to assure myself that once this baby arrives so too will my sanity. I'll be able to do normal things again, like sleep on my tummy and paint my own toes, not to mention have a wee drinky and wiggle my bum on a dancefloor. It seems an age away but we're officialy on the homestretch now, so i can't be that long.

In fact I have under three weeks until i am classed as, 'full term,' (which means little one can be born safely,) and just under four weeks until i am officially allowed to have my baby at home!

In just under six weeks I'll officially reach my due date, (though I sincerly do not intend on still being pregnant at this point,) and the absolute maximum that we can go to is just under eight weeks, by which time Bubba's tenancy will officially come to an end and the NHS will induce the labour to get this little person out.

I know that baby's and bodies can both be very stubborn and will ultimately choose the right moment to get this show on the road for themselves but this hasn't stopped me from preparing for a little project I like to call, 'GET THIS BABY OUTTA ME.'

By which i shall try and test every single method in the history of projects such as these, (and there are so many different non-medical methods for inducing labour, that women have been trying for billions of years, i should imagine.)

Project 'GET THIS BABY OUTTA ME,' or 'GTBOM' for short, shall commence on Thursday 4th June, (which see's me at 38 weeks of pregnancy and therefore 'allowed' to go into labour and have baby at home.) and I will gratefully welcome all suggestions to try, so please send them my way!

Lot's of Love

Steph x 

 

If there is one skill, and one skill only, that we 21st century women need to possess it's the ability to be decisive.
When it comes down to it, we seem to have so many major decisions thrown at us and so many options to choose from on a daily basis. More so than our ancestors ever had to deal with and many options these days are so easy to take, (so long as you have time, patience and money too that is.) 
 
For instance, instead of simply spending our lives wondering, we can choose to investigate the theory that blondes have more fun, merely by reaching for the bottle of bleach on a supermarket shelf. In fact we can indeed choose to live with barnets of practically every colour of the rainbow, should we wish.  

We can choose to don power suits and go out in pursuit of  fabulous careers, we can choose to have fabulous babies instead or we can choose to balance both!  

We can choose to marry, stay single or date forevermore without anyone really batting an eyelid, (certainly no-one from our generation anyway.)  

Yup, every single day we are faced with decisions and every single decision we make will have an impact on our lives in one way or another.  

So it's a wonder really that 5 years ago, when pregnant with my daughter, Lorelei, i didn't give the options regarding her actual arrival, the labour, much thought at all, instead, through fear and perhaps naivety the only decision i really made was to leave the decision-making up to the shambles that is also known as the NHS.   

I suppose i was under the impression that I didn't really have much control over the situation at all and that it was only passionate hippy types or high maintenance celebs who could determin how their labours would pan out. The average woman, as far as i could tell, simply went along with the norm.  

And so it was that my daughter was born in a hospital, delivered using the pain relief chosen for me by the midwife, (pethidine) and that the two of us were sent home a mere 3 hours after her arrival in order to make space for the next 'victim'. (Ooops, i mean, 'patient.')  

It wasn't a horrific ordeal, far from it, but it was the significantly painful and relatively frightening experience that i had pretty much expected it to be. And when i really think about it, really break it all down, i think in my case the whole thing could have been a damn sight easier if it hadn't of been for the restrictions and the policies at the hospital.  

Now I'd like to point out that I am by no means saying all hospital staff are rubbish, (this is definitely not the case, my midwife was fantastic, and anyone can see how hard they all work,) and I'm not saying that having a baby in hospital is a terrible decision, (many women find it works out perfectly for them!) - I am instead merely sharing my own experiences and future plans . . .  

So I have four weeks to prepare for Baby C's arrival, and whilst i am (pardon the expression,) shitting bricks at the thought of going through labour all over again, i am also strangely excited at the prospect of having my baby in the comfort of my own home.  

So what do you think? Are you shocked? Am I crazy? Or would you do it too?   Let me know, would love to hear your thoughts!  

Love to all!  

Stephie x

Last night we experienced a little drama in the Connolly household, not unusual, you might say, since Jay and I are the unofficial King & Queen of drama, (you only have to look at the events and incidents that have surrounded us in the last three years as evidence.) This time, however, the drama came indirectly from the smallest and newest member of our crew, little baby C (the bun in my oven.)

It started with shooting pains in my lower back and tightenings across my entire bump, which wasn't too alarming as i'd kinda figured the contractions were just the usual Braxton Hicks, ('practise contractions,') which tend to come and go pretty quickly at random times and without any real pain at all.

Yet when i found myself waddling around the house like a duck and unintentionally doing Darth Vader breathing impressions - with contractions coming on every five minutes or so - i begin to panic, just a tad.

Jay timed them, (using the Contractions Master website) and I got in the tub to shave my legs and wash my hair, (cannot have baby C witnessing his Mumma for the first time looking like shit now can I?!) - I then telephoned my own Mumma, (which is the first thing i do in any crisis) who decided she should head on over, just in case.

At this point in my tale i should inform you that whilst i am incredibly intuitive and quite psychic at times, (seriously, i know you won't believe me but it's true,) when it comes to my own life this psychic ability almost always fail me miserably. (It's a shame really, i bet a lot of the aforementioned drama could be avoided if only i could use, what i like to refer to as my, 'Magic Powers,' to actually benefit myself.)

Based on this you would have thought that i'd learn to put my instincts regarding my own personal life down as just cock and bull, so when my instincts tell me that baby C is going to arrive in May i really should just ignore them.

However I have yet to learn this lesson and so with strong contractions coming thick and fast i decided on this occassion my instincts were correct and that Baby C's debut would take place pretty soon.

Jay telephoned the delivery ward at the local hospital and they told me to come straight in, so Mumma, Jay, a very sleepy Lorelei and I drove to Kettering in the middle of the night in anticipation, (and pain.)

Obviously it turned out i was fine and not in labour at all, (thank god as despite wanting my bod back i'm not quite ready for my little one to arrive just yet.) - The pains and contractions can be put down to a small infection i have, (nothing to worry about, just another delightful side effect of growing a baby) and the visit just confirmed my decision to have this baby in the comfort of my own home.

I know so many people are against the idea of a homebirth, (but trust me, if you'd been in the hospital last night you'd soon be in agreement) - I'm looking forward to it, (as much as anyone can look forward to an event that involves excruciating pain that is) - I'm gonna talk to my midwife about it tomorrow and I'll be back with the next installment of my plans for a hippy-chic, mother-earth style homebirth in no time at all!

In the meantime I am off to play with my new travel system :-)

 

 

I'm writing this entry from a sunny corner in my garden, from where I have just witnessed Lucky, (my grown-up duck) fall from the top of the wall, flapping his wings in vain, (he's a domestic duck and cannot fly.) I could see he was embarrassed, but he's working hard to show that the fall was, in fact, intentional and that joining me here, on the patio, was exactly what he'd been planning on doing all along. Who knew ducks could be so proud?!

I have eaten a Snickers for my breakfast, which i found out on the kitchen side and i am currently gagging on the worst cup of coffee i've ever made, (seriously need a coffee machine. Note the use of the word, 'need,' as apposed to 'want.') - So this is how i'm kicking off this Bank Holiday, (right, like the banks really need another holiday, they're hardly ever open as it is!)

Last night i was back in my own bed, having spent the previous night cosied up with my man in a hotel up in Middlesborough. We set off on thursday, after franticly organising care of our little girl, cat, duck, ducklings and dogs, and made the four hour, (yep four hour) car journey up North and I don't think, in all my travels I have ever ventured that far up our country before. (Least of all when heavily pregnant!) lol

Jay has his big sales account kicking off today, he's been preparing for months for it and he needed to get up to the head office in order to collect all his promotional bits and peices. I didn't need to go with him, but couldn't really be trusted not to go into labour whilst he was gone. Still I'm glad I went, we had fun.

We made numerous pee and ice stops on the way. Ate at the filthiest KFC ever, (seriously the place was a dump,) arrived in time to have a quick drink in the hotel bar and caught a little of Kitchen Nightmares on the box before falling into a blissful slumber.

We'd planned on having an early morning swim but favoured an extra half hour in bed instead and then got up for a delicious breakfast. (I had a continental, despite Jay telling me how 'gay,' it was.)

We headed to Giraffe's head office at about 9, had a cuppa with some of the team and loaded the car with boxes and bags before setting off on our homeward bound journey that, this time, took about 6 hours in total. One yummy pub-lunch and numerous drop-off's later and we finally got home in time to pick up our little princess from her after-school disco.

Needless to say Bump and I were aching all over by the time we got home and i had practise contractions, (Braxton Hicks) into the wee small hours of the morning. I know my psychic skills leave much to be desired but i really do feel this baby is going to make a slightly early appearence . . .

Katy's coming over today, to tease me with her tales of single-gal-dom. I'm gonna ask her to dye my hair for me, (if she's going to make me jealous she might as well do it whilst making me beautiful at the same time! lol) and later we're gonna settle down and watch our Wedding DVD. - (Cannot believe it's been almost a year since we got hitched!) - Looking forward to it!

Gotta go now, will be back at some point over the weekend! ;-)

With Love

Steph x

 

 

 

'Give a girl the right pair of shoes and she can conquer the world . . . ' Well at this precise moment in time, on a sunny April morning, I sit here in a pair of totally uninspiring, unsexy and unbelievably scruffy pair of flats and thus I am conquering very little.

Drawing anything remotely witty or clever from my rusty brain today is proving extremely difficult. It's not that my mind is empty, on the contrary, I have a million thoughts flying around in there, a million things to do and a million plans to make, but as yet I haven't been able to grasp anything for long enough to actually conquer it. 

Truth is though, I doubt very much that this has anything to do with my innocent little ballet pumps. In fact I suspect that the real reason for my lack of brain power has more to do with my currently being almost 8 months pregnant. 

It is true, (if not based entirely on scientific theories - (you'll soon discover that none of my facts are ever really based on scientific theories since science isn't exactly my strong point)) - that pregnancy kills off brain cells. Little by little. And it's quite scary really as one can't help but wonder if the charisma, charm, wit and intelligence(??!) that one used to possess will ever return? (You'll also discover that I have the occasional tendency to exaggerate, just a tad!)

You see in my former life, before my body was assigned it's duty of being a baby-growing machine, there was a little more to me than this rambling 25 year old, shoe-a-holic, trapped in a body that travels by waddling as apposed to actually walking.

It's seems an age away but the girl sat here in the aforementioned black pumps, used to strut in stilettos from dusk til dawn, she used to be able to read more intellectual material than the odd article in a pregnancy magazine and she used to be able to take part in a good old debate, without forgetting the er topic mid-sentence.

I'm seriously hoping she will return soon, but in the meantime I hope you'll join me in my quest to get this girl out of the flats and back into her dancing shoes, before the only part of her dancing is her mind. :-)