Soooooooooooo, I’ve been AWOL for over another twelve months. And I know the world, and you lot, have moved on. But this is still my little corner of the internet so I thought I’d revisit the old gal once again. Will there be consistent updates? Who the hell knows! But what I do know and what I can tell you is this…

I am 38 weeks pregnant with Bebe #2.

I am big.

I am fat.

I am so effin uncomfortable.

And I’m extremely sodding impatient (mainly due to Hubs not letting me find out the gender of said Bebe. Rude.)

2 weeks vs 28 weeks up the duffers!

Why aren’t these last few weeks going any quicker?! And yes, I am acutely aware of how ungrateful I sound, but my gosh do I hate these nine months. For those of you who’ve read my previous post regarding Round 1, you’ll know that me and pregnancy do not mesh well. And whilst this time around has been so much better than the first, I’ve still found it tough for entirely different reasons.

I know I’m not the only woman out there who feels this way, but I cannot describe the extent to which I dislike the lack of control I have over my body as it changes throughout the weeks of pregnancy. I work in the fitness industry and as such pride myself on the control and self-discipline I have when it comes to exercise and nutrition so to relinquish that control, no matter for how long and for what (very worthy) reason, it is still a bit of a mindf*ck.

Anyway, with newfound shares in Magnum ice cream (mine’s a mint magnum if anyone fancies donating a few!) and Whole Earth/Meridian (I’m not fussy!) peanut butter, the amount of sugar that’s been consumed is OUT OF THIS WORLD! So yes, I’ve accepted the three dress sizes I’ve gone up (although slightly disgruntled that my bust is still a meager 32B – seriously, wtf?!!), and yes, I do now have an underwear drawer consisting more of my mum’s donated cast offs than my own knickers, but my gosh am I looking forward to rocking those size 10 skinnies and my Nike lycra once again.

So with two weeks of this pregnancy left I’m going to put my feet up and scoff another bar of Dairy Milk. Well, it’d be rude not to, eh?!

Today’s post is a pretty predictable one, but since becoming parents, it’s all that more relevant. Now, like yours is, my husband is pretty damn great. Not only has he put up with me and my merry ways for an eye-watering 13.5 years, he’s been a loving husband for four (not that he wasn’t before that, we just weren’t married. Which actually makes him a bit of a sh*t for not proposing sooner), and a bloody amazing father for the last year and a half.

Actually, his awesomeness came to the fore during pregnancy when I was in the midst of my nine month hangover hell, vomiting my way through life and being carted off to hospital every five minutes. Conserving energy for when Bebe was born? Ha, no chance! Not with 5am starts, daily three hour commutes, and nine hour office days. Neither of us enjoyed pregnancy much, though Hubs did make the most of having a designated driver every time we went out of an eve!

Without him to see me through those grueling 38 weeks, I’m not sure I could have survived pregnancy, it truly tested my body to its very limit. And if you’ve read this, you’ll know that the birth wasn’t a barrel of laughs either (seriously, why don’t people warn of this stuff when you fall pregnant? Instead it’s all smiles, rainbows and unicorns!). But, because he’s basically the m*tha-f*ckin’ super-dad we survived it all.

And nearly 19 months on he’s still the m*tha-f*ckin’ super-dad. He’s the dad who still gets up at 6am to do the three hour daily commutes into town. He’s the dad who  still works the nine hour office days. He’s the dad who still comes home to cook supper when mama hasn’t had chance (read: can’t cook). He’s the dad who still shares the childcare duties, who gives Bebe his bath in the eve, who reads him bedtime stories, who lies with him at night until he falls asleep and who, because we co-sleep, takes it in turns to sleep next to Bebe despite having to rise at 6am to start it all again.

(Please note that despite how this sounds I do actually mother my child also, it’s not all left to daddy).

So today, Father’s Day, I want to send a MASSIVE shout out to my significant other for being the m*tha-f*ckin’ greatest super-dad that ever there was! And a MASSIVE shout out to all the great Dad’s out there. We’re all parents just muddling through and the fact that we’re surviving this crazy world of parenthood – well that deserves a big, fat cheers if you ask me!

Here’s to you, Dad…

(NB. Also wishing my own Dad a very Happy Father’s Day – love you!)

We’re back! It’s been over twelve months since my last post. An entire year. A year of craziness, exhaustion, returning to work, new beginnings, new endings, utter mayhem and a whole lotta milestones met. For Bebe, not me. Well, perhaps me.

In May of last year after only a few months into my blogging game I decided to take time out, not only from blogging, but also from anything work, writery, or deadline related. I had to conserve my energy as it was very much needed to focus on my latest project – Bebe!

With O. approaching the six month mark I found that, being a first time mama (though I suspect this is true of many second, third, fourth time mamas also) I wanted to focus solely on my little chunk of gorgeousness and really find my feet in this chaotic world of mamahood.

And boy is it chaotic.

We’re now over 18 months into parenthood and whilst it certainly has its moments, (you know the ones, where as you attempt to wipe your child’s vomit from himself, yourself and the bedclothes for the fourth time that evening, your mind drifts back to a time when you could be totally selfish and drink yourself into a stupor a two o’clock in the afternoon if you so wished. Ah, how good we had it once) it has undoubtedly been the most amazing year of my life thus far.

Anyway, so I returned to work after a lovely bebe-filled year off. I lasted five months (better than five minutes!), quit, and now I no longer have to contend with commuter traffic into London every day. Smug me. So as I sit here in the sunshine of the summer that Britain has finally decided to bestow upon us, I’m left contemplating next steps. My next steps. My family’s next steps. My son’s next steps (literally, he’s just started running and it terrifies me). Right now I’ve no idea where those next steps will take me, but one thing I know for certain is that I’m sure gonna enjoy their journey!

Once again it’s been a couple of weeks since I joined in with Heledd’s My Captured Moment linky over at Running in Lavender, but I’ve managed to steal a few precious moments by way of ‘me time’ to finally get something posted.

Whilst flicking through my phone today (constantly deleting pics to make room for more!) I came across this one. It was taken on Bebe’s first holiday back in March. Husbo and I took him to the Cotswolds and rented a gorgeous cottage with friends in the village of Lower Slaughter. Despite abysmal weather (England…March…standard) we had a great time and as we were about to bundle into the car to leave I quickly ran along the path to the side of our cottage to see the church I’d spied on arrival.

Anyway, it’s cute is all.

Running in Lavender

A week or so ago I was notified that some cheeky little rascal had nominated my blog in the 2015 MAD Blog Awards. Firstly, I’m grateful that one person knows of this blog’s existence and takes time out of their undoubtedly busy life to actually read my natterings. Secondly, that someone actually deems Chasing Anais nomination worthy of these awards is very humbling indeed. I thank you.

So although I can’t yet compete in the big league, should anyone else like to nominate my site for the award in the Best Baby Blog category please feel free! Click on the badge below and that should do the trick. Merci muchly!

Tots100 MAD Blog Awards