Sunday, 21 December 2008

Now we are *nearly* two

So. It's Lal's birthday tomorrow. My baby turns two. I'm not tidying up and preparing for it in an effort to pretend it's not happening. He's a baby.. not a toddler. Pfft.

Oh, and I've not been around for a while as K is starting an all out offensive to be allowed to come home and I've been hiding from the computer. He sends me emails with songs from youtube on and they are very difficult to ignore. This is what I mean.. Now you try and fail to be moved..

We went to Mass this morning, after a fairly long not going time. I've not been in the right head space to go, but now it's nearly actual Christmas, I need to make the effort.

We got there late, which was bad and meant we had nowhere to sit. Other than a small space at the back which holds the spare hymn books, notice board and a few oddly broken chairs. Lal, of course, was in heaven with all the books and sat quite happily for 30 mins. Just the odd shout of "Cheeses" - Jesus, "Ah Moon" - Amen and "Good God... ell done" Quite why he says well done to God is anyone's guess, but the sentiment is ok.. About 20 minutes before the end, Lal noticed the notice board, studied it for a while and then did what any self respecting nearly 2 year would do.. and tried to eat a yellow drawing pin. His ever vigilant sister, G the brave, saw this and stopped him. This produced a tantrum of epic proportions. So loud that we had to leave Mass early as the screams were literally echoing from the rafters. We got in the car and sat in it for half an hour as we were blocked in the car park.. gave us time to reflect.. And for G to endlessly apologise for daring to prevent death by drawing pin.

Once home, I did the Yummy Mummy thing (I have an apron that proclaims I am one) and made 48 mince pies. 48. And we don't even like them.. but they were supposed to be taken to my parents for Lal's unbirthday party. I forgot them. And the unbirthday cake. So now we have two for tomorrow. *sigh* We did drop some of with the Priests... as I haven't been to Mass, I'm trying to get back into good books. G misheard when I said a light sprinkling of icing sugar on top, so the poor men may now be suffering from diabetes.. Christmas spirit though, right?

Lal largely ignored everything birthday like sadly. He's been told so many times to leave the presents under the tree alone, I think he now has a present phobia and refused to go near, let alone open the ones he got today. And that makes it very difficult to show gratitude for them. Sorry mum! Sorry dad, He does love Thomas really..

Can put it off no longer.. I should wrap his presents, and make good the birthday room. Just think.. this time two years ago I wasn't even in labour.. not for another 3 hours.

K xx

Thursday, 11 December 2008

The Cautionary Tale of Language Development

Lal's nursery and I are working together to find a solution to the problem, but I just can't think of anything that we can do. I've been trying to change it for weeks now, and nothing works. Nothing.

I may have mentioned that Lal's speech is coming along quite nicely now. He only has one sentence "Want Daddy now.." but the single words are endless. He does, however, have two words for things which are.. well rude. So please don't read on if you are easily offended. *sigh*

Yesterday at nursery, it was Music Day. They had marraccas, triangles, cymbals, drums, keyboards.. you know, all the things that I have to take a migraine pill before I can allow him to play with them at home. And there were singing plans.

The first song was an innocuous one about houses. "This is the house that Jack built" to be precise.

This is the malt that lay in the house..that Jack built.

Perfectly pleasant words. Nice tune. Unfortunately, Lal can't say "house." He does love to sing though, so babbled meaninglessly until he shouted the word "ARSE" As in, "this is the arse that Jack built." There are 12 verses, each verse contains the word arse. There are now 6 other children who think that house is pronounced arse. I'm expecting parental letters.

The staff were a little confused, and worried, but must have thought that they'd be safe if they sang "5 little speckled frogs." I promise, if I'd known, I'd have warned them. I really would. You see, Lal can't say frog either. But he can recognise them. Ones we see in shops, ones we see in books, in the park, everywhere. And he loves frogs.

So, they started singing..

" 5 little speckled frogs, sat on a speckled log, eating some nice delicious worms.. yum yum.."

Lal's ears pricked up.. the cogs in his mind started turning.. he saw the picture of the frog in the book.. "F*CK.. a F*CK" I think the nursery staff when slightly green, but gamely carried on singing. Every verse again, "4 little speckled f*cks, sat on a speckled luck, eating some nice delicious worms, yum yum...3 little speckled f*cks.. " And because he only sings that one word, well two if you count "luck".. and is so proud of knowing the word.. and singing the word, he sings it so loudly, so that everyone can hear. A roomful of toddlers shouting profanity. Only one of my children could cause that.

One of the women, who informed me what had happened afterwards, said that by the time there was only one speckled f*ck left, even she was singing the wrong word. Another staff member had to leave the room due to hysterical laughter. I'm so proud.

I'm not sure when they are doing another music day, but I've asked them to check the songs they will be doing with me first. And today, Lal and I will be learning the "og" sound.

K xx

Tuesday, 9 December 2008

Chapter 77

Balls. I had it all written out and pressed back on the browser and lost it all. I really hate myself sometimes. Start again hey?

I spent the weekend with a man. And I spent most of it in bed. A real actual man too, not a Lal sized one. Wow.

As part of the positive parenting experiment G and I headed off for some quality alone time on Friday night. I dropped Lal off with a working from home in his heated flat K, and went to pick G up from school. Had a slight nag at her unwillingness to get changed in the car, even though I was holding her blazer to cover her - pfft, some children - and off we went to a manicure nail salon place. It was run by giggling Vietnamese people, who were brilliant, but were no doubt giggling due to the fumes. Despite never having actually been high, I've no doubt that I was on my way to getting there. Very light headed, I only just managed to veto G's order of false nails. And then she wanted jewels on her real nails, but was put off (and slightly green) when I told her that they had to drill into her nails and hook the jewel in. I've no idea how true that is, but it did the job.

We then went disco clothes shopping. She wouldn't set foot in Laura Ashley for some reason, so the delights of Tammy gave us a boob tube dress, cardigan shrug thingy, high heeled shoes, footless tights and heart pendant #48695. I think my lips bled from the biting they received, but positive parenting won out and the arguments were avoided.

Picked up Lal, came home, had takeaway, cooked popcorn and settled down on the sofa to watch I'm a Celebrity and see who won. I'm informed that I fell asleep at 9.07 and only woke when her scream of delight that Joe won pierced my dreams. And then I fell back asleep again. So much for together time hey? Poor little girl. She had to stay up till 2 watching films and Hannah Montana whilst I slept on the sofa.Next to her. Feel sorry for her. Do.

K arrived to pick up the children on Saturday morning. Alarm bells should have rung when he got here early.. but I was too woolly headed from the sofa sleeping, the cold that still refuses to go (is 2 weeks a record?) and the fumes from the manicure place. He also arrived with a bag. Apparently, the heating in his flat, that was working perfectly the night before, had died and there was no way he could take the children there. Obviously. So could he stay?

I felt so ill, I'm pretty sure I said yes before he'd finished speaking, but I did manage to make it perfectly clear that I would be in bed, dying, and all child related responsibilty was his. And he could sleep on the bed that is cunningly disguised as a sofa, in the playroom.

To give him credit, which I hate to do, he was very good. I wasn't woken or bothered by them at all.. and he kept bringing me cups of tea and food. Whilst giving me the "you're not eating enough" stare, but you can't have everything.

One upside is that Lal is now a complete daddy's boy, which is fab. And G didn't go near her computer all weekend. K even bought us a Chinese once the children were in bed and we sat and ate and talked. It was nice, uncomfortable, but nice. In a way.

He somehow invited himself to come back next weekend and help put the decorations up.. not sure how I feel about that though. On the one hand, they are his children too, and why should he miss something like that? But on the other, it seems a bit too family like and we're not back there yet.. if we get there at all. I have no problems with him spending Christmas Day/Boxing Day here, it's Lal's first proper Christmas (ok, the 3rd, but the other two don't count as he was only 3 days old, and 1 year 3 days old) and he shouldn't miss that... but putting the decorations up? Spending another weekend here? Cos I know that will happen... not sure I'm ready for that.

See what happens when I write and I'm still nail varnished high? And suffering from evil colds? I go all deep and meaningful. This must stop.

It's supposed to be my alone time, Lal's at nursery.. ooh he now loves it there completely. Actually pushed me out of the door this morning to make me leave. Nice huh? They break up on Friday for the Christmas break.. what am I going to do? He wakes up every morning acking for school.. I'm going to have to buy desks.. and friends.. and create his own school here.

(Oh, and the weekend in bed with a man? I spent the weekend in bed, the man was here, but never the two shall meet.. Innocent)

K xx

Wednesday, 3 December 2008

Just call me Delilah

Before I start.. here, photographic evidence. Wearing the same jumper, both pre and post butchering.




You see? He's a different child.. and far too grown up. And I think all his good humour was contained within the hair as he's been a whinging whine bag all day. Grow hair, grow.

Other than that source of depression, it's been a good day. I have officially finished all my Christmas shopping. Well except for the food. But if I buy that now it'll go off. Lal fell asleep in the pushchair about 2 minutes after leaving the car park, which was brilliant as it enabled me to shop without having to stop every two minutes to plug him back in. To the pushchair.. not a battery source.. ooh, but how good would that be? A natural break everytime a toddler's batteries ran out.. *daydreams longingly*
Which reminds me.. his continual eating of my mobile phone has left it unable to charge. I don't know why.. but there is sort of green goo in the charging bit and now it fails to recognise when it's plugged in. I may have to buy yet another one. Pfft.

I was in the car coming back home, shopping laden, when there was an absolutely brilliant advert on the radio (Magic FM... all songs I know) from the NHS. Apparently.. when you sneeze or cough, the best thing to do is to use a tissue to stop the germs spreading. Now, I didn't know that and can now see, by dint of ridiculously expensive advertising campaign, that yes, a tissue will protect those around me.. and stop snot running down my face. It also helpfully told me that when I have used the tissue, I should put it in the bin. Genius idea. Nice to know that the NHS is spending their money wisely.

That's it for tonight, I am pretending to put the Tesco shop away, Lal's toys away, do the ironing and empty the recycling for tomorrow's collection.. so if anyone asks, you didn't see me.

K xx

Tuesday, 2 December 2008


I've been ill, hence the lack of words. Not just ill. Really ill. Stupid cold. It's refused to either go away or kill me and I'm fed up now. The house is littered with tissues, empty lemsip packets, lockets and tunes wrappers and I'm still not well. Stupid cold.

And the cold made me do something unforgiveable. Something so heinous, so incredibly wrong that our already fractured family may never recover.

Lal has had a haircut. It's been bothering me for ages, the bit of hair on the back of his head that jutted out in a tangled, matted triangle. Doting and obsessed mummy aside, it made him look a bit deformed.

That's no excuse for the butchery that happened today though. Somehow, he ended up with a short back and sides. There are no curls at all. None. They didn't even appear at bathtime tonight, when I kept putting a wet flannel on his head and twirling the 1cm hair round my fingers.

The worst thing? He now looks like a BOY. Not a baby, not really even a toddler.. an actual boy. It's like he should be off to big school tomorrow. I hate it.

He was excellently behaved whilst in the butchers though. Sat perfectly still reading a book. I sat, looking in the mirror, trying to summon the courage to ask the woman to stop snipping away. I didn't want to be rude though, so stayed quiet. And wept quietly inside.

I'm going to make him wear lots of hats until it's grown back. And he's going to be a hippy. And never have a haircut again.

Even G hates it. I just tucked her into bed, told her that I loved her, and that she is my girl. My best girl (I'm trying positive reinforcement as a behaviour modification tool) Her reply? "Yes mum, I know.. and Lal is your short haired freak.." Nice.. but true. The poor hair. *sobs*

Oh yes, and he started nursery again.. after not having gone for about 6 weeks.. he recognised the car park and ran in the opposite direction. I caught him and he screamed piteously as I took him inside. And cried more once in there. Until he saw the really fancy hoover (toy one) that they have.. and left me without a backward glance... Oh, the hoover is FAB! It says.."Come on.. let's get cleaning..." I ordered one from Amazon within 49 seconds of coming home.

Hmm... I wonder if his hair will grow back quicker if I pull it...

K x

Friday, 28 November 2008

Scan story

Scans.. loved them. Loved them so much I had to pay for the fancy 3d one, just so I could see him one more time before I met him for real. I had three scans.. so I'll do three stories!

12 week Scan

K was away again (when was he not? lol) so I went on my own. I could have taken G, but I was suffering from First Scan Terror. You know, the terror that you've imagined the 19 positive tests and you're not actually pregnant. Drank the obligatory 19 glasses of water, and crossed my legs to wait my turn. I was informed that my bladder was too full, and could I let a little out? No mean feat, but success acheived. And then that wait. Gel on tummy, itchy paper stuffed into best knickers, stomach still completely flat except for the bump on you can see.. and the 2 minute silent wait. The silence that stretches forever until the sonographer deigns to tell you that there is a heartbeat. And legs and arms and a head. Anyway, here is baby IT (as was then) arms, legs and head..Aww, it was waving..


20 week Scan

I loved this one. It was the 10th August and the day before my birthday. A perfect present. I took G with me, as I really did want her to be involved, and thought it would kill any feelings of jealousy stone dead.

Learnt my lesson from the time before and didn't drink too much water. Still wore my best knickers though, and this time I *did* have a bump that would be seen by someone other than me. She did all the measurements, and then asked if we wanted to know the sex. I did, I wanted the surprise, but wanted it then! I asked the sonographer to whisper it to G, so that she sould be the very first person to know whether she was having a baby brother or sister. She squealed ridiculously loudly, which was how I knew he was a boy. A sister didn't really appeal.. So.. here.. the 20 week baby boy:


An alien in the third pic, obviously.

28 week 3d scan

Just brilliant. Well worth the money. It cost around £100 with the photos I think, and I got a cd with all the pictures and some real time movement on. I cried through the whole thing. G sang to my belly at one point, and he turned directly towards her and listened. Cried again. Stupid hormones. And the pics.. the last one.. well.. I asked my bump to confirm (before I decorated his room and bought boy clothes) to just confirm that he was actually male. An obliging baby.. he did..


Shy baby..


Not so shy baby boy.. G insisted in having a proper print of this picture and taking it into school to show all her friends. K was just proud..


K (who is not feeling at all broody now.. damn you Lynda.. why scan pictures when he's about to turn two and the whole baby thing seems so long ago.. )

Wednesday, 26 November 2008

The picture of my discontent

Just, before I start. Here.. this is what I'm living with. It's like a dark shadow cast over the house. Behind the door, I know that this mess is waiting for me. And it's driving me crazy. I can no longer use the upstairs bathroom as I have to pass by the door. I'm telling you, the mess haunts my dreams.


Right, neuroses done. Now let's talk about today.

Last night I had a mini argument with G - can you guess what about? She went to bed in a huff, and I accidentally overdosed on droswy cough syrup. I'm positive I bought the non drowsy one, but ah well. Woke up at 8.10, on the sofa, freezing all the way from top to tippy toes and shouted at G to get up. My poor girl had already got up, dressed, breakfasted herself and left, all without waking me. Felt horrible. Really horrible. So resolved to do something nice for her. Something really nice... for her.

Lal ate breakfast again, and today Louie's World taught him body parts. Not dismembered ones, there was a picture of a boy. Now why is it that I've been labelling his parts for months now, but when Louie says it, Lal can suddenly point to his head, legs, arms and feet. Pfft. I just have contrary children.

What else? And why do have such a terrible memory?

Ah yes, G had another detention tonight. Her crime? Her top button wasn't completely done up. Pfft. I texted and reminded her that I would be picking her up from school at 4.30 and we'd go straight to the Stop Smoking Clinic - free patches.. woohoo. 4.20, Lal and I got in the car, named a few body parts, sang Bob the Lally, can he fix it, and arrived at the school at 4.31. No G. No G anywhere. Ring her mobile, switched off. Ring again, still switched off. Ring again and my phone tells me that I have used all my credit. I turned around to tell Lal that we were going home, and he'd fallen asleep. At 4.45. Nooooooooooo. Did you hear the shout of terror? He'll never sleep tonight. Finally, at 4.50, the phone rang. My next door neighbour who informed me that G was with her and that she'd gotten a lift home with a friend. The air in my car turned ever so quietly blue as we made our way home through the rush hour traffic.

It's 8.30 and the 26 minutes sleep Lal had in the car has meant that he is still awake. He's in his cot, with the side up and has thrown every single blanket and pillow out in frustration. Bedtime bear was just launched into the hall. It's going to be a very long night.

And after I was nice to G and returned her room to it's former glory as well. Hands up who knew I'd break and hang the damn clothes up myself?

K xx

Monday, 24 November 2008

Nagging, breakfast and sigs

"G.. sweetie, could you hang up the clothes in your bedroom please? Thanks love."

So, today. You'll never believe it. Lal ate breakfast. Actually ate it. Cereal, two yogurts, a fruit pot, a packet of raisins and two gingerbread men. I was that excited, I rang Hushy to celebrate. She was once again screening my calls, so to pay her back I rang back every 15 minutes for two hours. I finally stalked her into submission, she answered and we chatted (whilst she made soup.. from scratch not from a can... incredible) Where was I? Oh yes, breakfast. He ate it! For the first time since July. JULY. Breakfast. What a fantastic Monday.

"Jogs, don't forget to hang those clothes up please love.. you still haven't done it. Thanks sweetie."

What else did we do today? Well, there was breakfast, the Hushy call.. umm.. oh yes, we watched Baby Tv. Louie's world to be precise. Lal's speech is coming along nicely, if you don't need the first half of words. On Louie's World, a nice lady says "A stereo system/television/remote control/ etc etc etc (today was Electronic devices - yesterday was clothes, it varies..) (can you put brackets in a quote?) (probably not) " She then says "A stereo system.. where's the stereo system, there's the stereo system. A stereo system." And then goes onto the next thing.

Lal can now say:

sion - television

stum - stereo system

trol - remote control

ter - computer

And woe betide me if I say that he's said sion when it was actually stem. I get that look of disappointment. You know the one..

"Georgia, if you haven't hung those clothes up by the time I get upstairs...."

What else? I have a niggling cough that I am trying to cure by smoking more.. it's not working yet though, I'm going to have to persevere.

Ooh oh.. caught the G out again. Suddenly remembered at around 2 that it was Monday and that she *may* have Cross Country after school, so texted her to confirm. At 3.35 I got a text back saying "yes." At 4.20 she rang me to say that she was on her way home.. our conversation:

"Mum.. I'm 5 minutes from town, I'll be home in about 20 minutes."

"Ok sweetie.. you're early.. was there no cross country?"

"No, there was.. but not many people went, so we finished quicker..."

Riiiight.. I get it. Apparently, if fewer people than usual go.. it takes far less time to run 3 miles. Upon cross examination on her arrival home, it was established that she had failed to attend the after school club and had decided to ride the Number 42 bus' entire route - just because her friend lives at the last stop. Marvellous.

Lal didn't nap today. By 5.25 he was falling asleep into his (non eaten) dinner. He perked up slightly in the bath at 6, but then mistook the bubbles for a pillow and we had a mini drowning incident. He's been asleep since 6.30 and I'm fully expecting his internal alarm to be loud and cheerful at Even more marvellous.

"Georgina Mary Alice. I picked the clothes up from the pit you call your room. I washed the clothes. I dried the damn clothes. I ironed them and put them on hangers. The ONLY thing I asked you to do is to hang them in your wardrobe. That's it. I didn't send you out to pick the cotton and hand sew them. I asked you to hang them up. I will be upstairs in 3 minutes. If it's not done I'm taking your computer, your phone, your bed and your life... get it? 3 minutes."

And finally.. I'll show off. Not only my monsters, but my fab new Hushy sigs..



K xx

(who is sneaking back into journalling.. well hopefully..)

Saturday, 8 November 2008


Had a bath this morning. A proper bath..with bubbles and everything. Not just a quick dip in and out whilst keeping one eye on Lal as he destroys.. well destroys everything.

G was (nominally) watching him, so I took myself away. The thing is, I think I've ruined forever my biochemistry and I don't think my skin or body will ever recover.

It didn't start off too well. Tesco are delivering the shopping between 3-5, so will obviously get here at 5.01, so we only had night time bath stuff. Dreamy Skin by Johnson and Johnson (see BC? Advertising too..) now this contains Moonglow and guarantees that I will fall asleep quicker and easier. But it's day so I don't want to do that! Quick... shower gel.. Kick Start with Ginseng and Guarana, that'll do it. I am now supposed to be feeling revitalised and energised.. good good.

Of course, as it's been a while since I've had a proper bath, and with no man to impress, I haven't shaved for a while.. time to get out the trusty, rusty razor and attempt to tame the legs. Use the Kick Start as a foamy froth and cut 26 tiny little bleeding scars into the legs. Painful but worth it.

Eyes fall upon the White Musk Soft Satin Body Polish (or bits of sand in creme) and decide that that looks good. Forget all about the 26 bleeding cuts until the exfoliator enters the holes and agony ensues.

Forget all about the primping and sink under the water (knees in the air as the bath is too short) and just float for a while. Get into maximum comfort mode and open eyes just in time to see huge plastic frog landing on my head... The babysitter had lost her charge and he'd come to investigate what mummy was doing. Remove frog from head, call G and relax again.

G decides that she has had enough of watching him, and is suddenly desperate to share her need of the toilet and so sits down.. in my bathroom.. obviously the other two toilets in the house aren't good enough, and she was taught to share.. Lal decides that it is tooth brushing time, so uses his commando moves to scale the sink, sit in it and start brushing (and throwing toothpaste tubes, soap dispensers and mouthwash into my bath)

I give up entirely on relaxing and reach for the face wash that guarantees to purify my pores, prevent all forms of aging and leave my skin feeling as soft as the day I was born. Realise that G has used all my one, and use her Witch one instead. It'll still clean my pores..

(Still feeling the pain of the exfoliator btw)

Curse the fact that I sank under the water and now need to wash my hair. Find shampoo.. the shampoo that will leave my hair revitalised, energised, and smelling of chamomile, aloe vera and passion flower.. ooh.. it'll balance the moisture too.. excellent! (Sorry.. I misquoted.. it will "revitalise my senses in a world of botanical bliss")

So, face done, legs done, body done (whilst ignoring the refusing to go away bit of tummy flab that's still left over from Lal) hair done.. covered in ginseng, guarana, white musk, chamomile, aloe vera, passion flower, moonglow, toothpaste, mouthwash, hand soap, plastic frog.. time to get out.

Shoo all children from bathroom - Lal still sitting in the sink, and G now playing "The way you make me feel" by Michael Jackson through her mobile, and rise gracefully from the water. Sigh in frustration as I realise that wet plastic frog landed on my nice fluffy towel when he was ejected from the water, and grumble about having to dry myself with a soggy towel.

And now the drying and dressing stage..

Send Lal and G downstairs to eat Gingerbread men and toast respectively and attempt makeup. Ah, first with face cream. I have the calming eye cream.. the one that will ensure the dark circles disappear whilst simultaneously remove all signs of aging. The face cream that will smooth wrinkles, reinvigorate and revitalise, all the while calming the skin..

Make up consists of lash curling, length enhancing, clump declumping mascara; smoothing and clarifying powder and a little eyeshadow that does nothing but make me look tired.

Hair, well it's still orange after the disastrous dye attempt, so gets minimal hair spray (smoothing, shining whilst giving bounce) and a quick go over with the hair dryer. Lal hears the hair dryer - thinks it's being aimed at him and cowers under his cot for 5 minutes trying to hide. G starts with the "aren't you done yet? I need to straighten my hair."

Locate clothes.. jeans and jumper, it's cold and I'm old. Deodarant.. which promises that I will bask in the glow of calendula and my skin will be restored and enhanced.

So.. I'm clean and I'm calmed, revitalised, restored, enhanced, reinvigorated, clarified, smoothed, balanced, energised, anti aged, smooth as a newborn baby and bleeding. All in 30 minutes.

Came downstairs, tidied up the books that Lal pulled out of the bookshelf, cleaned out two fish tanks, washed up, made more breakfast and wondered why the only thing to work was the bath stuff that guaranteed I'd sleep easier.

I'm exhausted..

K xx

Tuesday, 14 October 2008

How to sell your life on ebay?

Actually, this isn't a topic, it's more of a question. I'm hoping people have slightly better experience of this than mine... I just tend to add something, write a life story of it, and hope someone buys.

And strictly, I'm not selling my life. I'm selling Lal's and G's.

I got a phone call earlier from the Insulation people, telling me that they are starting work tomorrow on our loft. I have 325 years worth of stuff in that loft. Literally. Even though we've only lived here for 6 years. I'm amazed the roof joists have survived this long.

So, I've come to terms with the fact there will be no more babies (unless I can steal one from somewhere) so am selling most of Lal's stuff and whatever G doesn't want. (Not selling all of Lal's stuff as I also decided after G that there would be no more babies and had to spend a fortune buying everything again)

Of course, the lack of a husband does sort of mean no more.. but you know, medical advances.. and there is always another Immaculate Conception to pray for..

So! I need help. How do you sell stuff on ebay? Do I list the 27 almost exactly the same cardigans, size new baby, that he absolutely NEEDED as separate lots? Or do I do them in a bundle? The 18 designer outfits that cost upwards of £30 each (they were cute and I had hormones... don't judge me) single? lots? Frame and keep forever on a wall?

Do you write lots and lots and lots? Or do you keep it simple and succinct?

What is the strangest thing you have sold? I've listed a broken dvd player, empty perfume bottles and net curtains... even an empty glass water bottle that I had for *show* on our dining table (before the dining room became Lal's playroom)

An except from one of my auctions.. and it sold!

Now this one really is nice! It has the guaranteed look that makes people coo over your beautifully dressed baby boy.

It is actually aged 6 months, but Ebay didn't want to let me list it at that. It had to be 3-6m or 6-9m. I would say that it was generously sized, but then I had a tiny baby, For normal sized babies, I suppose it would be for a 6 month old which doesn't help you out at all.

It is a gorgeous velour type fabric, extremely soft. Separate trousers and top and will be perfect for the upcoming autumn days.

Again, I classed it as a *best* outfit, so it didn't get much wear. And it's French. Which would be a non sequitur, but it isn't, because it's French.

It even says " la clef des champs" on it, in beautiful handsewn writing. Which all you French speakers will know, stands for "This parent is falling into my trap and buying a ridiculously priced French outfit because someone somewhere said that French is best." It cost me £85 new. Yes, you did read that right. £85 new. For an outfit that the baby is likely to be sick on (he wasn't - he wouldn't have dared.. £85 *sigh*)

Oh, it's blue and white. And pretty. Well, manly.

Happy Bidding! (which really means, please buy them and don't make me have to keep them. I may have to have another child, just so he can wear it, but then the new baby would be a girl and I'd have to buy more and have more babies... you don't want to subject me to that, now do you?)

Apologies for the frankly appalling picture taking skills. I was good, but then he ate the camera.

I need tales and inspiration people!You see what happens when I'm left on my own?

(And Lal has learnt to say "beach" - he says it a lot, but it doesn't really sound like he's saying beach.. it sounds ruder. There also seems to be something that sounds suspiciously like "pee off." *sigh*


Monday, 13 October 2008

I've had 4 bfp's (big fat positive on a pregnancy test) and have two children. With my dear, darling G, I never got a bfp at all. I never did a pregnancy test. I resolutely buried my head in the sand and refused to consider the idea that I could possibly be pregnant. Sadly, after 4 months and a rapidly burgeoning stomach, I could ignore it no more. 5 months is an ideal length for a pregnancy though.. You can even arrange a proper wedding in time.. Innocent Bad Catholic!

I've had three Yippee's that have turned into miscarriages and an ectopic, but that is over 10 years, so isn't too bad.

The happiest tale is Lal's one. Who said I favour one child over the other?

You have to forgive me, I didn't know any better then, but during an "early pregnancy symptom" search on google, I came across another Parenting forum - I know, traitorous in the extreme.. I just looked and this was my first (and last) post there:

I know some of you have experience in this so.....
I did a test this morning (first responce) and got a faint line - faint but noticeable..... am I pregnant?
Not due period until Wednesday, but am having all sort of symptoms... huge,sore breasts, nausea. I'm having slight niggling cramps as well though so I really don't know what to think! And there are no chemists open until tomorrow to get more tests

You see the naivete? I didn't know any of the terms, didn't know that a line was a line was a line. I just didn't know..

I can still remember that time, so clearly, even though I can't be entirely sure what happened yesterday..

2 days after the deed - Hmm, I feel slightly sick. Could it be? I could be, but then I just ate a 4 pack of chocolate eclairs. POAS - negative

3 days after - Ooh, ohh, ohhhh.. sore breasts. Google says yes, that is a symptom. Except I read that on day 2 so have been prodding at my breasts for the last 22 hours.POAS - negative

4 days after - Sorer breast, more prodding. Does that hurt? Cue squeeze that would rival a mammogram - it did hurt.POAS - negative

5 days after - Sick feeling again, and very tired. Did see dh off to Iraq at some ungodly hour and slept for approx 27 minutes, but no.. it's definitely another symptom.POAS - negative

6 days after - Sickness getting worse, slight tummy cramps, breasts now complaining that they have been squeezed too much and will allow nothing to touch them without actual tears of pain. POAS - negative (become convinced that there is something wrong with the tests and make 10 year old daughter take one.. realise that that isn't something a respectable parent does)

7 days after - POAS... POSITIVE. Immediately go online. Find strangers and announce pregnancy. Apologise to G. Take photos of test stick and email to dh. And email again in case the first one didn't get through.

For the next 14 days, I POAS at least once a day. (Job lot for £3.95 off ebay and a few extras from Tesco) I spent more on pregnancy tests than I did on food that month.

I was 3 weeks and 1 day pregnant when I found out. I swore that I would never again test so early - my two pregnancies since then? I tested ridiculously early then too. I have no patience at all. It's pathetic.

Oh, I should do the soppy stuff too...


My first feelings when I truly believed that I was pregnant? To place my hand on my stomach and leave it there for the next 9 months. Bump needed to know I cared.


Cried and started watching American Tv shows for inspiration for names. Started hoping bump would be a boy named Cory or a girl named Raven. Was over the moon ecstatic.


No idea of his first reaction, he was in Iraq and had to read the email. I'm pretty sure he was pleased and announced the strength of his.. umm.. deposit to a roomful of Squaddies. To me, he just sent an email back, I saved it, I am sad like that!

You daft mare, the picture you attached didn't take. Pregnant already?Thought we were still just practising. Not supposed to happen until Dec. Bloody happy. Sure you'll manage? Can get mum to move in and help. Tell Jogs to make you eat green stuff. 8 months, I'll be home, try to hold on yeah? Got leave for World Cup, so home sometime in July. Am booking tickets. Can you fly? Suppose we could all drive to Germany. James coming back too. He's staying with us. Says congrats on bun. (well done really. V hppy) K

Romantic no? In case you really wanted to know, his mother did NOT stay with me (I'd be writing this from a frozen over hell if she had) He did get to go to the World Cup, and James did stay with us for a week. I didn't receive the message to eat lots of green stuff.


Tuesday, 7 October 2008

The brattiest teen on the planet

I know I said that I would get back into journalling and actually make a proper effort... added three then ran away.. here's why..

The Tale of the Brattiest Teen on the planet.

G is my girl. My beautiful girl who is a pleasure to be around most days. Other days I want to plant her in compost, head first and only get her out when she's 18 and can leave home. She's not had it so easy lately. She witnessed one heck of a row between her father and I and the fallout from that hasn't been easy for any of us to cope with. Least of all her. Sadly, the children haven't been able to see daddy as much as any of us would like, contact has been reduced for a while to a couple of hours on a Saturday, and she doesn't like that. And decided to make me pay. The following is a tale and comedy of errors that she and her friend decided one night on msn. G no longer has msn. Or any sort of life.

Last Tuesday, G didn't come home from school. At all. Nothing. 4.30, no child. 5.30, no child. 6.30, no child. That isn't like her. It was dark, and cold and raining and nothing. I rang all her friends, fortunately she'd forgotten her mobile, and nothing. They'd last seen her walking home, through the park by herself. I'm afraid I did what any self respecting over protective mother would do, and called the police. They came. Looked around the house and garden in case she was hiding somewhere there, took a picture of her to circulate amongst all the other police in the area and called the Dog Unit to search the park.

By 7.30, I was hysterical and convinced that she was dead in a ditch somewhere. K was out looking, my father was driving the streets looking, my brothers were on various trains coming back from London looking, and I was sat with three phones repeatedly dialling three of her friends who hadn't answered the phone when I initially called. Nothing. The child had vanished.

At 9.30, one of the numbers I was calling, I had no idea who, finally was answered. The parent of the girl, after a very long pause, eventually deigned to tell me that she was there, and had been since 4.30. Nice of them to let me know, huh? Or to answer the phone before. 19 missed calls. pfft.

I rang the police, told them where to find her and expected her home within the hour. Again, I was mistaken. Young Miss G decided to inform the police that she was being beaten. Not smacked, or hit once, beaten. Actually beaten. Apparently she had a red mark on her arm. No one thought to question that she hadn't actually been home for me to have given her the red mark... no one considered the possibility that she was ever so slightly scared she'd be in trouble when she came home. Beaten! *sigh*

I reacted well to the accusation I must admit. I *didn't* tell the police that if I was beating her, it'd be best if she went into care then. I *didn't* go straight upstairs and pack every last item she owned into suitcases. No.. I wouldn't do that.

One sleepless night later, and I started to receive the phone calls from Social Services. And visits. The visit went well... epically well. My opening gambit? "Yes, I suppose I do beat her. Isn't it lucky that my parents paid for me to have lessons from the SAS, so i could learn how to beat her without leaving a mark..." and "I don't beat her.. I am using the Deadly Nightshade that's growing in the garden as a nice salad garnish though." Seriously. If anyone has a brainfilter going spare, I'll pay anything. I never know when to shut up.

Social Services have decided that G isn't an abused child - she will be soon though - and that they are able to close the file and just send her back to me.

The police however, still need to interview me regarding the alleged assault. The nice detective lady told me that I have nothing to worry about ( as I wan't anywhere near her to have actually hit her) but I stil need to go down to the station. This is where my watching programmes such as The Bill and Law and Order don't help... an excerpt from my conversation:

"So, when I come to see you, do I need to bring a solicitor? It's only, on The Bill.. if you're innocent and bring one then the police think you're guilty.. and if you're guilty and don't have one then you drop yourself in it. Not that I have anything to drop myself in... but you know, umm.. do I need one?"

She laughed.

"Ok, I'll be there at 10 on Thursday.. now can I bring Lal with me? He's 21 months and will stay still for a little while, or should I have someone look after him?"

Have someone look after him...

"Right.. so does that mean I'm going to be arrested and charged and sent to prison? Oh God.. he doesn't like staying with people overnight. Even when I went to London baby (Yep.. I said London baby, ffs) my parents had to move in here and he was ok, but now has a bit of nappy rash...he's in cloth most of the time, but he reacts badlt to disposables at the moment.. "

She laughed again. I'm not being arrested. I just have to confirm that I don't (yet) beat her.

The end of the story? Are you now picturing G sitting at home, loved, cuddled, all happy in the family again? Cos you'd be wrong.

My father went to collect her - after being the best dad in the world and cleaning my kitchen ceiling.. well that's what you do in an emergency situation, you clean ceilings... - and the family she was staying with wouldn't let her go!! They advised him that G was going to be living there now, and wouldn't be coming home at all.. not where she was in danger of being beaten. The father and brothers of the girl then chased my dad up the road. Poor man, he rang me from the car asking what to do.. my advice? Reverse!

Another police call and G came home. Unrepentant and uncowed. One of her gripes is that I am too old fashioned. The example she gave to the social worker was that I expect to "know where she is, who she's with and when she's coming home.." Far too old fashioned.

The upshot is that she'll be spending a little more time with her dad, a lot less time near any computer and no time at all out of the house.

Oh, and if you ever do have the misfortune to have any sort of involvement with social services, it's not the best idea to tell that when she comes home, you're going to kill her. They don't have a sense of humour about that.

The last thing Gordon the SW said to me, "Right.. so now we have a cunning plan as to where we go from here..." I tried so hard to stop myself, I pinched my thigh, I tried zipping my mouth closed, I tried.. but I failed... I responded with "A plan that is as cunning as a fox who has just been made Professor of Cunning at Oxford University?" Damn that Blackadder. And damn my lack of brain filter.

K (and the child named G who used to have a life but now has a mere existance)

Wednesday, 24 September 2008

Hair dye, music and randomness

First things first. As I type I have a colour on my head. No, not on my head, on my hair. I need to look presentable for the London baby meet so am attempting a home do. Good plan? Well maybe. The last time I did this my hair actually went green. I can't remember why I thought it would be a good idea to try again now, but trying again I am. Wish me luck. Oh and I can't write much tonight, I only have 33 minutes left.

And now to Lal. Nursery again, and once more into the breech. Disappeared off up the climbing frame without looking back. Lovely. I came home and actually did work today and tidied up according to my Flylady habits. It's so nice to be able to put things away and for them to stay away for longer than 6 seconds.

Picked him up at 12 and he was crying! Sobbing tears. My poor little man, he'd missed me so much.. he must have been crying the whole time I was gone. Umm, nope. He now has a girlfriend and was inconsolable because her parents had just picked her up. Missing me? Never. He still blames me for his loss and has ignored me all afternoon. I love children. And they love me, obviously.

Apart from that, not much happened today really. Force fed him a fruit pot. He stole the Gingerbread man box and ate 8 heads before I realised. Carnage.

Ooh, I was chatting to someone on the phone about something completely different when the conversation turned to song lyrics. You know, as it does. I can't do lyrics. I hear them, I know them, but I seem to hear something completely different to everyone else. For example..

"My world crumbles when you are not here..." I hear, "I want cockles when you are not here.."

For G's singing exam, she had to perform Truly Scrumptious, from Chitty.. she got into the exam and was marked down for singing "Scrumptious as a cherry beach buffet." Who knew the actual words were "cherry peach parfait?"

There's the song, I don't know which one it is, but says something along the lines of "And every time I close my eyes I piss myself.." I'm pretty sure it doesn't actually say that.. but who can tell?

Ooh, that reminds me. There must be older mums out there who remember taping the Top 40 off the radio every Sunday night? You'd always get a couple of DJ words in your mix... sitting for hours with your finger on the pause button. Children these days, with their Ipod doodahs have it so easy. They'll never know the simple pleasures of the pause button.

Oh, and making "Songs to Commit Suicide By" tapes... filled with "I danced with him to this song," "He told me he fancied Linzy whilst this song was playing," "I'll never get over this broken heart so I'll listen to the Carpenters and cry" songs. The same songs that you played on the tape and paused after every line so you could write them down to learn them. Unless you we were of "those" people who saved their pocket money to buy Smash Hits magazine that actually had lyrics in..

Cd's have a lot to answer for. And I've wittered on for so long my hair is probably neon by now.. I'll let you know tomorrow how it turned out.

K x

Tuesday, 23 September 2008

You are dead to me now..

So.. nursery. My baby boy was sent, without a care for his well being to nursery today. How could I do it to him?

We woke up slightly late, but still ridiculously early at 6.45. You know, we need time to prepare for momentous occasions such as these. Lal woke happy, G woke in her usual complaining mood, and I was unable to unglue my eyes to open them for 19 minutes. I hate mornings.

Clothes were chosen, not to good as to be showy offy, or ruined at the slightest hint of paint, and not too shabby so as to appear down at heel. Thought has to go into these things you know. Right, so that was me done, now time for Lal. Cute little trousers and the matching top that was bought for him last Christmas and finally fits now! Yay. Hair brushed and curls teased back (him) make up done and hair brushed the vain hope that someone somewhere might things it's a hair do.. (me) tie wonky and skirt rolled up (G).

It's now 7.47 and we're all ready. Right. Umm. Take G to school at 8.20.. and Lal to nursery for 9. Slightly early.. ooh.. we all have time for breakfast, yay! Family take tops off in case milk is spilt down them and munch merrily away on cereal (G) banana (me) and Gingerbread Man.. (guess who.. *sigh*)

Tops back on.. let's be off. Lecture G in the car on the way to school about how her uniform choices now will affect her entire future. If the skirt continues to be rolled up, she'll only be able to get a job as a street worker in Soho. Then realise that I am not actually talking to myself and try to get out of explaining what it actually is a street worker does.

"Umm, well.. ok, you're old enough now. They sell their bodies for sex. Like, making money.. no, not like making money, actually making money. It's not good. And is wrong. No, they don't make lots of money. Well they can do, but it's not a nice way to earn a living. Yes, I know you like short skirts, and I suppose you do have a nice figure.. but that does NOT mean that being a street worker is a profession you can aspire to. Georgina. No. Oh come on. You know I didn't mean to start this conversation. C'mon Pa. Ok... you're here now. Have a lovely day. Don't tell any of your (catholic) teachers what I said. Ooh ooh.. wait a second.. Mary Magdalene was a street worker.. (door slams as G runs away quickly) Bloody great, I've just spent the last 5 minutes extolling the virtues of prostitution. And now I'm talking to myself. Hey Lal, shall we sing Here we go looby lou?"

And breathe. I shouldn't be left in charge of children. Or speech. I need some sort of brain filter.

Got to the nursery, after 2 rounds of Louby Lou, and 1 round of Lal the Builder... shut. Check time. 8.28. Great. Drive home,, park car, get Lal out and go inside. Decided to walk to the nursery even though it's a whole 5 minutes walk away, so get the pushchair out. Lal sees pushchair and turns into Excito boy shouting "park park park park" and running in circles.. until he trips over his own foot. Waste time double checking that I have packed nappies, wet wipes, drink, dentinox (last used a year ago.. but he might need it) calpol in case of fever emergency, first aid kit in case theirs isn't stocked, list of 14 emergency numbers.. all the things a panicking mother needs, and then leave.

Arrived at the nursery at 9.04 and watched as Lal ran away. He *did* shout bye over his shoulder, but didn't even have the decency to pretend tears. Nothing, nada, zilch. Just pure happiness that they had a climbing frame. Traitor.Left him and came home to get on with my work.

I did nothing. I had 18 phone calls to make, but didn't. Emails to send, but didn't. Website uploading to do, but didn't. I did spend a little while ringing my own phone line from my mobile in case there was a problem. And then cried because what if the nursery had called whilst I was ringing? I did sit and stare at the clock counting down minutes. I did just sit. And wait. For the big hand to get near 12.

And then it did. I walked so quickly to the place that my calves were actually screaming in pain. I was out of breath when I arrived, and what did I find? My son, my dear delightful boy, who had SLEPT for an hour and a half. He doesn't sleep for me. Oh no, no naps for a month now. But nursery? The place he doesn't know? The people he doesn't know? He'll sleep perfectly happily for them. Because, you know, I'm paying for him to nap! Three hours he was there, and slept for half of it. Great.

Oh, and did he run to me in slow motion, with arms out stretched, whilst slow music built to a crescendo in the background? Did he heck! He glanced once in my direction and refused to look at me again. Seriously. I've been ignored ALL afternoon and evening. I did get the narrow eyed glare at about 4 that said " I thought you cared about me mother. But then you left me at that place. I don't know you any more. You're dead to me now." That look. Apart from that.. if he absolutely had to have something, he fixed his gaze somewhere over my left shoulder and said "Gingee" I glumly provided Gingerbread men.

So... nursery was a success for him. For our relationship, I fear I have damaged it beyond repair. Although... he did give me a hug before he took himself up to bed..maybe there is hope...

Except he goes again tomorrow...


K xx

And back again..

I've made my decision, and I'm here to stay. I keep losing so much time that I just haven't had any spare to journal. My nights don't feel complete with my record of my day, so I'm starting again. I made a list so I could remember what I was going to say.. but I lost it somewhere. Balls. Maybe headings will help?

Life according to G..

She has started cadets. She wasn't so sure after the first outing - told me that everyone there had been sent because they were alcoholics, drug dealers and had been given 18 ASBO's by the time they were three. Slight parental digging revealed the true reason to be that they expected 10 push ups a night and G can only manage half of one. She tried, bless her. She's back at school, no problems so far, is settling in well and actually working! Still having the same issues with the rolled up skirt - ooh, a new one! What's with the lopsided pony tail? Does she not realise we're not living in the 80's anymore? I said that to her, and that I'd buy her some legwarmers... she reminded me that I bought them for what's the problem? well yes, but they're not called legwarmers, they're called Baby legs and they are just cute... I lost that argument and she still has a lopsided head. She does it to try me. She also decided that she needed to create her own fake ID so that she could go to the shops and buy me cigarettes. Apparently a non smoking me isn't very nice..

Life according to Lal..

Not many more words, although his ability to climb has now reached legendary status. Seriously. He star jumped off is pushchair earlier. And climbed to the top of his easel and balanced. BALANCED. Sorry for shouting, but if there is one thing designed to stop my heart dead, it's the sight of a 21month old sitting on top of an easel. He starts nursery tomorrow. I dread to think how they are going to handle him. He may well be responsible for a sudden shortage of Nursery workers in our area. Stress related absences are on the up aren't they? He doesn't eat anymore. Well he does, but only yogurt (must be Petit Filous) fruit pots, gingerbread men and carrot puffs. That's it. Nothing else. At all. He knows it winds me up, so opens his mouth as if willing to taste some yummy Cottage Pie, smiles at me and spits it all back out. He starts nursery tomorrow.. He hasn't quite got to grips with the "No" thing yet either. He will do something naughty, and whilst doing it will tell himself off. The worst, however, is when for example, he opens the fridge and starts removing stuff... he gets told "No" and stops.. Awww.. I then open the fridge to put the just about to break milk bottle back in, and get my fingers slammed in the door and vociferously told "NO Mama.. nessy" But, but... I'm the grown up.. I'm allowed to do it. The new rule of the house, according to Lal.. If he can't do it, no one can... He starts nursery tomorrow... Only for 3 hours, 3 mornings a week. I'm looking forward to it now. I'll be a wreck tomorrow.

Life according to me..

I am ashamed to say that I decided to give up giving up. And am a fully fledged smoker again (shh, tell no one, they'll shout at me) In my own non existent defence, I've had a very stressful few weeks and it probably wasn't the best time. OOh, I also discovered Flylady! She emails me every morning telling me to look at my "control journal" and do tasks from it. Houseworkey type tasks. For a neat and clean freak like me, it's the closest I'll get to heaven for a while. I wonder if it's the child in me that just wants to giggle inanely at the last line of her email.. Here, read and enjoy..


Do you need a Pep Talk this morning!

We are going to build a Morning Routine for your Control Journal or to just post on the refrigerator. Here is what I do.

1. Get up and weigh
2. Shower, get dressed to lace up shoes,fix your hair and face
3. While you are in the bathroom Swish and Swipe
4. Grab a load of laundry and start the washer
5. Check your calendar for today's activities
6. Empty dishwasher to start your day
7. Eat something good for you, take your medicine and vitamins
8. What's For Dinner
9. Drink your water.
10. Put some Loving Movement into your day. - Yeah.. umm.. ok..

Told you! I'm a child...

I've been massively busy trying to build up my enterprises, but things are going well.. this time next year, I'll be a.. well you know. Possibly even this time next week if I can get the Euromillions!

This weekend, a group of Dec 06 mums are heading off to London for a mum's only meet. We are staying in a hotel in Kensington and planning on drinking lots. We even have a flying Hushy coming in from Scotland. Expect many fuzzy pictures on Monday. I can't wait actually, it'll be my first proper break away from the children since before they were embryos. Fab!

I've wittered on enough for tonight. I did have much catching up to do though, so.. well just so!

Lal.. nursery tomorrow. Am looking forward to it, and will do until 9.02 when I realise that he's not here...


Monday, 22 September 2008

Our favourite book

Books! I like books. I read many of them. Over and over.

When I was a child, I truly believed that I was the missing member of Famous Five. If they'd had me on their team, we'd have found the missing treasure on Kirrin Island in half the time. I still say "smashing" now, drives G mad.

And then I got older and discovered the magic that was Malory Towers. I wanted to *be* Darryl and have her legendary temper that she inherited from her father. And Marylou and her timidity, Sally for her steadfast loyalty (whilst all term denying that she had a baby sister until her appendix burst and Super Darryl's father saved the day) I used to try brushing my hair 100 times like Gwendoline Mary Lacey, could never quite manage it, but Miss Grayling called it, it took some time, but Gwen did manage to become a "worthwhile young lady."

Older still and the Judy Blume addiction began. How many people my age (and I'm not telling you what that is) don't remember and giggle childishly at the name Ralph? Or can still tell you what page *that* happened on?

During my depressing teenage years, I started reading books about Nuclear War. Z for Zacharia, Children of the Dust, Brother In the Land.. I loved them all. Thinking back, I must have been quite young when I read them, the girl in one survived because she lived under the kitchen table and only drank bottled water. 4 days I lasted before my mum refused to feed me anymore.

My all time favourite book now, is one I read years ago, and is now out of print. It's called "A covenant with death." It's the story of a Pals regiment of the First World War, the tagline.. ""2 years in the making, 5 minutes in the destroying." A true story of a group of 200 factory workers who all joined up on the same day, 180 of them were wiped out in the first 5 minutes of the Somme. Another depressing one!

I like Marian Keyes.. does that make up for it? And ooh, nearly forgot the Danielle Steel years... Zoya, Fine Things.. tragic heroines who become world leaders.. love it!

G's favourite book hasn't yet been written. And never will be. She would rather have both arms amputated by toothpick accident than willingly read. Breaks my heart.When she was little, she used to love us reading ... gah.. what's it called? "Oh no," said Mr Bear." I can't stand this... " He didn't get any sleep... grr.. what's the betting I remember it as soon as I hit publish?!

Lal loves anything Bob related, Thomas related, and anything he can gnaw at. Ooh, proud Catholic mama.. he does love the God Loves Me bible.. Sits for at least 30 mins "reading" that one.

I just hope that it will continue for him. I loved reading, still do..


Wednesday, 3 September 2008

It's life changing stuff..

I'm becoming a whole new person. As of tomorrow. When I wake in the morning, I am aiming to become smoke, nicotine and tar free. That's right, the worst has happened. I'm becoming a non smoker. In fact, I'm going to become the worst sort of non smoker - an ex smoker who waxes lyrical about the evil smell and disgusting habit of those anti social type people. Yep. That's going to be me.

I've decided that my life isn't complicated enough at the moment, and the children like me too much. I need to add some withdrawal symptoms, crankiness and endless gum chewing into the mix.

G goes back to school on Thursday, Lal is starting millions of playgroups (fingers crossed he'll actually want to be with someone other than me - and not treat all other babies with the suspicion that they are alien invaders here to kill us all) and I need to do something for me. Oh yes, and I'm going against Hushy advice (shh.. don't tell her ) I'm going to join a gym. Me! The uncoordinated one. The one whose PE Teacher politely asked to go outside and play football with the boys to save other gym class takers from black eyes - yep.. it happened. I went left as the poor girl next to me went right.

Joining a gym. It's *not* because they have free creche.. or free baby swimming lessons for babies. Really. I'll get my mum to write me a sick note if they ask me to do any classes.

I am all prepared. I have bought two bottles of chewing gum... easily accessible hopefully, who wants to wait out the craving by having to rip open a paper wrapper? I have written down my stressors as Quitline asked me to do. I need to avoid them at all costs. The children are being adopted out tomorrow.

Of course, I have to be sneaky. Actually, I need to be sneakier. The cigarettes heard me on the phone earlier discussing my plans to give up. They got together to plot a little revenge, or maybe it was just a warning. I went outside to smoke, and the lit bit fell off my cigarette and landed on my chin. I have a nice neat burn. Now that's playing dirty. Hmph.

Oh yes, I discovered something important about myself today. Is it just me? I often think, when reading about people who have been tortured, that I'd stand up quite well to pain (yeah.. I know.. sooo not true) I like to think that I'd suffer stoically and refuse to scream. I was wrong. Whilst sorting the ironing to go away, I slid my hand underneath the pile and a staple from the paper went directly up my fingernail. I blabbed all the secrets immediately. Ouch.. the pain. Between that and the burn.. it's not been a good evening.

So yes, non smoker. As of tomorrow. I have now told people.. I cannot fail. As a couple of added incentives, I am withdrawing £40 on a Monday to go in a "frivolous stuff" kitty. I am going to buy, well, frivolous stuff with it. If I have one cigarette between tomorrow and 27th Sept, I am not allowed to go on our bc board mum's only meet in London. And Hushy's booked a flight down from Scotland and everything. We're staying in a complete dive of hotel, but we're hoping our surroundings won't matter after a drink or 12.

Ok, off to throw away the ashtrays and lighters... wish me luck.. (and the children.. G is not looking forward to the crankiness...)

K xx

Thursday, 28 August 2008

My life in six words..

My life in six words? Can I give it a couple of goes?

Attempt one:

Sigh, sob, laugh, love, sleep, babycentre..

Not bad.. how about..

My children have driven me crazy..

Well that's true I suppose, but hardly the profound phrase I was looking for.

Or .. My day in 6 phrases..

Stop that; Get down;Not in the toilet; No, you can't go on MSN; Whistle once more and I'll sew your lips together whilst you sleep; Why Lal, why?

Nope.. not good enough and I did change the whole premise.. one more..

I'll deal with it later on..

Ok, now try harder.. I'll get there, let's just throw things out there (forgive the Americanism)

Dear God, is that the time?

Why can't I ever be serious?

My children light up my life.. - I like this one, it's true, to the point.. hmm..

Would somebody please feed that cat?

I'll be off the computer soon..

Ok, I'm giving up now. I've created a crop of phrases.. there is at least one proper one in there..and you're right Lynda, it is harder than it looks!

K xx

Dragon's Den.. ish

I run a small business from home. I'm looking for people to invest. I have brothers and a dad. Who better? A copy of my email.. cos you know, I couldn't just ask normally.. I have to do a whole back story...

This week on Dragon's Den...Katie S is looking for (£ an
indeterminate amount) in return for 0% shares in her company (deleted business name... advertising otherwise!)

Hello Dragons (ie: you lot... I was
thinking Dad can be Peter Jones, Ian, Theo Paphitis, Nick, Duncan
Bannatyne.. sadly that means James is Deborah Meadon.. sorry about

Business Name is a new and excitng business created
entirely from scratch. We aim to provide quality Catholic items to the
religious community. To date, there are approximately 2 million
catholics living in Great Britain. Catholic feel guilt, it's a
documented fact.. therefore they buy stuff to assuage that guilt. We
are looking to sell that stuff. Well, sell more than we do already.. you know, different stuff.

(Voiceover man.... Dragon's are looking bored as Katie starts losing her words.. Katie tries valiently to rescue her pitch)

We have an established
advertising campaign in place.. we have placed free adverts in 55
parish magazines throughout Great Britain (due to fancy talking) We are
in the process of sending cards and flyers out to Scottish people (not
random Scottish people, actual friends - Yes Duncan (aka Nick) I do
have friends..) We also have a Google Adwords account in place (DO NOT
google and click.. it costs me money) and various word of mouth thingy wotsits.

We are looking to expand
our range of items and have sourced suppliers in Israel, China and
America. This is where you come in. For minimal wallet activity, you
too could be a non shareholder part of Business Name. You could
share in the glory of success, with none of the rewards.

(Voiceover Guy - Katie seems to have rescued her pitch with the promise of no return on the Dragon's investment.. will they be feeling charitable?)

Does it sound like an offer you can refuse? I don't think so.

Over to you Dragons.. Any questions?

to voiceover repeating everything I just said because he population of
the UK seems to have the memory of a dead flea. Or at least that's what
the BBC thinks... )

Yeah, I know. But it might persuade one of them to invest. I have to keep Lal in Gingerbread Men somehow...

K xx

Tuesday, 26 August 2008

Insomnia, not as much fun as it sounds

I can't sleep! Weeks this has been going on.. weeks. It's 2.32am, I am shattered, the house has been cleaned to perfection - Lal has learnt to sleep through the hoover.. good boy - the games are out for tomorrow, the sofa has been plumped, the furniture moved around in the sitting room. I have nothing left to do. I need sleep. PAH!

I blame my head. It's too full of useless stuff, thoughts, ramblings. It just won't rest and it's annoying me now. I may have to take drastic action soon. A lobotomy or something..Are you listening head? Are you?

So, i am sitting here, on my truly uncomfortable chair. Oh yes.. that's something that happened. On Saturday, I was merrily starting 3000 threads on bc (number may vary.. it possibly was 7) when my whirly chair, or office chair, suddenly tilted forward slightly. No problem, I leaned back to compensate. Answered a few more threads and heard an ominous really was a mournful sound. I then found myself on what was possibly the scariest roller coaster of my life, before I fell to the floor with a thump. An actual thump. The falling wasn't helped by my landing area. Yep. Damn toys. A Marks and Spencer stocking filler camera to be exact. In places where God didn't intend things to go. Pain. But I was super mummy and didn't swear. I used the G rated words. Many times. Whilst my mind had the dubbed X rated version. The death of pink chair means that I now have an extremely hard and uncomfortable wooden slated one. I can see my computer times lessening drastically. You know what's really bad? It's now 2.42 and I've just gone outside to take a picture of the chair to share. Really. I need help.

G goes back to school in 8 days. 8 days! Nope, that deserves more of these ... 8 days !!!!!!!!!!!!! Why isn't there a *yippee* smiley when you need one? I still need to buy her new uniform, but can't because it can only be purchased at the exorbitantly expensive school shop and I have no idea when that opens. We have an appointment at the Cadets on Thursday.. still haven't told her about the discipline part, or the marching.. meh, she'll love it.

Lal has decided that it's his turn to drive me crazy. He isn't eating. If he manages 3 carrot puffs and a gingerbread man throughout the whole day I claim a major victory. *sigh* He is having truly delightful nappies though, so I'm hoping it's just a tummy bug and not the early onset of anorexia. Cos you know.. it could be. Really. Oh,and he's back in the disposables. I can't cope with the scraping of the cloth. Tmi? You'd think so wouldn't you?

The cat disappeared for two days straight. Just gone. Didn't come in screaming for food, miaowing for attention, peeing on the floor.. nothing. I'd just managed to convince G that she must have taken herself off somewhere to die when she jumped back in through the window. And screamed for attention, miaowed for food and peed on the floor. I love that cat. Honestly. The real shame was that if she had gone, I was thinking of getting the children a greyhound. Don't laugh at me.. I watched the news.. there was a feature... they only need two 20 minute walks a day.. supposedly. And a coat for the winter in case they freeze. And summer in case they burn. It's a plight. Of the Greyhounds, it was on the news... Fine then. I'm just too soft. But the cat came back anyway, so greyhound can stay in the kennels.. unloved and unwanted. Stop it Katie.. now. No Greyhound.

You see what insomnia does? It's not pretty. OOh.. but.. I did find some cream stuff for under my eyes to lessen the big black circles that make passers by think I have Panda DNA. It's fancy. By Garnier and sort of rolls on. I can see a difference. I didn't just waste money..

I'm still trying to add the picture of dead whirly chair by the way. My computer is trying to decide whether to realise if my camera is attached or not. It is, but I think the computer is trying to be funny. Or make me do a reboot and lose everything I've written.

Again, insomnia is not pretty.

Right, I am going to make yet another cup of tea and lie on the sofa and watch Extreme Makeover:Home Edition. Maybe Ty Pennington can help me sleep.


K xxx

Friday, 22 August 2008

Best and Worst Moments

Best Pregnancy Feeling: Trying to work out if that movement was a kick or not... so pressing down hard on your tummy to see if you did actually feel it.

Worst Pregnancy Feeling: Wondering if, by pressing down hard on your tummy to feel that kick, you have squished the baby's face completely. Or given him a black eye.

Best Scan Moment: Seeing the alien on the screen and knowing that you created that. Seeing your daughter talk to your tummy and watching the baby move in response.

Best Alternative Scan Moment: As you leave the room and run to the loo.. and finally release the 19 pints of water you've been holding for an hour and half.

Worst Scan Moment: The 6 hours that the sonographer looks at the screen before she mentions that there is a heart beat. It may not be six hours, it may be 45 seconds, but it is the longest 45 seconds in the world.

Best Late Pregnancy Moment: Sitting on the sofa and watching your bump dance to the Strictly Come Dancing theme tune. Trying to work out if it is head, arm, leg, elbow poking out from under your ribs.

Worst Late Pregnancy Moment: When you absolutely and completely crave the Flake bars that are at the very top of the larder, and you are too fat to reach them. Climbing on a chair doesn't work because your bump is too big, so you sit on the floor and cry. And then cry again because you can't get up from the floor on your own.

Best Labour Moment: When the baby is out, crying, beautifully pink, perfect and gorgeous.

Worst Labour Moment: About 15 minutes before the baby is born and you decide that you're just not doing this anymore. So the midwife gets out her doppler and listens for the heartbeat... just to worry you so you'll push again. *Sneaky woman... worked though!*

Best Newborn Moment: Every minute of the first 4 days when you literally cannot stop staring at the perfect little person that you made.

Worst Newborn Moment: Afterpains! No one told me they hurt. I forgot about them after I had G. So I sat with a lot water bottle on my tummy and rang the midwife in a panic as I was cuddling Lal and became convinced I had superheated him..

Worst Illness: When Lal wouldn't stop being sick and was diagnosed with Pyloric Stenosis. The transfer to GOSH was the worst hour of my life.

Best Baby Memory: His first smile, the first time he sat up, the first time he grabbed my finger and held it tight. Is it soppy to say all of it?

Worst Baby Memory: When a hair got wrapped around his toe and he had to be hospitalised with a mystery infection. Awful.

Best Toddler Memory: When he escaped through the cat flap, crawled up the garden and sat in the middle of the lawn grinning.

Worst Toddler Memory: When we lost him in Tesco.

Best Teenager Memory: Always this one.. always..

I think that'll do for now!

Can't wait for the next set of memories. Ok, I'm officially soppy now. I'm going to go and iron something.

K xx

Friday, 15 August 2008

Children everywhere... and ouch

Right, bad stuff first seeing as I've been away for so long.

Didn't get to go on the big Hushy meet and holiday in Scotland. Lal finally succumbed to the Pox proper and caravan parks have odd rules that don't allow you to be contagious around other people. hmph.

Had a little to do with K that knocked me off kilter for a while. Surprised myself as I actually do have a mind, and it needed sorting out. I have now managed to pack everything into neatly labelled boxes. This last to do has an open date of 2020, so I'll deal with it, and think about it then.

And now to the good stuff. For the last week, the household has had three children. My neice, Olivia, has been staying with us. She is the original jetset child and flew in from Dubai, where she lived for 6 years and will go back to New York, where she lives now, on Wednesday. She is three weeks, two days and about 19 minutes younger than G. We have had that conversation many, many times. She has a speaking voice that is 17 decibels louder than G's. The house reverberates when she chatters. Lal is terrified of her. Which helps when I want them to watch him for a while.

Oh, oh, I decorated and moved around their rooms.. if you don't like pink, please, look away now.

Lal's new room (up until last week, it was G's room and pink!)


G's pink monstrosity of a bed... fairy lights on the wall and all! The cabin bed was NOT easy to put up alone. I had to shout out the window for my next door neighbour to come rescue me.

G's room, after


I turned another year older. I refuse to say how many years have passed since I became an actual person... but this time 20 years ago, I was about to start secondary school. And I have discovered 4 grey hairs. Actually, I didn't discover them, Oliva did. And hasn't shut up about them since. *sigh* Ooh.. for my birthday I was thoroughly spoilt. The children, bless them, took money from my purse (don't get me started) took their own savings and bought me a digital photo frame, and another one for my key ring. I am now trying to work out how to get pictures from my camera into the frame and stay there. Or I was working it out. The frame is now under my bed until it's learnt its lesson and starts listening to me when I tell it to do something.

The best present I got though, was my tooth. Monday afternoon, after munching many chewy rings, my wisdom tooth broke. Don't think I didn't get the irony... It's 4 days later and I still can't open my mouth enough to eat anything wider than soup. Managed to shove in bits of chocolate birthday cake though. Wink I have an appointment for next week to see what they can do. Booo

That's enough for tonight.. I have every finger crossed that this will actually post and not be consigned to SN hell.. and I can't type anymore.


Monday, 28 July 2008

A slide!

It's a little colder than the bath...

A hoop?

Which led to Lal vs The Hoop.


Wednesday, 23 July 2008

The big meet.. the aftermath

We went, we saw and we conquered! It was a brilliant day.. honestly. We had 10 mums, 10 babies, 6 older siblings, 1 younger and twins still waiting patiently to be born. I had only met one of the people before, so was extremely nervous.

The journey up there was fine, no problems at all. Just an annoying child who kept saying "isn't the speed limit 70, mum?" when I was travelling at a meagre 82mph. Very bad Katie.. but the roads were so clear. Lal didn't sleep until we were 6 minutes away from the place..great. Really, wonderful. Oh, we went to Wonderland in Telford. I live in Essex. 170 miles in the other direction.

So.. pictures first..



Three very strange looking mums..


G and Cole. She fell in love with him, pushed him around for most of the day, and now wants to swap Lal for him...


A fuzzy train journey!


And that seems to be it! I have no pics of Lal. That *could* be because he simply wouldn't stay still all day. Now, I know a lot of you think I exaggerate, for comedic effect, the whirlwind that is Lal. Anyone who met him today, knows I don't.

He refused to sit for his picnic. There was a slope that needed up and downing and a bridge that needed to be trip trapped over. Of course, it didn't matter that there was a tree, or other people in the way.. he could just walk over them *sigh* I lost him as well. I didn't look at him of 8 seconds and he'd gone. Major panic. Turns out he'd located a ball pond and jumpy pit thing and wanted to have a little play. My boy. *sigh again*

It really was great to meet all the people, these babies, I've "known" them since they were born. And now they eat gingerbread men and giggle... We have another meet planned for southerners in a couple of weeks.. and this one will take me 17 minutes to drive to. *That* is more my sort of distance.

The way back, we discovered, thanks to my dad, that there was an "incident" on the M1, so we came back via the A14/M11 (Don't I sound clever? lol) This way put an extra 47 minutes on the homeward journey time. It took us 3 hours and 8 minutes, Not happy. Especially as some evil person has come up with yet another way to catch me speeding. "Average speed cameras" The evil little things take a pic when you go past one and then another when you pass the second, and then calculates your speed through them. I expect a fine will arrive in the post any day.

And finally, the best signpost for freaking you out when driving.

"Welcome to Cambridgeshire. There were 281 casualties on the A14 in 2007. Please keep your distance."

Way to freak me out. I kept at least 1/2 a mile between me and the next car. The car behind me didn't read the signpost. He tailgated. I ranted for a long time.

Lal slept in the car on the way home. For an hour and a half. He went to bed at 10.30 tonight. I am exhausted.

Go to meets... fun days to be had!