Monday, 30 June 2008

A spoonful of sugar..

Sheer misery.. from Saturday night, to today.. looks like heading into tomorrow as well.

I'm ill! Actually ill not hypochondriac ill. It's the oddest cold I've ever known. It started with a slightly sore throat and a one sided blocked nose.. by midnight on Saturday I couldn't swallow or even smoke! Surprised Didn't sleep at all that night, couldn't swallow and kept choking on my pitfiul attempts not to.. By Sunday I have never felt so ill ever.

K rang Sunday morning and said, in a remarkably well sounding voice, that he was still dying and wouldn't be taking the children. I was being brave and just said ok then. By 11 I couldn't last any longer and fell asleep with Lal on the sofa. We woke together at 2.30!! EEK. That's bad. He'd need plenty of running to tire him out for bed.

G was worse than useless and instead of running with him, attempted to cause night time exhaustion by making him watch Pingu.. sitting on the floor. No dear, that doesn't help.

And then I passed out. Was very traumatic for G by all accounts. Actually sparko on the floor. My poor girl. She called K in a panic, he miraculously recovered and came round to look after them both. **grudgingly said** I suppose that was good of him.

It was a wierd type of cold.. my legs just disappeared on me, couldn't feel them, couldn't stand on them.. very odd. Having just watched a programme on MS, I can say I wasn't tempted to google at all... Wink

Anyway.. am all better know. 14 Beechams Cold and Flu tabs, 1 full packet of Kleenex Balsam tissues, 2 packets of lockets and 2 boxes of tunes. I'll antiseptic this cold right out.

The worst thing, the very worst thing, that made me cry, and it hurt to cry, was at 1.30am Sunday night. I REALLY wanted a cup of tea. I like tea. I have 3.5 sugars in my tea. But we had no sugar. We had an empty packet of sugar (damn the child who put it back.. she can't learn cleaning from me - but she can learn putting empty boxes back away from her father.. pfft) But NO sugar. I had to resort to using Caster sugar. In my tea. I think the tears were justified. Caster sugar. In tea. Yuck.

And.. OMG! G has been looking for her Ipod all night, remember? the one I threw out the window in a huff? She's just found it. Where she left it. In her jacket pocket. Except, in my feeling better stage earlier, I washed the jacket. She now hates me. It doesn't have any warranty left.

Anyone know if Ipods work after a rinse in the machine? Might it dry out if left in the conservatory overnight?

K x x (aka the worst parent in the world.. lol)

Saturday, 28 June 2008

Press "G" to go down

Sadly, K has developed a particulary nasty case of bubonic plague and was unable to have the children today. His miracle cure should work well enough that he'll be able to have them tomorrow though. Poor man, bubonic plague.. nasty. It couldn't be the sniffles, or all the sport that was on the tv.. nope. Deathly illness. *sigh*

So, both brat monsters, once more in my possession. Well I did say I didn't want to give him every weekend with them. I suppose I asked for it. G was happy though, it meant she got to spend all day with her friend. She slept round her house last night.. I'm such a soft touch... it was the same friend who was with G during my "moment to savour." She's nice.. taller than me, which is never fun. Actually, as of yesterday, G is taller than me too. Damn my mother for stunting my growth.. smoking when pg.. pfft.

Right, so three children, baking hot day.. what better than a 3 mile walk to town to buy holiday clothes and suncream. Oh yes, we're off to Scotland, to meet Hushy, at the end of June. I've heard that Scotland have very hot summers.. no rain, right?

Halfway to town and I was melting into a puddle through sheer over heating.. I'm too young for hot flushes.. please say I am.. Forced Ellie and G to push Lal for me whilst I attempted to cool down by fanning my top and splashing water on my wrists (No mum, it doesn't work.. all it does is waste good evian. Actually, I'm too cheap to use real evian, bought a bottle about 6 years ago and just fill it from the tap..) I lagged back, G and Ellie about 20 yards in front, when a gaggle of giggling girls accosted them, surrounded them, and said, "That kid yours is it, slapper?"

Well.. to say I was dumbfounded isn't quite enough. How dare they call my child a KID? He's not a bloody baby goat. I walked up, was given the once over and dismissed as no importance... which annoyed me even more, and ranted..

"No, the CHILD is mine. Is that a problem? Do you place such little value on your own morals that you are willing to tar everyone with the same brush? Is your education so sadly lacking that you refer to children as kids? Kids are baby goats, just as kittens are baby cats. I suggest that you go home and read a book. Or does your weekend consist of walking around wearing more make up, and shorter clothes than prostitutes on a girls night out? Yes, I can see how constructive you would find that. Looking at you, I don't suppose you have any other options. Your parents must be very proud. Now go please, I am taking my children shopping."

(I get pompous when I get annoyed.. it's endearing.. )

Now.. Thank God they were too startled at being shouted at by a melting 5ft 2 woman, who was doing strange things with water on wrists to attack us.. I started shaking about 6 minutes after passing them. But honestly? Who says stuff like that? Poor Ellie and G were humilated and refused to talk to me for 20 mins.. about the same amount of time it took for us to reach the ice cream van.

And then the lift. I hate lifts anyway.. but I think I was being punished today.. urgh. We went upstairs in BHS, had to take a faulty school bag back for G (everyone HAS to have a Jane Nor, Jane Norman bag? I don't know, I didn't listen and bought a BHS one.. it broke. Served me right apparently) Took the bag back, got a credit note - I can't keep receipts - and tried to get back down. One lift, middle of day, now that's the best time to bring up a huge trolley filled with food and 8 clothes rails. Pfft. We waited, impatiently for the inept saleswoman to get the trolley out. It took 8 minutes. 8 minutes with Lal throwing his brand new Bob the Builder Toy on the floor, and G and Ellie saying" Can we have this top/skirt/trousers/boots?" NO!

FINALLY managed to get in the lift.. and the woman said, "Press G to go down." No.. really? OMG. You've just sorted out a lifetime of lift uselessness. i get in and just expect it to know where I'm going. It's like a light has been shone in the darkest recesses of my brain.. Press G to go down.. to the GROUND. Of course. D'oh. Stupid, stupid woman. Unless the melted puddle that was me looked particularly thick.. actually, that sounds more likely. Oh, and during the trolley containing food moving, she dropped a cake with sticky yellow icin in the lift doorway. The doors opened and closed 9 times before I realised I was going nowhere and kicked the cake that was now stuck to the door out of the way..

And that's it for today. FIL was waiting here when I got home, he mad Lal hyper. I'm thinking of cutting off contact.. It's 10pm and he's throwing books across his bedroom. Having climbed out of his cot. *sigh*

My throat is hurting.. I'm getting G's cold..


K x x

Friday, 27 June 2008

Neurotic mother again

I like to think I'm a good parent, if not good then at least adequate. I keep them clean and reasonably well fed at least. Then along come instances that make me realise that someone made a mistake when giving me responsibilty for a child.

When G was a baby, I left her in Tesco. Yes, we've all done it. But I'd driven out of the car park and was on the roundabout before I remembered that I'd left my 10 day old in a car seat in the cafe. I tripped over her in the garden and bruised her leg. I allowed her to climb rotten trellis so she fell in a rosemary bush.. She broke her arm playing rugby, I didn't believe her.

Lal hasn't fared much better. I find it difficult to work out distances when I'm carrying him - no reason for that other than I'm fairly stupid - and kept whacking his 1 month old head on door frames. I attempted co sleeping for a while.. woke up and he was in the drawer next to the bed. Blissfully sleeping in baby lotion and hair grips. I forgot to notice him when he was crawling and kept kicking him. Failed to notice him when he started walking and kept kneeing him.. I wouldn't blame social services if they investigated..

But I've been doing better recently. Nothing too bad. Nothing requiring a hospital visit at least.

Until yesterday..

Yesterday I failed to ensure Lal was properly covered in sun cream and hat. And I let him play out in the garden for hours. I put him to bed as usual, went to check on him at 9 and he was dripping. Temp up to 100.. fast asleep though. I'm ashamed to say that the panic came back. Stripped him of his clothes and searched for spots. None. Phew. Only damage is sunstroke (self diagnosed obvously.. he couldn'tjust be a bit hot) . But I couldn't get his baby grow back on... so he slept naked but for the nappy.

Then to this morning, after one of the worst nights sleep ever. I had to keep checking on him, just in case a rash appeared. At 4.50, I thought I saw a spot.. just a bit of Gingerbread Man. So all fine. He woke at 9, had milk, looked at me and cried. The "I blame YOU mummy" cry. Great. Went back to sleep at 10. Woke at 10.10.. climbed out of his cot, came downstairs for a cuddle. I loved him lots... then slipped on my newly washed floors and fell. We landed together, but his head bounced off the rug. Bloody great.. sunstroke and concussion. You're doing well Katie.

He slept off and on all afternoon, egg on forehead getting bigger. By 3, the visions of brain swelling had gotten too much and I called the docs.. took him straight down. And then it happened. What always happens when I make a doctors appointment. Child amazingly heals himself.

Seriously, by the time the car journey (5 mins) was over, he was singing "Bobo biller" (Bob the Builder) and reading his books. In the waiting room, he shook hands with all the old people (who must live in waiting rooms.. always there) and crawled over the toys, climbed chairs, ate plants and sang. GREAT! Saw the doc who pronounced him fit and well and marked **Caution Neurotic Mother** on his notes again, and off we went.

Came home, child became sullen again. And then.. I ruined his life completely. He was playing such a lovely game of "help mummy get the washing out of the machine" and along came I to kill it. We spent 20 minutes saying "next one.. thank you." until everything was out... and then I had another load to do and destroyed all his hard work. He cried for 28 minutes, he would not be consoled, he would not be distracted. He sat, with tears in his eyes, watching towels get washed in the machine. Heart breaking stuff really.

I finally put the Pingu Dvd on, and silence reigned again.

Oh.. and I bought myself new trousers the other day.. nice little black one, like cargo pants.. they fit, which is a miracle.. but I ran too close to the washing machine, caught the pocket on the door and ripped half the leg clean off.

Remember that Ruin Your Day Monster from a while ago? I think he's back.

Baby is sleeping now..has been for an hour, has woken four times so far.. keeps losing the hand dummy (one in the mouth and one in eash hand) It's going to be a VERY long night..

K x x

Thursday, 26 June 2008

Fell for it again

I hate cats. Not all cats, just mine. I suppose she's trying to be sweet.. and a presence in my big old bed.. but urgh.

Last night, after I failed again to beat my Word Challenge score (damn the game) I stumbled up to bed at 3.37.. aren't digital clocks great? I never have to be imprecise again.. and the cat was there waiting for me. I got under the covers, turned the tv on, located a programme I could fall asleep to (has to be something I'd want to watch.. can't fall asleep to rubbish) and felt the nose. The wet catty nose, rubbing up against my arm. Although I'd tucked the covers in tight around my top half, I'd failed to defend my foot area, and she'd snuck (sneaked?) in. Urgh! Yucky yucky cat. She then fell asleep with her claws under my chin and her tail tickling my nose. I didn't dare dislodge her for fear of her talons "accidentally" severing my jugular. I slept well. *sigh*

Normal morning stuff.. supreme late night caused morning over sleeping.. G panicked at leaving the house at 7.47 and not 7.35.. Door slam was somewhat louder than usual. The plan for the rest of the day was pj's, bc, Lal play and not much else.

10:17am**Ring Ring.. Ring Ring... " (Actually, it was the theme tune for Fresh Prince of Bel Air - G changed the ringtone on my phone and I can't work out how to get it off..)

"Hello. is that Mrs S?"


"Hi, It's 'insert school name..' here. We have G in the office complaining of severe headache and stomach pains."

"Oh, hi. Does it look like she's faking?"

"Well, not to me, and she isn't a regular in the sick room."

"Oh, ok.. Maybe the lack of sun cream yesterday did something, she could have sunstroke I suppose. Are you sure she looks ill? Really?"

"Well she doesn't look ill, but maybe it'd be best to come pick her up.."

"Fine, maybe I should. The last time she said something hurt and I didn't believe her, she'd broken her arm.. so.. ok, I'll be there in 20 minutes."

Great! Sick child on pj day. Ran around getting dressed, getting Lal dressed, book for the car, sick bag in case she was actually seriously ill, and off I went.

Arrived at the school at break time, thousands of children all in th same uniform. Lal though each one was his sister, only to be pathetically heartbroken and destroyed when it wasn't. Didn't stop him trying to find her though. Or him biting teenagers when they weren't related to him. Got to the office, provided my proof that I am, in fact, her mother and not a rather inept kidnapper, and waited for the child to arrive. Met the Headmaster and got the obligatory "He's a bit young for enrollment isn't he?" Handled with aplomb. Small laugh, shake of the head, and a "Are you sure you don't want him? He's very good really.. not trouble at all." You know, said in the tone of voice that conveys he is the exact opposite. Unless again, that's just me. Who offers her children to strangers...

And along came a deathly ill G. Just looking at her loping towards me, I could tell how very poorly she was. Hang on. Make that sheepish. Child had slept in the sick room and had made a remarkable recovery and now wanted to stay at school for the rest of the day.

"What homework hadn't you done?" said her caring mother.

"I had done it, and anyway it was maths.. but honestly. I'm fine now. Sorry mum." Said the tearaway teen.

"Georgia. I love you. Why can't you run away and join the circus like any normal person who hates their family?"

Informed office that Miss G would be staying at school, ran the Lal gauntlet of 1000 Non'G's.. and came home. Plotting my revenge.

**Fresh Price of Bel Air sings out again"

"Mum, can I go to E's house after school for tea tonight?"

"But you're dying of sunstroke/ bubonic plague/gastroenteritis.. how can you even consider playing out?"

"Yeah, but you knew I wasn't really ill...."

"Georgina Mary Alice S. Get home now."

Other than that.. not much happened. Lots of gardening, sun play with Lal. Just pottering really..

Oh, and don't let people tell you potty training is tough. Remember how he read the book to himself the other night? He's cracked it. He can take him nappy off when he wants to go... walk to the stairs and wee on them. The bottom three steps are no go areas. As I discovered after I trod on them in my socky feet.


K x x

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

Be the best

Not very interesting tonight I'm afraid. I haven't done much today except play Word Challenge on Facebook. I've played so much that even when I'm doing normal things like watering the garden or cooking tea, my mind sees letters and tries to make 6 letter words out of them. It's an addiction. Seriously. A bad one. I even posted a "nur nur I'm the best" message on my bb, hoping to get other people involved. Slight error in judgement as someone is now beating me by 5000 points. I'm considering removing her as a friend so I'm on top again. I can't rest until I'm Number 1. Played until 3.30 Tuesday morning and 2.30 this morning... I'll get back there..

Remember when Lal had his toilet obession? It made a reappearance today. I was just about to empty a nappy when I noticed a spider trying to make its way out... being the St Francis like creature that I am, I decided it was dirty, and gave the toilet a flush.. noticing just as the water started draining away that there was a half empty toilet roll in it. Nooooooooo. 2 minutes later and there was I, attempting to fish gone-round-the-U bend toilet roll out. Ooh, a "top tip" - Marigolds are useless protection against wet arm when trying to fish a toilet roll out of a U bend. They just fill up so your arms soaks in toilet water. And not the good toilet water. I may never feel clean again.

G had yet another sports day today. This time it was the Inter Schools one. Now, her school may be filled with super intelligent people, and they may all pray regularly, go to Mass, be good catholics.. but they sure as heck can't run. They came last. Out of 11 schools. Sadly, G came 6th in Shot and last in Hurdles. She tried hard, bless her, but having only done hurdles for the first time yesterday, her loss was at an impressive margin. At least she didn't fall over. She is now sporting the latest sunburn look. Arms, chest and legs. Lobster like. All my fault for putting the suncream in her bag and trusting that she'd put it on.

Oh, and I made my first executive decision today. The almost teen rudeness and laziness is driving me to distraction. G is being forced into the Cadets. She'll learn discipline the hard way. I'm hoping it will be a bit like National Service and she'll have to start her weekend with 1000 push ups. I think I'm going to be disappointed and she'll be doing abseiling or something fun. Pfft. She starts in September. So far, I've pushed the fun part and glossed over the discipline and attention to detail.. I'll save that for when I'm really annoyed at her.

Oh and I discovered the culprit who keeps putting shingle in the washing bucket.. Alexander le Rat. He makes many trips a day and then looks innocent when caught. I was impressed that when I did catch him, he told himself off. Looked at his hands, put them behind his back and said "No no no no NO!" Dammit.. I was going to add a youtube video, but I forgot to upload it. And I used firefox where I can't copy and paste.

What was I saying about someone needing to learn more attention to detail?

K x x

Tuesday, 24 June 2008

Do animals go to heaven mummy?

Lal is asleep, I'm caught up with Monicaness (housework) and I'm bored.. so I'll tell the tale of the animals of our house. Ah yes... when the children came home from Daddy time this weekend, G discovered a floating fish. RIP Shrek.

G loves the idea of animals. Cute, fluffy little things that with engage her interest and adoration until it comes time to feed them or clean them out. We have had lots, and lots of animals over the years. Except anything rat like, hamsters, guinea pigs.. urgh. Horrible little things with their sniffy noses..

First, the fish. We've had Bob, Billy, Billibob, Cod, Ginger, Fishy Mcfisherson, Goldy, Swimmy, Shark, Shrek, Ben, Millymollymandy (started out as three fish.. 2 died.. it's a memorial thing) and about a million guppies who just had numbers. I may have mentioned before the great fish massacre of 2002. There were 8 fish in a large tank. I got something wrong with the filtration system and there were 7 floaters one morning. G was distraught. I was, and will remain, a fish murderer who killed them for my own sport. We had to have a funeral.

I managed to convince a 6 year old G that dead fish couldn't be buried in the garden, they'd suffocate, so we could have a proper and dignified toilet service instead. This was acceptable to the grieving owner. Except she had preparations to make first. Or rather, I had to prepare food for the wake, music for the mourners and invite all her "down the road" friends in for the service. G dressed in one of my little black dresses and a navy blue towel covering her hair.. It was a solemn and mournful affair. I had to read prayers and all the children gave little eulogys. She made little plaques with names and dates and sellotaped them to the wall of the downstairs loo. They had to stay there for a year. Any visitor who came to the house immediately learnt that the toilet was a graveyard for murdered fish - oh yes, the plaques had the name of the killer on. *sigh*

Now, not only did we have fish, we had birds. Not birds in cages you understand, but birds from the sky. Birds who suffered heart attacks in mid flight and landed on the road outside our house, death was confirmed by the tyre tracks of car on the wings. Not that I knew that at the time. The first I knew of a dead bird was when 5 year old G decided to bring it into the garden, in her hands, for me to perform mouth to mouth. URGH. Funeral again. This was the first funeral, and it set the tone for the million others. This time, birdy had to have a proper shoe box casket and a proper grave. With a cross. And flowers. It was spring, the ground was hard.. I was digging in clay. We nearly needed the pall bearers for me. Once again, a wake was called for, but this time, as it was the first funeral.. we had to have hymns. And prayers, sobbing, questions as to why poor little birdy had to go..She knows how to grieve, does G. She was only 5, her friends the same age, and none of them knew any hymns except for "If you're happy and you know it clap your hands.." The tuneless chorus rang out through the neighbourhood. Rest easy, birdy. And on to the party. There have been 8 bird deaths since then. Basically our garden is pet cemetary. There are crosses everywhere.

Then my cat. My Charlie Farley cat. I was heartbroken when he died. It was so unexpected, he was only 17.. he started climbing the stairs and just keeled over.. a good way for him to go.. but not for me. I screamed, tried to perform CPR (Tip.. don't try and give a dead cat mouth to mouth, it's not nice) and then, when I was sure he was gone, sang Old Deuteronmy from Cats, by way of CS Lewis. I wonder where G gets the flair for the dramatic from? Charlie had a lovely £91 private cremation, and we have a little box with his ashes in (or ash from someone's cigarette and hoover dust most likely) and he went wrapped up in a fleecy blanket with my two teddy bears for company. Still miss that cat. Not if Poppy were to keel over... no.. really, that's not nice.. but she's just not a cat. She's a wailing banshee..

So, when Shrek died on Sunday, I was expecting the worst. Full on funeral, prayers, but nothing. The only sound was a lonely flush of the toilet and G telling me to clean out the tank so Ben would live and that the water in there stank.

I miss the young G years..

K x x

Monday, 23 June 2008


I was going to talk about neighbours tonight. But Hushy beat me to it. We have this msn thing, we'll each come out with the same completely random comments at the exact same time.. or rather she types faster than me and says it first whilst I'm still stuck on the first three words. Tonight, however, I don't care.. I have nothing else to report, I'll stick with the plan. It's not cunning this time don't worry.

Ok.. my pc has decided to die. It's left me this page and nothing else, start button has gone. I can't open Word to save what I've written so far.. and even if I could, I can't copy and paste because I'm using Firefox... Why is that?? So I shall publish and be back to edit.. leaving you, I'm sure, on the edge of your seats, desperately waiting for what wisdom I have to impart about my neighbours..

And back again! Right, where was I? Oh yes, my neighbours. How many of you don't actually say that word in your head when you think it, but sing it a la Aussie Neighbours? Just me? Moving on then.

I have people who live opposite me who are driving me crazy. The first lot have only just moved in. I thought they were quite nice, they don't park their car blocking my drive, play loud music late at night, in fact I hardly notive them at all. Then, this weekend, these appeared..


Yes, you do see that correctly. They have cut potted bushes into the shape of bears. BEARS. In their front garden. Welcoming people to the house. Perfectly acceptable if you are either 5 or 75, but not for a 30ish year old married couple. It's just wrong. I now have to look at them everytime I approach the house.

And then we have directly opposite me. This has been bugging me for weeks. I've thought of putting an anonymous note through their door.. begging... but I thought that might show off my insanity a little too far. Can you spot the "driving me crazy" in this pic? Other than the fact that I took it, obviously.


It's the blinds. They have been at that odd angle for weeks. And they stare at me when I'm at the computer. As soon as I turn my head to the right, it's the first thing I see.. Unless of course, Hushy's wanking neighbour has moved in.. I may now shut MY blinds..

Ok, those are the opposites. Next door we have the single man with his brand new puppy. It's not a small puppy. It's a cross between a German Sheperd and a Husky. It's large and it has a squeaky toy that it plays with at 11.30, right outside our fence. Single man works long hours, so is never there to clean up dog poo.. everytime I look out of Lal's window, there are large mountains of it. The dog is very interested in the baby, and spends most of its life attempting to dig under the fence. Luckily, it's not too clever and started digging about 8 feet away.. in a few years, when it finally gets here, I'm expecting trouble.

And the other next door, which is actually across the road, we live on a corner. They have grown up children who have a band. I'm not sure how much more needs to be said about that, although I'm thinking of starting a charity to get them a soundproofed room to "jam" in . I think I'm right in thinking they won't be storming the charts anytime soon. But the father of the house and I are engaged in an unspoken War. It's serious. As I said, we live on a corner. he has a side of the road, I have a side of the road. Every night, without fail, he will come home and park his car on MY side of the road, right outside our sitting room window. Every morning, without fail, I will move my car from our drive, and park it on MY side of the road, but directly across his driveway. His wife has to do a 19 point turn to get out. Childish? Yes. But he started it..

Ok.. I'm done. I have flashing orange MSN lights and I can't cope..

And the damn dog next door has found his chew toy early..


K x x

PS: What the boy did today..

Lal.. needed a sleep. Standing up will do.. Daft boy


Whilst waiting for dinner, but why not teach yourself potty training? Good lad.


Sunday, 22 June 2008


**Warning.. self pitying rant.. May cause extreme sighs, shaking of head and outbursts of "pull yourself together woman" **

I realised something this weekend, as I waved my children off with their father. I realised that there are going to be whole chunks of their lives that I won't be there for. Foreign holidays, every other Christmas, Easter.. just things that I'd always thought we'd do together as a family. And on some of these special occasions, I'm going to be on my own, hoping that they are having a good time.

Don't get me wrong, I want them to be happy, I don't want them to think of me when they are with Daddy, but I hate that it is necessary. I miss them. They are me.. I thought I'd be glad of the break.. but I just wanted them home.. The arrangement is that every weekend he'll take them both in the morning, drop Lal off at around 7, keep G overnight and come back after Mass on Sunday and pick him up again. They both come home at about 5. I'm going to miss every weekend with them. All I'll get of G are nightly moans to do her homework, get off the phone and go to beds...

Urgh, I sound like such a whiner! It's just that he took them to the zoo yesterday, and Lal said "giraffe" for the first time.. and I wasn't there. I probably wasn't there when G said it for the first time either as she was at nursery.. but it just feels different.

I don't know how to act with all this happening.. my parents didn't bother with divorce, they should have, just to give me an example of how to react.. I blame them entirely. Staying together.. tut.

Of course, I could be feeling this because I read "My Sister's Keeper" yesterday and it depressed the hell out of me. The ending I didn't see coming and it was horrible. Horrible! I'm starting a boycott of all her books.. she upsets me..

Ok, enough of the self pity. G didn't get her hair cut on Saturday, she still looks like a "dragged through a hege backwards" child, Lal now groan every single time he stands up... It's a sign I'm growing old apparently, as he can only have learnt it from me. *sigh*

I did try and start sorting the loft, but I heard flapping. It seems the vulture is still living up there and wants me to know it. How am I going to get all that stuff out? How?

I'll be back to normal tomorrow...

K x x

Friday, 20 June 2008

The Delegation

Last night, after my perfect moment, I was sat on the sofa, merrily watching House, drinking tea and wondering whether to get a Rocket Lolly from the freezer, when there was a knock at the door. I hate late night knockers.. Some people have no manners.. especially when I'm watching House. TUT

I took my over-the-clothes dressing gown off, hid the ashtray (oh yes, I forgot, I was being naughty and smoking in the sitting room..) and answered the door. It was the Drunken Delegation of Brothers. Only three of the four, but enough of them to worry me.

They'd decided that I needed their particular brand of drunken tlc. Now, I love them and everything,but only one on one.. en masse they are a nightmare. Number One, Ian, was telling me the house was too neat and emptying drawers, Number Two, Nicholas, was deciding that I'm not entirely fit to manage on my own and that he would deal with everything, and Number Three, James, (K's best friend) was pondering ways to anonymously knee cap the poor ex. And due to drunkeness they were LOUD.


Number Three decided that I shouldn't be dependant to K's money to live, so was attempting to explain how to "short" on stocks. I could make a killing apparently. There was something about buying high and selling low (that is definitely the right way round.. I checked many times) mixed in with complete weirdness about the Llyod's insurance market. I am supposed to have bought something today. I have no idea what.. he'll explain another time. Which he'll forget to do, but the next time he comes, he'll tell me off for not making my killing.

Number One informed me that he has been buying large containers of "stuff" from China and getting it shipped here, and for a mere three hours work a day, I could make yet another killing. He lacks the time to do it himself, due to foreign trips for work.. but if I stopped being such a brat child.. I could do it..

At this point, Number Two suddenly remembered that I was his sister, and we had the same conversation we always do when he remembers that. It's the nappy conversation. The one drawback of having much older brothers. They changed my nappy don't you know. And learnt how to wipe front to back. And marvelled at my lack of "boy bits" (I must say, he was somewhat cruder in his description) I was a "beautiful baby" apparently. Not so much anymore. But I was then. Way to build up the confidence there Nicholas!

Numbers Two and Three remembered that they had a nephew sleeping peacefully upstairs, and disappeared off up to check on him. Checking on him actually means calling his name all the way up the stairs, banging doors, swearing and coming back down with a wide awake baby who "accidentally" woke up. **sigh**

They tried with G, she won't be woken when asleep, so they failed. They left her notes for when she woke..

So, three drunken men and a hyper baby. It was 11.30, I was exhausted, and they showed no signs of slowing down.

Number One listened to my new kitchen plans and knocked a cupboard door off, just to see how easy it would be to remodel. Sadly, he broke the hinge so I now have a doorless cupboard. The one cupboard Lal isn't allowed in. *sigh again*

Number Two thought that the best idea he'd had in a while was to invite his baby sister to a lap dancing club with him. I reminded him that I lack the necessary appendages, and that to be honest, in wasn't an experience I wanted to share with him. He sulked.

Number Three was showing Lal how to be an aeroplane and whizzing him a round the ceiling. A stray foot took out a lightbulb.

Three drunken men, one hyper baby, one doorless cupboard, two money making schemes, one broken lightbulb.. and I still hadn't managed to watch any more House.

At 1am, I'd had enough and told them to get the BEEP out of my house asked them nicely to leave. I lack authority so they just ignored me. Number Three continued his path of destruction through the kitchen.. with a hammer, testing for wall density, Number Three snored on the sofa, and Number Two was crying abject apologies for ever bringing K into my life. **sigh again**

They finally poured themselves into three seperate taxis at 2.30 this morning. They each live an hour away from me.. I'd hate to be their wallets!

Lal finally went back to sleep at 4am and has been the moaniest, whiningest monster all day. And still wouldn't sleep until 10.15 tonight. And he's been swinging on my one remaining cupboard door all afternoon.

I wish I'd had sisters..

K x x

Thursday, 19 June 2008

A moment to savour

Let's face it. My life is pretty crap at the moment. Husband left me, I have to empty a million years of accumulated mess out of the loft (it's getting insulated) the cat brought in a mouse last night that refused to either die or be found, my son swears at strangers, I have a teenager... Really, I should give up and start again.

But then sometimes, just when you are feeling really down, God sends you a special gift. A moment that will become a treasured memory. Something that even when I am old, and more senile, I can tell the nurses in my Home about.

Today, I got that moment. I had no clue that it was coming, I wasn't prepared for it... it was just there.

The day started badly.. I had to clean, do endless loads of washing, ironing, all the boring housewife type things. I didn't manage to locate the mouse that tormented me until 12.30 last night.. it's here somewhere planning revenge. It's meeting with all its mouse brothers and will come back and kill the cat. Ah well.

Due to excessive cleaning, we were very late going on our walk and I lacked the mummy strength and patience to label cars with Lal, so we headed over the park. G had Rounders after school, so we knew she wouldn't be home until 5.30.. we left at 4, plenty of time for some slide fun and to tire him out. (ooh.. sports day.. hell as I suspected.. G came second in 200m... her team won the relay.. and she won the shot put. I'm very proud. Also slightly scared that she is now to become an East German Shot Putter. I googled.. it wasn't pretty..)


Off to the park. Here, some pictures, in case you don't know what a park looks like...

Running away.. anxious for the fun to start..


The best thing ever.. a STICK!


MUMMY.. cuddle time! (If you look closely.. you can see the stick in his hand.. I got hit with it.. he loves me..)


Right.. so we got to the swings.. and here it is.. my moment. My wonderful moment..


You see the girl with her back to me? That's G. But how? I hear you ask. She's at rounders. Not "hanging out" in the park with her friends. Not sitting on a swing with her skirt rolled up. She wouldn't do that. She is obviously a mirage.. or she has a doppleganger.

I couldn't get a picture of the realisation crossing her face. The look that just shows off to perfection her sure and certain knowledge that she has been caught. It was perfect. It was "How can I get out of this?" crossed with "she's going to kill me" with a little of " OMG" thrown in. True perfection.

I, being the evil person that I am, didn't tell her off, I didn't shout, argue, nothing. I simply smiled and told her friends that I was sure G would be looking forward to going home tonight. NOT to expect her on msn, the phone or outside for the next few years. And thanked them for their friendship. She truly appreciated it, and was very sorry that grounding ensured she would no longer be able to accept it. I then played for 30 mins with Lal on the slide, whilst she watched in horror, wondering what punishments I was cooking up. It must have felt like she was waiting for her execution.

Tonight, her apologies, her PROMISE that this has never happened before, or will again... It's been wonderful.

Seriously.. savour those moments. Those moments when you know, and they know.. that you own them, and the rest of their teenage years.

At least until tomorrow..

K xx

Wednesday, 18 June 2008


Yesterday ( I know.. I'm late.. but in my defense, I was busy on umm MSN.) Anyway, yesterday wasn't too bad of a day. Or at least it started off not too badly. I once again failed to get dressed before 12.30, but I did manage to wash some nappies. Or the machine did, whilst I watched.

Lal discovered that his box of straws spread far and wide when there is wind outside. And that there are many places to post them... drains, through next door's fence, in my washing bucket.. everywhere basically. It took hours picking them all up. I think it's time he learnt the Art of Tidying..

Ah yes.. my mini show off... here are the pics of G's wall mural. I've definitely decided to get her some paint. Whilst watering one of the pots last night, I killed half the flower.. it didn't occur to me that chalk would wash off.. hmm. That's where he was playing, it's his new spot.. right outside the door.. so he is in the garden, but not.



A couple of months ago.. I bought him a swing (not because I'm easily led and Hushy had one and it looked cute.. honestly) I thought he's enjoy it. I was wrong. I think he thinks it's an instrument of medieval torture and will not entertain the idea of being in there. I came up with the bright idea of making him push Tinky Winky.. Tinky's isn't scared.. there's no need for you to be. He didn't mind that. But now, poor old Tinky has been abandoned. He can never look at him the same way.. a bond has been broken. I'm not allowed to bring Tinky Winky into the house ever again. The terror of swinging bear was too much.. scarred him for life again..


So there was that.. my daily child torture.. I then decided to try and tame the suckers that are in our garden. (Suckers are the lethal stems of roses that haven't been pruned properly.. they grow wild, thick, and vicious. They didn't like being cut down and fought back. At one point, I was so entangled, I fell off the chair I was standing on (tried for 30 mins to open the ladder.. couldn't do it) and landed in another bush. I am cut to ribbons, my poor arms.. and the damn stems are still swaying proudly in the wind.They taunt me.. and I daren't try to get them again.. here.. all the tall bits above the flowers.. taunting I tell you..


Today we have G's sports day, which is a special kind of hell. It was lovely in Primary School, watching your baby forget to run, stop and wave, walk backwards over the line.. whilst you try not to deafen everyone else with your motivational speak. An egg and spoon race won at age 6 can define your child's whole future you know.. But at Secondary School, there is a great big track.. if you're lucky you may catch a glimpse of your terrible teen as the whiz round, but it's more likely that you won't be able to see anything from the spectator seats and you find yourself cheering the wrong child on. Today I have been given two VERY important tasks. G is counting on me.

  1. Do NOT, under any circumstances say "Go Georgia.. Go Georgia.." "Run Pa, RUN.." "C'mon baby.. you can do it..." "Yay Jogs.. c'monnnnnnn"

  2. Do NOT allow Lal to try and take part. He is to be kept away from the track at all times. I'm not entirely sure how I'm going to manage that.. but I'll give it a go.

And finally.. a disaster.. Lal is out of yogurt. He always has some yogurt for breakfast. I have let him down.. and he isn't talking to me. Trying to fool him by using a fruit pot in his cereal was a criminal offence.. I need to be punished... It's going to be a long day..

K x x

Monday, 16 June 2008

The good.. the bad.. and the wet.

Ok, weekend first.

Saturday was spent in the glorious tasks of shopping, painting, well chalking,murals on a wall (Teletubies - I know there should be 2 b's.. G doesn't.. it's a thing) I will take some pics when I can find the camera, and some batteries. Lal now has sand in his sand and water table. He enjoys taking it out and dropping it all over the floor. So much for sculpted masterpieces..
Sunday. Fete Day at G's school. I am well known for my fete hatred. I have the pressure to spend £2 a go trying to win rubbish that I've already given to the school back. I give them (well gave at Primary School) the same teddy bear every year, and every year it somehow manages to come home with us again. It did this year.. and this was a Big School fete. PFFT. Anyway.. G had to compete in a Tug-Of-War competetion with her house.. I think they all need to be fattened up a little, Carmelites (all the houses are named after Nuns or Brothers - Monks) were ridiculously small compared to the rest of them.. one small tug and they were over. We chanted though. And a non pushchaired Lal attempted to defend his sisters honour. She may never forgive me for allowing him to run onto the field of play. The Tug had to be stopped whilst I collected him. Red faced Mummy.
After the Tug, I didn't see G again. She went off with her friends, only returning to me when she needed more money to win more of our bears back.. Oh and when she decided that the best thing at the whole fete were the BSM cars that idiotic instructors thought the CHILDREN might enjoy driving around a field. Marvellous. I have grave doubts that G will ever be a driver if the zig zag evidence was anything to go by. I don't think I have ever been so scared for spectators... She was entirely unamused that she wasn't allowed to get out of 2nd gear. I'd have prefered for her to stay standing still.
Lal discovered the BEST attraction of the whole place. The car park. Sooo many cars for him to touch. I've never seen him so happy. We stayed there for an hour " A Saab, A BMW, a Vauxhall.. ooh.. a Mercedes.." Oh we had fun. I tried to get him to have a go at the hammer strength thingy.. you know, you hit the thing, it flies up and hits the bell? He loved that. Bang bang bang. Dropped the hammer on the man's foot, but you know, can't have everything. He did win, by dint of a little cheating, a huge blow up Nemo doll. Lovely. It's living outside from now on.
And then he saw the ducks. The ducks with the little numbers underneath that you hook and win a prize. "Duck.. DUUUUUCK" Yes dear, a duck. Shall we go see? " DUCCCCKKKKKK" I honestly tried to hand him the pole to pick one up.. but no, he just dived headfirst into the paddling pool. He was as happy as.. well.. a duck in a pool. Being the ultra organised mother that I am, I had no spare clothes for him, so located G and stole her shruggy over shoulder cardigan type thing, put a dry nappy on, and he was happy. Thank goodness for sun! Oh, and he won a huge, ie bigger than him, bouncing stress ball. That's also living in the garden.

The BEST news.. and I never win anything.. on the tombola.. I won 2 free tickets to Colchester Zoo.. a saving of about £25 AND a £30 voucher for a hair cut! I may be able to tame my fly away locks.. woo hoooooo. My luck may be turning.

And I suppose I should mention, at least in passing, that the other K will no longer feature so prominently in my journals. We decided this weekend that our marriage isn't working, and so will be going our seperate ways... effective immediately. We've been having problems for a while, and I think the end of the line has been reached. We're all doing ok though.. hey.. you can read about how I attempt to cope with my two hooligans as a single mother! I can hear the panic now.. Tongue out
We're determined to be nice, he's a good man, and a good father.. so none of that no contact nonsense.. Just because we didn't make it, we don't want the children to suffer .. they love us both, they'll see us both.

Ok, off to book my hair appointment and possibly even get dressed. It's only 1pm after all. Maybe I should make a New Monday Resolution? Get dressed by 9am? I could maybe manage that...

K xx

Thursday, 12 June 2008

Things I say..

If nothing much interesting has happened during the day, I often look to the helpful suggestions from BC when pondering what to write. I think they've forgotten about it though... and I have no more favourite pictures to show. Without using ones of me, which would obviously break BC once and for all. I honestly cannot get a good picture of me. The camera is trying to tell me something, I can only function by thinking that I'm just not photogenic.. if I look like that in real life... well.. I have problems! Wink

So tonight.. well.. I think I'll talk about the things I say on a daily basis. There are phrases that I come out with that I say so often, sometimes I think I'll explode if I have to say them one more time..
  • No.. don't hit the cat

  • Please don't empty the pan cupboard

  • Untuck your skirt

  • Rubbish in the bin please

  • *To crying Lal* Well I said the puzzles pieces wouldn't go in the video hole in the tv.

  • Ow. Hitting mummy isn't nice.

  • Especially not with a wooden mallet

  • What is it?

  • What on earth?

  • Balls

  • Oh for goodness sake (no more swearing for me..Sealed)

  • I know you've got your shoes. As soon as I'm off the toilet we'll go for a walk.

  • Ooh look. a car/a bus/a tree/ a dog/ a duck/ a drain.

  • Don't touch that car.

  • No, we don't walk in the road

  • Please don't post yourself/your toast/your clothes/my clean washing out the cat flap

  • Turn that computer off now.

  • I said now

  • No, not in 5 minutes, NOW

  • Look.. you've had your nappy changed 18000 times.. why can't you learn to lie still?

  • I've just put a clean nappy on you.. why poo now?

  • You don't eat sweets, stop trying to steal the Jelly Tots

  • Lal, what ARE you doing?

  • Please don't climb the bookcase

  • Please don't eat the cat food.. it's yucky

  • NO... not in the toilet

  • Alexander James.. where are you now?

  • Don't eat daddy's shoes

  • They'll be home in a minute

  • What's wrong?

  • Where did you bump?

  • *sung* Old King Cole/Old Macdonald/1 2 3 4 5 fishy/ 5 Little ducks/ ABC/ 47000 other songs

  • Don't throw your lunch at the cat

  • That isn't a nice word.. don't say that

  • Say mummy.. please.. say mummy.. just once

  • Fine. Daddy. We all know you can say daddy.

  • Various animal noises.. Moooo.. Baaa.. Quack

  • Do you know where your head is?

  • No that's mummy's head

  • Not the mallet.. please

  • Pfft

  • LOL (sadly sometimes I forget to laugh and say LOL instead)

  • Did you do your homework?

  • Tuck your shirt in

  • No dinner isn't ready yet.

  • Deal with YOUR children

  • Please be tired. Please be tired. Please be tired!

  • Not tonight dear.. I have a headache.

If I could train a robot to say these things.. I could run away to a nice desert Island and spent eternity there with Jack.. we'll be "Lost" together...

K x x

Wednesday, 11 June 2008

A cunning plan

As plan that is as cunning as a fox who has just been made Professor of Cunning at Oxford University? Oh yes (Thanks Blackadder!lol)

Today I didn't have much planned, a visit to the Health Visitor to check up on Lal's weight, but nothing else. I was even completely lazy and didn't get out of my pj's until 1.45pm. Now that is bad.. but so good!

At about 2, the Sand and Water table I ordered from Woolworths came. Outside our playroom (which used to be our dining room and before that our garage) we have a nice, since I planted pots out there and picked up the rubbish, pathway leading to the back garden. As the playroom has an outside door, I thought it would be nice for Lal to have a fancy little table to be creative at. Or just to throw all the sand on the floor and splash me with water. Whichever he prefers..

Anyway, the table arrived a whole day early and I thought I'd head off and get some sand.. we have a Homebase 1.8miles away from us.. not too far and perfect walking distance to tire Lal out. I also needed to go to the chemist which is 0.9 miles away from Homebase (distances will become important later..) So, we got dressed properly, smothered Lal in sun cream, got drinks, snacks, sunglasses, rain mac just in case and went to leave. Knock at the door. One of my neighbours. Dammit, forgot it was Wednesday and that somehow, whilst complaining to them about them cutting down one of my hedges, I offered to babysit their granddaughter one afternoon a week for the rest of my life.. I don't know how.

So.. two children, one pushchair.. no problem. Little Keeligh.. Kayleigh.. Keeley.. Cailey (no idea) is nearly 3, she can walk, or sit on the handlebars.. no problem there.

Off we go.. Homebase and Chemist. It started so well, we walked, we sang, we entertained passers by with our jolly spirits and slightly demented grins. Lal got out of the pushchair and did his car touching thing, Kayleigh/Keeley/Cailey kept up her "naughty baby" monologue and I offered drinks every six minutes. We got to Homebase, made a beeline for the Play Sand Aisle (there isn't one.. it's right at the back of the store) manouvered one bag of sand into the fabric tray thing underneath the pushchair and headed to the checkout. Noticed one slight problem. Sand is heavy. Sand is VERY heavy. Sand weighed approx 18 tonnes and the pushchair wouldn't go round corners. Meh.. no problem. It'll be an adventure. Paid.. left Homebase and walked on to the chemist. Now those among you who have a single grain of sense will no doubt be wondering why I didn't go to the chemist first and collect the sand on the way back. That is part one of the failure of my cunning plan.

Got to the pathway that leads to the chemist and remembered that it was possibly the biggest hill ever. Ok, maybe a slight incline, but still.. heavy sand, two toddlers. Painful. Removed Lal from chair again and made them both walk. Kayleigh/Keeley/Cailey wanted to hold his hand. My son would rather have had his hand cut off than oblige. I gave them each two raisins and forced them onwards... and upwards. Arrived at chemist.. purchased eye drops (oh so important.. why didn't I leave them?) and paid. Rearranged pregnancy tests on the shelves after Lal pulled them down and Kayleigh/Keeley/Cailey hid them amongst the tampax.. Left chemist.

Next problem. Both children were exhausted. Lal had walked probably 6 times the distance he's used to and Kayleigh/Keeley/Cailey hadn't even had a sit down. Right.. action.. sat girl (can't write all that again) in the pushchair... sat Lal on handlebars and managed after a running start to get the groaning pushchair moving again. We got as far at the pathway, about 2 miles from home, before the fabric tray holding the now 42 tonnes of sand broke. Now what on earth was I supposed to do? Removed girl from pushchair, sat Lal on the floor, gave them both a biscuit and drink and looked at the carnage. I swear, both children were laughing at me. I tried putting the sand on the pushchair hood.. nope.. would just have crushed whichever child was sat under it.Tried jamming it on top of the bars that hold the damn thing together. That worked, but the about to burst wheels wouldn't turn. In the end, I sat the children on top of each other and put the sand over my shoulder. I managed to move about 12 metres before I died.

Finally, the best possible solution.. I abandoned the sand next to a bin and sobbed all the way home. As did the children who were both exhausted and both wanted to sit in the pushchair. It was two miles of hell. Hell. And never, ever again. I'm now trying to get up the courage to tell Keeley/Kayleigh/Cailey's nan that I can't look after her again.. and could she please not cut down my hedges, that are on my garden, without asking me first.

Am also planning a car trip to Homebase tomorrow to by some more sand.

My cunning plan was a bust.. always happens...

Off to soak my aching shoulders and screaming muscles..

K x x

(Just about to hit publish.. and a note from G. " Mum, Lal's put three full toilet rolls down the loo again.." GREAT!

Monday, 9 June 2008

My favourite photos

I have a few.. Purely because it would be unfair of me to only choose one, how would the photos who weren't chosen feel? I'll try to restrict myself..


My mum.. taken circa 1950.. Just made May Queen. What I love about this pic is that she looks so innocent. You'd never guess she'd blackmailed and threatened all her class mates into voting for her..


Georgia, aged about 3. With hair! She just looks so deliciously hippy like..


The first picture of my two together. He was about 8 hours old..


First playstation session!


Just my babies

and finally..


Lal. Happy in the sun. (Or actually happy to be able to stop walking and just sit for a bit)

K x x

Tuppaware, ramekins and crafts, oh my!

Last night I had an epiphany. Actually it was this morning, about 1.45 and I was on my knees in the kitchen desperately searching for tuppaware.

My epiphany? I am not an earth mother, a yummy mummy, someone who has neatly stacked boxes of tuppaware in the cupboard.. ready for any emergency that may arise. I may have the electric knife (no plug.. well there is a plug, but it's open as I stole the fuse for a lamp) the hand mixer (no plug again) the hand blender (plug but unable to get all Lal puree goop out of so shoved to back of cupboard - Lal pureed FOOD goop.. I didn't puree him..) popcorn maker (unused) sandwich maker (burnt hand, being punished.. not used) endless bowls that haven't been used since my mum gave them to me before we got married but may one day come in handy... but No tuppaware.
I do try. When Lal was first weaning, I bought ramekins. I still have pristine ramekins in the cupboard.. I thought of sending them back as they didn't work, but apparently the lids aren't supposed to snap on in an airtight manner. I still have the Annabel Karmel ice cube trays... cleverly designed to hold the perfect amount of goop for a meal, all for the amazing price of £399.99.. or something anyway. I must admit, I did use those a few times in my puree everything to death and actually buy Butternut Squash days. I think I gave up after I broke my fingertips trying to get the frozen food out. (Anyone else find that? In the "I adore my baby and nothing processed or not lovingly crushed, mushed and pureed by my own fair hand is going anywhere near my little darling's mouth..) phase, you bought fruit and veg that you'd never even heard of? Or am I the only person who only knows carrots, green beans, broccolli and peas?)Where was I? Why do I use brackets? It only distracts me. Ah yes, earth mother, not so much. As most people who know me know, I've done half this parenting thing before. G is 3/4 formed.. 12 and only 6 years to go before the heady heights of Uni or the Dole Queue (What? Ihave confidence in her...I said Uni first.. ) With G, because I loved her, I tried to do Arts and Crafts. Mummy and Me time. I bought brand new shiny books, in hard back, with 1001 fun things to do with glitter, paper clips, pipe cleaners, toilet rolls and brightly coloured paper. I mangled old cd's to turn them into beautiful Christmas decorations. I really tried. Honestly. We were lucky the cd's didn't slips from the flimsy pritt stick (I forgot to buy proper glue) and wedge themselves in our heads as we walked under them. The Angel "how to" guide advised me to use string to hang them from.. garden twine is not acceptable. It can cause Angel decapitation. And childhood trauma. Glitter is still covering my kitchen floor and it hasn't been used for 5 years. We've had new flooring in that time too. I occasionally get the baking bug. I'll spend an entire day mixing, stirring (not the same thing according to the recipe) moaning that it is impossible to fold a runny mixture (well it is!) I'll create dough that sticks to the rolling pin no matter how little liquid I use, or how much extra flour gets shoved on top. I forget that we have a fan assisted oven so everything comes out burnt. I pray nightly for the dishwasher that never comes... but I do try. Just a few weeks ago, I made Play Dough. MADE IT. Not bought it, or ordered online. I made it. Of course I lost the fingerprints on my right hand because I failed to properly believe the part of the recipe that said "wait to cool, when removing mixture from the microwave, it will be EXTREMELY HOT" (Actual capitals in the recipe) I just had to check. It is extremely hot. Ouch. I'm rambling now. I'll get back to my point. Last night, this morning, at 1.45, I realised that I do not, and never will own enough tuppaware bowls(?) with matching lids to prevent my daughter's blushes at school. She had to take in ingredients for a cookery lesson, gone are the days when you sent in £1 and they'd bought the ingredients in bulk. Oh no. I now have to measure out 25 (what's the thing that isn't ounces? The new fangled measurement thingy? Well that) of flour, 25(?) of caster sugar (Ooh.. grams!!) 50g of butter, 25 g of raisins... and they all have to go in their own little pots. The teacher sent a note home the time I sent in a 2lb bag of flour and a new tub of marmalade.. Poor child ended up with 1 weaning pot, one mini tuppaware pot (stolen from my mum at some point no doubt) and the rest of the ingredients squished into little plastic freezer bags. It occurred to me at 3.30 (Lal still not well) that I should maybe put the butter in a pot and the raisins in a bag...Ok, off to wallow in my mothery uselessness.

K x x

Sunday, 8 June 2008

Not quite Dr Doolittle

SUN! We had sun! Of the hot kind and without any clouds. Wonderful! We all wore shorts, well not first thing, first thing was still freezing, but by 11 it was beautiful.

It was decided, by coin toss, that I had to do the lawn mowing today.. it's impossible to do without another adult around as Lal has decided that the mower is an object of deep fascination and attempts to throw himself under it every chance he gets. And when we do the front, cars are equally as fascinating..

So.. mowing the lawn, happily.. ish. I do it properly obviously, up and down in nice neat lines, so we get stripey lawn. Not round and left and right and back and the mish mash that K does.. Anyway.. mowing lawn, suddenly that crunch. The crunch when you know you've run something over, but not quite sure what it was. There was also a sort of high pitched squeal. I checked, obviously, that I still had both my feet. No problem, both there, both still needing the pedicure I've been going to organise since Lal was born.. . Then called K to see what was under the mower. A frog. I mowed a frog. I am Frog Murderer. In my defence, the grass was so long due to two weeks of rain that I couldn't see it. But still. I killed a frog. I am traumatised, and will no longer be able to cut the grass, it's K's job now. At least froggy didn't die in vain...

After the morning excitement, we headed off to my parents for a nice cool swim. Except I don't swim. So I guarded the towels from the non existant thieves. And sunbathed.

Lal wouldn't swim, but loved getting in and out of the pool. I think the final count was 17521 times. He didn't annoy anyone, really.

Also discovered the magic of the Wii. My brother was there with his children and bought the game along. I love it. I want one. I am willing to forego Christmas and Birthday presents for the next month in order to get one.. (my b'day.. August.. so I won't miss much lol) Of course I broke a light in my effort to jump over a fence in a horse racing game.. I didn't realise that I had to jump with my hand and not my body. That's it from me. Lal decided that he didn't want his bottle tonight, well he decided after he'd drunk it, so I have a couple of washes to go and do. Lovely.

K x x

Friday, 6 June 2008

"You hate me don't you?" And other teenagerisms

It won't surprise you to know that I have many conversations a day. There doesn't necessarily need to be anyone there, I can talk to myself and answer too. Chats with Lal are usually fruitless, I'll happily list the letters of the alphabet, the numbers on the puzzle, or name the pictures in his books. He takes after his father and either grunts in response, ignores me totally or mutters gibberish.

Conversations with G make me want to tear my hair out. A selection of a few from today.


"Jogs, time to get up, it's 7:01"

"I'm up, I'm getting dressed" said whilst still under the covers with eyes closed.

20 mins later

"Jogs, if you don't get up now, you won't have time for breakfast and will be late for school."

"I'm up.. and anyway you know I'm on a diet."

"Umm.. no, you're too young to diet. If you want to tone up, try more exercise."

"I mean, I'm not on a diet, I buy breakfast at school."

"No, you don't. I've stopped giving you money for breakfast at school, I realise that you use it to buy sweets and I have perfectly good breakfast here. Now, will you GET UP. Your brother is up and has had his breakfast."

"Big wow. He's a baby. Whatever. I'm up now anyway."

"I'll be up those stairs in 2 minutes, if you're not dressed, I'll get the water jug.."

"You dare, I'll ring childline."

15 minutes later she was up and dressed. I say dressed, the shirt was hanging out, pleated skirt once again giving me a lovely view of her knickers every time she bent over, and the tie was.. well sort of big, with three stripes showing, According to the Uniform Rule list which MUST be obeyed under pain of death, there have to be 7 stripes showing. Oh, and the must be black hair band was royal blue. At least it was tied back, small mercies.

Chat number two.. leaving the house.

"Could you undo the rolls in your skirt please. Hoiking it up like that makes you look ridiculous."

"No, only nerds don't roll their skirts up..Everyone else does it!"

"When did we move to America and have groups of people who are classed as nerds? Are they the ones who don't get invited to the prom? You're not watching that High School Musical again. It's influencing you, obviously. And who is this ubiquitous everyone? I don't roll my skirt up, therefore NOT everyone does it."

"You're a nerd then. And you can't control what I watch. I am NOT rolling my skirt down. You just want to make everyone hate me. You don't want me to have any friends just because you don't. You want me to be SAD like you. I hate you. You're ruining my life.."

"I know I am, it's an oath I took when I became a parent, I take it very seriously. Look, when you walk to school, you not only reflect us as a family, but your school. Show a little respect for your uniform. Dress properly until you geto to school, then go mad. Now, go. you'll be late. Have you got your lunch?"

"I hate you. How do the people who walk to school know who my family is? You're so sad, I can't wait to leave home. I don't want any lunch, I told you I'm on a diet. And anyway. I hate sandwiches, why can't I have dinner money like everyone else?"

"Because you spend dinner money on sweets" Door slams as she walks out.

Exhausted yet? It's only 7.55... she'll be home at 4.30.

"Hi sweetie.. good day?"

"YES... I'm on the athletics team, I'm doing javellin and 100m and long jump. They want to put meinthe800maswellcani?OhandcanIgointo..."

"Slow down please, I can't tell what you're saying.."

"I SAID, can i go into town with S tomorrow? There are like a whole group of us going and I want to too.."

"Like a whole group of you going? What's like a group? A gaggle?"

"Oh for God sake mum. You know what I mean. I can't help it if you can't talk properly. Please can I go?"

"Umm, not sure love, I have to check with your dad and see if we're doing anything."

"Great. He'll say no and we'll go and do something boring like watch sheep. All you care about is the baby. You wish I hadn't been born."

"Yes dear. It's my nightly prayer"

"I knew it. Why don't you just put me in care? I bet they'd let me go out."

"Georgina Mary Alice. I've had it now. Upstairs and get changed. Think about how you speak to me and bring your washing down so I can put the machine on."

"I have to do EVERYTHING round here. Can't I ever get a night off? I'm your slave. That's why you had me be born."

"Yes dear.Upstairs, now"

10 minutes later, joyous G arrives. Happily having forgotten her slavery bond and launches into the gossip of the day. Head of Year has written in her book to inform me that 20 denier tights are too thin, and must be 40. Obviously. Heading into summer and only "nerds" wear white socks, so we buy a pack of 5 tights a week. Private school must be cheaper. Happiness and tranquility continues whilst Lal is fed and she has her tea. And then once again, it ends.. my fault..

" Can I go on MSN for a bit?"

"Sorry love, no... remember you're not allowed on it until Sunday."

"Why not?"

"Remember how rude you were last Sunday and how you refused point blank to put your ironing away? And I said you'd lose MSN for a week?"

"Yes, but that was Sunday. It's Friday now. And I've been really good. I fed the cat and everything."

"You did indeed. Did you bring your dirty cups down from upstairs? Pick your wet towel up off the floor? Put your rubbish in the bin? hang your uniform up?"

"No. But I didn't mean to not do them. I just wanted to spend time with Lal instead."

"No.. you didn't. I asked you to watch him, so you did exactly that.. You didn't play with him at all."

"So? You didn't say I had to. What you don't want me to spend time with my brother now? Can I go on MSN now?"




"I hate you. ALL my friends have it and they all hate you too. I'm not allowed to do anything. You'd be happy if I just stopped breathing. Well I'm going to. You see? You don't even care. I'm not breathing and you're just letting me. I'm going to tell Dad. PLEASE can I go on MSN? PLEASE? MUM. MUM. MUUUUUUUUM. Fine. I'm never talking to you again. Ever. I'm really not. You can talk tome as much as you like and I won't answer. Mum? Right, I hate you. I wish I'd never been born."

There's been silence since. Lovely silence. Until tomorrow when she'll remember that she wanted to go out with friends. Or if I'm very unlucky in about 10 minutes when she'll remember that ALL her friends watch Big Brother and none of their parents say that it's "inappropriate"

K x x

A car.. a bus.. a carrot puff

I decided a few weeks ago that I needed to exercise. Running after Lal around the house wasn't good enough and he needed daily walks to ensure that he would sleep through at night was stimulated enough.

So every day we walk. Usually just up to our local shops, sometimes over the park, to the chemist - a good 30 min walk there - or to town which is 2.6 miles each way. I used my fancy pedometer that I got free with Special K cereal to check he exact distance.. it felt long, I just wasn't sure if my smoke ridden lungs were lying to me.. Still have the unopened box of cereal and have used the pedometer that one time. I see a bargain... Wink

But anyway, today we walked to the chemist. We set off with Lal in the pushchair, me in my shades (oh what a sight) and a Polly the Pig book draped artfully on his lap. I got as far as the 6th house when Lal decided he wanted out.. not one to argue with him, especially when he needs tiring out, I obliged. He started walking nicely on the path, holding my hand and singing. Very sweet. Suddenly, my hand became toxic and was thrust away from him and off he ran. Not further ahead on the path.. but up someone's driveway. I should maybe explain that Lal is obessed with cars, vans, taxis.. all forms of transport. He HAS to touch them. So our walks consist of me waiting on the pavement whilst he goes up and down every single driveway to touch the Make badge, Audi, Renault etc and trace the letters on the number plate. At every house. We live on a little estate..there are very many cars. If there isn't one on the drive, he wil continue until he reaches their garage and bang on it. He knows where the car is hidden...

Oh and throughout this, if a car/bus/van/lorry etc etc drives past, we have to stop and watch it from first appearance until it has disappeared from view, whilst loudly exclaiming " a bus, a car, a taxi, a lorry, a van, a motorcycle, a minibus taxi type thing" (He has a little trouble saying the last one.. Today I decided to take our walk just as the schools were letting out. It took an hour and a half to do a 15 minute walk. I was tired out.. he was fine!

What else? There is something contained in either my or K's DNA that is having an odd effect on the children. They have to hoard food in odd places. Not to eat when they first take it, but to savour and maybe go back to 24 hours later. Whilst cleaning earlier I discovered

  • a half eaten brownie on the toilet roll holder -G

  • 6 half drunk glasses of water behind a globe -G

  • Box of raisins in the video hole in the TV (and the letters b, r, and z) - Lal

I must admit I got distracted and failed to remove the carrot puff from the cat flap. I remembered as soon as I saw him eating it about 4 hours later...

Ok.. that's it from me... Thanks for all the lovely comments for yesterday's journal. Made me feel all warm and cuddly.. it's nice to be missed! Laughing

K x x

(Oh...and, as ever, I shall remain a Big Brother Free Zone.. Tongue outYell)

Wednesday, 4 June 2008


I have become a terrible journaller.. journalee.. journal writer. Not only becuase I tend to annihilate the English language with my over excited use of ... and !!! but because I haven't written one in ages! And so much has happened. Not all of it good.. some bad.. some frankly unbelievable and some entirely miraculous.. but since I wasn't writing, you'll never know!

So.. the mini catch up. Lal is now 17 months. G is 12 years and a bit.. I am still nowhere near 31 and K is still an idiot. Seriously. Lal has some good language skills, he can communicate his wants fairly effectively.. and if his language lets him down, a graceful sink to the floor and an all out tantrum usually gets him his way. Actually, that could also be used to describe G at the moment. Toddlers and teenagers, who'd have 'em?

What prompted me to write tonight is a cautionary tale. Something that every parent knows not to do. But no matter how sure and certain the knowledge that it is wrong, at some point in your precious child's toddler years, you will drop something on the floor and swear. It doesn't matter how many times you lovingly murmur "love you" to your child, or "Say mama.. dada.. car.. boat.. duck.." The one time the will copy the very first time they hear a word, it will always be Fuckit.

It's sad, but it's true. It's humiliating, and even if you don't react, they know that that is a forbidden word.. one that will cause you endless agonies whilst you are shopping in your local shop, or whilst you walk down the road and stop to chat with a lonely old lady.

Today, Lal learnt that word. Today Lal used that word at least 50 times. Today, I died more deaths than I care to imagine.

It started with a loving moment. He was playing happily with his Alphabet puzzle, I looked at him and felt that amazing tug of love, the one that makes me well up and not quite believe I made him. I called to him, "Lal, come give mummy a kiss.." He looked at me, sighed and said "Ah fuckit."

He then proceeded to remove every letter from his Alphabet puzzle and forget that he can say A B C P and SSSS and rename them all Fuckit.

A - Fuckit

B - Fuckit..

and so on.

I am no sort of parent. I am a person who has vowed to say Oh Dear a lot. and who sits in the corner and rather forlornly says "It's not a DUCK LAL" in the vain hope that someone will remove the cussing and replace it with a harmless duck.
K x x