Goat-yoghurt 'me' time

I finally had some 'me' time tonight: a bath. And took Trinny and Susanna's advice and put goat yogurt on my face to soften it up. Now I've got sodding weird dry patches. Liars! I should do them for... well, lying. Because I've got loads of time for complaining and the like these days... not. At least I hadn't made a special trip out to get the stuff.

No, I had plenty of said yogurt in my fridge. Such fancies are the by-product of living with a man of near-Mediterranean descent. We are never without such trivialities as olives, feta cheese (five packs per week minimum), huge amounts of crusty white bread, olive oil, pale lager and wash-and-go. Oh, and apple turnovers (??). We are, however, regularly without such life-sustaining necessities as a kitchen, bathroom, toilet paper and washing up liquid. Heigh ho.

All is not well, it seems, with the down pipe that was laid under the dining room floor while I was in labour. Pooey odours were reaching for my nostrils as I laid in the bath, and for once they weren't coming from Babe. Blinking heck. Other Half had a bad motorcycle accident shortly before we met, and amongst his injuries was the almost entire loss of his sense of smell. And he is concerned that I may be exaggerating said pooey stink to get my own back because I so utterly, literally and physically (ie prostrating myself across his shovel) opposed his digging up of said dining room floor. More about our DIY disasters on another occassion, but a great proportion of my four-day labour and birth story are given over to them. I can see nasty things lying in wait for this weekend, though.

So, on that happy note, I'm going to recklessly fritter a portion of my evening on e-bay. I should have learnt my lesson yesterday when I bought a wonderful baby carrier with sunroof, wind protector, luggage compartment and god knows what else for £4 - RRP £159! Except when I received the payment confirmation I discovered its size XXL. Rats! That will be too large even for my expanding, sagging waistline. And Other Half is obviously much trimmer than I am. I'll have to strap it around a pillow or something as well as my tummy.

Anyway, as Christmas is approaching, I thought I'd ask Other Half what special things I could search for him for on E-bay, and he asked me to look for a spare car key. I'm not sure if he's taking the piss. Still I like a challenge.

Watching TV and crying

Good grief! What has my life come to? I've just caught the tail end of some film for kids about whales and surfing or something and within five minutes I started crying. Other half is crying too, but children's films tend to have that effect on him. Think he must yearn for a simpler life at times. Not that I make life complicated, you understand. (Yeah right - the ED.)

So, back to the film, and the fact that I'm writing this sniffing. Must be the evocative music. Or the fact that's I've been up since half five again this morning, and it's taken both of us two hours this afternoon to settle an increasingly manic Babe down for a sleep. Poor little mite has been given about ten bottles of formula, as that's what usually gets him to drop off. OOPS - BORING MOTHER DETAIL ALERT... And it's been windy-rain-hailing outside so pushing him out in the pram wasn't an option. He did sleep for half an hour at 8am, which is when I should have had a nap too, but I decided to tidy the loft, and have filled the dining room with dusty boxes to sort. And now I'm going to go and make stuffed aubergine for dinner. I think there's a learning point here somewhere, but will ignore it for now. So much to do, and so little time...