The other night nagnagnag and I were chilling out and watching a program about a woman’s struggle with her excessive weight and how she is overcoming her issues to be healthier….

Nags: She weighs 700lbs right?

Me: Yes.

Nags: And there’s 14lbs in a stone……

Me: Mmmm.

Nags: So, if you divide 700 by 14 you’ll get her weight in stones.

Me: Yup.

Nags: Go on then….

Me: What?

Nags: If you divide her weight up you can see how much she was before she lost all the weight! Go on….

Me: Um, nags?

Nags: Yeah?

Me: Do you remember what this program is called?

Nags: Yeah, it’s The 50 Stone Woman.

Me: Ok……

Nags: Why?

Me: *smiles at him waiting for the moment to dawn*

Nags: ……………………..OH! *blush* Yeah, um, oh…….yeah.

Me: LOL!

Bless ;o)

Yesterday nags brought home a 3 pack of these:

I thought they sounded grim, chocolate with spices and stuff, plus he’s made me taste an ordinary magnum the day before and I was less than impressed, so when he asked me to try the Mayan Mystica I was petty reluctant. Eventually he wore me down and I had a nibble and Oh. My. God. It was like eating an angel (I’m guessing all celestial entities are made of chocolate, it stands to reason as chocolate is ridiculously heavenly) and I devoured it with increasing surprise at it’s pure loveliness.

Today when I decided to eat another I was harassed by my 7 month old boy who wanted a taste (he’s at that stage where he wants to copy everything mummy does) so I gave him a small taste (I think that letting him experience different flavours will help him to not be a fussy eater when he’s older, but I obviously avoid things his little digestive system is too immature to handle) and sadly, just like his parents he was smitten.

I ate the ice cream as fast as I could to minimise the grumbled requests for more from my little one, but I ended up giving him a couple of big sucks of the lush lolly. Bless his heart when I went to take a pic of us eating it, in true model fashion (as he always seems to do when he spots a camera) he turned to the lens and grinned for the shot, I think this kid was born to cope with paparazzi!

Anyway, the Magnum Mayan Mystica definitely has the seal of approval from us all in the house, I just hope that nags doesn’t buy anymore or my planned new healthy eating regime will be out of the window, and if I don’t watch it that will also be my only means of exit, via a winch and the fire brigade!

Yes it’s ridiculous o’clock again, I’m shattered beyond belief and here I am tapping away in the keyboard.

I am sincerely hoping this blog is not jinxed and that someone else I love doesn’t pop off to heaven after I have posted something because that would be a step too far and I would totally lose the plot, but assuming all will be well I am (tentatively) back.

Things have been pretty shite this year so far to say the least and if truth be told I am still not over it all, I’m sure those of you that know me will completely understand if I break in to deep and melencholy bloggage from time to time, but I am hoping these expressions of the broken parts of my soul will be few and far between and the more bonkers Diva will be seen on these pages.

I’ve been thinking about getting back to blogging for a while now, and inspired by the lovely and unbelievebly talented Miss Nikkipolani I gave it another heartfelt think. The thing that finally pushed me back is finding my old 20six blog on google! Typing in Diva and Oafish People came up with my first ever blog, filled with excited new love and hilarious stories of nagnagnag being as daft as a brush.

It was odd scrolling through the archives, reading entries in a time that was pre-Lincoln, it was a time of frequent travel up and down the M1 and it was a life when Bert was still here in all his affectionate and entertaining glory and granny was a welcomed distraction I pootled off to call. The blog was filled with silliness from me and my other half ‘nagnagnag’ and photos of nights out, comments from virtual friends and soon to be real friends set to become as close as sisters.  I missed it all and figured now was as good a time as any to try and get back on the blog horse, so here I am.

I shall be of course be trying to persuade nagnagnag to come back, it was great to have him snuggled up nearby and I know for a fact he’s actually already started a wordpress blog so the hard part has already been done.

Anyhoo, as I have wibbled on about….well not a lot really… I will leave you with a blog from the past. Since rediscovering my old blog there have been some memories I’ve wanted to return to so now and again I’ll pop a few on here for you to enjoy with me. Here’s the first and I hope it makes you giggle as much as it did me:

Blasphemous Humour

We had a bloody good chuckle on Tuesday night. We were at nagnagnag’s parents for dinner and had just settled on the sofa to chill out after a lovely roast meal, when Nagnagng’s sweet mum said that she wanted to watch the program on the Tourette teenagers, to which nagnagnag’s dad said that he reckoned nagnagnag’s mum should have been on the program. When asked why, it turns out that earlier that day she had been talking to a friend about going to a fancy dress party in her nightie, and said would tell the hosts that she had come dressed as nursery rhyme character Wee Willie Winkie. Except she got it wrong and, bless her heart, ended up saying she’d go to the party dressed as Wee Willie Wanker.

*chortle* :o)

See you again soon

Diva xxx

Hiya, I had a couple of mins so I thought I’d jot down some thoughts in a cathartic manner.

I must just say thank you all very much for your support and comments, they are all very much appreciated, I hope you will forgive me for not going round the blogs at the mo and repaying in kind but I’ve been a miserable and temperamental old bugger recently but I know you wonderful guys will forgive me for being so unsociable.

I’ll be back to my usual nutty self soon I’m sure, I’ve just got some healing to do.

Anyhoo, we’re of to Bim (Barbados) on Thursday for the funeral and burial and obviously I’m not looking forward to it in the slightest. Mum has booked us in to luxury accommodation in an attempt to cheer us all up but both mum and I realised today it’s not cutting it. The hotel itself is fabulous, you can see it here The Crane, we’re staying in the penthouse for the first two nights until the suites we want are ready (the whole island is booked solid so we have to swap rooms after two days to get what we want) Sim, Lincs and I will be having our own ocean view suite with private 28ft infinity pool, while mum and her bloke will be having a similar suite next to us. All the s’lebs are supposed to go there but even that hasn’t made me excited.

Normally I pack about 2 weeks prior to going but I’m sitting here in my pyjamas knowing I have a mountain of packing still to do, along with tidying and other stuff and I just cannot be arsed.

Everyone has been saying I must try my best to enjoy my trip and they are right, I must, granny would have been so upset to see me moping around, she was so big on family that should have be happy that in some way she engineered the family meeting Lincoln and Sim, so I will do my best to get in to it, but it’s really, really hard.

We’ll be there for about 8 or 9 days after the funeral so we’ll have some time to try and make a holiday of it. I’ll maybe even blog from there cos we have complimentary net access in the rooms, mind you I had net access in hospital but it was like the worst dial up but then again I’m sure The Crane isn’t like an NHS hospital so maybe it’ll be fine….

I’ll be taking my camera because as someone said it’ll be Lincoln’s first trip abroad and we’ll want to remember that, regardless of the situation. I bankrupted myself getting stuff for Lincoln, he’s got floatation devices for the pool, baby banz sunglasses, the sweetest swimming trunks, a seat of his very own on the plane (he gets mardy if he has to lie down and without a seat he’d be in a cot), he has special suncream, aftersun and insect repellent, one whole suitcase more than us for his food, nappies,  bottles, wetwipes, kitchen sink etc etc, but at least we’ll be ready for every eventuality.

I best go, I have a million things to do and have just had some coffee so hopefully that will give me the energy to get on with stuff even if it doesn’t give me the heart for it.

Sorry I’m such a miserable tart, you know why I’m this way but I’m sorry to be like this in front of anyone, that said the cathartic result of typing and posting this is immense so for me being a grump in front of the www is worth it!

I’ll leave you on a positive note though, my handsome baby boy is only 5 months old but he’s said his first word, it was ‘mummy’ and he said it last night over and over with outstretched arms wanting some comfort from me! I’m so proud of him, bless his cottons.

Right, I’m off to …do something… so ttfn and thanks again, bless you.

God it never rains but it bloody effing pours.

Less than one month after my darling dog dies the woman who brought me up dies too. Yes, my beloved granny, the woman who saved my life on so many occasions I can’t even count them all passed away 13^th March 2008.

I think I got to her just a second before she passed away, I think she heard me say I was there, touch her arm and then she went. It’s still to raw for me to talk about it in detail, I have many issues with my sweet granny’s passing and although my philosophy is that when your time is up, it’s up, I still can’t shake the theory that she could have lived longer had certain circumstances (that I can’t mention here) been different.

I’ve been haring about trying to get involved in Granny’s funerals, I say funerals plural because there will be one in Surrey next week and one in the Caribbean the week after where she will be laid to rest in a family plot in Barbados, alongside my granddad, the husband granny adored her whole life.

I’m not looking forward to the trip, yes it’ll be 2 weeks in the sunny Caribbean but I usually went there with granny, plus I will be leaving her behind and to be honest the place seems empty now granny’s gone. How can I enjoy my time there when I’m there to lay the most important woman in my life to rest?  My whole life has the most massive, enormous gap now that Bert’s gone, there was an almighty huge crater when my dad went 14 years ago and now a totally immeasurable chasm now that granny has left my life.

I can’t believe the two people who kept me sane for either all or most of my life have gone so close to one another, how shit must I have been in a past life to get that break in this life? I must have tortured and killed kittens or something.  I dunno maybe just one kitten then cos I still have my two boys here. Lincoln and Simon have been a godsend, without them I think I would have quite simply have gone mad, no joke.

Sorting out the funeral has meant that I’ve been burying my head and holding off proper mourning, the last two days of peace and quiet due to the Easter holiday has been calm enough for my feelings to creep back in and depression is knocking on the door. I think the health visitor is slightly concerned because I was showing signs of post natal depression before everyone starting popping off to heaven around me so I guess when I’m back from Barbados I’ll have to keep an eye on myself, when the funerals are all over is when the silence will get me. I’ll be on my guard, as will my health visitor I’m sure.

In other news (in an attempt to post something other than death) Lincoln is being weaned now, he was screaming the house down for about a week till we realised that he wasn’t going to wait for the World Health Organisation’s recommendation of six months exclusive milk consumption before trying some food so he’s wolfing down a jar of baby rice, baby porridge or banana yogurt a day, along with regular hungry baby milk, and he’s been unbelievably contented since. He’s now sleeping right through for 12 hours solid and being the smiliest baby I’ve ever seen in the day time. His weight is perfect and he’s thriving so he’s doing well. The only small blip is thanks to teething he discovered a certain type of screaming two days ago, it was awful and he made the noise even when he’d had his Calpol and was ok (he had no tears and was easily distracted which meant he wasn’t really upset just having ‘fun’ with the screaming noise) we tried to stop him doing it but to no avail, and now he’s lost his voice - quelle surprise! So it’s off to the doctors on Tuesday to get his throat checked over, but in the mean time he seems to have given up attempting that particular noise (not that he could make it that well now anyway) so thankfully that’s a relief to us all.

Then after the docs I’m off to see granny at the funeral director. I chose her outfit which should be on her by now, and all I have left to do is her make up and hair. It’ll be a closed casket but I want her to look nice, if you know what I mean.

Simon and I designed her coffin, it’s lilac with purple flowers all along it (granny’s favourite colours) and I helped choose the flowers for the funeral, plus the hymns, readings etc. Granny was a catholic and I’m agnostic but in respect of granny’s religion I’ve tried to do the best for her with the utmost respect.

I’m still quite numb to the situation to be honest; I’m typing this all out in a bit of a daze. I have moments when the armour breaks down and then I’m pretty hysterical, crying and shouting for a few minutes, but then soon it builds back up and I’m seemingly normal but totally numb again. I must sound like a basket case, it’s just hard to explain it all really, I’m just trying to cope for Lincoln cos he needs his mummy.

I’m quite scared to feel emotions at the mo, to lose granny and Bert is too much. If I feel the pain right now it might be so great that I reckon I could almost die from it myself, if that makes any sense. I need to live for Simon and Lincoln, so for now I’ll live with the internal struggle, keep the armour up till I feel I can deal with it all.

It took me a year and a half to deal with my dad’s death; I have no idea how long this one will take.

Time will tell.

M. M. B. 1922 - 2008 R.I.P

I know you might think me crazy but I don’t care, a few nights ago I dreamt of my boy and he was so happy and healthy I just KNEW he was ok :oD

I’m getting by a bit better now, I still cry every day, there’s always something that will set me off, his lead on the floor by the door, his freshly washed pillows waiting to be packed in to the loft, the odd toy wedged under something, it’s bizarre how much is still around, but we were together for nearly fifteen years so I guess I’ll constantly be finding evidence of his life with me, even the dog hairs, bless his bum. I‘m not ready to pack stuff away yet, but I’m doing stuff bit by bit.

I’ve been immersing myself in to Lincoln’s life and it’s funny, since I have been unable to move about much (the grief has had me staying in the room where Bert died 24/7, I’m only just starting to get out and about) and been holed up in the bedroom, Lincoln and I have become even closer, he’s also bonded even more with his dad which is lovely.

I do think I can feel Bert around though and it’s not just me, I’ve discovered that Simon and I ‘feel’ Bert around at the same time and we ‘can’t feel Bert’ also at the same time so that would be nice to think we are both picking up Bert’s visits.

Oh my goodness I can’t leave here without mentioning the funeral I had for Bertie. I organised a service for him at a beautiful pet crematorium, called Dignity. It was in gorgeous surroundings and they treated Bertie with such respect. Two friends came to the funeral (Ben, not a blogger, and Pandy of Panda-eyed fame) as did my mum who adored Bert, and it was a long drive for most so I was really touched to have them there. I got lots of lovely tributes and poems (one made up especially for Bert from the lovely Daffy) to read out at the service and Simon did a very elegant order of service. I also organised a wake at a nearby dog friendly hotel which I paid for in Bertie’s name.  At my local florist I ordered 14 long-stemmed, thorn-free white roses (one for each year he was with us) from me and Sim and asked them to be tied elegantly with raffia as they were to be cremated with Bert. Pandy brought some beautiful flowers, my mum carved flowers out of carrots which were Bert’s fave treat (carrots not flowers!) Linda, my granny’s carer, sent a red rose for Bert and she had her own private ceremony at mum’s house at the spot where Bert usually sat and Sim and I also cremated Bert with an organic carrot too.

The attendant allowed me to help transport Bertie to an old pottery kiln that had been converted to a crematorium (you can see it on the Dignity website) but because it was a kiln in the past it was really pretty to look at. I also helped to see Bertie off when he was cremated. It absolutely broke my heart to do this but I felt as Bert’s mum and best mate that I should be with him right until the very last moment out of my deep love and respect for him, so even though it hurt more than anything in my life, I did it for him and helped to prepare him for the last journey.

We had the wake and talked about Bert and had a toast to him, there was a photo on the wall of a black dog which looked a bit like Bert so we all felt like he was there with us.

Afterwards I picked up his ashes and we now will scatter them at a park he pootled off to all on his own when the back gate was left open once. We’ll do that when the weather is a bit nicer.

Since I dreamt of Bert life’s been a little bit easier, I was able to ask Bert all the questions that were on my mind when he passed and mainly ask if he was ok, which he said he was with a happy tail wag. I’ve had similar dreams when my dad died and I had questions to ask him, he popped in to my dreams and gave me the answers too and it helped me immensely.

Anyway, grief is a tricky road and also quite a long one so I’ll be taking one day at a time and focussing on the nice things I still have.

I’ll have my good days and my bad, and I’ll also always have my memories of Bert, and my love which despite him not being here anymore, will never ever die.

As time goes by normal Diva service will be resumed, thank you so much for your patience and you support, I couldn’t have done it without you all!

I am so sorry to say that last night at around 11pm GMT, my darling Bertie passed away in my arms. We had tried everything we could to make him better, and he fought like the trooper he is and tried his best for his devoted mummy. I was bereft as I placed my hand on his heart and felt it fade away as he lay there, his breathing getting shallower by the second. I’d been in close contact with the vets and they had monitored my home treatment and said that all I had done would have been the same as what they would have done and so it was best that Bert was with his mummy and daddy, on his bed and comfy pillows with his new blanket he got for Christmas wrapped around him as he faded away from us in the best surroundings possible.There is a hole in my heart that cannot be filled, no one can ever take Bertie’s place, he was my best friend and shadow for nearly 15 years and I loved him with every fibre of my being and he showed devotion, patience, love, comfort, and strength above and beyond the call of duty and I am deeply proud that he picked me to be with for his life from 7 weeks old. I say picked because I went to choose his brother from the breeder but Bert was having none of it and twice sat on his brother and wagged his tail at me as if to say “Pick me! Pick me!” The breeder told me that Bert seemed to have made his choice and as I picked him up he fell in to a contented sleep in my arms and we all knew that Bert and I were meant to be together.

I have left my baby angel at the vets this afternoon, I carried him in myself, it was the last mummy act I could do, and we await a call from the pet crematorium tomorrow to make arrangements for his cremation and funeral, which we will have since he had so many people who loved him and plus he was a valued family member and so it is only fitting he should have the same dignified and respectful send off that any one of us would have.

I can hardly function and am deeply indebted to Sim who is completely devastated but helping me to cope, as is my second but human son Lincoln.

I’m grateful that as Bertie started to decline last night his daddy was with him while I got updated help from the vets, and when Sim thought Bert was taking a turn for the worst he called me and I was there till the end.

We can’t believe he’s gone, it’s was so sudden, and I always believed that between mine and Bert’s determination he would pull through and be the bouncy fellow he always was, but I guess he felt it was time to go.

Life will never be the same without him, he was my best friend, my shadow, my beautiful son, yes I said son, it didn’t matter that he was canine and that I didn’t bear him, he was my welcome responsibility, a total and utter joy and my precious, handsome baby boy and I’ll never, ever forget him. My heart is broken.

This is just an update, sorry I can’t go blog-visiting but it’s all explained below. I dunno if anyone will see my blog but I’ll post it nonetheless.

I’ve not been online because after a week of my poor little human baby boy waking us up every night crying his head off (soon discovered that it was wind and then a growth spurt) then my darling canine baby boy fell ill with aspiration pneumonia.

Every night for the last 5 nights I have been up and down helping him turn over, drink rehydration fluids, wipe him down and clear up any vomit or phlegm, etc, etc and understandably the poor angel feels very sorry for himself so I have refused to leave the bedroom or house until he is better. I have no idea how long that will be but I just cannot leave him until he feels secure. This darling creature has been my best mate for nearly 15 years and when I had my most recent relapse of ME (CFS) he ‘guarded’ me constantly, despite there being only him and me in the house. His guarding meant hat I wasn’t even allowed to go to the loo alone and he insisted on coming in with me and sitting with his back to me, leaning up against my legs, ready to pounce in case someone decided to attack me as a weaker member of our little pack. This is part of the reason that I am so devoted to this little angel and why I am happy to be a 24 hour, 7 days a week intensive care nurse, especially when the vets have been so disparaging about him, simply because of his age and not even taking in to account his normal robust health.

Thankfully the condition he has that brought on this rougue bout of aspiration pneumonia has a massive support group in the US and I have joined their ranks. They have stories of hundreds of dogs that have survived and have healthy and happy lives, some as old as my boy, and with their info and help I will do all I can to see that my canine baby gets to lead a naturally fulfilled and happy life.

I have been doing lots to make this recovery as easy as possible for him by grinding up his meds to help him take them without the stress of a tablet when he’s coughing so much and today called Ainsworths homeopathic pharmacy in London and ordered some stuff they recommended on hearing his symptoms, they were smashing 7 years ago when the vet told me my dog’s kidneys were failing and that it was the beginning of the end (again they used age as a factor in this grim prognosis). One call to Ainsworths and they sent some homeopathy over, after a month I had my dog checked and his kidneys were perfect!! And they have been ever since in every test!!!! So I’m hoping Ainsworths will help again, but this time in conjunction with the conventional medication.

Right I best be off, I was taking a quick break from the bedroom upstairs to come and do an email but I thought I’d explain my absence while I was here.

I’ll keep you posted as to his recovery, which I am sure won’t be too long as he is such a trooper and a strong boy.

Keep my little canine son in your positive thoughts or prayers for me!

It’s my birthday today :o) so…….

I do have a fab day planned today and have had two celebrations already, one last Saturday and one yesterday - hurrah!

Photos and low down to follow…..

I am sooo sleepy. Our sleep patterns are completely up in the air with the baby and with the sleep deprivation has come some amusing brain-dead side effects, my favourite being the inability to speak.

Lately I have talked to a furniture salesman about my inability to keep “crapping jokes”, when I meant “cracking jokes”, the Other Half has been frustrated as he tried to explain something about the “indoor bicycle” in my spare room which turned out to be my exercise bike and today when on the phone to the doctors I momentarily forgot my own name, then my son’s name and finally where I lived.

Coffee and Red Bull don’t help, they might keep you awake (if you have enough of them as our body becomes immune to their stimulating powers) but all they do is keep your body moving and allow you to put one foot in front of the other and occasionally one foot in your mouth for good measure.

I’ve lost count the amount of times I’ve put my shoes on as I’m just about to go out and then caught a glimpse of my dress on inside out, what’s even worse are the days it’s actually on back to front as well! At least the dress was daywear because I’ve almost gone out in my pyjama bottoms (which was not a one off unfortunately and only noticed as I was about to double lock the front door on leaving the house).

I’ve also tried to leave without brushing the birds nest that is my hair. I’ve let my hairstyle go so much I make Russell Brand look like James Bond and it’s only catching a quick peek of my backcombed beehive frizz in a shiny surface that has me querying the picture and realising that I best fix myself up or risk being mistaken for Amy Winehouse.

All the best intentions in the world fly out the window and although I have spent years feeling grosed out by anyone’s bodily functions, having a baby has made me gain a serene calm when greeted by very smelly baby poo all over my leg and freshly washed trousers when a nappy fails, and I now think nothing of getting peed all over and just scrubbing it with a baby wipe when some time ago I would have burned my clothes and contemplated doing the same to whatever flesh the wee touched.

My perfume is no longer for simply wafting a light scent to passers by to enhance my outfit, it’s there to cover the smell of baby sick because I just don’t have the time to change - again - and my small handbag that contained essentials for day to day living has been replaced by a huge travel bag heaving at the seams with everything I’ll ever need, spare nappies, babygrows, nappy bags, breast pads, milk, bottles, a thousand dummies…..

Dummies….oh yes, I was one of those sanctimonious pregnant women who said they would never, ever use a dummy, but now if there isn’t one sterilised and ready to use in the house I think the Other Half would happily go to the 24 hour Tesco at 4 am to get one, partly to stop the little one’s crying and partly to not be there when the police arrive convinced you are murdering your child from the ear piercing screams he’s producing, and all because you are changing his nappy and he’s a little bit cold around the wobbly bits because the central heating’s gone off.

I’m not able to have wine because it gets in to breast milk and lowers milk supply, I can’t have my usual medication so if mummy gets a cold and daddy gets a cold, daddy can swan around doped up on multi-medicated day nurse where as mummy has to drag her soggy carcass about the place with tissues stuffed up each nostril, an ice pack on her head and a watch in her hand so that she can count the minutes until she can take the next paracetomol.

All these things can really make the strongest of person crack up, but there is one thing that stops me from losing the plot, one thing that when I think you can’t do it anymore my heart melts and I forget everything horrible that’s every happened, this one thing can make me smile when I feel like crying from exhaustion and it has the ability to make me think “What the hell, it’s not that bad really” and that one thing is this:

*looks at her watch* It’s now late, the house looks like it’s been vacated by drunken festival goers and then burgled, I look such a state that I’m scared to look in any mirrors in case they crack, I’m so tired I’ve just realised I have odd shoes on, but I am going to go upstairs and cuddle my boy, and drink in his baby smell and kiss his soft skin and nuzzle his warmth, I’ll look at his brown eyes and hopefully get one of his big gummy grins and right there, in that moment he’ll get me grinning like a moron, and I’ll fall in love even deeper than before, as I do over and over every day. 

 Without a doubt he’s amazing……..and totally, and utterly worth it all.