Un-blogged

I’m feeling a bit ‘un’ today.

Not too sure what it means, but it’s what I’ve come up with.

Papadada left for another 2-day work trip this morning. Un.
Sticky Baby has had a shit of a day. Un.
Whingey, whiny, generally very upset with the world. Has discovered ‘the tantrum’. Dear Lord. He’s perfected it in a day, the little bugger. Threw about 8 of them, in various locations - several in the high chair, a couple on the bike when I was coming at him with his froggy helmet, one on the floor of the sports shop as I was trying to find a hat for him, and a couple more pool-side this afternoon. No amount of cuddles, teething gel or rusks will snap him out of his foul, foul mood.

He’s in bed now (high five) so I’m left to deal with my allergies. Yes, allergies. Yet again, turning 30 brings with it another mysterious ailment that I’ve never affronted until this week. Allergies? Antihistamines? Foreign to me until now. I want to scratch the inside of my eyelids with tweezers, my nose feels like it is housing miniature leprechauns doing an Irish jig and my skin in general is on high alert.

Who or what is the culprit? I have a couple of theories. It’s either the new carpet that has been laid to cover the broken tiles (loooooong story) or our new cotton blanket. Or the air. I’m screwed.

So yes, ‘un’ is the word for tonight people..Boo to the hoo. I’m going to go eat a tim-tam now.