21 November 2006

Big Pants, Bananas and A Parrot called Lucy

I think The Chick is on his way to recovery. There are brief moments when he’s smiley, cute and yummy but he’s still prone to meltdowns due to excessive tiredness, brought on by his newly enforced nap strike. This photo is how Chickie now looks taking a nap.

There are also a few other post-bug features. He has a new rise and shine time of 6am as opposed to, my personal preference, of 8am. I am not so risey and shiny at 6am. Naps are now an utter nightmare as above. He will no longer go straight to sleep without a 1hour lullaby recital and nose strokies. Something has shifted in Chickie’s Cosmoverse as he ate a banana this morning which is unheard of.

God, if you’re reading this, as grateful as I am that he willingly ate something nutritious, I’ve always loved and secretly been quite smug that my baby has always slept well. Would you mind awfully if I swapped the banana thing for the sleeping? I don’t know how good a mummy I can be without it. Please?

Spoke to Gammy last night. There’s a new addition to the family. Her name is Lucy (not Lucy Wucy) and she’s an African Grey Parrot from an animal sanctuary. Gammy explained Lucy’s sad tale about how she was in the sanctuary as her previous owner didn’t like the way she kept plucking her own feathers out and was starting to look like a ready-cooked chicken on a perch. I asked Gammy if Lucy could speak. “Oh yes” came the enthusiastic reply, “She does the Crazy Frog Theme tune”.

My dear, sweet friend, call me cynical but I have a suspicion that the sanctuary may have been less than honest with you. You are effectively now the proud owner of the Crazy Frog incarnate. The only difference being this frog has no off switch and no requirement for batteries.

I have visions of a padded cell, the previous owner of a parrot called Lucy huddled in the middle, gently rocking to the theme tune in his head. DING DING DING DING DING…..

On a non-parrot related note, this amused me. Accountant never really comments about anything I wear. I could go out dressed as Chubacca and doubt he’d notice. Last night though, I got his attention.

I firstly need to explain that, following 3 days and nights of labour, the Hospital finally realised that the Sumo baby wedged inside my 5ft 4” frame was unlikely to be making a natural entrance. They duly provided an alternate exit and this is where my story begins.

My very practical mummy didn’t want my scar being aggravated so presented me with a purchase she’d made on my behalf. She offered me the bag and inside were the biggest pants you’ve ever seen. Due to my near death experience, I didn’t really care what I wore so put them on like a good girl.

I became rather attached to my giant pants over the coming months and have kept a secret stash in my knicker drawer for those times when I need a bit of extra comfort. Yesterday evening, following my day from hell, was one such time.

I got into bed, vest tucked into oversized pants (not that I really needed a vest as the pants are so big they kind of do both jobs). I asked Accountant a question about something and he took a long time to respond. He had a concerned expression on his face and then finally said, “Are they your mum’s pants?” “No sweetheart, they’re all mine" I replied.

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