I went for a walk today along the water near where I live for the first time since I started back at work part time.
It had been three weeks and when I’m not walking regularly I forget how much I enjoy it and how good I feel afterwards. It’s rather shocking how much tension we can build up in our systems and I always find a brisk walk helps to ease it – Vodka and Chocolate would work also, but I think the walks a healthier and less hangover inducing option.
In the four months I got to stay at home with my son we’d daily enjoy going for a walk then coming home, having a bath, then a nap. So today was nice, just my son and I doing our thing. It’s amazing how a simple thing like going out into the fresh air and sunshine for a walk can make everything better.
I am convinced I do not have a baby boy; I in fact have a little velociraptor.
Remember Velociraptors the freakishly intelligent dinosaurs in Jurassic park, really good at tracking their pray, opening doors and what not.
I came to the conclusion the other day when he was sitting on my lap that he in fact was not a baby boy but a little velociraptor; he was sitting in my lap holding his arms up like the dinosaurs do in the movie and giving me one of his death stares. While staring into my eyes he giggled and with the speed of a striking snake grabbed my thumb, shoved it in his mouth, bit down as hard as he could and then giggled again.
My clever little velociraptor tracks me with his eyes no matter where I go, chews on whatever body part he can get to, my neck, arm, leg, hands, fingers, nose, chin etc. etc.
He just stares at me, with these awesome murderous looks, I always wonder what is going on in his head, I often imagine he is planning my murder and how he intends to cook me.
When he stares into my eyes and stares me down, it often scares me as I wonder if he can read my soul.
Oh how I love him So!!!!!!!!!!
I have very sensitive skin and so have been playing it safe and just assuming my son also will have sensitive skin.
QV is one of the very few products that does not irritate my skin, so it’s all I’ve used on my son.
Recently I purchased a bottle of goats milk body wash as it was half the price of the QV and on the bottle states its ideal for sensitive skin. I’ve been using it in the shower to see if it affects my skin before I use it on my son, I’ve been using it for about two weeks now and I haven’t gotten any rashes or burns and my skins been ouch free – BUT yesterday I got some in my eye, it was one of the most painful things I’ve ever gotten in my eye, I liken it to the time I got a flying amber from a camp fire in my eye. It took a couple of hours before it stopped stinging. Thank god I hadn’t used it on my son first – it hurt my adult eye so much, imagine a little babies eye coping with it, makes my stomach churn. So only water and QV for my little prince (I’ve had it in my eyes and its fine).
So I’m just going to put it out there people if you buy a body wash or bubble bath for your kids, use it first and put some in your eye to be sure – lovely safe looking bottles can be deceiving.
So I have finally finished typing up the big box of poetry that I’ve had piling up for the last ten years, oh boy that an emotional trip down memory lane it has been.
So to celebrate I thought I would share one with you all:
I can feel your warmth
I can feel your naked body pressed against mine
As I lose all sense of time
I feel your breath
And your lips
On the back of my neck
I turn to stroke your chest
But you’re not there
I’m alone in my bed
All these feelings are in my head
I long to feel your soft lips pressing against mine
Is loving you really such a crime
As the sunrise draws closer
I quickly try to regain my composure
If I was stronger I might be able to get some closure
But for now I’m just a prisoner of time
When I read this week’s challenge was layers my brain went straight to the scene in Shrek when Shrek is trying to explain to Donkey that Ogres are like onions ‘they have layers’
Which got me thinking, I have layers and some so covered up hardly anyone has ever seen them.
So do I do a self-portrait or a photo of onions hmmmmmmm I tried to take a self-portrait, but I hated every photo I took, so I gave up and went into my pantry and found some onions.
During the lead up to my son’s birth I was trying to put together a family tree book for him and what followed was destroying my father’s belief that he had Italian heritage, sorry daddy.
My father picked up the name Luigi in his younger days because he looked like a wog. He was rather proud of this and so was I. I love Italian culture and thought it rather nice to have some Italian heritage.
Now my father is a short, active, quiet (unless under the influence of rum or red wine) and rather fit young looking 55 year old. It is really only in the last five years that he started to show his age and get some grey hair etc. When people used to pick on him saying he dyed his hair, he always used the line that it was his Italian blood. Now his vitality IS definitely in his blood, his mother now 85 is still globetrotting and in my memory has only had the one grey patch of hair nearly my entire life and no neither of them have ever dyed their hair. If I’m lucky I’ll be the same.
Now I had always been told by my father that his grandfather was Italian, so when doing my sons family tree I dug deeper. I sat down and asked my father where he got the idea his grandfather was Italian from and he told me a story which is what he believed to be true; that his Grandmother had got up to some mischief with a sexy Italian and thus his mother was born. The sexy Italian then got shipped back to Italy for shaming his family etc. etc. A lovely and touching story, I mean who wouldn’t want to have a fling with a sexy Italian. Now my dad’s story says that the Italians had a store and his grandmother worked there, nope no they didn’t no Italians had a store anywhere near, there is no record of Italians in the town in which his mother came from, on record there’s only French entrepreneurs, Englishmen and aborigines before the time of his mother’s birth.
Now the story of his Grandmother falling madly in love with a sexy dark grease ball and conceiving a child, then the sexy stud being forced to leave his beloved and return home never to see her again is wonderful stuff, someone spat him a rather good yarn as a kid and he soaked it up. I still wonder who told him that story, maybe he asked his grandmother one day why he didn’t have a grandfather and maybe it was his grandmother being cheeky that told him the story – he is rather vague in the memory department as to where he picked up the story from. I quizzed one of his sisters and she’d never heard it before but thought it was rather amusing.
My father is one of my favourite people on earth and I love him to bits. I didn’t want to break his heart and tell him after digging I had found out whom his grandfather really was and that he was plain and had no awesome wog-ness.
Now knowing the truth I’d just go with that back in 1928 my Great Grandmother wanted a baby, so she had herself one and that baby, MY grandmother, grew up to be one of the most amazing women I know.
Actually all the women in my dad’s family are kick arse independent awesome awesome beautiful powerful women. I grew up as a little girl with extremely strong females in my life on both my mother’s and father’s sides. Both of my grandmothers are amazing inspiring powerful women with amazing strength. Now this did instil in me that I can do anything (which is good) but that I don’t need anything from anybody and that no one needs to help me (not so good and gets me into strife from time to time) but never the less GIRL POWER – wait this went from being about my dad to girl power, hmmm well I don’t think he’d mind.
Remember to smile people, it makes you live longer!!!!