“Think it's my birthday tomorrow though can't be sure. To be sure I'd have to know what day it is today. Which I don't. #sleepdeprivation :-/ "
- www.twitter.com/slc84

I’m hoping you’ll forgive me, not only for paying you very little attention and not blogging for these past few weeks, but also for the inevitable lack of amusement or wit that I fear I will have to offer you in this blog post.

(And if this is your first visit to my little blog, you should know that normally I am obviously much funnier, wittier and generally more charming than the following ramble shall demonstrate. *Obviously. ;-) )

You see even with the addition of my brand new (very, very) smart phone, (which was an early b’day pressie from Mr. C – see, told you it was my Birthday sometime soon . . . ) I have yet to master the art of juggling my life into something a little more manageable, something that isn’t whizzing by in a haze of, erm, ‘blurriness.’

I’m not very witty at the moment, I can barely string a sentence together, my vocabulary is pants (for want of a better word,) and my brain is a little bit numb. So I ought not to waste too much of your time this evening.

My third and final Bambino, baby Mason Joshua, (or MJ as he’s known to us,) is, as you’ve probably gathered, here at last! And boy was he worth the wait. I’ve recorded you guys a little vid, by way of introducing you to the new man in my life, hope you like it! (Ignore the commentary by the way, I hadn’t realised how deranged I sound when talking to him. Lol)

His arrival was, thankfully, a very speedy one. Born here at home, on Mummy and Daddy’s bed at 1:50am on Jan 13th, Mj was a respectable 9lb 4ounces, back-to-back, and yet the labour was probably the easiest of the three. (Feel free to send medals, or shoes!) The whole experience of homebirth was everything that I’d hoped for, and much more! But I won’t rave about it today, (primarily because I’m typing this entry with a teeny-tiny person balanced on my knee and can’t type one-handed) – perhaps I’ll cover it at a later date? Or perhaps you’ll have to get your mitts on a copy of my new book for all the gory details!

Of course in order to read my new book, (The Real Girls Guide to Growing a Baby,) I understand I shall have to actually finish writing it. (I don’t know who’s idea it was to write a book and grow a baby at the same time, but clearly it hasn’t gone quite to plan.) So I’m being sensible. I’m taking a little official Maternity Leave, but I shall crack straight on again in a few weeks. I’ll make the deadline. I promise.

Juggling three children, too many animals, a small business and the biggest writing project I’ve ever attempted, is no easy task, so I’m discovering. Especially when one of my babies has been knocked sideways by a bug from hell. Poor Leo, I’d never seen him look so rough; pale, skinny, dark circles under his eyes. He was unable to keep anything down, nothing at all, and subsequently several trips and overnight stays in the Childrens Ward were made last week.

It’s heartbreaking to see children poorly, but thankfully he’s fine now, our cheeky charmer. He’s back toddling around the house, chattering away in his own little language and helping himself to all the food in the fridge whenever he feels inclined. God I love him. I love them all.

Lorelei goes to theatre school now every Saturday, and she loves it! She returns with new songs to add to her repertoire of tunes that she currently belts out at the crack of dawn for all to hear, (until I yell at her and ask her to sing elsewhere,) and she struts around in high heels (that’s my girl) and various home-made costumes, speaking in an American accent and saying things like, ‘Come on Leo, teeth-brushed, bot-bot and bed. Because that is how we roll.’

I think she’s destined for stardom. That’s where she appears to be heading anyway. Either way she always shines in her Mumma’s eyes. J

So it would seem, what with Jays ambition to become a TV presenter, (is 30 too early to experience a mid-life crisis?! Haha!) that I’m the only one in this household that isn’t destined for fame. And that’s fine by me. Except that it might be a little late to suddenly declare myself the shy and retiring wall-flower-type.

I just saw an ad for our TV show and nearly wet myself. I’d sort of forgotten we were going to be on the telly. Until I just sat getting my Fairy Gok Mother Fix, as I do every Tuesday, and suddenly saw a whole bunch of people I recognise, in HD on our tv in our living room. Oh god.

The series starts next week on Channel4. That means that next week people will be able to add it to their Sky+ planners if they wish. And they’ll be able to series link it. And then people, all sorts of people, will be able to watch it. And people that I don’t even know will probably see me cry on telly. Bugger. It’s going to be like that scene from Bridget Jones, when she slides down that Fireman’s pole and knocks the cameraman out with her arse. Oh the shame.

Of course our episode isn’t on for a few weeks yet, and it’s the only one I don’t want to watch. I’ll definitely tune-in to see the experiences of our fellow contestants, we made some wonderful friends of both the other families and the villagers of Grassington, so I’m looking forward to seeing familiar faces on our screens. Yet when it comes to our own episode I’m not so keen. In fact I’d quite like to forbid family and friends from watching it, to save us from the embarrassment. Alas I know they won’t pay any attention. Naughty bunch that they all are.

Instead Jay and I have decided to throw a little Premiere party and invite a bunch of our nearest and dearest over to watch the show with us. That way, we figured, they won’t be able to poke fun at us behind our backs, and we can get the whole ordeal over and done with nice and quickly, like pulling off a plaster.

I’d love to tell you that I’ll write again before the show airs, but that’s probably not true. Not unless I receive a maid for my birthday or something. I’m just not able to find the time at the mo. But that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of you, sweet blog.

Please do keep in touch with me though. I’m a twit. That is I am a Twitterer. You know, I tweet and stuff. So you can follow me if you like? (Go on! I’ll tweet funny stuff, i promise!) and of course you can catch me on Facebook too!

I’ll be 27 by the time I blog next. So expect very mature stuff in the future ;-) Haha or perhaps not :-/

Love and best wishes to all,

Steph x

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They say you learn something new everyday. Well I’m not entirely sure exactly who, ‘They’ are, but I think They’re right. Certainly in my case.

I’m as inquisitive as they come. I like to learn, I like to know stuff. I’m a little obsessed if truth be told.



I did not, however, intend on acquiring any new knowledge at all today. Cos it’s Sunday. I suspect that when ‘They’ wrote the rule about learning new things every day, they forgot to add, ‘except on Sunday’s.’

Because everybody knows that Sunday is the Sabbath, which means it serves as little more than a day in which the alcohol can sufficiently vacate our bloodstreams in time for Monday’s to commence. It’s written in the bible you see.

And who am I to argue with that? If the big man upstairs insists on my complying to the rules of the Sabbath, by lazing around in my PJ’s, with my brain switched off, then I really should obey. After all I might never go to Heaven otherwise?

Well, at the risk of facing the flames, I have a confession to make. Today I broke the rules.

It all began when I forgot to get drunk last night. And that was because I was too busy suffering a hangover. Which might be because I now have some blonde highlights in my hair, (‘They’ also claim that blondes are somehow not as intelligent as brunettes,) which could possibly explain why I got my dates muddled up and got pissed on Friday night instead of Saturday.

To be honest I don’t suppose it matters how it happened. All that really matters is that I have broken the rules. Because I accidentally learnt a few things today.

The first piece of knowledge I acquired today was the meaning of the word, ‘Anthropologist,’ which was provided for me, amongst others, as a suggestion of words to be included in tonight’s blog post. The knowledge came directly from Wikipedia, one of my favourite sources of knowledge on the world wide web.

The second piece of knowledge I acquired was that seeking suggestions for words that I might use in my blog post was not a sufficient method to use in trying to cure writers block.

Thus the third piece of knowledge that I acquired today was that the statement ‘works well under pressure’ should probably be erased from my CV. Because tonight, after asking you guys what words I should include in this blog post, I discovered that I don’t work well under pressure at all. In fact now that I have a list of 10 words to include in this blog post, my brain is entirely void of appropriate content, I have spent hours trying to locate something even half intelligent in my empty head, but there’s nada and now I’m rambling, and I seriously doubt that any of this will make much sense when it’s finished.

The thing is I haven’t written a ‘proper’ blog in a few days now, and a couple of you have written to me asking why, which has made me feel a little guilty. And so, even though I am tired and poorly and quite obviously lacking in wit, intelligence and humour today, I felt I ought to write a blog post for you anyway, cos it’s so long overdue.



I haven’t got a lot to blog about. I have Steph flu again have spent much of my time in my delicious bed with ‘Connect FM’ to keep me company. My life hasn’t been greatly interesting and nothing dramatic has arisen (thank god and touch wood) - normally when my life is plodding along at a normal rate (which is pretty rare,) I let Divine Inspiration write my posts. Trouble is my divine inspiration has taken leave of absence and until she returns I’m afraid I don’t have anything worthy to share with you.

Well she’s been gone a while now, my divine inspiration and I hope she comes back soon, cos if she doesn’t I might have to get myself a proper job. I didn’t realise it but I’m pretty crap without my divine inspiration. And asking you guys to suggest words for me just won’t cut it.

Not that I’m blaming you. Indeed you picked fine words for me to include. And ordinarily I could find myself incredibly inspired by items such as Banana’s and Swallows, (although looking at them both in the same sentence I’m struggling to think of anything non-pornographic.) And if I’d had my brain I’m sure I could have written something extremely political and poignant about the Army, or indeed something sweet and whimsical to include the word, ‘serendipity’. Instead though I have produced this. A post about a load of bollocks.  

And now I know why they say Quality is more important that Quantity. (‘They’ really are very wise, aren’t they?!)


Fear not, I'm sure plenty of chocolate, ibuprofen and sleep will coax my Divine Inspiration back, and I promise never to blog in her absense again :-)

Steph x



P.S I'd like to apologise to Claire for not including your word, it was the hardest word of them all . . . ! Hope the picture will do instead?! :-) lol

 
Scuttle
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