The virtual burglar pays a visit ... in my head

Occasionally I have irrational thoughts. For instance;

What if a burglar were to break into the house in the middle of the night?

Last week I gave it too much thought, it went a little something like this;

So, the burglar breaks in. I don’t know how, he just does OK?

The dog who is having one of those dreams where she’s running in the park stirs. She doesn’t bark. Instead she vomits on the burglar’s shoes and proceeds to wag her tail and lick him. She welcomes him into our home. Not only has she been sick but earlier in the evening she was cleaning her arse with that tongue.

He fumbles to switch on his torch and surveys the kitchen for car keys to the shiny motor on the drive. Plates are piled high on the work surface. Don’t these people have a dishwasher? No, not unless you count me and the husband.

His torch light falls upon a picture on a pinboard of a gay couple. One of them is dressed as Adam Ant, the other is dressed as himself and has a fetching moustache. This picture is me (Magnum PI) and the husband (Adam Ant) at my sisters 40th birthday party. Note the chest hair (For the record and those of you who were wondering ... this is not my own chest hair).

There’s no hope of finding keys amongst the clutter. He locates a handbag on the worktop and opens it. He takes out the contents looking for a purse; a box of raisins, a soggy tissue, a broken Cinderella necklace, a sock, a notebook with extensive Disney notes … a purse with a faulty zip, several receipts for the Co-op and just three ten pence pieces.

He finds a mobile phone right at the bottom of the handbag, hiding. Not the latest model but worth a bob or two. The screen flashes bright. A picture of two small children wearing underpants on their heads greets him. Oh my god, what kinds of people are parenting these children? I believe in nature over nurture … my children are truly bonkers, is that really my fault? … Ahem.

He decides to venture into the living room to check out the electrical goods. Suddenly there is a piercing shriek. He stops dead in his tracks, terrified that there is a beast upstairs. The 4 year old is having night terrors again.

In his panic to leave the house he goes into the downstairs toilet and is met a child’s floater bobbing alone. “Of course I flushed the toilet Mummy”

Recoiling in horror and running back towards the door he stands on a toy fire engine and falls to the floor crashing into the intricate marble run of the previous day.

As he crawls to his knees he kneels on a piece of Lego. OH THE PAIN! For those of you not accustomed to the pain a piece of Lego can cause when kneeled upon, I have confirmed, after a lengthy conversation with the husband, that is equal to standing on an upturned plug.

Clutching his knee he notices some car keys hanging out of a coat pocket in the hall. Bingo!

Relieved to be leaving the house of horrors he realises that the keys are not for the shiny motor, they are indeed for the rusty, dusty old motor parked beside it.

He sits in the car, the first thing to hit him is the lingering smell of wet dog. He puts the key in the ignition. The car stereo signals its awakening with a loud rasping farting noise and The Wind in The Willows blares out of the speakers. The faulty hand brake alarm starts and the petrol gauge is glowing on empty.

What burglar, in his right mind would pick on us?!

Obviously doh ...

We arrived at school early on Friday and chose to sit in the car rather than wait in the chilly playground.

The 4 year old's school is nestled in a residential area.

A man pulled up outside his house and released not one, not two, not three ... but four dogs from the boot of his car after their early morning outing.

One of the dogs was missing a limb.

Me - "That dog only has three legs"

She looks up from her book, looks at the dog and says matter of factly;

4 year old - "Yes, the other one dropped off"

... and continues looking at her book.

Note to self - Teach children the art of people watching by stealth

On Tuesday we went to the park after school to try and dissolve any'post Easter/after school' arguments and whining. The idea being the kids would have a pinic tea in the sunshine and run wild on the adventure playground.

We are sat at the traffic lights, 4 year old in the front, 3 year old in the back.

4 year old - "Mummy, look at that TINY Grandma, look, look."

3 year old - "Where, where?"

I can see in my mirror that the 3 year old is actually considering taking off his seatbelt for a better look. I give him 'the glare' and he reconsiders and cranes his neck to see.

In order for me to look I have to lean really far forward to look at the woman in the passenger seat of the car next to us.

It's true, the woman in the passenger seat of the car next to us is in fact the TINIEST Grandma I have ever seen.

I look at the lady driver, our eyes meet. I look away quickly, embarrassed that I have been caught out staring at her TINY Grandma. I look in the opposite direction willing the lights to change.

Me - "Really, you mustn't stare"

3 year old - "I don't like that TINY Grandma"

Me - "Sit back and stop staring both of you!"

4 year old - "But she is soooo TINY, look, look"

Me - "Stop staring!"

I imagine the conversation in the other car ...

Woman in other car - "What is wrong with that child? She's bouncing about, shouting and staring at us. I bet the mother has been giving them too much sugar."

TINY Grandma - "Why is the one in the back with the big hair scowling at me?"

Woman in other car - "... and look, their mother is just ignoring them. Poor children"

TINY Grandma - "What chance have they got?"

Note to self - Teach children the art of people watching by stealth

A petrol station, a carwash and a non magical bottom ...

Yesterday after school we got in the car and I said in my jolliest voice "Who wants to come and get some petrol?" … funnily enough there was silence.

Our local petrol station was rammed and judging by the faces of my passengers they wouldn't take kindly to waiting for 15 minutes on the forecourt.

"It's OK" I said "Let's go to the other one".

"This is boring" said the 4 year old, "I'm hungry" said the 3 year old

Got to 'other one' to find it being demolished.

"Don't worry, let's go to the next one" I said, slightly less jolly.

"This is sooo boooooring" said the 4 year old, "I want crisps" said the 3 year old.

Five miles later and some crying from the 3 year old who was both mortified and mystified that I could not produce a snack out of my arse whilst driving we arrived at the petrol station … which was rammed.

I agreed that if they stop being grumpy I'd purchase a snack from the petrol station and then we'd go through the car wash. A bit of food based bribery never hurt anyone. The carwash was just a bonus in my eyes.

"This is really b …" the 4 year old stopped herself as the word 'snack' registered in her head. "I want big crisps ... please" the 3 year old said with a big smile.

Their only experience of car cleaning has been with the husband, he uses the handwash people who give the personal touch with a chamois leather. They may not have a working Visa but when they've finished you can see your face in the bonnet and that's all that matters.

Petrol pumped, snack purchased and off we went into the carwash tunnel. I tapped in the code, the children ate cookies.

Off it went, I was super excited "Oooooh look at that" I said as foam covered the car, then the big brushes started up, "Wow, look at the big brush rollers" I said .... "Check out the car blow dryer, isn't it good?".

They looked disinterested with a hint of fear. The 3 year old had his fingers in his ears.

When the carwash had finished, I got out to admire the gleam. It was a bit patchy, but still, better than before.

When I got back in the car I turned round and said "Wasn't that fun?!"

The 4 year old handed me her cookie wrapper. The 3 year old didn't respond either, he still had his fingers in his ears

"Can we just go home now and watch TV?" said the 4 year old, "Juice please" said the 3 year old.

The 4 year old turned to her brother and said "Mummy can't magic juice out of her bottom you know!"

Just when I thought it was safe to leave the house ….

We’re in the car; me and the 13 year old in the front, the 4 year old and the 3 year old in the back.

I am singing along to the radio, badly. The 13 year old is playing games on her phone and the 3 and 4 year old are discussing the merits of cheese strings Vs yoghurt raisins.

I slow down to let a man in a 4x4 pull out of a junction. He clearly hasn’t seen my random act of kindness so I flash my lights. He still doesn’t pull out.

Losing my patience I say “Oh come on …”

The 4 year old instantly pipes up with “… you bugger”, followed by a quieter “bugger” from the 3 year old before they continue their previous conversation.

The 13 year old looks at me in disbelief and I mouth to her “say nothing”.

Meanwhile the man has finally pulled out of the junction. I continue on our journey wondering if the last 60 seconds actually happened. I look at my children in the rear view mirror, they are completely oblivious.

The only evidence of the ‘toddler tourettes’ is their 13 year old sister beside me; her shoulders are shaking and her long hair is covering her face.

She looks up to reveal tears, tears of silent laughter.

A Fat Lip and a Full Frontal View

Just another day in the life …

I didn't have concussion but I do still have an egg on my head. However that is nothing compared to today’s affliction...

I woke up this morning with the BIGGEST cold sore you ever did see (so big that I nearly took a picture to show you, but, wouldn’t want you vomiting on your keyboard so decided not to). It has made my lip swell to four times its normal size. I smeared it in antiseptic cream, nappy cream and Blisteze and went to the chemist.

The woman behind the counter remarked "Wow, look at the size of that". Unimpressed by her enthusiasm I could only muster “Umm, thanks”. She then summoned her colleague, who I assumed was a pharmacist, to come and look. Finally the pharmacist came to look at the freak show and gave me some cream which should clear it in five days. Great. Just in time for husband’s birthday party.

Not only do I have to worry about the double party day, double cakes and music, but now I have to ride the ‘Will I or won’t I have to wear a paper bag on my head’ bus to Saturday.

As if a fat lip wasn't enough to contend with I dropped the 4 year old at school this morning and when I returned to my car it wouldn't start. I had to walk very quickly up a steep hill to work. Luckily I had decided to wear flat shoes for the first time in months which aided my speed walking.

AND as if all the above wasn’t hideous enough …

I must have been fairly traumatised by my lip and the car fiasco because it is now, only seven hours later, that I have remembered seeing a naked man on my 'speed walk' to work.

Don’t get excited, it wasn’t the sort of naked man you want to see.

As I walked past his house he was stood in his, I can only assume, bedroom which has a floor to ceiling window and he was totally naked, taking in the morning view.

As he was elderly I wish I hadn't taken in his, full frontal, view.

Somebody sent me this link two days ago, maybe they are a ‘soothsayer’ and thought it would prepare me for the shock that was to come.

A Terrible Smell & 1 Careful Previous Owner

I bought a new car this weekend. I said goodbye to my top of the range people carrier with all mod cons and LOTS of space. Goodbye to seven seats which have all been used in a variety of combinations. Goodbye to the full length sun roof which blinds the children when the sun shines. Goodbye to the parental controls for the windows and doors in the rear. Goodbye to just enough space that the children can’t touch each other from opposite ends of the car.

Hello to my new car, 9 years old hatchback with 5 seats, a terrible smell and 1 careful previous owner.

During the negotiations with the one careful previous owner the 2 year old asked to be picked up so that he didn’t have to stand too close to the "scary man". Luckily the scary man was discussing the finer points of fuel consumption with my husband and didn’t hear. Just for my equal opportunities record this man was White British and not wearing a Hijab (see previous post The eyes). The 2 year old does not discriminate; scary people come in many forms.

My husband agreed a price with the scary man, there was even a manly handshake to seal the deal. The children, so excited by our new purchase snubbed their father and came home in my new car.

I was less than excited when the car started. It made a rasping noise. The scary man assured me that this happens every time it starts but was nothing to worry about. The 4 year old thought the noise was great. “Mummy’s car farts!” she said.

When we set off I was trying to concentrate. It was the sort of concentration which made me so tense that I looked like a hunchback. This new car was alien to me, I thought I was going to stall, forget about the manual handbrake or press a random and unfamiliar button causing me to kill myself and my children.

I felt like I was riding in a go kart, that if it weren’t for the seat my arse would actually be scraping along the road. The engine sounded like a tractor.

The 4 year old suddenly exclaimed "What’s that?” … she was pointing at the radio cassette player, I gave her a brief description of this aged technology. “Mummy, this is the bestest car in the whole world” was her response. I must admit that after visiting the petrol station and filling my tank for £40 rather than £100+ I had to agree with her.

Ten minutes from home and travelling at 60 miles per hour along a dual carriageway the 2 year old discovered his new fangled window winder “What’s this, what’s this...” he repeated over and over as only a 2 year old does. Cackles of glee ensued as he discovered what it was and wound his window down. A wind tunnel formed and the 4 year old followed suit. During their wind filled excitement they discovered they could touch each other across the car which turned into a full scale scrap where the 3 year old would merely wave his finger in the general direction of the 4 year old and she would whine and shout, flailing her arms in his direction. They also discovered that they couldn't shut their respective windows which meant the wind tunnel effect was constant all the way home.

I’m looking forward to the changes in modern cars over the next year or two. Maybe when I am ready to buy a new car someone will have invented the ‘whinescreen’, a soundproof screen which appears, at the push of a button, between the front and rear seats separating parent from child. Bliss.

For now I'll just have to use the old fashioned method of gags and straightjackets … and I must get an air freshener to rid the car of the smell of scary man.