Grumpy mummy is the name lovingly given to me by the husband. Infuriatingly, he talks to the child about grumpy mummy while I’m still in the room being, alright, sometimes slightly irked by any of his given idiocies. He’s not that bad though. A lot of the time he is very sweet, and I’m definitely grumpier than normal, as have just found out that I am pregnant again (7 weeks).

This blog will be a outlet for my opinions on three things mainly:

1. the ludicrous things the husband does

2. the perhaps perfectly reasonable things he does that for some reason make me boil with rage

3. the state of my mind and body throughout the rest of this pregnancy

So, observation number one. Can’t work out whether this fits into point 1 or 2, but this afternoon, he rang me to ask whether I would like to get in the car and drive the mile or so to his office to bring him some toilet roll as he needed to have a poo. I mean, seriously now.