Thursday, 28 August 2008

I Can't Take No Steenking Photos!

I forgot! No, I didn't forget, all day I had my camera, all day I thought "I must get a shot of Thing One now she's had her head shaved." I just.. time escaped me.

Kidding, by the way. I did not shave my pre-teen daughter's head. I used hair removal cream, so much safer than a blade.

Oh ok. Fine. Spoilsport. Here's the best (photoshopped to try and lighten it so you can see) pic from today.


So what did I take photos of, if not my beloved eldest? Well, I did try and get a few shots of The Babe, at an aquarium visiting the fish. I have a lot of this type of shot:


Back of head, running away type shots.

I got fed up and forced all three of them to sit down and say cheese for-crying-out-loud-it's-only-one-picture-can't-you-just-pretend-to-be-normal-kids-for-once. The result?


Fake smiles and not a single one looking at the camera. Grrr.

I did get one shot of The Babe smiling at me, even if I did have to strap her down and bribe her...


Starting School

I thought I was used to this. Playgroup. Nursery. She's had new starts, made new friends. She is used to this, for goodness sake. So why do I feel sick?

Primary School. I remember her first day. I didn't cry. Nor did she. However, grocery shopping that week was hard, and I sniffled slightly as I realised she wasn't going to be home for lunch anymore. But she had a fabulous time, and I learned to let go. Just a little.

Secondary School. Oh. My. God.

Today we collected her uniform. She tried it on. My little baby, the soul I carried beneath my heart for nine months and in my heart ever since. She was wearing a {sob} BLAZER! (By the way, blazers are so much cooler now! They have pockets for mobiles and pockets for Ipods with a special lining for your headphones and probably a special pocket for your cigs and lighter, and one for your flask, and and... Oh, and they are machine washable. My school one was dry clean only and I had the fear of God put in me in case I ever got it dirty.)

(I have no idea where I was going, you let me sidetrack again).

Nope, it's gone. Train of thought derailed. Cool gadget thoughts now running through head.

So, piccy time! Here she is, my little girl, all growed up (she is so going to kill me if she reads this sentimental slush. MOTHER! She'll say. Then she'll see the pic of her PE Kit, get in an absolute strop and storm off to her room and I'll get some peace and quiet for a little while). (Note to self: show this entry to Thing One).

blogpekit bloguniform

Tomorrow, hair cut. Be prepared for more pics!

Friday, 15 August 2008

That's the way to do it!

The Babe attended her first ever Punch and Judy show today. I thought she would be slightly intimidated by the crowds, by the shouting, by the hitting, by the throwing and casual violence. Yeah, right.

maddie-22m She was on her feet shouting, stamping and jostling with the best of them. My daughter, the hooligan. She went right up to the Prof after the show, demanding a prize. She had such a great time - first sunshine all week too! - that I had to share.

Saturday, 9 August 2008

Dinner Talk, chez nous

Thing Two "Daddy took me to the baker today and I had a Danish Pastry!" For some reason, she pronounced it "Pass-try".

"What's a pass-tree?" asked Thing One, facetiously.

"Well... in Denmark they have two types of trees, you see. A Pass-tree and a Pee-tree. Dogs are only allowed to use one type of tree, and they use the other types to make nice cakes and things."

Tuesday, 5 August 2008

Childhood Memories, II

Once upon a time, a girl with a curl in the middle of her forehead decided to play a trick on her parents, who were out grocery shopping.

She dusted her face with purple eye-shadow, and red lipstick. She lay face down on the stairs, feet pointing up, head lying on the hall floor. She contorted her limbs, then allowed herself to dribble slightly on the floor. As she did so, she heard a car door slam, so she closed her eyes and waited.

It was worth the dropped eggs and the screams, mwah hah hah!

The ending of the story fades into the mists of memory, but one thing remains to be said.

Sorry, Mum. Embarassed

alex-injured Funnily enough, my daughters have the same sick sense of humour. Look at Thing Two, winding up her father after he accidentally hit her face... she was totally unmarked, this is all make-up!

Childhood memories

Once upon a time, a girl with a curl in the middle of her forehead went missing. This was before the times of over-protective parents, so it wasn't until dinner time that her mother noticed and sent her sisters to find her.

When the sisters returned alone, the mother sent out the father. Again, he had no luck. Mildly disturbed, neighbours were roused and checked, and entire streets meandered up and down, enjoying the late summer sunshine, and checking with each other. "Have you seen her? No. Ah well, she'll turn up."

When she didn't, perturbation moved up a notch to worry. Not panic, not yet. Soldiers from the nearby barracks - since this was the seventies, and West Germany - were called in. Teams of squaddies hunting high and low.

Where was the girl? Well, she was playing in a sycamore tree. She liked climbing trees and had played happily all afternoon. She had heard her sisters calling, but wanted to play. She saw the neighbours, and whistled to get their attention, but they didn't look up into the branches. She dropped "helicopters" - sycamore seeds - down on the soldiers' heads, but they didn't look up either.

Bored finally, the girl slipped down the tree while it was quiet and went home. She probably helped herself to some cold dinner since she would have been hungry. Had she chosen a damson tree to climb she may well have stayed up there longer, spitting the pits at passers-by. Her parents may well have found her at home, reading a book and bemused by the fuss. She was a very laid-back child.

The ending of the story fades into the mists of memory, but one thing remains to be said.

Sorry, Mum.