Birthday's, Benders and Babies

Let's start from the beginning...

After a couple of days in Lovely London, I came home to my wonderful Little Aussie and her Mum and Aunt visiting. So, being the hospitable person I am, I invited them all over for a bit of dinner and a sociable drinkie-pooh. And by sociable, I mean very sociable. I absolutely took advantage of Super Valu's 3 bottles of french wine for €25, in fact, not only did I take advantage of it, I abused the bejaysus out of it.  By all rights, I should have been curled up in the fetal position begging for a Priest to give me my last rights on Saturday morning, but I wasn't. I got up bright as a lark and  thirsty as desert dweller, but I made soup and porridge bread (which I must have made wrong cause it was rank) and I made a lovely dinner for that evening, to provide soakage for round 2.  Yes, you heard me correctly, round 2.  Before going out on Saturday evening I did a bit of shopping and bought a pair of jeans one size smaller than usual. I  didn't end up wearing them out though until round 3... For round 2, I slipped on a pair of mint green skinny jeans.  These jeans are super significant. The last time I wore these I wasn't even a married woman! Oh no. They were purchased for wearing the night before I became a wife. And not only did they zip, they fit! I felt amazing. And so happy with myself for all my hard work.

Here I am looking very pleased with myself!

And, not only was I in pre-wedding jeans, I was in pre-pregnancy shoes too!! I have loads of lovely shoes that do not fit since I got pregnant, but apparently I am getting skinny feet as well as cheek bones! 

I headed off out into the night with my girlies and I had an absolute ball for myself. I didn't rock in until 4am. I danced the feet and legs off myself, accumulating 5,888 steps between 12am and 4am - impressive footwork for sure! And once again, I fully expected to be pleading for death by firing squad when I woke up, but I was grand! Which was great, cause I had to get ready for round 3... And round three was a scream! Out for the Dubs, well, I won't say that I was out FOR the Dubs, cause anyone who knows me knows I could care less about football and all that business, but I was out because of the Dubs and had another kicking night. With no hangover! So apparently, turning 33 means no hangovers, hurray! 

Because of this PMA and bag of aura cleansing material I am carrying around with me these days, my three day bender did not leave me with a bad dose of the Fear and a mountain of negative thoughts! Instead, I took my crazy weekend for what it was, a once off blow out, I dusted myself down and fell asleep on the couch on Monday evening, like the Nana I truly am, before heading to bed at 8am to sleep soundly for a good 12 hour stretch. Refreshed and ready to make it to a weight watchers class Tuesday evening.

But alas, it was not too be! Because Tuesday was spent nursing a very very sick little baby. One that had lots of high temps and needed lots of cuddles and comfort and antibiotics and nurofen and water and just anything at all to relieve her pain and discomfort. My Dolly has tonsillitis again. The poor little divil spent all of Tuesday and Wednesday pretty much curled up on my lap. No more partying... instead it was preparing bags in case we had to go to the hospital with her and trying to get her temps under control.. See why high jinx and baba's don't mix!

Holly's Bed Time Bed Fellows 

Birthday's aren't the same as the were pre-baba days - not that my liver would agree with you after the weekend I had. It was such a stressful couple of days with my poor sick girl that I didn't really think too much about the day itself. Until I was given a birthday present to beat all birthday presents.  Himself was very good this year, really out did himself by giving me my very own designer baby that is to be kept very far away from the real baby...

The celebrations are over, my mojo is back, I'm moving again and tracking again and I am going to make up for lost time this week with loads of soups and low point meals. I am looking forward to my weigh day on Monday.

This is me at 6.30am this morning after sweating the face off myself for 40 mins! 

Operation Skinny Bitch is back in action after a brief hiatus! 

Weigh Day - End of Week Three

It’s the end of Week 3 and the start of Week 4.  Week 4 is usually “Jack It All In and have a Curry” week for me. But this time round it’s going to be ‘Keep her Lit’ week. I started weigh day as I mean to go on, with a good old workout to get the heart pumping good and fast before work. I have worked out every day since last Monday. That’s never happened in all my life. And I’m not even working out for the sake of it. I am doing it because I really want to do it.  I am enjoying challenging myself with different You Tube videos.  The only issues I really have is my inability to co-ordinate all my limbs.  Everything is smooth sailing when it’s just the lower half of my body or the upper half of my body, but when I have to combine the two… lets just say it’s not pretty. I can’t get it all to work in unison, with the result, I look like I am thrashing around the place just drowning in the air. But I’m doing it, and the lady on the TV assures me that I don’t have to be perfect, I just have to keep moving, so I’ll take her word for it!

My PMA is through the roof. I am delighted with all the effort that I am putting in. I’m enjoying my food and moving more and it’s helping me with sleeping better, being more patient and just overall feeling very happy. Although Himself did mention that I looked a little bit cross recently, so I must pass the ‘I’m delighted with life’ message on to my face!  The PMA is so high, that my whinging unhappy insomniac of a Dolly couldn’t even drive me to ordering a take away! Oh no Sir.  Usually, when my favourite tiny human gives me a day like she did yesterday, when she’s done nothing but cry and refuse to sleep, I am exhausted (which I was) and feel hard done by (which I totally was!) and so I cheer myself up with a take away because I haven’t the energy to cook. Not this time! I got her to bed and decided that I really didn’t want to go fluffing about making a big dinner, so I “treated” myself with a little sausage sandwich and a packet of popcorn, and it was delicious! All within my points and no crazy “I hate myself” guilt!!

It is only the start of Week 4, but I am beginning to notice little things are changing – like I don’t grunt as loudly when I bend to pick something up these days. That’s always a nice change.  I have some tops that are beginning to look a little bit big on me. But then I lose the run of myself and beat my hips and ass into something skin tight and body con and realise that  -2lb does not equate to -2 stone, so I have to shout in the mirror “Get your ass outta that lyrca and into something a little bit more forgiving”….

Some of my favorite meals this week included a lovely Strawberry and Feta Cheese Salad which can be found here and also a gorgeous Grilled Hake and Avacado Sauce which can be found here

Last Monday I set myself a goal of 70k steps for the week by bed time tonight.  At 9pm yesterday evening, I had achieved 71k steps, and as I type, I am currently at 75,184.

This weeks stats:

So with all that effort, I would be really happy to be down 1lb. Regardless of what the scales says, I know that I have put in a massive effort and I am still remaining very focused on the positive changes that I am already seeing and have faith that even if the scales choose to ignore all my efforts, all the sweaty and fuzzy headed sacrifices I have made this week.  Even if it doesn’t take into account all the ice cream and chocolate and fizzy cola bottles I resisted, I know that it will eventually pay off and I will start to see results.  Rome wasn’t built in a day, as himself says, so in this case, RachMc won’t be deconstructed in a day either!

Now, excuse me while I go pray to the Pooh Gods, cause it’s weigh day today! 

Poking Fun at it All

If you were hearing thunder around 6am this morning in the Kinsealy / Holywell area, don't blame mother nature, it wasn't her... it was me running around the place!

Everybody needs good neighbours - Can I have yours?

I think I may need to drop a copy of the theme tune to Neighbours in next door... I am beginning to immensely dislike them.

Next door there is a mother and two teenager girls. Last summer there was nothing but hassle. My front door was egged, my kitchen window was egged and my car was egged all by their hormone raging, bum fluff growing mates that roamed in and out of the house all summer. They spend most of their time screaming and banging. I swear to God, I hope no one ever breaks in and they scream for help because we will literally just think its their usual nightly behaviour. Their screaming and shouting and banging and, what I can only assume from the sound of it, furniture rearranging at some unearthly hour of the night is so loud that it is picked up by the baby monitor.

There are nights I have gone and checked on Holly before bed only to realise that they are so loud they might as well be standing over her cot shouting at her.

Thankfully, she is a child that could sleep through the apocalypse, a trait she inherited in equal parts from her mother and father. But every now and then the noise levels are so high that the poor child wakes up thinking the world is coming to an end in a blaze of teenage angst.

Last night I lost it. They were partaking in their usual 1am furniture shuffle and shout and it woke me and the baby. I hit the roof. I flew from my warm cozy bed and down the stairs, out the door and hammered on their door like a crazed banshee with homeless hair.

Teenagers are rude. I don't ever remember being rude like this. Not even slightly afraid of this sleep disturbed woman standing in front of them. I mean, not that I like to admit it and if they said it to me I would vehemently defend myself, but to them I am old and should, therefore, be feared. But they didn't care. Not one bit.

So I fumed back to bed vowing to make all the noise in the world today to disturb their sleeps. Little witches...

I am currently looking at houses. There are very specific requirements;

In the middle of no where
No neighbours
A fireplace that works
A moate to ensure no neighbours can be built in the vicinity of my new house

Poking Fun at it All

Poking Fun at it All

Poking Fun at it All

Poking Fun at It All

Thought for Today

Thought for Today

I am assuming that, by burpees, they are not warning me of of the dangers of possible loud belches after consumption....

Thought for Today

This too shall pass

When good aul Ab Linclon uttered this phrase, its unlikely that he was referring to the ups and downs of parenthood, but I can honestly say that this phrase has got me through some pretty dodgy phases. As I sit here, breathing a sigh of relief that the Anti-Christ's meaner and more bad tempered sister is having a nap, I  utter this phrase over and over to myself and wonder if it is OK to crack open the warm bottle of Baileys that has been sitting in my utility room for the last 18 months?  Why Baileys? While it is not my tipple of choice on a normal day, it is the only tipple in the house that contains alcohol...

My beloved Anti-Christ is teething hard. She is a bag of cats. Thankfully, she can't move yet so it's easy enough to walk away from her safe in the knowledge that she doesn't know how to follow me. I know that this phase will pass us by and we will move on to something else within a week.

So, Operation Transformation... Well, the Anti-Christ decided that Friday night was the night that she would exercise her right to scream the house down for  hours and hours on end and keep me awake so as to ensure that she had a bit of company while screaming. It was a wonderful time for us both! As a result, when she eventually did go to sleep, it was late late late in the night which meant that when Himself tried to get me out of bed, my eyes were glued shut from exhaustion. I literally couldn't open them! It was like one of them almighty hangovers you get from mixing wine and a spirit. I felt like I was buried with 100 feet of earth on top of me. So he left me alone and I slept my head off and missed the first week.

When I eventually got up, I decided that I could no longer ignore the inevitable, so, like the frightened little Ostrich that I am, I pulled my head out of the sand and gently started the ascent onto the scales. I was pretty sure that the eating shame I had been partaking of all over Christmas was going to result in the loss of all my dignity and the gaining of about 20 stone! Thankfully, I actually only went up 4lb over Christmas, so that's ok - well, sort of!

I will be attending the group next weekend - sleepless night or not! And I think I will be heading out on my own to escape my Anti-Christ, I mean to go for a walk... eh, not escape anything!

A lovely friend of mine sent me on this picture from the olden days as thinspiration.  I was fifteen ...

All I can say is maybe I had to put on loads of weight to reduce the size of my ears... Thank God I grew into them bad boys!!!

Poking Fun at it All

Poking Fun At It All

Finally Found Out What Is Wrong With Me

Poking Fun at it All

Poking Fun at it All

Poking Fun at it All

Weight Loss Tip...

Exercise Tip