girls are weird.

27 April 2007

lady of leisure

I completely forgot to write about the wonderfully fantastic spa day I had recently. My brilliant husband (he just ran a marathon, you know) gave me the gift of a super duper extra luxurious with bells on spa day for Christmas, and I finally redeemed the voucher a couple of weeks ago. If I could purr, that's the only noise I would have made the entire day. But then again if I could purr, that would make me allergic to myself and that could get annoying pretty quickly.

Anyway. Spa day. It was at a posh gym in Cambridge, which meant that I got some rather strange looks as I waddled around on a tour of the facilities. People probably wondered how I was possibly going to sit on an exercise bike or get back out of the rowing machine. My day started with a long swim (and by "swim" I mean a gentle paddle back and forth a few times for show, not getting my face wet because I'm wearing contacts) and a long soak in a spa. I was beyond thrilled to discover that they had a "cool spa" (pregnant women shouldn't use hot spas) that was the same temperature as the pool. I sat in bubbly goodness for ages and ages, and shut my eyes. Mmm yes. The changing room was lovely, complete with a clever little machine that spins your swimsuit around until it's almost dry, so that you don't have to shove a wet suit in your bag afterwards. I then had some lunch and some time to spare, allowing me a brief journey to the local retail estate and a peek at the new Habitat.

When I returned, I was shown to my pampering room and for the first time in ages, was able to lie on my belly as they had a special pregnancy massage table with a cut out bit for my bump. They really need to create a table with a cut out bit for pregnancy boobs, but I'm not that fussy. I had an hour long massage, followed by some sort of exfoliating treatment (my arms are still baby bottom soft). Then I had my very first facial, and I have no clue what was done to me. Things were rubbed into my skin, wiped off, layered on top and left to dry, wiped off again, while the beautician gently massaged my face with little butterfly movements. The finale involved a manicure and a pedicure, the latter being a huge treat when one can no longer reach one's toes. Or see them...apparently they do look nice.

Scrumptious. Want one every week, please.

So in a similar vein, I am about to enjoy the luxury of being a lady of leisure when my maternity leave starts at the end of the day. It's always a bit strange going on leave, because it's not often you leave a job and return to it at a later point. This means I've got to actually do a decent job and wrap everything up nicely, and I can't march around the office telling everyone precisely what I think of them. How boring.

I will enjoy this time while I can, before the chaos of life with toddler and newborn commences. I might not get out of my pyjamas for a week. I might not wear makeup for a month. I might spent my afternoons with my mummy friends and eat cake. I might watch the seven episodes of "Desperate Housewives" I've got recorded on Sky+.

I might blog more. Gosh.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

24 April 2007

run run as fast as you can

Paul did amazingly, brilliantly well on Sunday, despite the heat. People were mad enough to run in costumes (Bakewell tarts, ScoobyDoo, Fred Flintstone in a car, several Elvises/Elvii, Borat, Bubbles Devere and her arch rival Desiree, Darth Vader, Chewbacca, and a Vegas showgirl, to name a few) and even the pros completed the run at a slower time than usual. The weather was great for spectators, not so great when you need to run 26 miles with 37,000 people.

Paul completed the marathon relatively unscathed (with some impressive blisters, mind) and made us all incredibly proud. I got tired just watching, and had an extra sausage that evening to compensate for all those calories I must have lost. What?

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

20 April 2007

running man

I'm so proud of Paul. He has, rain or shine, trained every single week with a dedication and determination that inspires me. Our little boy knows when "Daddy's running" and then tears around the house yelling "I running, too!" Paul's raised just over £2,000 (not including the amount that will be matched by our company), which I know from experience is a great accomplishment. On Sunday, Paul will be one of 40,000 people running through London and we will be there to cheer him on. I honestly could never have done this myself (obviously not these days, anyway.)

You can still sponsor him here, and/or leave messages of encouragement in the comments. He's doing something pretty amazing - but then again, he's a pretty amazing guy.

We love you, marathoner! xx

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

05 April 2007

every baby should get one

For those of you who follow American Idol*, Cafe Press are now selling these:

I'm wondering if they make these in adult sizes.

*(please don't tell me anything about this week's results show - it doesn't air here until Friday nights!)

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --

03 April 2007

what a swell birthday it's been

On Friday, my husband and I took the day off work and I was treated to a delicious lunch at a pub called The Plough. It's run by the couple who were in charge at the Old Bridge when we got married, and the food was fantastic. I had a light and velvety leek and potato soup to start, salmon fishcakes, and a perfectly cooked creme brulee for dessert. Paul had smoked salmon and blinis, steak and kidney pudding, and a selection of English cheese. Yum, yum, and yum.

On Saturday, I woke up to a pile of presents and a little boy who was more than willing to help me open them. After establishing that everything wasn't indeed "MINE!" (particularly the TomTom device), he decided to walk around with a gift bag on his head making various arrrrrrrrgh type noises. As you do. Jack has been singing a happy birthday song to me for the past few days (it goes: "Happy birthday...youuuuu" over and over until he's distracted by something), and it makes my heart melt. Paul made me a dinner of filet steak with my favourite horrifyingly calorific creamy potatoes, which I inhaled in around three seconds. Yum again, I say.

I don't really mind being a year older; any excuse to eat cake is fine by me. It was a lovely weekend, I was spoiled rotten, and I even managed to have a long nap on one afternoon. I could do this every year.

[posted by: Lisa Durbin] --