Dreaming of a dry christmas...

1st off my weekend was the business. Absolutely loved camping as always and thoroughly enjoyed drinking nice wine and good rum and just chilling out reading books and playing cricket etc. The baby crying at 4am like clockwork didn't even phase me, what did however was having the wee bundle thrown into my arms the second I showed up and every time I seemed to have my hands empty (which I soon remedied by trying to have a rum in my hand constantly) anyway, I wasn't expecting it as soon as we got there, I mean heck, there's tents to put up and chilly bins to ice! but no, hold the baby.. crap. My wonderful bestie saw how uncomfortable I was and so took the wee poppit off me the 1st time, which was hilarious in itself as she held him like he was radioactive!

Proud new dad had a T shirt on all weekend that said, and I couldn't make this shit up if I tried, "I make good babies"... seriously. Seriously?!?! *sigh* and poor old Himself, (the Mr.) had to listen to a lecture on how there is no better sound in the world than that of your son crying, and snuffling, and breathing and blah blah blah blah. anyway, safe to say I did feel for the Mr. throughout this but then got over it as I snuck away behind the bushes so I didn't have to hold the baby.

Other than that I had a brilliant weekend away and am now mourning the end of caffeine etc as I know it. I have just put my bottle of Havana Club away in the liquor shelf for what I hope will be a long time.. or possibly to drown my sorrows? either way its terrifying to think that the next time I have a drink from that bottle will either be drowning my poor destroyed self following a failed cycle or to celebrate a new bundle of joy!

Well, spose I should go enjoy my final cup of blissful tea, and tomorrow let the torture begin....