Saturday, 28 March 2009


I’m SICK. I’m POORLY. I not feel well no more. I have a cold, or a sore throat and a fuzzy head and a cough and the sniffles so it’s as close to a cold as any other virus. It’s okay, I’m not asking for sympathy or attention. I shall stiffen my upper lip and square my shoulders and carry on goddammit!

Not that I have a choice because The Babe had the cold first and she is demanding attention, and fussing constantly. No British fortitude, her. She’s whinging like a baby all the time. Wait. Oh. Yeah. She is a…. Right.

She’s been pouring snot all week. I’m sorry for the bluntness there. I’ve been skirting prettily around it all week “oh she’s a bit sniffly, she has a streaming nose, she’s under the weather.” Enough. She is a snot machine and she is disgusting! I can’t get a hair brush through her hair because she keeps smearing runny bogies across her cheeks and into her hairline. Complete strangers are stopping me in the street to discuss the comparative properties of the differing shades of snot - apparently green snot isn’t good, it is a sign of illness. As far as I’m concerned no snot is good, it’s all nasty and you only get snot when you are ill so of course green snot is a sign of illness. Like duh. I haven’t said that yet, I’m the queen of tact, but one more sleepless night this week and I’m likely to crack.

Gosh. Sorry. Bit of a rant there.

Anyway, so I’m sick and I’m tired and just for today I’m letting my upper lip quiver. Sniffle.

And I still don’t have a new car.

Friday, 20 March 2009


Sometimes you actually see Karma working right in front of you. Isn’t it sweet when that happens? Today I continued on my dull and dreary job of finding a new car. I drove to a garage, and pulled in to park. Their customer parking was packed.  No spaces anywhere. I had to turn and go back out. It took me, oooh, say 30 seconds to do that?

Impatient chap decided that 30 seconds was far too long. He watched me carefully reversing, trying not to hit anything, and he turned purple with rage. “Move your f’ing arse! Stupid f’ing b*tch. F off, F that, F the other.” I can’t give you verbatim, I do know that the, oh, say 10 seconds it took me to reverse out of his way he turned the air blue. And stayed blue as he cursed all the way past me. And me with The Babe in the car. Luckily she didn’t repeat anything.

I was steaming by the time I parked and walked into the showroom. I took a seat in the customer area. Impatient chap walked in. Impatient chap was the salesman. He saw me, and his face fell to his knees. “Hello”, I said pleasantly. “Did you get to wherever you were going in such a rush?” He sneered a little in bravado and tried to swagger away.

So I smirked, and sing-songed “I’d like to buy a new 7-seater car, please. But. Not. From. You. Can I see your manager, please?”

Damn. That was sweet.

Wednesday, 18 March 2009

up, down, up… down

Crappy grotty irritating nasty life. Things chug along nicely and then something annoying happens just over your left shoulder and you glance over to see what it is and BAM. Life derailed.

Ok, so I’m being melodramatic. It’s just a car. Only my car. Nothing majorly important, just my LIFE which will come to a STANDSTILL without my car! My poor car which is terminally kaput. Ol’ faithful. Sob.

(God I love hormones don’t you? LEAVE ME ALONE MY CAR IS BROKEN).

On the slightly more positive side. Hey! Guess what? I’m getting a new car!

Any recommendations? I shall tell you my requirements and you can tell me what you think.
1. It needs to have 7 seats
2. The three seat bench needs to be at the back not in the middle.
3. It needs sliding doors.
4. Ideally, it needs to be made in the States by a company called Chrysler.

What’s that? A Voyager? Why yes, I rather thought so too! Except I have one of those and now it’s BROKEN.

After the fabulous party this weekend, this is such a downer. (The party which, depending on where you read this, is making you either nod sagely and say “Yeah, man, that was a BLAST” or leave you are scratching your heads and going “Huh? Party? "I wasn’t invited to a party.” Because I play favourites with Blog entries too and some of them stay on Blogspot alone.)

I want my CAR… wail, sniff, stomp!

Tuesday, 17 March 2009


Party Planner Extraordinaire, at your service. Available for hire for all your party planning needs*. Let me open my portfolio and show you some examples. Ah, here we go. Birthday Party. Thing One. Twelve years old.

Background. She and her friends adore virtual pets. And real pets but we limit those, they can have as many virtual ones as they like. Typical twelve year olds really. If it has fur - even just pixels of fur - it is automatically the cutest thing on the planet. So her party was based on a virtual pet site she likes.

Activities. Scavenger Hunt, following the clues from one to the next. Example of clue:

"Snow White and Rose Red
The owner of me wants them dead."

Answers in comments below. Other activities include various games from the site including a balloon popping extravaganza (2 hours to blow up two hundred balloons. 40 seconds for a horde of kids to bust the lot. Huh.), making crowns for the "pets" and a fabulous nail art boutique. Well - Silly and I, several pots of varnish and a few brushes. And boy did we do FAB. Thing One has her nails painted black with orange lettering, spelling her name on her nails, with flames on her thumbnail. Thing Two has blue nails, with black French tips and white hearts. Impressive, wot?

A friend from the States, the home of the virtual pet site, sent us a huge parcel of assorted pet paraphernalia - very grateful to friend! To decide who got what for their party bags we set up a rainbow wheel with numbered segments. Bit like a fancy dartboard. But I had no darts so instead the girls threw handfuls of cooked spaghetti at the wheel. The dog LOVED this game and sat under the wheel, jumping up at their badly aimed starches and wolfing them down. The girls enjoyed it too, best bit of the party. Flinging cooked pasta at my wall. What isn't to like?

Which is nice except I spent HOURS the day before baking and decorating and organising a banquet of gastronomic proportions. Humph. So I shall show you all my amazing food instead. I'm sure you'll appreciate it.

webkinz-food Look! Nachos, meatballs, GREEN pasta salad, devilled eggs, pigs in blankets, THREE different types of cupcakes. I spoil them kids, I really do.

I did good, I did.

Still shop bought the cake though.

*Not really.

Friday, 13 March 2009

Mean, funny, mean

I fell out with Thing One again. She's stroppy and selfish and I'm mean and horrible and I only gave her life to ruin it and she hopes I am happy now. Yeah I know you've heard that before. Believe me, so have I. MANY times.

Mum antenna at work: "Mum, I hate Miss at school, she is always picking on me, asking me questions to catch me out!". Mum antenna... zooms in on pertinent part of that sentence. "She's trying to catch you out? So she thinks you aren't listening? So you are doing something in class to show you're not listening... Why are you talking in class??!" And that's how I show how mean I am, taking "Miss's" side and not listening to what Thing One considers important. "She's picking on me". My logic - "if you weren't talking, she wouldn't pick on you" is brushed aside as irrelevant. Oh to be twelve and omniscient again.

The Babe and her best friend Flower (God I am so original in my pseudonyms) have had us in stitches this week. Yesterday they crept off quietly and dolled themselves up in bracelets, high heeled shoes, wings, and grown-up skirts then came staggering in to surprise us. "Cheese me, Mummy" demanded Flower. Her mother quirked her eyebrow at me. "She wants you to take a photograph." I translated. And all today I've been saying "Cheese me, Mummy!" I think it's become my new slogan.

When Flower is naughty her mother gives her two choices, do Thing A or Thing B will be done to you. It's very cute "Alright Mummy," Flower sighs. The Babe refused to put her coat on today. Flower wagged her finger. "Choices, Babe. One, Two!" I collapsed in giggles which undermined Flower's authority "Oh, Mydonna. Not learn." (Mydonna. Heh.)

Thing Two came out of school today with not one, not two but THREE commendations. Woohoo! Which doesn't take away the fact that she kicked a boy in the goolies! Poor boy. I marched her over to apologise to his mother, which - to give her credit - she did, but she was in tears while she did it. So was the boy. Ouch. As we walked away she sent me a baleful look from under her lashes. A look which said I am ruining her life. Wait. Isn't that where we came in?

Tuesday, 10 March 2009

Addition to the Family!

And he is so cute and so tiny... he's beautiful. I'm in love. And I don't even like rodents that much. Oh yes, the new addition? A hamster.

smudge And yes he IS a hamster, not a guinea pig, regardless of how close-up I took the shot, Posh! Isn't he cute? Only five weeks old, so we haven't handled him much, but when we do he is extremely hand tame and even affectionate. I think I'll keep him...

He belongs to Thing One. It is her birthday today! Happy Birthday, Poppet. She is twelve and I'm not even going to admit to any of the clichés or tired phrases. Just sob a little inside.


Oh, and a brag. The Babe learned to hop today! "Watch me mummy, I's popping!" So cute.

Thursday, 5 March 2009

Kiss Better. Or Lie. Whatever.

Wheeeee! "I frow the ball up, look mummy, ball... ooh look it's getting bigger". BAM. The football that was thrown straight up obeys gravity, and lands on her upturned staring face.

Of course I wipe the blood away and kiss her better but inside? Inside I'm just giggling and calling her a numpty. Because I'm just that mean. Oh well. Split lip and a quick lesson in Newton's theories.

Just now, she's sprawling on a chair. Then she somehow somersaults off it, and lands on her head. She cries and says "The chair hurt my lips. I wanna go home and make my lips better."

I say, "Sweetie we are home. Are your lips better?"

"Oh. OK. No my lips not better. I wanna go doctor."

"You know, you hurt your lips earlier and they are better now? Your lips are fine."

"Oh. My lips ok? I fall down?"

"No, you never fell down. You're fine."

"Oh. OK. I go play now then."

I am so going to Hell.

alex-juliet-2009In other news, Thing Two made a beautiful Juliet for World Book Day. Awwww.


Wednesday, 4 March 2009


I only did this because for some reason MissMoore wanted to know the particulars of my day, like "6am, roll over in bed and refuse to get up. 6.30am Ditto. 7am Ditto. 7.30am ditto". Actually, that could get repetitive so I'll just touch on the highlights...

Monday: Babe to doc first thing. No need for referral to hospital, even though she's had a few UTIs now, so yay. Then playgroup. Organise whip around and card sign for sick leader. Run to the village to organise birthday present for daughter. Have guest for dinner, so organise and start cooking, run to school to attend parents evening. Glow with pride when Thing Two's teacher gives a good report. Return home, eat, take guest home. More probably happened but it was two days ago, give me a break.

Tuesday: The Babe wakes in night again. I haven't had a full night's sleep in three weeks. Quote from email: Then she was awake again at 2am. EVERY night this is happening. I'm ok, I put her in with me and we go straight back to sleep, but I have no idea why she is doing it..... oh. Wait. Yes I do. I am sooo stupid. As I was writing "I have no idea" I ran through ideas in my head quickly, eg hungry, thirsty, warm, cold.. and suddenly got caught on cold. I put her in summer pjs while she was ill every night, thinking her fleece was overheating her and hence the cause of the fever. I have left her in summer pjs ever since. Like duh. No central heating at night, she won't sleep with covers and she is wearing summer pjs. I shall slap myself and save you the bother. Went to friend's for coffee then on to school run. Except it rained and I had no coat. Thing One called me, can I collect her from school. Collect her. She has a fever and a sore red throat. Fab.

Wednesday: Dose Thing One, send her to school. Wave Himself off to work, and revel in peace and quiet. How come on the days I am alone I am ready so early I get to sit down and read my email? And on the days he is here we are invariably running around like headless chickens at 8.45? Watch a little scene played out by Thing two and The Babe. Babe asked Two for her dummy.. not THAT dummy, the orange dummy. Two contorted herself into all sorts of positions to find it and ended up half way under the sofa. Babe just grinned evilly, picked up a cushion and said "oh there it is" and popped orange dummy into her mouth....


Take Thing Two to school and return with Babe and extra toddler. Entertain toddlers while toddler parent is at dentist. Buy biscuits and milk. Fill biscuit tin. Collect Horde of Raveners from school. Watch biscuit tin empty as if by magic. Think I'll start charging entrance fees at the front door. I'm currently typing, blowing up modelling balloons and fixing the eye on a broken teddy. I am woman, I can multi-task! I need to go to work tonight, leaving Himself to tidy up from the invaders. Life is sweet sometimes.

Thursday: Ok, so the rest of the week hasn't happened yet. Planning ahead we have World Book Day tomorrow. Need a costume for school, heroine or villain. Help. There's a book swap and a book fair.
Friday: we have a friend after school again, and youth club. Next week is Thing One's birthday, and Comic Relief (needing - oh what a surprise, a costume for school. The third one in as many weeks. Why did I bother buying uniform?).
Saturday: Sleep in, refuse to get dressed and order takeout to be delivered.

Sunday, 1 March 2009

Time Marches On

Pinch and punch the first of the month!

I had to get that in there because I'm just that immature.

How is it March already? That snuck up so fast that I've been caught on the hop. (Hop.. heh. Geddit? March hare, hop? Oh fergedit). It's Thing One's birthday next week, and have I so much as thought about it, never mind planned anything? Have I heck as like. So, what do twelve year olds like to do? Anyone? Anyone? Bueller? (Actually, don't ask him. I'm sure he'd have too many fine ideas that mothers shouldn't approve of.)

It's also Mother's Day this month - I'm getting (have gotten!) a new camera to replace that one that someone broke. No idea whatsoever about what my mum or my mother-in-law will be receiving though. Inspiration gratefully received about that too.

The Babe is still refusing to answer to her name, and is insisting we all call her Rhubarb. Don't ask, because I don't know. Still, it makes people's heads turn when I scream at gently call her in the supermarket.

(I just won two EBay auctions, so now Thing One has birthday presents! Go me!!)