There are days when life in this house is a dream and we all giggle all day long. Today was not one of them and I have mostly been wanting to purchase a magnum 45 and shoot dark angel right where it hurts.
I did not sleep that well last night as poor hubby has man flu. Got upto the boy at 7am, who was in a bit of a cantankerous mood. Luckily reading him loads of books quickly pacified him. He is addicted to his indoor swing at the moment and would quite happily spend hours in there. Unfortunately, the swing cuts off access between the living room and dining room, so you have to basically walk sideways becoming the human equivalent of an angel fish, just so you can get past. This morning my reflexes, probably due to interrupted sleep, were not exactly on top form. I normally sing the Indiana Jones tune in my head when negotiating the territory between the two rooms. I walked into the swing twice and bruised my thigh. If that wasn’t enough, I knelt down to push the boy whilst holding Charlotte on my knee, then got the boys foot in my eye.
I could not put Charlotte down fast enough, so I got hit again. Cameron thought this was hilarious and kept on saying “more”. Somehow the theme tune in my head switched from Indiana Jones to Jaws!
I got the kids ready and then drove into town. Imagine my optimism when I found that a kindly person had left me a free parking ticket, valid for one hour, on the machine. There is no magic formula for working out whether you can squeeze a trip to the police station AND get passport photos for us, into an hour. I decided to give it a go, what the hell, as it was obviously my lucky day for free parking!
I should have stopped there and then, when I noticed that I had to push the pram up a massive hill to get to the police station. The pram with the two kids weighs about 35 kilos. Convinced myself it was good excersise. The hill would have been manageable, had one of the wheels not fallen off. I was so puffed out, that I swore so much that I ran out of swear words in both languages. I think I would rather run the krypton factor assault course twice, than to try and balance a pram with two kids, whilst putting a wheel on.
By the time I got to the police counter, I could hardly breathe. There was a sign stating that they had a defibrillator. Again, lucky me I thought. To cut a long story short, I found a diamond ring a month ago and handed it into the police station. As no-one has come forward to claim it, its now mine, and I had to go and claim it. Again, lucky me.
The kind policewoman was nice, but, not the most efficient form filler on the planet. I think the screaming from the kids helped to motivate her along! Anyways, the ring was duly singed over and I left the police station feeling like Gollum!!!
Whilst I had my passport photo taken, Cameron tasked himself with the single handed destruction of the photo album aisle and reorganising a display stand. Its hard to have a passport photo taken, trying to look relaxed, when you know that you are going to leave the shop looking like Beirut!
Once I had put everything back in place after Cameron, said yes to the draft pics that the photographer showed me, I realised I had 17 mins left on the parking. Ofcourse, then photo printer broke down. Then I entered the wrong pin, then Cameron refused to get back in the pram. Blah blah blah. I ended up pushing the pram back to the parking space in quick time, convinced I would be facing a fine. Luckily even though I was late back, there were no traffic wardens in sight! Lucky me!
The afternoon flew by, put Charlotte to bed, then bathed the boy, read him loads of books, fed and medicated hubby, went to Sainsburys, cleaned kitchen, took rubbish and recyling out, out shopping away, prepped food for tomorrow and now here I am, at 9:30pm, having some me time.
Whoo hoo! Lucky me!
Monday, 3 March 2008
Fake ID - Start Early
Our son was born on January 24. Not according to some “disinformation” I supplied to a local zoo though. In a brazen attempt to get the boy in free, I pretended he was not yet two and pretended his birthday was next week. We enjoyed ourselves so much there that I actually bought us annual membership. Which is where the problems start.
The lady filling out the membership forms remembered us from earlier and put his birthdate down as 04/03/06. The lady probably wondered why I did not share her enthusiasm when she divulged we would get discounts on his parties held there. I stood trying to smile through gritted teeth when she mentioned that he will get a birthday card. Maybe I should have argued the case for the boy having two birthdays like the Queen. Hang on, maybe the Queen wanted a freebie and this is how she ended up having two birthdays?
Mental note, some lies are just not worth the hassle.
The lady filling out the membership forms remembered us from earlier and put his birthdate down as 04/03/06. The lady probably wondered why I did not share her enthusiasm when she divulged we would get discounts on his parties held there. I stood trying to smile through gritted teeth when she mentioned that he will get a birthday card. Maybe I should have argued the case for the boy having two birthdays like the Queen. Hang on, maybe the Queen wanted a freebie and this is how she ended up having two birthdays?
Mental note, some lies are just not worth the hassle.
Tuesday, 19 February 2008
Bugs Bunny
“Bugs” is in pieces, entombed in ice. Rather a posh tomb, as its actually surrounded by an expensive Rioja sauce. It was supposed to be our lunch on Saturday, however, there were two things which prevented this: the main reason being that there was not enough meat to feed it as an appetiser to a field mouse. And two, because I chickened out of even touching it.
Rewind to last week when our butcher recommended rabbit. Why? Oh why? Did I ask for “something different”? I could hardly sleep on Friday night when I knew they were going to hunt down Bugs for me, to order, the next day. I prayed for rain and that the hunter would wake up temporarily blind.
As our butcher handed me the bag containing Bugs, I knew I was in trouble. I felt his cold bones, tiny backbones and knew I was never going to be able to cook him. Cue much wining to Stuart asking him to do the dirty deed and clean Bugs up and cook him. My Granny the previous night had warned me to check the carcass thoroughly for shot remnants and not to even think about feeding it to the kids because of the bones.
Poor old hubby has done many a wonderful thing for me, I would count severing a rabbits liver from its body within the top 20. To mitigate my guilt, I threw over some expensive Rioja and garden herbs and left it to stew for a few hours. Our friend Steve, who is the biggest carnivore I know, turned his nose up at it, saying he could not eat a bunny rabbit, he declared us so heartless that “we may as well cook our chinchilla….”
Further eyelash fluttering at hubby got him to take the meat off the bones. The redwine sauce was really fragrant and I wish I could have tried the meat, alas, neither of us could face it.
Hence, its now frozen, awaiting the expertise of my Granny who will create something utterly lush and satisfying from it, when she next visits.
Rewind to last week when our butcher recommended rabbit. Why? Oh why? Did I ask for “something different”? I could hardly sleep on Friday night when I knew they were going to hunt down Bugs for me, to order, the next day. I prayed for rain and that the hunter would wake up temporarily blind.
As our butcher handed me the bag containing Bugs, I knew I was in trouble. I felt his cold bones, tiny backbones and knew I was never going to be able to cook him. Cue much wining to Stuart asking him to do the dirty deed and clean Bugs up and cook him. My Granny the previous night had warned me to check the carcass thoroughly for shot remnants and not to even think about feeding it to the kids because of the bones.
Poor old hubby has done many a wonderful thing for me, I would count severing a rabbits liver from its body within the top 20. To mitigate my guilt, I threw over some expensive Rioja and garden herbs and left it to stew for a few hours. Our friend Steve, who is the biggest carnivore I know, turned his nose up at it, saying he could not eat a bunny rabbit, he declared us so heartless that “we may as well cook our chinchilla….”
Further eyelash fluttering at hubby got him to take the meat off the bones. The redwine sauce was really fragrant and I wish I could have tried the meat, alas, neither of us could face it.
Hence, its now frozen, awaiting the expertise of my Granny who will create something utterly lush and satisfying from it, when she next visits.
Saturday, 9 February 2008
The Rules ala Cameron
1. Just feed me.
2. Ensure toy trains have long life batteries installed.
3. See rule 1.
2. Ensure toy trains have long life batteries installed.
3. See rule 1.
The Rules La Charlotte
As far as I can make out it goes a little like this:
1. You will not creep into my room before 8:30am, even if it is to check that I am still breathing. Should you wake me, know that I will need to sleep an extra two hours just to cure the shock of being awake so early.
2. Give up any notion that you will actually be able to wear the cashmere jumper you got for Christmas. Its perfect as my blanket and I dont intend to relinquish it anytime soon.
3. I will happily gurgle, coo and scream affectionately, on condition that, I am fed lashings of carbohydrates at lunchtime, and am allowed to have a post lunch siesta for at least an hour.
4. When feeding me, you will ensure a constant supply, none of this faffing about wiping off food from my chin lark, or checking the temperature. You will also hide the bib, spoon and actual spoon until the last possible moment as I can get too excited. You will also make at least double the amount you thought would be enough. Just accept the fact that you will never be able to make enough to have leftovers!
5. You will not thwart my efforts to stand up. No use worrying that I am only 6 months old. I am ready, bring it on.
6. I will have my dinner at 5pm, and reluctantly do some excersise between then and bathtime.
7. You will ensure I am in bed by 7pm, as a girl needs her 13.5 hours sleep.
8. Ensure my brother is in close proximity should you not manage any of the above, as retribution is swift and his hair is just long enough for me to pull it.
1. You will not creep into my room before 8:30am, even if it is to check that I am still breathing. Should you wake me, know that I will need to sleep an extra two hours just to cure the shock of being awake so early.
2. Give up any notion that you will actually be able to wear the cashmere jumper you got for Christmas. Its perfect as my blanket and I dont intend to relinquish it anytime soon.
3. I will happily gurgle, coo and scream affectionately, on condition that, I am fed lashings of carbohydrates at lunchtime, and am allowed to have a post lunch siesta for at least an hour.
4. When feeding me, you will ensure a constant supply, none of this faffing about wiping off food from my chin lark, or checking the temperature. You will also hide the bib, spoon and actual spoon until the last possible moment as I can get too excited. You will also make at least double the amount you thought would be enough. Just accept the fact that you will never be able to make enough to have leftovers!
5. You will not thwart my efforts to stand up. No use worrying that I am only 6 months old. I am ready, bring it on.
6. I will have my dinner at 5pm, and reluctantly do some excersise between then and bathtime.
7. You will ensure I am in bed by 7pm, as a girl needs her 13.5 hours sleep.
8. Ensure my brother is in close proximity should you not manage any of the above, as retribution is swift and his hair is just long enough for me to pull it.
Wednesday, 6 February 2008
Tesco Value Cooking Chotolate
Do you ever think, if that person was a can of soup / a dog / pair of shoes, what type / make / breed would they be? Well, it just so happens that I categorise my days like this most days. My days get categorised by chocolate. For instance, the day I got married / gave birth to Cameron / Charlotte are Swiss Finest chocolate days. Worst days are Turkish Delight (brrrr, even typing it brings out a shiver). I have been doing this since Charlotte started having colic, think of it as a coping mechanism.
Days get categorised as we go along, final approval is once the kids are in bed.
Today started as a Revel kind of day (Russian roulette day in other words! – don’t get the coffee flavoured one). It quickly morphed into a dark chocolate day when I realised Cameron had woken up on completely the wrong side of bed.
By the time you read the end of this, you should know two things 1) that I truly deserve a medal for keeping calm and being able to smile 2) that its all true
I was changing Charlottes nappy, when Cameron decided he would help. I like to think of each nappy as Schrodingers cat. This time, the contents of the nappy were “challenging”. As I was using the wipes, I heard Cameron (who was to my right) wretch. He then started throwing up, 90% on my arm the other 10% on the sofa covers I had just put back, after washing out last weeks vomit attack. In order to try and keep him calm, I kept saying, its ok, its ok. With one hand I was stroking his back whilst he continued to throw up, with the other I was holding Charlottes legs down, so she did spread contents of her nappy everywhere. I then had to stop myself from throwing up due to the stench of both my kids combined efforts. Clearup operation took nigh on an hour. Afterwards, go upstairs, hubby looks at me and asks me what the smell is. Decide to show him the vomit, which is now dried onto my arm. He says he is glad he has his study to hide away from the kids. Alas, I am sad to report that it did not make for a good moisturising pack.
The rest of the day passes in a whirl of tantrums, smiling through gritted teeth.
Days get categorised as we go along, final approval is once the kids are in bed.
Today started as a Revel kind of day (Russian roulette day in other words! – don’t get the coffee flavoured one). It quickly morphed into a dark chocolate day when I realised Cameron had woken up on completely the wrong side of bed.
By the time you read the end of this, you should know two things 1) that I truly deserve a medal for keeping calm and being able to smile 2) that its all true
I was changing Charlottes nappy, when Cameron decided he would help. I like to think of each nappy as Schrodingers cat. This time, the contents of the nappy were “challenging”. As I was using the wipes, I heard Cameron (who was to my right) wretch. He then started throwing up, 90% on my arm the other 10% on the sofa covers I had just put back, after washing out last weeks vomit attack. In order to try and keep him calm, I kept saying, its ok, its ok. With one hand I was stroking his back whilst he continued to throw up, with the other I was holding Charlottes legs down, so she did spread contents of her nappy everywhere. I then had to stop myself from throwing up due to the stench of both my kids combined efforts. Clearup operation took nigh on an hour. Afterwards, go upstairs, hubby looks at me and asks me what the smell is. Decide to show him the vomit, which is now dried onto my arm. He says he is glad he has his study to hide away from the kids. Alas, I am sad to report that it did not make for a good moisturising pack.
The rest of the day passes in a whirl of tantrums, smiling through gritted teeth.
November 2003
I don’t know what I was doing in November 2003. We would have been back from Honeymoon about 6 weeks, so I suspect it may well have been filled with sending out Thank You cards for our wedding presents, leaving work dead on 5:30 to rush home and see my dahling hubby. I know what I should have been doing. I should have disposing of the jar of pickled red cabbage that I must have bought during my pre-wedding detox.
I must admire the jar as it has eluded my tidyups for about 5 years. Can red cabbage play jedi mind tricks? I did actually give it an applaud before I threw the contents down the drain. Curiosity also drove me to check to see quite how edible it would have been, but, alas, even my asbestos lined stomach would have struggled.
It crossed my mind to keep it for Stuart, and present it to him when our glass anniversary is nigh, but he may not see the funny side of that.
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