Son, Sea...no Spice!

This week was Spice week. If you read my blog last week, you’ll know that I’m having a different kind of heat this week, so there’s been no baking. What there has been is plenty of sunshine and definitely plenty of eating. We checked in to our amazing hotel on Thursday evening after a very long day of traveling. Thankfully, there was a spare seat opposite us on the plane and a very nice man that was sat next to my husband offered to give his seat up so I didn’t have to continue restraining my child. I don’t think it helped that said child continuously pointed to the mans chair and shouted ‘mine’. Anyway he moved and the journey went on without any naps, with the come back of the dummy, numerous episodes of ‘tubbies’ and ‘tumble’ and 3 dirty nappies! There were a few tantrums, which resulted in me pulling new toys out of my hand luggage, like I was Father bloody Christmas! Having a child wasn’t easy for us. We tried for years and after surgery and lots of testing, we were told it wouldn’t happen naturally. I’ve had various surgeries in the past that left me with so many adhesions they’d wrapped themselves around my Fallopian tubes over the years and pretty much tied themselves in double knots. Being the dramatic type, although I’m sure you wouldn’t have guessed, this drove me slightly mental. It’s very hard to watch your closest friends get pregnant, while I have always been happy for them, it was a constant reminder of my own failure, which was so hard at times I felt like I was suffocating. What was even harder, was watching how awful they felt telling you their news, when really they must have been ecstatic. After a few more surgeries and some more art for my stomach (literally, dot to dot and noughts and crosses could be played at the same time on my belly), my amazing consultant managed to save one of my tubes and told me that following IVF I might even get pregnant naturally one day... A month after the last surgery I went to my appointment for fertility treatment to get started. Bugger me I was already pregnant! Yep, I’d turned into one of those jammy girls with a one shot wonder (apologies, if any of our parents are reading this). I did three pregnancy tests to confirm it and would have done more if my husband hadn’t stopped me. We were over the moon. Truth being told, trying for a baby isn’t only hard for the woman, it’s hard for the man and the marriage. Still my dodgy left tube, polycystic ovaries and adhesions had defied all odds and I was having a baby. One of the plus sides of not being able to get pregnant quickly was the traveling we did. We have been so lucky to visit amazing places and not realising how quickly I’d get knocked up, we had booked a trip to America for our impending 30th birthdays. Being in Vegas when you’re 16 weeks pregnant with nausea was not quite the wild party we thought it would be though. Still we made the most of it and like most parents to be, we watched people with children much more closely... just to clarify not in a weird way. On the plane, having dinner and going to the god awful kids discos. We’d often comment about how we would have to endure the endless dance routines of heads, shoulders, knees and toes. What we didn’t realise was that when you have a child there’s nothing more you want to do than go to those discos and see someone you love more than life itself, dancing with no rhythm. So when arriving in Kos, we went straight for food (naturally) and then headed to the kids entertainment area. He couldn’t wait to get of his pushchair. A very cheesy version of Greece was the entertainment that night. When jumping out of the pushchair it was like Danny Zuko himself had arrived. There was all sorts of toe tapping and clapping actions. To top it off there was some sort of funny leg move, that would even have been difficult for John Travolta to pull off. Brilliant, I thought. Exactly what we were there for. Holiday going well, weather going well and wine most definitely going well we were off to a great start. We thought we’d treat ourselves to this holiday, being a bit pricier than normal. However, we justified it to ourselves by acknowledging that we will have to actually pay for a child next time we go, that and a nice whiplash payout we’d received. Although, it’s worth noting that the bloody boiler in our house packed up shortly after we booked it so the money had to go elsewhere. Typical. Anyway, what we were most excited about was that we had booked a room with a private pool. This would be perfect for nap times, as our sunbathing wouldn’t need to be disturbed. I know we’ve sunbathed on balconies before but I end up such a sweaty mess, I need somewhere to have a dip if I’m going to attempt to get a decent tan. When we arrived I was concerned it may have been a mistake. The boy was straight outside dipping is little toes in. What we didn’t expect was for it to be 1.48 metres deep. The little bugger had no chance. Following a great successful first full day...splashing in the pool (with every floatable device going), sitting in the highchair, dancing at the disco. All of the things we were most excited about, my child then turned into the most introverted, shy, frightened boy that again had an issue with highchairs. Fantastic. No longer will he go in the pool, or sit for long in the highchair. He’s frightened of the maid, so much so that he shouts ‘lady’ and hides every time he hears a noise. I should also mention that he’s fallen out with Dave. Poor bloke spent a whole day at the bottom of our pool. It’s salt water too! Children are so unpredictable, this should have been predictable, if that makes any sense? We’ve bought him a bucket and spade, a watering can and some diggers, which has helped keep him entertained. There’s also a little park and soft play right by our room, which has helped too. One thing he has taken a liking to is the lifts. He sounds like an Eastern European person trying to say Jif but we know what he means... On the whole though the holiday is going swimmingly...ok I’m rubbish at puns, so that will be the last. Also if I’m being honest, there’s not much swimming happening. As I mentioned, it’s a salt water pool and even if I try and swim my ass just keep floating to the top. This will be my excuse at fat club when I return next week. If I had been able to swim there definitely wouldn’t be a gain. I will also blame Yannis, which probably isn’t his name but still is a man that wanders past our pool hourly asking what we want to drink. There’s something about an all inclusive that makes you think it’s ok to have a wine at any time. I hope you’re agreeing with that, as if not maybe fat club isn’t the only group I need to attend. The food has been a delight. With 11 restaurants, we have been spoilt for choice. I have to admit, there have been a couple of occasions where we have walked out of Pitta Corner and straight into Pastry Corner for the next lot. How can anyone refuse? I bet all of the waiters have a right laugh at all of us at the end of the day. Hogs. The camera(s) have obviously featured a lot over the last week. My husband has a different camera, gadget and filter for all occasions. Last night we were at the kids disco and I suddenly realised I wasn’t alone. There are numerous dads with gadgets. Some of them were even having a selfie stick off on the dance floor. Mind you, one of the men I’m referring to has a need to wear white trousers every night and thrusts his hips like there’s no tomorrow. There’s a question mark over him, if you get my drift. The other night I woke in the middle of the night, thinking my husband had his camera on some sort of setting. I could hear lots of clicking noises. Here we go. I woke him and he confirmed there was no camera on. What that did mean was that there was some sort of bug in the room. If I was in England I would ignore it but there’s something about bugs in foreign countries that makes me scared. You never know what it might be. We have searched the room but can’t find where the noise is coming from but it’s there, every night. I suppose the good thing to come from it is how close my husband and I are sleeping. We literally lie in the middle of the superking with the sheets up over us, hiding from what is probably coming from next door...perhaps they like taking photos more than my husband. Who knows? I’ve just got back from a massage, which was great timing as it’s been on and off raining today. The masseuse said I have got good energy at the end...too bloody right love. I’m eating like a king, drinking like a fish and sunbathing like I’m Madge from Benidorm. No negative energy here. Anyway on that note there’s more food to be ate, more drinks to be drank, more dancing to be done and I would like a shower whilst it’s nap time. He’s been showering with me all week and has taken to peeing while in there. Rather than play dodge the pee, I need to focus on getting all of the oil from my massage off. I’m like a slippery fish! So, while this has not been about baking in the slightest I will leave you until next week, when I’ll be back at the technical. I’m even going to throw in a baklava week. What a delight! Yammas!