198 – I’m not dead

Yes, it’s been ten days since my last post – partly because I’ve been avoiding you and partly because it’s been school holidays and I just kinda let everything slide…

So, how to begin – to catch you up or just fill in the gaps? Well you don’t need the minutiae of my days and frankly they are only interesting to me and mine – you know what school holidays with bored kids are like – you swing from moments of hysterical joy (oh my god the zoo for the third time I’m SO EXCITED! We have zoo passes – they are seriously the best xmas gift ever) to moments of pure hell (OH MY GOD WHY ARE WE AT THE ZOO AGAIN?!). The kids are randomly best friends and mortal enemies and those of us that normally work but have the pleasure of being at home with our little cherubs begin to remember and appreciate why we work in the first place.

The middle of the year holidays are extra special in our house because of all the birthdays. Mine, my Stepdad’s, my Mums and my eldest son (Mum and T are on the same day). This means that the grumpy Dutchman is extra grumpy and stressed because of the gift buying, the family time is extra intense and at some point I have to plan and run a birthday event for the child. Also this time round the Aussie Dutchies are here so it’s been cool to meet my youngest niece and hang with them briefly. Suffice to say that though I don’t tend to feel ‘rested’ at the end of the winter break.

Anyway – why have I been avoiding you? Did you notice that? Well. You know how I’m a stubborn biatch and I have been struggling with the sugar and shite? But really proud that I had managed to not drink? Sooooooo. This is awkward.

I’m just gonna come out and say it. I had a glass of wine (or two) on my birthday. Because it was MY FUCKING BIRTHDAY damnit and I was feeling old. I know. I know. But the plan that I had to go to a beach with the GD and the dog to watch the sunset didn’t pan out because I spent so long on the motorway driving home from dropping the lads off to be babysat. And there is less sugar in red wine that birthday cake. And all sorts of other bloody justifications. And because wine is so damned good.

I spent all day thinking about it. Swinging wildly between NO because I didn’t want to break my record and YES because it’s MY BIRTHDAY. I chose yes.

It was very nice to be out with the GD on an actual date (thanks Mum) just hanging out with each-other. We managed to not talk about the kids for ages. I was managing to keep the GD interested in me and not the bookshelf behind me (only just). So I had a grown up glass of wine and it was lovely.

And then I woke up in the morning and felt terrible. Not only did I have a headache from the wine that I’m not used to but I just felt so disappointed that I had broken the record. That I had let it go after 7 months of abstaining. And how was I going to blog about it!? The horror. I whinged to the GD and my bff and both told me to pull my head in; reminded me that I’m not an alcoholic and that the not-drinking was self imposed (that I’d broken every other self-imposed rule) and that I was a grown up who could celebrate her birthday like a bloody grown up. That was me told. So I stayed in bed watching Grace and Frankie until lunchtime (the kids were at Mums after all) and tried to get over myself.

I still feel a wee bit disappointed. I won’t be able to proudly boast ‘not for the whole YEAR’ now and sit back all smug when people look AMAZED at my fortitude but I am learning to live with it. Ha ha what a dick.

The holidays have been great though for family time and outdoorsy pursuits. I had a good go at being sugar-free for the first week and was dealing with the headaches and loading up on lots of veges like a good girl but tbh we knew that was going to go out the window for my birthday didn’t we? Am back on that wagon now though. As of tomorrow. I promise. Obvs no more wine too. I managed to go to school and get some much-needed marking done in between hanging with lads, and I have been getting my 10 – 12,000 steps in most days.

I still don’t feel that prepared for school though. I have that sick feeling in my stomach thinking about it. But that’s normal right? The plan is to food shop tomorrow for all the good stuff. To plan my lessons for the first three days of the week and to pack my lunches so I’m prepared for the sugar cravings.

Well laid plans. Here are some holiday pics,

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183 – We made it!

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We made it to the end of term! I know I disappeared for a minute there this week but I was trying to stay sane whilst keeping everything I needed to remember in my head at the same time – no room for superfluous thoughts or word usage.

As we crawled closer and closer to 3.20 this afternoon I could feel myself slowly giving up on all fronts. Gut-healing restrictions all GONE, will to get out of bed in the morning for boot camp GONE and capacity for original thought GONE. Long blacks with cold milk – takeaway – have become my best friend. Whittakers chocolate my secret lover. Boot camp my arch nemesis. The fitbit has been an experiment in sadism. And yet I have been a chipper, chatty poppet.

My poor office mate has had to put up with me babbling away like a beauty pageant contestant in her ear all week – all sunshine no substance. That’ll be all the sugar I reckon! I also have a big, round, sugar belly.

And I have been thinking about wine. The photo at the top gave you pause eh? Especially if you’ve spoken to me recently and heard me babbling about how the only things I have managed to stay off were gluten and alcohol (that’s my stubborn streak). And the photo is of the mantelpiece in the music lounge yes.

I have been thinking about wine this week. Red wine. The wonderful kick in the back of the throat that a good(?) red wine gives when it hits it for the first time. The satisfaction of cracking the seal on the twist top (ahh so classy). The ‘legs’ on the side of the glass when you swirl it. Fuck me this mamabear loves wine. And it’s my birthday next week – surely I’ve been saying to myself, surely I could have a glass for my birthday? after all I won’t be (insert number dangerously close to 40 here) ever again! So the seed has been planted. But I’m a stubborn fucking biatch. Look again;

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That’s right ‘alcohol fucking removed’. Whaaaaaaaaa?

I was driving home after ringing a million homes to find out why half of my cohort was not at school. I have been hearing variations on ‘Oh I’m sorry Ms Dean but my daughter is on holiday already in samoa/america/hamiltron and will not be returning until next term now’ all week now (apparently the school term means nothing and the credits she might have gotten today in the Maths assessment can go to hell because cheap fares and a teenager free house is more important THAN YOUR CHILDS EDUCATION thank you very much).

I digress. Where was I? I was driving home and I needed/wanted/craved/could think of nothing but Wine. And then suddenly Eureka! They are always trying to con pregnant women in to ‘alcohol free wine’. They wouldn’t make pregnant women drink stuff that tastes NOT like wine and call it wine would they?

I stopped at Glengarry’s and went and asked the friendly wine lady if they had a decent non-alcoholic wine that actually tasted like wine. And then without even thinking I LIED and said it was for my pregnant friend coming round for dinner. What the fuck?! Why did I lie? Obviously I am ashamed of my teetotaler status. And I want the strangers in the wine shop to like me? Because I care so much. Because…..    I think that’s a whole other blog post. Jebus.

What was the ‘wine’ like you ask? Hmmm. I can’t say it didn’t taste like wine. But it did taste distinctly like sour juice. Which I guess is what wine is – except the good stuff has the alcohol and it makes your teeth tingle so good.

I have had one glass and it wasn’t awful. I will probs not buy it again deliberately but it’s like the whole gf thing – you have to forget what ‘real’ pasta tastes like before you have gf ‘pasta’ or it will be bloody terrible. I haven’t forgotten yet what real wine tastes like. I will just have to find another way to scratch the super-tired-at-the-end-of-term-mama-needs-a-treat itch.

Tomorrow I sleep in – School Holidays woo-fucking-hoo!!

137 – Sunday

There’s no way to accurately describe the crazy humour and desperate sadness that is sitting with my Nana for 2 and a half hours as she asks the same three questions over and over again. As she obsesses over the other woman who is supposed to have moved in with my Grandad. As she mithers over her ‘lost’ rings. As she giggles when I say that I would visit every day but she wouldn’t remember anyway. As she reads the same card of information over and over and over again – making the same mistakes over the same words, asking the same questions at the same points and exclaiming ‘It says you’ll be here on Sunday Kathleen and look there you are!’. Madness.

I can’t write about it but I can say that for the first time in MONTHS I walked out of the hospital thinking about drinking a whole bottle of wine and maybe stealing one of the grumpy Dutchmans cigarettes.

Instead I did something totally not rock and roll. Food shopping.

Living on the edge. Didn’t quite scratch the itch I gotta say. But I have managed to ease the sunday horrors a wee bit and prepped for the week ahead. I have roasted a variety of veges (courgettes, kumara, beans, capsicum etc). I am about to go boil some eggs and I have tins of salmon and avocado on hand to go with the veges. I am determined not to be caught short this week, especially as I am anticipating major sugar withdrawal combined with busy-ness for the week ahead.

The GD had a veeerrrrrryyy late night/early morning so I am guessing all three dutchmen might be in bed early tonight. Peace and quiet for Mamabear. Win.

Day 88 – did you miss me?

Sure you did, all of you out there in ‘actually has a social life land’. You didn’t miss me at all with your fancy parties, and restaurants, and glamorous fast paced lives. I’m sure you were waiting by your ‘pooters for my next thrilling installment ha ha

As I write this Master 4 is sitting next to me crunching on a foul blue lollipop LOUDLY and staring glass eyed at the minions giving a 21 fart gun salute. Cue much hilarity. Did I mention that he is naked from the waist down but does have a whistle around his neck that he blows at random and eye-watering intervals. Everything this kid does is LOUD. And right in my ear.

The reason for the middle of the day nakedness and mindless lolly eating is of course ‘The Great Gladstone Gala’ which we attended this morning. Master 7 has been building up his excitement ever since he came home with the cake boxes for me to fill to Wednesday, along with an instruction to make two batches of Bliss Balls and as many Jolly Jars as I can source jars for. No opt-in for this activity mind you – more like an implied ‘opt out and be ashamed of yourself and your lack of community spirit’. Last year I broke myself getting the cupcakes, bliss balls and Jolly Jars made. I don’t know how the other working parents do it and look so stress free with it. I can do it but it’s a stretch with my job on top.

This year I thought ‘Fuck this shit I don’t have time’ and have suffered racked with guilt ever since. And not – as I clarified to my grrls last night over (their) wine and my soda water – guilt or shame that the other parents at school will think I am useless and not contributing, but more that Master 7 is super proud of my bliss balls and cupcake making ability and really wanted to show it off. I didn’t want to let him down. As it turned out, after I talked to him yesterday morning (with 2 hours left to go before the baking had to be in) he didn’t care at all if I made anything to contribute – he cared more that I had money for him to spend at the Gala. And so, money being tight this week, I didn’t buy ingredients and gave the cash to the lads as spending money. Very happy little Dutchmen.

Ten dollars each can go a long way when you are a kid and will eat anything. Both boys bought candy floss as soon as we arrived. They then spent the next 20 mins getting as sticky as humanly possible and wiping as much of it on me as they could. Once hosed down we went for a wander and I tried to encourage them to spend their remaining dollars on rides or experiences. No – all up they bought shaved ice, cupcakes, Jolly Jars, one turtle, one green sword, one entry to Lego land where Master 4 declared it boring almost immediately, one entry to the boot camp bouncy castle which was over in 3 minutes and Master 4 managed to make $5 back playing money golf (you putt the balls on to the various notes stuck to the ground – his was a rebound and very impressive). Then Master 4 went to the toilet, couldn’t figure out his suspenders (very stylish) and ended up peeing all over himself. ‘It’s even in my shoes mum’. Sad face. So we walked home, he stripped – ‘Not my tee-shirt mum, my willy wasn’t pointing up so it’s dry’ and settled in to eat the entire contents of his Jolly Jar all at once and glaze out in front of the TV.

We have a birthday party to go to this afternoon too – I have totally given up on healthy food for them today and will just have to deal with the come down later…

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Last night I met a woman who told me – or at least the group of women that were there – that having coeliacs didn’t necessarily mean eating gluten-free, for like, forever. That her Mum had coeliacs and she didn’t all the time. That it was a choice and that some people didn’t get a reaction so it was okay. Aside from immediately wanting to punch her in the face and shout ‘YOU ARE AN IDIOT AND WHAT YOU ARE SAYING IS DANGEROUS’ she seemed ok. But here’s the thing, she was a Naturopath. And although I know that the grumpy Dutchman thinks that natural medicine is the biggest swindle there is, I do not and think it has its place and usefulness. But for someone who presumably is listened to seriously by people who are very unwell and looking for answers, to have her saying with some authority that ‘a little bit of gluten is ok’ is scary. It was a weird situation anyway because it was a farewell ‘drinks’ for one of my close friends who is heading overseas to ‘Art’ for three months, and we all knew each other really well, except for this stranger. Luckily my friend saw me about to ‘school’ this poor idiot woman and diverted me by mentioning the Bachelor NZ – something guaranteed to get me ranting. (seriously – a whole lot of women lined up for a man to ‘choose’ them like a meal in a fucking food court? get out of here with that misogynist dark ages bullshit. Seriously.)

But it has been happening more and more lately. People saying to me that maybe I should just ‘like, eat normal and just like, be normal, because it’s seems so hard?’. And granted this is usually in response to me having a rough day and drooling at them with their pie/wine/chocolate biscuit but I don’t find it very supportive or helpful. What I said last night to my grrls, who love me and want to support me but also want to fix me so I can be normal with them, is that I have made this choice to feel better. That before I felt like shit every day. And now I sometimes have days where it is shit but there is light at the end of the tunnel. And if I’m honest with myself, the ‘sometimes shit’ days this year come from me breaking my own rules. That I know I will be gluten-free forever, and probably dairy and sugar, but that the rest of the restrictions will ease up and I can gain some normality back. That yes, once again I will be able to enjoy both the smell and taste of my morning coffee, and that in the evenings if I so desire I will again have the joy of a glass of red wine with my dinner. But that for now, I have to be gentle, ease up on the toxins, and try to give my gut a rest.

It’s a choice I have made and so far I have gotten up every day for 88 days and made that choice. I didn’t choose to have coeliacs but I can choose to live a long and healthy life in spite of it. I can choose to not get bowel or stomach cancer by adhering to a strict gluten free diet for the rest of my life. I can choose to be able to absorb all the nutrients and good stuff I need from my food by healing and supporting the villi in my gut and for now that means being very careful with what I eat. And the next person that tells me that I could eat a ‘little bit of gluten no harm’ is gonna hear about it.

Day 73 – withdrawing or sick?

Rule number one of living with small boys – there will always be piss on the seat when you sit down. Especially if you are half asleep or it is night-time. It’s gotten so they don’t even hold it themselves now when they wee – they just poke it out the top of their shorts and aim. And they are weirded out by my ‘drama’ over the wet seat. ‘Mum why don’t you just wipe it before you sit down?!”.                               Child I think you are missing the point.

Maybe I’m just grumpy because I’m sick. Well, at least I think I am sick. Theres a chance I am withdrawing all over again from my indulgences on our weekend away. Whatever it is, I have a sore throat, a headache and am achey all over. Still. It didn’t go away overnight with sleep as these things are meant to do and I admit to having been a grumpy mockingbirdgrrl today.

I did manage to catch up with friends, but I was so wiped out after that I retreated to bed to try to sleep. This proved impossible with the lads obsessively trying to get to the kitten who was curled up in the sanctuary of my arm. But I did get to be horizontal for a few hours which was nice.

I’m craving sugar, wine, coffee – anything that would normally perk me up and I’m doing ok at holding out so far. I didn’t go and get stone fruit to ‘take the edge off’ which I normally do, and the decaf/almond milk flat white I got from the local market was burned so I didn’t drink that either. I am just going to have to ride this one out. Exercise will help so I’m gonna take the dog for a run tomorrow morning.

I’m out. Take care y’all xx

Day 70 – a cry for help

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Last night I ate so much fruit that I was in agony. I had told myself that buying nectarines and plums on the way home was better than buying chocolate or wine – which was what I wanted – and that I was doing myself a favour. I purposefully ignored the high fructose factor because I was feeling sorry for myself and feeling like I was missing out. I was tired and needed something to energise me. I told myself that actually, I have been not eating certain things for so long that my gut is probs sweet bro, eat away, you’ll be fine. I am very easily persuaded. And I am also very convincing. It’s a terrible combination.

Within half an hour I looked 7 months pregnant under my dress, I had to go lie down because I was hurting so bad and I was worried that I had actually done permanent damage.

All because my immune system can’t recognise food for what it is and attacks things randomly causing me pain and discomfort. Because my gut lining is so damaged from years of gluten exposure that even though I had my diagnosis of CD and went GF two years ago it might as well have been yesterday for all that it has healed. And because I knew all of this and still put something inside me that was potentially going to do me damage.

I beat myself up all night about it and then went out in a panic to find lunch today in my thirty minute break and bought more fruit. What the ACTUAL fuck man. The definition of insanity is repeating the same mistake twice and expecting different results. I am doing this to myself. Compulsively.

I need to stop eating fruit and start having a lie down. I need to take a year off work and travel around the hot places of the world, not eating fruit, taking photographs and somehow being paid for it. I need the grumpy Dutchman to stage an intervention and take all of the fruit out of the house. I need to stop eating in the car. I need to figure out how to get my kids to stay in their own beds for the whole night. I need to figure out how to jam three more hours in my day – preferably between classes – so I can do some actual Deaning while I am at school and not try to fit it in around the edges. I need.

I need.

I need WINE.

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Day 67 – I’m baaaaaaack and I brought a little friend with me…

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Hello! Missed your face! Nah not really ha ha – it was so good to be out of town for the weekend, just me and the grumpy Dutchman, we didn’t miss anyone!

As much as we love our little grumpy dutch-kinder, it was awfully nice to be just me and my man for the weekend of our wedding anniversary. Just like the good old days, we loaded up the boot and headed off to the Coromandel to lie around, read our books, op-shop in Whitianga, have a fancy dinner out without anyone running round the restaurant like a mental person or ordering four different things only to declare that they ‘weren’t hungry anymore’. The GD did really well.

It was raining when we got there but it was fine actually – we just got wet.

Hahei Beach
Hahei Beach

We wandered around Whitianga like hippies with no jobs. Like the ‘before’ us. The GD bought books and I bought shoes from the church shops (don’t be grossed out I will clean them) and we sat at a beautiful spot and read our books while the world went on around us. The waitress stopped to say that she liked how comfortable we were reading together and the GD decided that she must be in love with him and was hitting on him. Of course! That must be it.

The few times the GD stopped talking were really tranquil. Seriously, he talked the WHOLE drive there, for most of our stay, and then ALL the way home. The man can talk the ass off a donkey. Hell he can talk the ass off an elephant. He nearly talked the ass offa me! You know that Mother thing where you can’t imagine what life was like before you had kids and there wasn’t someone saying ‘Mum, mum mum‘ every five seconds? I remember now what I could hear. It was the GD. ‘Babe, babe babe!’ He likes to ‘educate’ me. He likes to wind me up. He likes the sound of his own voice is what he likes.

The GD in his happy place
The GD in his happy place

Because we were taking a break from life, this also meant taking a more relaxed approach to my restrictions… Unlike the good old days we were not sleeping in our car, and it was good that I had mentally prepared myself for this ‘relaxed approach’ because at the B & B where we booked the guy was really rattled initially when I said I was gluten-free. Which is really frustrating because when we booked in September last year I specifically mentioned that I had coeliacs and would happily deal with breakfast myself if they didn’t have GF options (I like to give peeps fair warning to get out of feeding me if it freaks them out). We had a whole email exchange where he got increasingly short and rude about GF food and cross-contamination and using the same toaster not being ok. So I mentioned my ‘special needs’ with trepidation when he asked about breakie. I ended up having a ‘lite’ version of Thom’s breakfast and he tried really hard in the end – he kept running out of the house with random food to offer me and I like to think we educated one more person on the way. But it is annoying to be the awkward one.

I was conscious of the fact that I didn’t want to feel stressed about eating while we were away without a kitchen and so I made a decision to eat well where I could and to allow a few treats. Like a Flat White each morning to make up for my lacklustre breakfast, and my first ever Creme Brulee after our fancy dinner. YUM.

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And THEN. On the way home we adopted a kitten. We were walking around in a completely relaxed state when he came up on my news feed as still not having a home. My friends who had found him couldn’t keep him and the SPCA had no room at the inn so I mentioned him to the GD. And he must have been feeling really relaxed because he said yes! With little thought to how our dog and cat would feel we threw caution to the wind and said we would collect the little dude on the way home. Colin is 6-8 weeks old (he is a foundling so we don’t know for sure) and he is a confident little bugger. He has settled in to his new house really quickly. Although I think Molly may take a while to forgive us.

To top the evening off poor master 7 was violently ill. He will be going to work with daddy tomorrow poor kid. Glad to be home!

Day 60 – Another month, another day

Master 4 wants a glass of milk to have with his dinner. We are all refusing to get him one because I want him to finish his dinner first. So, of course, being 4, he goes to get his own. He comes back triumphant, glass of milk held high and proud.

Did you shut the fridge? nods.

Did you put the milk back first? nods.

Did you spill the milk? nods.

Did you clean it up? Shakes his head.

Well – go and clean it up then! He shuffles off drinking his milk. He shuffles back in moments later, trailing a towel and crying into his milk. What happened? He walked in to the door frame. And hit his head. It’s been one of those days.

We laughed. Because we are assholes.

The GD has a hangover. Quite a significant one. I didn’t know where he was until he knew where he was, and that wasn’t until 9am this morning  – and by that time I was mad. I’m all for celebrating your friends lifetime commitment to each-other with a good party but when you have a (sleeping, sexy, patient – but don’t rile her) wife and home and no kids you should be getting back to her for alone time, breakfast and stuff, you know what I mean… Before the kids get home.

As it was I spent the night in a fur-child sandwich.  I slept with the dutiful dog on one side and Molly Motorhead purring away at top volume on the other. (Don’t worry – I stripped the bed this morning – and I’d like to add that the dog is almost never allowed on the bed, only on change-the-sheets-day really). They couldn’t believe their luck! Normally the bed is too full of children.

The kids spent the night with their Oma and Opa and had a blast, as you do with your grandies. They came back exhausted and touchy, as you do when you have that much fun. And they made this clear to us on the motorway, stuck in traffic, at the top of their lungs.

You know the refrain; He’s LOOKING at me! He hit me! Because he was LOOKING at me! He’s looking out MY WINDOW! MUM HE’S LOOKING OUT MY WINDOW! The GD had hit the wall of course – this happened when we were visiting my Nana at the nursing home and I turned to see him in the foetal position on the floor. Which left me to deal with the carnage in the back seat. I turned the stereo up so I couldn’t hear them and lowered my foot. WE ARE NOT GOING TO THE BEACH NOW! I may have shouted at some point. STOP LOOKING AT YOUR FUCKING BROTHER! may also have come out of my mouth – but I will deny it if anyone asks. It’s a shame it’s illegal to drink wine while you drive. I think that there’s an argument for it. Maybe a special permit for mothers?

And then all of a sudden I found my zen; and the constant repetition of complaint and outrage in the back seat simply became another pattern in the white noise that was The Muttonbirds top volume and the GD snoring next to me.

Once home I made a delicious ‘summer chicken casserole’ and kumara mash for dinner care of IQS, and got prepped for the week. Now I am writing this and ignoring my children ‘playing trivial pursuit’ in front of me – Mostly this consists of Master 7 reading an answer of the back of the card and directing the nearest adult to read the question to him so he can be right, while Master 4 picks up all the of the cards and drops them in a dramatic heap on the ground. Over and Over again.

Ignore. Ignore. Ignore.

I am tired, but tired happy. I got to go out TWICE this weekend and spent time with lovely friends and family. The grumpy Dutchman just took the rubbish out and declared dinner delicious so I might consider forgiving him for leaving me to ‘eat breakfast’ alone. Everything is how it should be – even the lads, if they weren’t trying to kill each other they wouldn’t be my lads.

Day 60 already. Only 305 to go.

Day 51 – TGIF

Grumpy cat is happy on friday

Friday friday, thank fuck it’s Friday! And because things aren’t still completely up and running at work I got to leave early-ish at 4. I was driving home and thinking, beautiful day; glass of wine by myself out the back in the sun before all the boys get home.

Oh yeah. That’s right. I don’t drink this year.

And actually, I had such a bad ear-ache from the too cold air-con at work that when I thought about it I realised that I didn’t actually want a glass of wine – I wanted a lie-down. Progress. If it had been last year, I would have come home and poured a cold, crispy, refreshing glass of Sav – and instantly my headache would have gotten worse. Instead – and I can’t believe I’m admitting this – I lay down, downed two full glasses of water and cruised around on the interwebs for a while… My ear-ache receded dramatically. Who’da thunk it?

Have you seen ‘The Katering Show‘? Oh my god. These women get me. I lost an hour of my life watching them and laughed and laughed and laughed. Even the GD cracked a smile. Kate McCartney is an australian version of me. Watch it.

Because it was friday and we are lazy, we got fish and chips for dinner. FYI Gluten-free fish and chips leave you feeling just as bloated and greasy as non gluten-free fish and chips. I sent the (very) grumpy Dutchman to The Ancient Mariner in Mt Eden because they have a dedicated gluten-free fryer. I told myself that it would be different this time. That I wouldn’t regret it because they understand me. They GET cross-contamination. I lied.

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Looking forward to a kid-free day tomorrow doing errands – I might finally post the xmas parcels to the nieces and nephews! They’ll have given up waiting so it’ll be an even more pleasant surprise… at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Day 30 – Hangry mamabear

Working again is threatening to fuck with my Zen. I am not at home in the afternoon/early evening when I get hungry and then of course because I’m starving I lose all motivation to cook a meal – I just want to eat.

Case in point; Finished work today a little before five. Rushed to collect smallest child because we needed to go and get Arty (our dog) from the vet. Got home to collect the other two lads and of course the GD was playing drums and not ready to go so I was mad. Hangry mad. Honk Honk shouty shout.

I had dinner planned, and the chicken defrosted but was so over the though of cooking and by that stage my stomach was threatening to crawl out of my throat to go foraging on its own. We couldn’t get a park at the mexican, all other takeaways were out because of my dietary restrictions so we ended up with McDonalds for the lads and I had a smoothie when we got home.

Dinner fail.

Chicken for dinner tomorrow night! Must make more of an effort to plan ahead now that I’m back to fulltime hours after the hols…

In other news – I’ve nearly made it a whole month with all my restrictions and I already feel better! Although Hayley may take some time to come to terms with the fact that I won’t be having a glass of wine with her this year – you should have seen her face when I told her at breakfast today – but we can just keep meeting for yummy breakfasts instead ha ha