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Wednesday, 13 November 2013

Baby Massage.

So, throughout my pregnancy I flat out refused to go to any kind if classes. Not only because I was on bedrest for a lot of it, but because I had absolutely no interest in talking to other expectant mothers.
Pregnancy was not my fortè. In fact, I hated most of it and couldn't wait for it to be over, so the last thing I wanted to do was go and chat to other preggos that were having the time of their life. This, it would turn out would be quite the error, as I could have done with a heads up on how to actually look after a baby. 

Last week my health visitor came round, probably to make sure I hadn't left Arabella in Starbucks or something, and invited me to a few classes, baby massage, first aid and just a Friday group that's 'invite only' aka for all the mothers they think need a bit of support. 

It's only now I can actually admit I need a bit of support really. Living in St Albans isn't the easiest for me, I don't really know anyone other than James' family and friends so I tend to feel really isolated and I find it incredibly difficult. I don't really have friends I can go out with on my own, Central London Is a bit too far for a casual night out really with my ladies and my family are hours away. I'm very much on my own. It's about time I met new people and time Arabella got to interact with some other babies. 

So last Friday, James and I went to our first baby massage class. We arrived, a standard ten minutes late, all hot and bothered to a room of about 9 other women, their babies and two health visitors. I probably should have gone on my own but I don't think I would have been able to get though the front door without him there.
We all sat in a circle with our babies on changing mats and had to sing each of them a song so we found out their names, I thought this was a bit weird but the babies liked it. I just felt like I was back in nursey again, and also one of the little boys name's was Clem? Strange name, cute kid. 
After that, we got our babies in their nappies and rubbed some massage oil in the palm of our hands, learnt how to massage one leg, and as I picked her up, I turned her around to see all the other babies and she jolted forward throwing herself from my hands and onto her mat face first. 

I suggest making sure your hands are oil free before picking up a post-massaged baby, as I had never dropped her before and I will never, ever forget the looks of horror and judgement that I saw in the faces of those fellow women, who tried to laugh it off but really I knew they were all judging me in their heads even though I'm sure they've made a mistake whilst trying to control their bambinos, not that they would ever admit it. 
Somehow I managed to compose myself without crying, but inside I was on full blown meltdown, so horrified and I really felt like I was a terrible negligent mother, when really I am absolutely smitten with my baby and would never dream if hurting her. Arabella was completely unfazed by this ordeal and was laughing the whole time. I really do hope that she isn't a female baby version of jonny Knoxville. I think the worst thing about it is that she's so much smaller than all the other babies. Even ones younger than her. She's like a china doll, so visibly fragile, she's like a 3 month old newborn!

On Friday I will return for class 2 of 4, hopefully on my own, and hopefully filled with artificial confidence made up of knowing that Arabella has a better pram, because really that's all it comes down to in the end.

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Alexandra Loves x

Sunday, 10 November 2013

Steam burns, cook responsibly.

So, i'm an idiot. Last night I was supposed to be having a chilled saturday evening with a nice easy meal. It didn't end that way.
Who would even think about testing how hot a plastic tray is from taking it straight out the microwave with bare hands? Not me. 
As i liften the large chicken paella filled tray from the microwave I did not anticipate it being hotter than the sun. I steam burnt my whole hand and then fell backwards throwing boiling food all over myself and falling over. 
Luckily all was not lost as some of the food stayed in the tray and didn't end up all over the floor/myself which I was very happy about as I'd only consumed two bananas all day and I had to fight someone in Tesco's for the last microwaveable treat.
My index and middle finger are all blistered and obviously its on my writing hand so great times really.
Send me good vibes.

As you can see I'm also currently watching Kindergarten Cop. A win for us all. 

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Alexandra Loves x

Tuesday, 5 November 2013

Child fear.

Don't get me wrong, I love my daughter and my 7 year old sister and I love being around them. When it comes to other people's children, it's safe to say, the same affection until this weekend, wasn't there.

Child fear, and yes FEAR not PHOBIA is a real thing.

Its not a phobia because they are bloody terrifying. I avoid contact with them at all costs and when one approaches I've just about perfected the classic 'smile and wave' accompanied by a convincing, yet not at all inviting, fake smile.

Now, my darling James just happens to have 5 very young cousins, and last week, they just happened to be visiting.
Two belong to one aunt, and three to the other and on Tuesday I went for dinner at J's Grandmother's house to see the first two of his cousins and his parents and sister too. Luckily, they didn't take any notice to me for most the evening until we sat down for dinner, and with the absolute fear of God in my heart I brought myself to strike up a conversation.

I don't know what my initial fear of children is, maybe it's because I feel like you always have to set a good example, or because they seem to look up at you expecting you to entertain them but my lord it doesn't half insight verbal diarrhea.
What do you even talk about to a child? They are all so different! What if they think I'm just the most lame thing they've ever come into contact with? Children's emotions are known to be erratic at the best of times, so what if they shout at me? They are all girls too, at least with boys you know you can either talk about football, cars or mud and you're bound to evoke a positive reaction.
With girls it's like treading on eggshells, you can't mention boys without them getting embarrassed, fashion because lets face it, our parents dressed us as kids and you don't have a clue until you're about 15,  makeup because they don't wear anything or barbies because you're not sure you can even get them anymore. Do they even know what polly pocket is?
Anyway, my verbal shite ended up with me inviting them over on their own for lunch and pumpkin carving, which seemed to go down well. The promise of fish fingers and cheese on toast was the winner.
On the actual day, not only could we not find pumpkins for about an hour, I kept going on and on and on about things that they might like to fill the silences, like certain games such as Minecraft and Bioshock, which I know absolutely nothing about. I was just clutching at invisible straws by this point, all I play is The Sims and Skyrim. Thats about where my gaming intelligence ends, unless you played Blake Stone, because in the 90's I loved that, but lets face it, nobody has played it because nobody's heard of it.
Anyway, some of my babble must of worked because when I saw them a couple of days later they seemed to of enjoyed my company and my obviously terrific jokes, but this was just a fraction of impressing I had accomplished, the big dogs were yet to come.
All five girls at once, the fake smiles were out and the terror behind my eyes was more visible than my terrible tan but I took my newly learnt skills and applied it to these little terrors and after only a few awkward smiles and quite frankly hilarious jokes about my daughters poo, once again, what would you know, they actually seem to like me, and thought I was pretty cool.

I feel like this week my life has been similar to the first Monsters INC film, children may seem terrifying on the outside, with their wide grins and eager eyes, but on the inside they just want someone to show them where the toilet is, and hold their hand in a crowd. They also do alright at entertaining themselves.

However, I will ignore the 'I like having an new, old girl cousin' remark, thank you very much. Follow Me On Instagram!   /  Follow Me On Bloglovin!   /   Follow Me On Twitter!

Alexandra Loves x

Monday, 4 November 2013

Why you shouldn't mix going on a night out, with working out.

As we all know, it was halloween this past week and for my night out I wanted to be tanned, with freshly pink hair.
So the night before I was due to go out, I tanned and dyed my hair pink, getting both all over my crisp white bathroom, much to my man's displeasure as he found in the morning as he scoured the bath to remove all remnants of what can only be described as his own living hell.
Now, I think the most important thing when tanning, is to have a thorough shower in the morning, make sure you get into all of those bronzed nooks and crannies, and when washing your hair, make sure you get all the dye out, unlike me.

So, off I went nice and early to one of my four spin classes a week (death), got changed, went to the back of the class as I was first in, adjusted my bike etc, and one of the more annoying female personal trainers waded through the door, trying to say that the class was cancelled, but if enough people turned up she would take it. 'JOY,' I thought in the most sarcastic tone, I've just about managed to do this class properly with the normal instructor and now this patronising weasel was going to take it.

The only way to describe her is as a complete jobsworth slave driver. Not only did she know there were people in the class that were brand new to the class, (not me, hurrah!) she knew that there were people in the class that had some kind of mild injury, but alas, she insisted on trying to kill us.
Throughout the lesson she was staring at me, I felt persecuted, and differently to how I did the first time I tried spinning. This woman was looking at me like I was mad, and when you're pouring with sweat and completely out of breath, thats the last thing you want, I decided to ignore her and put it down to her glasses being the wrong prescription for a dark room with strobe lights.

There was a slightly overweight couple in front of me that were the newbies, the poor woman was so eager to try it and might as well have gone in blind folded. Before the class started, as she mounted her bike, she looked back to me for reassurance, and I replied with a smile, I knew this would be horrific for her, about ten minutes into the lesson she looked back at me once again to suggest impending death on her behalf, but ended up double taking at me, I just thought she was having some kind of dehydrated seizure. Within 5 minutes she had bolted and gone to the changing room, I thought nothing else of it.

So at the end of this lesson, I felt invigorated, and quite relieved that I'd made it through yet another 45 minutes of hell, and also made my way to the changing room. Within it, I found the new lady and tried to assure her with the classic lines of 'It's ok, it gets easier,' and 'you did so well for your first go.'
She replied with a polite thank you and then proceeded to point out that not only had my hair dye dripped down my forehead, my face and my body, but my fake tan had seemed into my t shirt making me look a bit like I'd had alcohol poisoning through cherry lambrini down myself.

I hadn't brought a change of clothes and had to walk home, trying desperately to mask my shame, if there was such a thing as, ' the morning after but the morning before,' this was it.

The moral of this story, is that if you're trying to be a sexy lady, don't rush showers. Follow Me On Instagram!   /  Follow Me On Bloglovin!   /   Follow Me On Twitter!

Alexandra Loves x

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