So I woke up today and decided to have a makeover. With my pregnancy curves I was really feeling Kim Kardashian vibes. I wouldn’t need to do that much really, just a nice olive tan, some dark defined eyebrows and luscious dark hair.
STEP 1: APPLY TAN
A few seconds in (like literally one swipe of the tan mitt) I was frothing about how great the colour and application was. I then attempted my back which turned out patchy with a side of leprosy. Halfway through application Will woke up so I had to walk like a scarecrow to go get him. Mission get-toddler-out-of-a-cot-without-getting-any-tan-on-him was a success. Tan application complete (who needs an even tan on their back anyway) I was ready for the next step.
STEP 2: TINT EYEBROWS
I applied the brow tint and set the timer for 20 minutes. I got a little overconfident drawing bigger and bigger brows. Unable to get them even, I gave up with one arched a few mm more than the other. I didn’t put enough of the mixture on my brows so it didn’t peel off like the box promised, I had to pinch off the tint. Not to be deterred by the lack of result I decided while Will was distracted with pens on the floor I would move on.
STEP 3: DYE HAIR
My hair was bleached and I didn’t want to risk it going green so I opted for a burgundy. The dye packet said 5-30 minutes so I thought 30 minutes was perfect to achieve the rich burgundy I had in mind. It also took 30 minutes to wipe all the red dye off my skin so I didn’t look like a murder scene victim. I would like to point out that if the packet had said ‘your hair will turn orange like you belong in a hippie commune’ then I may have decided on a different colour.
STEP 4: THE REVEAL
$55 later the results were in. Although it was meant to be dark olive, my skin must have been so pale that it tinted to a shade of white girl gone orange. My hair is also a shade of orange, the exact shade I know my husband dislikes. I’ll have to draw on the eyebrows.
OK so the makeover was a bit of a let down, maybe I just need some contour? Botox? Facial reconstruction? Now to decide whether to spend the last of my money on Katsu chicken or brown hair dye… decisions, decisions.
When you’re pregnant you get lots of advice, some bad, some good, some pointless. I was told by a GP at the hospital when I was pregnant with Will that I shouldn’t listen to advice from anyone over 40, the next hospital appointment I had a midwife that probably delivered Jesus. It can be so confusing in the hospital when you see so many different professionals, each with their own conflicting opinions. If you are pregnant then please, please whatever you do, find your tribe.
Maybe you’re lucky and all your friends are having babies at the same time so you already have a tribe but maybe all your friends are at work while you’re at home wondering if there’s any point in showering today. Unfortunately all my friends and family live at least 45 minutes away so I was one of those new mum’s at home alone wondering what now?
Luckily last year I was allocated a mothers group through my child health nurse and boy did I score. We got a small group of six and everyone is a legend. If you are offered a mothers group then go, even if you are half an hour late because your baby shat on you at the front door, just get there. I was sad to hear that not everyone is invited to join a mothers group and if you’re a second or third time mum you might even be rejected from a new mother’s group. Maybe you joined a mothers group and you just don’t vibe with them. Maybe your baby is advanced or behind and it makes you feel isolated, if so then look for your tribe elsewhere.
I initially saw Instagram as a way of promoting my blog but instead I found a community of mum’s supporting and encouraging each other. If you want to find your tribe through Instagram I would suggest two way
Hashtags: Searching the hashtag age bracket for your child #ninemonths or #9months is one way, or searching the area you live in #perthmum #perthmums.
Follow Babes & Picnics: Babes & Picnics is a group on Instagram founded by Lucia De Mello. Lu has brought together mum’s from all around Australia by arranging picnic meet ups. I am the ambassador for Babes and Picnics Perth (South picnics) and I love meeting new mama’s to chat with each month.
It seems appropriate that I title this blog with a failed attempt at alliteration because that’s as good as this post is going to get.I hit 27 weeks yesterday and I’m so fatigued, I could have sworn I was working in a rice paddy yesterday with a toddler strapped to my back. Actually that’s right, I took Will to the park. Same same.
I woke up this morning feeling like I hadn’t slept at all. Current situation is a combination of nausea and grogginess. Does morning sickness come back in the third trimester?? I don’t remember being this tired when I was pregnant with Will but then again I did swan around like a Real Housewife resting and getting reflexology. The audacity.
Oh and before anyone suggests it could be my iron levels, I’ve been anemic since 1942 and have shares in Ferrograd C. This fatigue is a whole new level! I read this morning that I have 90 days to go which feels like forever, I planned a wedding in less time.
So toddler tantrums are just a fact of life these days. Will is 20 months old and has been tantruming for a while now but he’s only recently ramped it up a notch. If you follow me on Instagram you would have seen a couple of his previous attempts. In one tantrum he forgot halfway through when the TV caught his attention. In another he slowly laid down on his back, resting his head on the grass for a few seconds before getting back up. Amateur.
Today we’ve had a good day, when Pete gets home I will even tell him that Will has been wonderful. Don’t get me wrong, there’s been tantrums. It was pretty shitty of me to try and wipe the snot off his nose, he’s not a baby. Leaving the park because it was raining? Cruel. I really should have bought him a car when we were grocery shopping, he is an entitled white man after all. Oh and changing a nappy is totally barbaric, I’m lucky he didn’t call Amnesty International.
The scary part of all this? I am pretty sure we haven’t even scratched the surface yet. The best part? I can still say ‘he’s teething’ even if that’s not even true.