When someone writes as their Facebook status ‘I think I am going to explode’, you would be correct in thinking that they are angry.
When I write ‘I think I am going to explode’ as my Facebook status it is because I literally think I am. The girls at my local milk factory don’t seem to be slowing down production and I quiet often feel that I am about to flood my street with a wall of fresh human milk.
This morning was particular bad. It has been over 7 days since Lil D decided the ‘bops taste yuck’. I imagined some discomfort until things settled but not the ability to provide milk for everyone’s cup of tea in my entire town 7 days on.
So I asked readers on my Facebook page their advice. What a hive of information you all were. Why yes, two bottles of wine was my favourite option out of all of them, but I really need to try the cabbage leaves first.
I made the mistake of taking Nanny MMM out for morning tea after our FB discussion and before I had addressed the milk issue. Actually, taking Nanny MMM out wasn’t a mistake,despite her not seeming too concerned she had forgotten to change out of her slippers. (Man I can’t wait to hit 70 and be able to do this shit worry free.)
What was a mistake however was walking past the howling newborn baby. Fark. I almost needed an empty milk bottle. (For those of you who have no idea what I am on about, a crying baby … Any baby, even not your baby, will send your milk down and out to soothe it.) In my case I probably would of hosed it and it would have cried even more.
Anyway. Moving right along with Nanny MMM in her slippers. I had a phsyio appointment for my dodgy knee. (Have I mentioned / whinged about this before?)
Nanny MMM, watched Lil D at home throw the most spectacular stage show aka tantrum whilst I took off to try to improve my ability to stand on one leg and wear heels again.
This is me on the Pilates machine at the physio, strengthening my legs. All was ok until they hooked my feet into some sort of bondage straps and I was to push away with my legs, all whilst laying on my back. (With my udders ready to explode again). So yeah, I am sure you have a visual you don’t really want or need now. Sorry.
After a 30 min session of unlady-like positioning, I waddled out to the car not sure if my legs were going to collapse or If I had black eyes.
It was decided by the youngest Thespian (meaning the toddler that throws the tantrums), that we needed to put fuel in the car and wash it. So we did. Because I am utterly manipulated like that.
This is us in the car wash. Seconds before all hell broke loose and the little ideas’ man in the back screamed the car apart. Notice how white I look. I think my milk is draining into other parts of my body making me look paler.
Given this new concern for myself, (That I was starting to look like a milk bottle) I made an executive decision that we were going out for dinner. To the pub of course. Nothing flash, just cosy. Mr MMM’s boss joined us. I am not sure he was aware of my possible explosive condition when he sat in the booth next to me. Otherwise, I am sure he would of been more nervous
Anyway, it was the first time out for dinner in almost a year. More importantly, the first time out ever with Lil D that I didn’t have to expose some flesh to shut him up.
So today is almost done. I am writing this post and thinking about whether or not I will explode before morning, despite taking some measures to reduce the risk.
If by chance you never hear from me again you know what has happened. Actually that could be one of two things ; exploded or suffocated under the udders.
Ps. I had to fold this shit storm up before I could find my bed too tonight 🙁 it was a terrible experience on top of the udder issue.