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