25 Feb 2018

Week Eight

I've become Queen of the Lunchbox. 

I've always been awesome at lunchboxes, but seriously, the amount of people who contact me for lunchbox ideas... 

I don't think what I do is that hard, but I'm pretty serious about two things, budget and unnecessary packaging. Our oceans are full of shit and we put it there because we love wrapping things in mountains of fucking plastic. 

Don't even get me started. 

Anyway, I have reusable containers, sandwich wrappers and a can-do attitude. I usually do a big bake up on Sunday for the week.

Some of our favourite lunchbox fillers include: 

Corn Cobs
Banana Choc Chip Muffins
Zucchini Slice
Cheese and Salami
Sausage Rolls
Carrot Sticks 
Mini Croissants

And this week we added sushi to the repertoire!  Mushroom is STOKED! They weren't eating sandwiches so I asked him what he wanted and he said sushi. After watching a youtube video, I became a total expert. 

As you can see, I'm awesome and pretty much the best Mum ever.

Molly  has continued to be a pain in the arse at bedtime, asking for more cuddles, drinks of water, medsen (medicine) as she's 'sick'.  Anything you can think of, she tries it.  Juffin falls for her bullshit every time of course, but he can usually manage to settle her whereas I get frustrated AF and start yelling, only exacerbating the situation.  At least I can recognise my failings. I may Queen of Lunchbox but I'm definitely not winning any awards in the patience department.  

It's been raining on and off here for almost a week which is fabulous but hell for a cloth nappy mama with no dryer.  We've strung laundry up all over the place but it's so humid, things are not getting properly dry, especially my nappies. There was a break this morning and we managed to get some sheets and towels dry but rain started again around lunchtime so we had to make a mad dash back under the cover.  

I went out last night for a mate's birthday and had a fabulous time.  I love the margaritas.  

Clearly I was looking beautiful and behaved like a lady.  

I assumed I'd have a hangover this morning.  I mean look at it.  But I dodged the proverbial bullet.  Sometimes I'm arsey like that.  Those times are few and far between now that I'm on the wrong side of 35.

I ran into my beloved hairdresser who is currently enjoying mat leave and not doing hair at all.  Which is why mine looks so amazing at the moment.  I may have tackled her to the ground and held her and her baby hostage until she agreed to do my hair. 

Just kidding. 

I did think about it though. 

I freaking love my hairdresser. 

She messaged me that night and we're on for March. I'm so freaking excited, I can barely contain my shit. 

I had a week off from exercise and food tracking after another week of not losing.  I'm annoyed that I let the weightloss plateau get to me so much.  I know it's normal, I know that movement on the scales isn't a true indication of how my body is changing.  I know that my clothes fit better, people have noticed, I can see it in my face.  I just let my head get munted.  I had to give myself a break.  

And a crunchie.  

I bought myself a new sports bra and tomorrow, I'm back on the horse.  

I had a conference call with some school buds and we locked down the details for our TWENTY year highschool reunion.  Yes my friends, TWENTY FUCKING YEARS!  I am so AGED!  One of our school mates said he couldn't make it because it's his daughter's 18th that weekend.  I mean, Jesus!  I'm actually old enough to have an 18 year old child!  

I have no idea where those 20 years went but I am clearly exceeding expectations.  I'm fat, broke and still not famous but I don't think I've ever been this happy.  My kids are healthy, my man is lovely, I have great friends, a good job, my Mum and Dad are fab and my siblings are kicking goals all over the show.  

Life is good.  

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