Feeling narfy

Or is that narfish? Not sure as according to dictionary.com this is actually not a word. But this is the reason that I have not blogged. Feeling dyed-in-the-wool-narfy. I was not the winner of the R17 million lotto jackpot this last weekend. I am tired because Christopher who was sleeping through perfectly has now decided to wake up after Pumkin Hour and there is much wailing (him) and gnashing of teeth (me) as he sometimes will not settle and darn it- I love him - but I have to say it- he is a bloody lousy charades partner at 2.46 in the morning and I really do try- "hey honey- what's wrong baby? Do you want a bottle?" Loud wailing. "a dummy?" Louder wailing. Poor thing having to put up with his sub-genius mommy. "Bunny?" "woof, woof?"  "shares in Microsoft?" "Will you throw me a freakin bone here?!!"

Eventually he settles down and goes to sleep and it feels like 2 minutes later my alarm goes off at 4.50am for me to go to gym. Yeah right...Snoozzzzze. 2 minutes later and it's 5.50am and time to get up. I look like something off Michael Jackson's Thriller video. Actually, I think they probably look better. And thinner- but let's not even go there.

Then there is my husband who is complaining. He says when you start nit-picking in bed- the romance is gone. Unfortunately- he is not talking figuratively. I went for a pee in the bush over Easter and managed to pick up Bush Lice or Boslys as they are more commmonly known. He mimics a baboon grooming itself and plucking something off its backside and eating it. He smacks his lips together and grins at me. I can't believe that he thinks that this is funny. Yes dear...you are fucking hilarious... I understand how some women can be driven to beat their husbands.

Word to the wise. If you ever go for a pee in the bush- (ladies) pee above sand. Make sure that there is not one solitary blade of grass around cos these tiny little bastards apparently just hang around all day on the ends of grass blades until they brush against something warm-blooded. It's like Jaws. Only these are tiny little land Jaws. I can hear the Jaws theme tune.

Once you have them on- they are like ticks and they hang on for dear life. You cannot pull them off. They are prepared to cut their noses heads off to spite their faces. Literally- you can pull their bodies off and their heads remain behind. Finally, after effectively dipping myself in dettol- I was able to scrape them off. It has been over a week now and I am still scratching like a flea-riddled lemming. No wonder they go hurtling off the edge of cliffs.
Then there is the further indignity of realising after I have told my boss that I have had bush lice that he probably thought that I was telling him that I had pubic lice....Great....my life is peachy.

But, we did have a lovely Easter weekend with my folks on their farm. Christopher had a wonderful time with his other "Nanny" and Grandpa. We had our first Easter egg hunt.

Come out, come out wherever you are Mr Easter Egg. I was so chuffed that he got the hang of it.

Some for you Nanny.

This was so cute to watch- Christopher walking hand-in-hand with his granddad. Also, every night before he went to bed he would kiss Nanny and Granddad goodnight. So sweet to watch Granddad stooping over to receive his sloppy kiss.

Hello Mr Gnu. Christopher loved the game drives- wedged between Daddy and Me. Although he often got agitated with me trying to hold him on and batted me away like some annoying pestilence. I couldn't help laughing at him and marvelling at how good he was- sitting "still" for 2 hours at a stretch.

A beautiful kudu.

A slight problem. We were about as far as we could be from the farm house- without everything we needed- as luck would have it. So my Dad had to take a walk back while we all waited for him. I suspect that this is when I picked up all 50 of my blood-sucking little passengers. Luckily, we still had drinks in the cooler box and Christopher had a packet of chips to sustain him.

Christopher was not terribly upset as you can see as he got to take the driver's seat.