12th April: Poo, ballerinas and roast chicken

Anyone who knows me well is aware I like to start my days with a little yoga, a freshly blended turmeric and wheatgrass shot and like any true Goop subscriber twice weekly vagina steaming sessions. Not this morning, this morning the baby sat up and did a poo that went through the nappy, the sleepsuit, my bed sheet and my blanket. It was fairly horrific. Once she was naked she started to flip and spin and flail her arms until poo was being flicked around in all directions. A true poo-nado.

So I put my vagina steaming kit and wheatgrass pot plant to one side and scooped a whole load of poo infested laundry into the washer. There was no time for said yoga so I instead used my time before baby sensory to enjoy a coffee and two hot cross buns.

I very nearly posted a photo of the poo aftermath, then realised it was a bit cruel to link my blog in my insta story with the promise of hot cross buns (keep scrolling for the actual bun blog) only to confront everyone with a poopy mess. So here is a sleeping cherub instead.

I hate to be negative but Baby Sensory was boring as hell. When she said it was nursery rhymes week I mentally checked out. Also there is baby sign language which is one of those things that Giovana Fletcher told me I would enjoy and I was all on board for it but I’m too stupid to successfully complete them. That’s quite embarrassing to admit but it’s true, I can’t / won’t devote my limited brain capacity to which fingers mean sun and which mean moon. But also I don’t want to be rude to the class instructor so I generally wave my hands half heartedly like an idiot.

Also I don’t know if you are creepy like me and see strangers regularly but don’t know them so you create a little story in your head about them? There is a woman at baby sensory who is tall and skinny and looks immaculate in a zero make up way. Her baby also looks immaculate and well dressed. Now I am quite often thoroughly bored mid song but I’ll pretend it’s fun for the baby’s sake. This mum is 100% bored as hell and not afraid to show it. I like to think that she had some incredible career as a ballerina and is now on maternity leave with a room of mums with shit singing voices doing wind the bobbin up and thinking sod this I’m used to the orchestra at the Royal Opera House. But we just finished our last baby sensory and I never crept up to her and slipped in conversation if she used to work in Covent Garden and now I will never know. The feminine mystique in all senses.

But now we have a roast chicken cooking. I eat so much sugary junk it isn’t even a treat anymore so I see a roast chicken with a salty and slightly crispy skin as ultimate comfort food. I’m really loving the smell drifting around the house. Also now that I’m the only adult in the house I get to eat both wings. Perks like this absolutely make divorce worth it.

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