An update on life as we know it

Me – I was shocked and slightly disturbed to find that all this blogging (which some may see as idle wittering) has earned me number 40 in the Top 100 British Parent Bloggers. It’s all very exciting and I don’t completely understand all the technical bits which got it there, but none the less I have told everyone (bar the monotone security guard on Friday) I have come into contact with over the past week.

I have had several broody moments this week. I keep seeing mothers with their bundles of joy out and about in the village. In my mind I would love another bundle of joy because the maternal lunatic which lives inside me has erased all the crappy/shitty/tear your hair out parts of having a baby. All I can remember are the good bits … swaying with my beautiful baby in the pitch black of night as I feed her/him for the third time in six hours. Bliss. What? Wasn’t I tired and vaguely psychotic through lack of sleep? According to the maternal lunatic in my head … nope, never. I blame the sudden bouts of sunshine this week which make everything seem très jolie.

Just for the record, the above paragraph is written in a special typeface that my husband can't read.

I am feeling fairly domesticated which is a vast improvement on my previous status of ‘definitely not domesticated, no sireee’. Not only have I ironed more than twice this week I have also bought a new Hoover and taken an interest in the garden. My new favourite hangout is the local garden centre.

Can I just mention that the highlight of the televisual year is upon us. The Apprentice is back on Wednesday. Personally, I can’t wait.

Husband – Doesn’t like the Apprentice and is more Alan Titchmarsh than Guitar Hero these days. Despite a bad back he has spent hours cultivating a vegetable patch. It started three weeks ago with a ceremonious bonfire (what is it with men and fire?) in the back garden to clear the way and now we have seedlings sprouting ubiquitously.

I keep having visions of him stepping onto a podium at the village summer fair to collect his prize for 'Yorkshire's Biggest Leeks'.

3 Year Old – Stealth Boy has struck again. Last week husband found a '3 year old sized soil angel' in his vegetable patch. This is hindering the above village prize giving vision.

I walked into the kitchen on Saturday morning to find it flooded. From what I can tell he had been trying to fill the dog’s water bowl. Unfortunately he had then spilled it and repeated the process around twenty times.

The grommet operation was a success, he can hear, his balance is better and he actually starts conversations with people where before he would stand and stare at them as if they were talking in Swahili.

We are growing his hair, I say 'we' but I am actually against this idea as his head is already on the large side. He now has ear flaps and as his hair grows, so does his head. I keep looking at pictures of him after his last hair cut and contemplating sneaking off to the barbers for a quick snip.

4 Year Old – She is in fine fettle. Parents evening made us swell with pride.

Her writing has become much clearer and she likes to leave messages, albeit phonetically, on my computer. Her latest offering was … ‘Ben ten is a hirobicoshiyfitswivpipl’. As you can see she needs to work on her spacing too.

Her class keep getting nit letters, every time I read one I start to itch. No nits yet and I am crossing my fingers that we shall avoid them altogether. Who am I kidding?!

On a recent trip (one of many) to the garden centre she caught us unawares and she had to have an emergency poo. Husband was mortified as he and the 4 year old emerged from behind a polytunnel. She looked relieved. Apparently it was huge. We just can't EVER go there again.

Luckily there are other garden centres in the area that we can visit.

Charity begins at home ...

We had two charity bags put through the letterbox over the weekend. The sort you fill and leave on the driveway for the man in the van to collect. The bags sparked some feng shui action from me and I cleared wardrobes, cupboards and drawers.

Over lunch I told the 4 year old proudly that I had filled the two charity bags.

4 year old - Who is Charity?

Me - Charity isn't a person. The things in the bags will go to charity shops where they will be sold. The money will go towards helping people.

4 year old - People? Why?

Me - Yes, maybe people who don't have anywhere to live, or people who are poorly. There are lots of people that need help.

4 year old - ... and animals?

Me - Yes, and animals.

4 year old - But Mummy, who is Charity?

The 3 year old who has been listening from the end of the table whilst attacking a peanut butter sandwich, looks thoughtfully at me and says "I don't like the sun".

I get up and bang my head against the wall repeatedly. Well not really, but I may as well have.

Later I found the 4 year old hugging the television. An advert for the Dogs Trust was on. A neglected, scrawny, shivering dog was on the screen accompanied by sad music and a voiceover along the lines of 'Poor Smudge doesn't have anyone to love him, his owner used to beat him with a rusty pitchfork and he only fed him once a year. For just £2 a month you could save Smudge ...'

A letter came home from school the following day ... 'your child can come to school wearing red clothing on Friday and pay a pound for Red Nose Day'. As we have no red clothing I decided to order one of the funky Red Nose Day t-shirts designed by Stella McCartney instead. She chose the Beatles one over the fluffy rabbit one (I was shocked, her father was proud). I then explained that the money we were spending on the t-shirt would go to charity.

4 year old - Do you know what I'd do if I had lots of money?

I got excited; my television hugging, t-shirt wearing 4 year old had finally got the hang of charity and was going to pledge all her imaginary money to those less fortunate than herself.

4 year old - If I had lots of money I'd get a big fat purse to put it all in. It would be very long and very wide.

Interview with a vampire

Not really a vampire, just me.

I have been meaning to do Jo Beaufoix's interview for ... oh ... maybe four weeks. I wouldn't blame her if she never commented on my blog again, nor if she wrote a nasty post about crap mummy bloggers called Laura.

I could blame the snow, the coldsore, the naked man, concussion, party week, my children, an ever increasing load of ironing or I could come clean.

It's been sat in my notebook for three weeks and I've been too busy polishing off the remaining Green & Blacks Christmas chocolate to type it up.

There is the possibility that she hasn't yet noticed. She's been busy eating in Richard Branson's restaurant, building snowmen attending not just one but TWO hen parties and hosting Miss M's 4th birthday party bash.

The guilt has set in so here we go. The lovely Jo B asked me ...

1. If you were given the choice between a weekly beauty treatment of any kind and having a cleaner which would you choose?

Cleaner every time.

On the beauty side of things; my eyebrows are making me look like I could be the third Gallagher brother. My nails look like I've been rock climbing without gloves. My legs are like a yeti's and my lady garden ... well, let's just not go there.

I reckon things can't get any worse.

The house could do with a thorough 'doing over' by someone in the know. I'm hoping Kim and Aggi will be bobbing over soon.

2. Are you secretly afraid of Supernanny?

Absofeckinglutely.

However, if she were to pay a visit I would put my fear aside, welcome her with open arms and never let her go. I'd probably even lock her in the cellar if we had one.

If she'd read my letter and knocked at the door I would gag the children and hide behind the sofa until the sun went down.

3. A psychic once told you not to eat sandwiches. Was this probably because;

a) They saw you eyeing up their marmalade sarnies and thought you were planning to steal them?

b) You were actually dressed as a sandwich at the time so were you to consume one it would really clash with your outfit?

c) You had informed them you have a recurring nightmare about losing a Wii tennis match due to over consumption of Marmite sandwiches?

It was probably all three. I regularly eye up other peoples sandwiches, whilst dressed as a sandwich and I have a recurring dream about losing a Wii tennis game ... BUT, and this is a big but I HATE MARMITE, so it would definitely be a nightmare.

4. What song will always, without fail, get you up shaking your thang on the dance floor, or at least have you tapping your feet wildly?

If I've consumed too much vodka I will dance to anything, probably in an embarrassing manner.

On a day to day basis I dance to The Jungle Book's 'Bare Necessities' in my kitchen. I'm really good at the bottom scratching bit at the end.



... which of course isn't embarrassing at all.

Talking of dancing ... last week I read this 'dancing' post over at Steenky Bee. I thought it was one of the funniest things I have read in a long time and I still have flashbacks of 'the face'.

When I have a flashback I erupt into laughter, in public, on my own, making me look like a lunatic fresh from the asylum.

5. What is the thing you love/hate most about yourself, or are you practically perfect in every way, like Mary Poppins? (Though frankly I think she needs to sort out her posture.)

Like Mary Poppins I have a bottomless handbag. I do, really I do. It holds all manner of after school snacks and beverages. Just like her, I also have complete control over my children at all times, this I love.

I hate the fact that I find lying about my childcare skills so easy to do.

Interview terminated!

Here’s the directions:

1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.