As you know I have had ridiculous technical issues with my blog which have meant I have been completely out of the loop for ages now.
As a result I kind of fell out of love with it, partly also due to a complete lack of time and feeling perhaps I had run out of things to say (as if).
Well, a couple of things have spurred me on to get back in the game...
The first, a double blind date with Fee to meet Emily who writes the fab blog Unravelled. Fee will no doubt have pictures so I will leave it there but shall we say the date seemed to go really well (oh God, hope this isn't one of those situations like in Guardian magazine where one party clearly had a better time than the other, though to be fair with it being the Guardian they are generally all quite PC and middle class polite so maybe I am o.k?) Anyway our lovely coffee date reminded me of what blogging can bring.
The second, well I just missed the other blogs I used to read so regularly. The stories, the inspiration, the photos, the giveaways (though I was yet to win one). All such good fun. I had made my peace with not continuing my blog as a diary, since my initial goal was to blog about my pregnancy and I actually made it through Mabel's whole first year. But I didn't seem to have any extra time through stopping and actually I do find writing quite cathartic sometimes.
So here I am trying again. Not going to get frustrated. Not going to get all 'shutters down' if I can't upload a picture. Going to try on blogger and then if it doesn't work commit to setting up a new blog after today and linking it across.
Oh and there was a story I meant to tell...
It goes a little like this. Mabel and I started swimming lessons this week. I thought I would be all organised and put my swimmers on under my clothes prior to going and when I got there was really glad I had since the changing rooms were communal and tiny (it was at a hotel pool). The lesson went really well and Mabel, despite being the eldest by 6 months and therefore looking and sounding like a hooligan, did brilliantly with her first underwater swim.
Anyhow, we all left the pool and huddled into same said small changing rooms. Conscious that my baby (yes I know she is a toddler, in denial) could walk I let the others use the main bench along the middle and I stood awkwardly against a sink on one side. Mabel was far from pleased with the scenario of being changed on a towel on the floor but I persisted and set her up with a snack whilst I got dressed.
And then I realised the error of my previously organised ways. I hadn't brought any underwear.
No knickers, no bra. What the hell was I going to do?
Stood there in a dripping wet bikini I eyed up my options in a slight state of panic. There was a toilet. But I couldn't leave Mabel in the communal area perched on a towel surrounded by an otherwise wet floor. And taking her with me was surely not feasible both on a hygiene and space front.
There was nothing for it. I would have to wait until everyone else was ready then get dressed.
I pretended to be tidying up my things, fed Mabel some of her fruit (was looking at me like, 'back off, I want to feed myself thank you). But they were taking ages. All had young, screaming babies to dress and there was only so long I could stand around looking odd and now cold.
So in my wisdom I decided to try and hold the towel up with my chin and pretend to put on my knickers followed by my jeans. Yep that's right, I mimed putting on underwear (which according to my brother is worse than just pretending I always go commando).
It seemed to go o.k, there was a slight issue around zipping my jeans up in a hurry which I'm sure you can appreciate (why do people go commando?) but at least I was half way there. I turned to pop my towel on the sink whilst I 'pretended' to get a bra and realised my biggest error of the day.
I was stood in front of a whopping great mirror. I had just mimed putting on underwear in front of a mirror.
I didn't bother with any further amateur dramatics, just shoved on my vest and felt the relief of it being a dark blue stripe and not white or more see through.
It crossed my mind to just announce to the group,
"argh I've done that thing where you forget to bring your underwear, ha ha" but just wasn't sure how it would go down. You don't want people to not laugh or worse think you are looking for offers of borrowed knickers. Or offering to try and help in some way. Argh just too cringy.
So I don't know if I can go back. Well I do. It costs us £10 a week and luckily my frugality overshadows my pride / self respect. Hmm something in that!