Adult sex chatting i must fuck be text on ipad now and shagged free

My new maternal health nurse, complete with a nifty fanny pack around her waist because she liked to keep everything she needed close to her as she wasn’t a fan ‘of reaching for things.’ As was usual I’d gone to this ‘not mandatory but strongly advised’ appointment with our sex trophies’ co-creator, his father, which doesn’t seem so odd until I point out that it would have been just as useful to bring a potted plant along, given Kathleen chose not to even acknowledge his existence.‘The thing is’ I pointed out ‘Kathleen, I can call you Kathleen right? We’ve both taken time off, together, to be with him and I think it’s important to –‘ – no insult was taken. That’s my thing.’ I scrambled to pull up Facebook on my phone, only to notice 11 unread text messages had popped up, including 3 voicemails and various Facebook notifications. ‘Everything you do, write or post about from this point onwards will be met with a degree of earnest belief and genuine concern. She moves in with this stranger and it all works out happily ever after.

If you want to believe your doctor that’s your call but if I were you and I’d had a c-section I wouldn’t sit like that, not if I wanted to have another child in the future, just saying.’The colour drained from my face. ‘And then my brother left a message asking if it was true – ‘- You are not my carer.’ I assured him from our bed, wearing an adult diaper, pushing 100 kg, wheelchair idling by my side table, power pumping two boobs at a time… Gone are the days of flippant remarks, you’re part of something bigger than yourself- being a mum on social media.’ ‘But I’m not just a mum.’ ‘As of now Lou, yes, yes you are.’ I took the last remaining Teddy Bear biscuit offering none to my friend. You can still be funny in private, you know, as long as no one is watching, listening or reading you, but once you post your funny on Facebook, Twitter, Insta, blog about it, or continue to post on that You Tube Channel you made that no one ever watches – it will only be seen as a cry for help, a need for support, a plea for understanding, shit Lou, I mean with any luck you might end up a mummy blogger – purely by default.’ ‘You shut your mouth! It was a truth bomb I clearly wasn’t ready to hear. This time posting on the hilarious feeder-esque situation I now found myself in. A nuanced, funny observation on breastfeeding- My phone beeped: ‘Urine’ my partner confirmed. Ok, to recap – abandoned 7-year-old girl, moves into a squat and is discovered by a man, whose other passion aside from building maintenance, is photography.

I was the pregnant woman anyone thinking of getting pregnant needed to avoid at all costs. Wheelchair-bound thanks to crippling back pain, vaginal spasms (yes, yes it’s completely ok to be aroused by my writing of ‘vaginal spasms’’), a 35 kilo weight gain and a constant flow of discharge – I looked like and felt like a creature you’d find living under a bridge, picking at an abscess in between scaring townsfolk and eating children. That at some point I would need to concede that I had a bladder problem, albeit a temporary one, but a problem just the same and I needed to face up to it. I’m not saying college-age men can’t babysit 16-year-old girls, but this was the 80s and it was Scott Baio. too much and that’s why I wrote this, but I’m not sure how much I’d like a reboot of a show about a teen genius that would inevitably just make me question the life choices that have lead me to still be a blogger and a renter at 36. The other night I had a dream where I had to mediate the Weasley Twins from Harry Potter as they navigated a polyamorous relationship they were in while identifying as pansexual and admitting an attraction to each other because they’re turned on by the whole being related thing.

Adult sex chatting i must fuck be text on ipad now and shagged free-28

I was so excited by the idea that I had never thought for a minute that I would actually enjoy a day of abdominal surgery, spinal injections and stark realities – I was going to be a mum. From what I remember the surgery was simple enough. Based on the amount of incontinence ads I’d seen on midday TV I guess I was expecting more of an entire aisle dedicated to leakage, but alas, I’d make do with just a shelf. He also didn’t like being bounced up and down by the knees. Or how about the dream from last night where, after not falling asleep until 4am, Samuel L Jackson, Devon Sawa and myself found a secret castle just of the Burnley Tunnel Richmond exit, where Holly Valance was being held hostage by a guy I knew in high school whose claim to fame was his calf muscles.You can’t give them back when you’re the mum…but I did enjoy it. “Not everyone is as excited as you Lou,” the less angry-than-the-other-midwife said to me as I lamented everyone else’s lack of enthusiasm. ‘Not yet you haven’t…’ the midwife corrected me, ‘Gotta get it out first.’ Buzzkill. A screen went up and a few moments later a baby was presented to me scrotum-first. Now, at 28 weeks pregnant I needed to decide what sort of leaker I was, a decision, if I was being honest, I wouldn’t have thought I’d needed to make at least until I was 60 years old, at least. In order to free her, Samuel and I had to embark on a 15 year career as exotic dancers in Singapore.It was a nice thought that lasted all of 4 minutes before the pain meds started to wear off… ‘You’re going to have to learn to deal with it.’ I silently opened a packet of Teddy Bear biscuits as she continued. I also was unable to get a refund on my Beyonce tickets. ‘…and then mum said they wouldn’t pay to get my ears pierced and Hillary Clinton agreed and said she could do it herself but we needed to go to Greensborough to get the equipment and I didn’t have a valid Myki card on me – ‘ I could barely finish the sentence, as a shaking hand gripped my decaf weak long black, with extra water. ’ ‘Absolutely, I mean, take the dream about Hillary Clinton not taking you to Hungry Jacks – ‘ The waiter came over, refilling our water. Now to be perfectly candid, we had talked about having kids for while, even getting a rescue dog at one point and naming it ‘training baby’* but talking is theoretical. My point is, lots of things are great theoretically, but the actual real thing, that’s a more harrowing prospect.‘Well too late now’ a friend of mine said to me over daiquiris ‘but look, don’t worry. I felt reassured as I ordered another round of soft cheeses ‘or at the very least an adequate mother’ she continued. Of course that’s not to say that some people didn’t come out unscathed, but for the purpose of this blog post, they’re of no interest to me, as I’m clearly romanticising the era. Golden Circle would make me mum of the year or something like that for letting me kids use the non-contractor built tree house in the backyard to jump onto the illegal trampoline, using it as a launch to the swimming pool, sans pool gate. But it’s not the decade that changed the world, it’s the year 2016 and if you’re not in the business of being a responsible parent, you’re not in business full stop. I’d read somewhere that the smarter you are, the more you’re compelled to know about the in’s and out’s of pregnancy, the pros and cons, dangers etc.‘ – and there was nowhere to recharge it in Australia, so I never got my ears pierced and Hillary was so angry she wouldn’t let me go to Hungry Jacks with her. But if it was the eighties I don’t think I’d harbour as much doubt in my parenting skills as I currently do. Kids entertained themselves, cut themselves, broke themselves, got stung by bees, ate peanut butter and shoplifted copies of Playboy and Video Hits. As I’m smart and suffer from anxiety I decided that ‘knowing things’ would not be the best approach for me, thus I answered accordingly.‘I’d like to approach this pregnancy, like a teen girl, from the Appalachians, who believes in creationism and virgin birth and who’s only warning she’s pregnant comes when she gives birth in a KFC toilet, mid shift.’‘What she means’ said my partner ‘is that if you want to give us any information, best you give it to me.The outline of Melbourne glistening on the horizon, so close, yet so far… We opened this car door with as much hope as a virgin at the schoolies… It’s best to do this while wearing a house smock, compression tights and not near anyone who might want to have sex with you again in the future. I didn’t have the life experience, education, etc etc. Graduated with accolades and went back to these people to show them I’d gone and further pursued my desire to write, but at 22 I was still too young. But then I got pregnant and that fucked everything up (in a good way). I guess I wrote this because I didn’t want to post a lovely picture of my writing set-up for today without acknowledging how lucky I am to do what I love and how lucky I am that writing stuck with me all these years and never let me give up. That’s why I posted this 🙂I have to admit I was riding high, thinking I was the best new mum in the world when I went to my second maternal health check.

‘You’re an idiot’ And then without saying a word, we both jumped out of the car, pacing around it, taking deep breaths and cheap jabs at each other. Not the silence you get from slamming a car door, locking the noise within. Often people post lovely pictures that make the rest of the world think ‘why can’t my life be so perfect? Nor is it a picture that’s meant to inspire because f**k it’s hard out there if you have a dream. Sure we didn’t have it all figured out, but from where I stood, we were smashing it –bub was still alive, we were yet to drop him (on a very hard surface) and I’d started vacuuming our carpet at least once a month in anticipation that he might, you know, one day crawl and the last thing I wanted was him choking on the remnants of a truffle flavoured potato crisp from our earlier, decadent child-free days. This definitely was a conversation that could continue with background noise. ’ He fell silent for a moment, searching his brain for an incident, one where he’d fucked up so much that it would undoubtedly drive me into the arms of The Hulk. Said you posted something on Facebook, about our relationship. We somehow have managed to convince ourselves that these shows were from a better time, you know, when you stayed at home with the family, without a single smartphone screen in site and simply watched families be real families – unlike like the chaos of TV today.

Broke a bone skateboarding on the street with no parental supervision? I’ve got a folder I can put that stuff in.’ Like I said before, thank god for JK and his folder. Baby cord blood worked on pretty much the same principal.

A few days later I got an email asking if I’d like to donate my babies’ cord blood. There might be a family out there waiting for a donation and if I could help in any way it seemed like the right thing to do.

Wrong.‘ – and she said – what If you’re own baby gets sick, god forbid, and you’ve donated their cord blood to someone else’s baby?

And then I started to think, what if that happens right? Oh my god, I’m responsible for this little life in here ( pointing to my stomach) and I’ve already ruined it! Since we nearly broke up a few months into our relationship after I told my Lord of The Rings loving boyfriend (JK) that ‘I didn’t care for fantasy’ I’ve made a concerted effort to champion his interests while remaining detached and uninvolved.

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