me

The Weekend Off

I’m on my “Let’s get rid of this baby weight diet” and up to now i’m doing well if i do say so myself. I’ve lost quite a few pounds now and my clothes are feeling distinctively bigger on me.

I’m sticking to my protein shakes during the day and reasonably low carb meal of an evening , the only thing i will admit to missing is snacks.  I do become quite hungry late afternoon and late on in the evening.

Previously the hubby and I would stuff our faces watching telly while we drank copious amounts of sugary coffee (well i did, the hubby goes without).  I could easily eat a huge slice of cake as well as a large bar of Dairy Nut to myself, then if i was staying up particularly late more biscuits or even a late night take away on a few occasions, the latter didn’t happen very often but it did happen.

coffee-sugar

The more i write about my diet, the more i see how i got as fat as i am.  I love food (obviously) and although i do love a lot of healthy food  such as veggies and salad, i also love all the wrong foods. Pasta, bread (oh i love you bread), cheese (oh i love you too cheese), cake, chocolate, chocolate biscuits, pizza, oat biscuits, Indian food and all the munchies that go with it.

While i do like a wide range of food i tend to stick to the same crap all the time.  I’ll have a huge plate of bolognaise and justify the cake and biccies afterwards because i had a massive pile of salad to go with it, not to mention the garlic bread the salad was wedged between.  I’m opening my own eyes the more i write, im literally shocked by myself.

spag

Anyway enough of the being down on myself, i have literally done a u turn on my habits, except on Saturday night when i allow myself the evening off after being weighed at tea time.  Only then can i have whatever i want to eat and copious amounts of red wine to wash it down with if i feel like it.

weighing

Weigh In Day!!!!! That’s me 4th from the front with the “why did i eat that bastard Frey Bentos pie” look on her face.  (i dont like Frey Bentos pies by the way but you get what i’m saying).

But i must admit, as the weeks are going by i’m finding it more difficult to enjoy the fabulous tasting shite i used to eat, my body just can’t seem to take it, it literally goes into sheer panic.  Last Saturday evening for example i was weighed to find i’d lost a good 5 lbs so i decided a takeaway of tikka burger and chips and a few slices of pizza thrown in, along with some chocolate cookies, a hand full of popcorn and a bottle of red wine would be my treat of the day.  Over a few hours i ate and drank it all along with sugary coke, by the time id put the last piece of food into my mouth i literally couldn’t move.  That’s weird i used to easily be able to do this.

I was watching a film with my hubby and my eldest son (Trainspotting 2 for anyone interested and it was alright, not as good as the first), All i could do was lie back with my legs up on Anthony like a literal couch potato, King Eddie’s had nothing on me, i felt vile.  I was hot, beyond thirsty (more coke thanks) and my stomach was a huge ball that was uncomfortable to say the least.

5198855-mr-and-mrs-potato-head-620x350 Me, just not on a couch, i literally was Mrs Potato Head watching a film.

I went to bed about two hours after the film finished and the food had gone, i was still the same my body seemed to go into shock, i felt like if someone squeezed me i’d pop.  I lay in bed for a good hour or so just trying to get my greedy, overindulged body comfortable.  Throwing in a little panic attack, I think i fell asleep from exhaustion eventually,  i couldn’t help but wonder how i used to eat like that? on a regular basis, how do i have panic attacks from just being full? and i think it’s my body’s response to the wear and tear i’m putting on it, it’s telling me to stop, to look after it, it’s my body’s way of telling me that what i’m doing is wrong.

I got up the next day and instead of repeating my usual habit of “oh it’s Monday tomorrow i’ll start then”, i got straight back on it, bottle of water and a protein shake down the neck and i was right back on track, i also felt so much better in myself by doing so.  My day actually lifted, i felt in a better mood and my head and body felt a little clearer.

I will still have Saturday nights off, its something i need to do or i won’t stick to my plan throughout the week, and every diet i have ever done has involved me having a night off, it’s just now i will limit myself to a couple of treats instead of a whole weeks worth in one go. I need to remind myself that not everything fits in my mouth and my belly.

350

note to self!!!!

Purdey Makes 6 xxxxxx

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Scummy Mummy

I’ve worn make up since i was roughly 14 years old.  i didn’t have to dabble in my mums make up bag she came to me and asked would i like some make up, i was fortunate enough that she took me straight to the local Clinique counter to have my make up done and have the basics bought for me.  Christmas fast approached and my presents were literally everything i could get my hands on from Clinique.

Scummy mummy

Since then it still remains my all time favourite brands and has never failed me, from make up to skin care products ive literally tried everything they had to offer.  At 35 with my 36th lurking in the nearish future my make up bag currently stocks at least a few of Cliniqes products along with added Max Factor and Mac, unfortunately the contents only leave the bag a couple of times a week at best.

As a mummy of 6 beautiful children my time is firmly focused on them and keeping my house neat and tidy (although if you visit unannounced you will most definitely find one or two children’s toys strewn across my living room and a random shoe most likely sat at the top of my stairs).

On a general day my cleaning and tidying will start literally from the moment i put my feet on the floor, i quickly make the beds and clear up the remnants of whatever the kids have been playing with that morning (usually something they shouldn’t like my sewing kits).  Ill brush my teeth and have a wash/shower and pull on either a clean pair of pj’s or my staple black leggings and some sort of black t shirt, i keep my regular clothes for the days im out so the bog standard black comfy stuff always makes an appearance.  The hair gets a quick brush and literally thrown in a knot on the top of my head, if im feeling adventurous ill sling a hair band or head scarf around for a bit of colour and im good to go.

Bog standard mummy

Its not that i have no desire to look nice every day, i do, the compulsion is still there from before i had kids, the days when i washed and straightened my hair every single day, the slap was put on in full, the nails were always painted and the roots were always touched up.  I managed this until baby number 4, when finally i succumbed to comfort rather than beauty.

Before baby number 4

When i do make the effort to put my face on i do tend to do it in full depending on the look im going for, i love red lipstick and not only does it make teeth look whiter it also makes your lips look fuller, (always a good idea to entice the hubby for a cheeky smooch when the kids aren’t looking).  Its times when im wearing my make up that i will volunteer to have pictures taken with the hubby or the kids.  This isn’t the only time i have my picture taken but in as far as posting it on social media for all the world to see.

Red lipstick is my first love

My husband loves me with or without make up but he is partial to no make up at all so has a tendency to take photographs of me when he sees me at my best, which for me is usually my worst.  I can be rolling around on the floor with the kids or in the middle of doing the dishes when i feel an arm around my waist and a phone in front of my face, my very clean, very bare face, hair looking like a burst mattress wearing an old t shirt that i love to sleep in that belonged to my dad.  I hate these types of photographs im there in all my glory for everyone to see, every bump, every blemish, the scar that’s so prominent on my forehead without make up, i literally loath them.  I will sit and dissect each little mark, pore etc, the hubby gets told in no uncertain terms to delete them, i know he doesn’t delete them but he knows his life wont be worth living if he shows anyone.

Scummy wifey

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I make a point of only posting what i class as the reasonable photos, i get likes on my social media and for some reason it makes me all the more aware of how i look, the dreaded confirmation that someone has actually looked at my mush, its very rare you will find me alone on the pictures, there’s always a small child or my hubby for company.

you look different on your Facebook pictures” is something i have heard in the past, not sure whether to take offence i wonder what to make of that comment, are they saying i merely look a bit happier or brighter, or is it in fact i look alright on Facebook in reality im an ugly bitch who needs a bag over her head, i honestly don’t know.

I do pride myself on being very good at hiding a multitude of sins with make up, i can make myself look happier, more alert, thinner, more toned, tanned you name it i can do it, ive picked up many tricks of the trade over the years and i use them to my advantage given half the time.  But for the most part, quite frankly i just cant be arsed!!!!! i love having a clean and tidy home, i love spending time with my kids and my husband i love sewing and drawing and talking to my friends, i love my neighbours coming around for a brew or something to eat and while id like to say i do all this with a full face on and wearing my best clothes, there simply just isn’t the time and something has to give.

So i will go on inflicting my unmade mug on the world, my leggings that could do with being a bit less slack on the bum and my t shirts that sometimes cling too much to my post natal, wobbly belly, im a mummy and im happy with that so what if ive chipped my toe nail polish or my fake nails need a bit of TLC, this doesn’t make me a bad person this makes me human, a loving wife, a good friend and yes sometimes a scummy mummy but nevertheless ill do it and ill make sure i’ll do it while grabbing mummy hood by the balls!!!!!!

Bit of a filter and a bit of lippy

me

Twenty Things About Me

1. I am 35 years old

2. I have 6 beautiful children

3. I am from Liverpool

4. I love the 1940’s & 50’s

5. I have over 40 tattoos

6. I collect vintage tea cups

7. I love drawing and sewing

8. My best friend is my husband

9. My favourite food is toast

10. I love port and cheese

11. I fiddle with my nose ALL the time

12. I love red wine

13. My dream is to open a vintage tea room and book store

14. I’m terrified of tortoises (I’m not putting a picture up I can’t look at the things)
15. I have climbed Mount Snowdon

16. I’ve had 3 natural births and 3 C-section’s

17. I am 5 foot tall

18. My favourite place on earth is my bed

19. I am an only child

20. My family are my world

Purdey makes 6 XxX

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Saturday morning chaos

Lying in bed in a very rare deep sleep I’m woken by the sound of my number three quietly coming into my bedroom. “Muuuum the babies are in the spare room throwing dads tools around” Great!!!!!!! 5am even better!!!!!!

The hubby gets up, crisis averted. Everything easily tidied up, the last time the gruesome twosome got up to their dastardly deed they painted my bathroom floor as well as the boys newly built castle/fort bunk beds.

Husband and kids all settled back to bed the house fell quiet for all of 20 seconds, the baby was obviously lulling me into a false sense of security and started to wiggle and squirm,

OK let’s get her fed then I might catch an extra hour or so, where’s her bottle. There was a pre made bottle by my bed. Had I fed her and completely erased it from my memory, had I been in that deep a sleep the husband woken and fed her (very unlikely it’s like waking the dead waking that bugger up). Then there it lay, the evidence, on my bedroom floor a tiny pink bottle lid off completely empty. One of my little tinkers had snuck in like a silent assassin and drank the evidence, quietly polishing the milk off and sneaking back out quiet as a mouse without waking a single person in the house.

Luckily the baby settled with her dummy, even she couldn’t muster the energy to actually wake herself up, at twelve weeks old even she knew it was going to be one of those days.

I was woken approximately an hour later “muuuuum the babies have painted the bathroom” with what?!?!?!? Where do they find these things?!?!?!? We checked on them they were asleep, when did they wake up?!?!?! How did they get past us all?!?!?!?! My questions went unanswered when I saw my pristinely white bathroom suit with grey paint splodges all over it. Luckily a packet of baby wipes and some elbow grease later it was back to normal although the same can’t be said of my shower curtain.

The whole house was now awake. The husband had to go out to buy more baby milk so I was left with “muuuum he’s just done this” “mum can I have some wewtabix” “mum she’s just called me Olga” “muuuuum” “mum” “mummy” “mamma” “LA LA LA” “mum can I have a drink” “ding ding ding mummy I jumping” (yes on my newly changed bed I’d literally just made) “mamma pooooood” “mum I’ve got bad blood” “mum can I hit Oliver” oh my Christ deep breaths I’m going to EXPLOOOOOOOODE.

“WHATS GOING ON” OH thank you dear lord, the hubby is back. Everything stops. Everyone literally freezes, daddy is here!!!!!

Daddy can stop the kids in their tracks within a split second, they stand up take notice (highly likely because they all know he’s their main dealer, their Sweetie dealer, late night stay up dealer, the one who will barter with them to meet in the middle who sneaks them biscuits if they play by the rules) quite clearly I don’t have the same authority.

Peace is restored, I’m casually lying in bed feeding the baby, the kids are all getting dressed (in a fashion) and the hubby is boiling the kettle. I love days like these, when the chaos of first thing disappear and calm and peaceful is the atmosphere for the rest of the morning. I’m not mentioning what the afternoon may bring because that could be a very different story, but for the time being I relax into a tranquility that may not last very long but it’s here for the moment at least.

Purdey makes 6 Xx

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Me & my brood

Lying here at midnight with my new baby girl in my arms, my house is silent and everything is beyond still. I look at my beautiful baby and I’m filled with so much love and butterflies in my tummy that I could literally burst. It’s feeding time and I’m hoping that Purdeys tiny, kitten like cry isn’t going to wake any of the children up who are fast asleep in the room next to us. It’s moments like these I wish I could bottle, that I could live in forever, where everything is peaceful and care free also most importantly, quiet.

Because quiet is a luxury in our house, in fact I’d go as far as saying I’d hate to live next door to us, not that we’re bad, horrid, unkempt, rowdy, party throwing ASBO holders, but we are in fact a noisy larger than life bunch who purely based on the number of us tend to stand out from the crowd.

Myself and my husband are proud mummy and daddy to six vibrant little people, three of whom are currently under the age of two and a half. We own a very large Labrador crossed with a blood hound who takes up half of any room due to his sheer size as well as eight fluffy, squeely guinea pigs. Along side this I also have my own nonprofit guinea pig rescue, so can double the amount of piggies at any time.

Our house is in fact a madhouse. It’s a madhouse that I’m so proud of and I love very very much, it’s a house I invest a lot of time and care into, a house that I organise and keep clean and tidy at all times, not because I have to, but because I want to, I think most people would assume a house of eight people would be impossible to care for and have any pride in but it really isn’t. My house is not perfect I still have a full washing basket from time to time and yes my skirting board in the living room could do with a touch up, the kids rooms have to be tidied daily but between us all we manage it and we do while filling this little house with lots of noise, giggles, laughter, smiles, farts, burps and smelly feet and most importantly, love.
This is where I’ll be writing my blog that will be full of tales of living with a large family, there’s never a dull day in our house and there’s always something to relay a story about which is exactly what I intend to do. Even now, as my number four comes into our bedroom after vomiting all over the place for the second time today, there is always something eventful going on.

Keep up to date with my tales as a mummy of six and wife of one, you can follow me on instagram as well as signing up to my blog for regular articles and updates.

Happy reading.

Purdey makes 6 X