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.

A Room Of Teeny Weeny Chairs

I had taken the day off for the 2 year olds hospital appointment. After our trip I deposited him with the OAP childminders.

I had 4 hours to myself. Did I go and treat myself? Pamper myself? Go shopping? Just sit and stare into space knowing that I had 4 hours to myself? Eat something without having to part with half of it to stop the whining?

Nope, I went to help at the 4 year old's school.

For weeks she nagged ... and nagged ... and nagged "Everybody elses parents [in the whole wide world and universe] go into school to help".

I had to explain that I work whilst she's at school and only if I were to take holiday would I be able to help. That was my first mistake. My second was taking pity on her. She's been very clingy of late when I drop her at school and I felt sorry for her. So I arranged with her teacher to go in for the afternoon.

We had a discussion on the way to school in the morning about us being 'sensible' at school. She couldn't cling to me like a leech, show me her bottom or lick my face like she does at home. Similarly I couldn't fart the theme tune to Peppa Pig*, lick her face or dance like Baloo. We made a deal.

I arrived just as they were finishing lunchtime play. The children came in and sat on the carpet. The 4 year old walked in, looked at me, walked past me and then blanked me. She was perhaps taking our deal too seriously. I can't remember a clause in the deal that said 'pretend you're an orphan'.

When the teacher arrived she sat on a little persons chair and introduced me to the class. Three of the children (who have been for a fishfinger tea at our house) chortled at having to call me by my 'Mrs' name. They were probably having a flashback to my Baloo dancing. The 4 year old shuffled closer to my legs which were almost under my chin. I too was sat on a very small persons chair.

I have always liked the 4 year olds teacher. She is 'firm but fair'. The sort of woman you think is lovely but you wouldn't want to cross. I was in awe of her ability to work with one child at a table and see five children at different points of the classroom misbehaving. Without missing a beat she shot them a look which made them stop dead in their tracks. Genius.

I have made a mental note; At next parents evening ask teacher for tips on how to perfect the 'stop them dead' glare. I wouldn't need to write to Supernanny if I could do that.

I helped some children with numeracy. At any one time I had a maximum of four children in my group. Each one had a different agenda. The child who wanted to be out in the playground, the child who wanted to draw cyclopses instead of cars, the child eager to please and the child who completed the task before I'd even told them what to do. It was hard work but we got there in the end.

After playtime the children sat on the carpet for some religious education whilst I helped to tidy the classroom. At story time I returned to my teeny weeny chair and watched the children sit silently listening to 'Mog's Christmas', a month late.

Then we said the going home prayer. Setting a good example I clasped my hands together, bowed my head and listened (as all good athiests do at times like this).

As the children mumbled their prayer I heard the teacher in a cross voice say to the child to my right;

"John you should be talking to God, not Elizabeth**"

* I really didn't do this, but wish I could. At the point of reading 'theme tune to Peppa Pig' I imagine you were working out how many farts and of what length it would take to accomplish.

** Names have been changed to protect the not so innocent

Mamma Mia here I Go Again

Well, one day in and we are all back to normal. The children are fighting, I feel stressed and the husband and I are bickering over how many balls of tagliatelle to have for tea.

I made a concerted effort not to rush the 4 year old before school which was difficult as we didn’t wake up until 30 minutes before we are supposed to leave. Yet another day at the office with my hair looking like an unkempt hedge as I tried to cram two weeks work into my six hour day.

I arrived at school to pick the children up. It turns out that one of our OAP childminding duo is unwell and has spent time in hospital. She is still there, and has been since Boxing Day. This I know because the OAP childminder man shuffled the 2 year old to school to meet me at 3.30pm. He brought the wrong bag and my son was wearing someone else’s trousers. I thought this quite apt as he has watched Wallace & Grommit’s Wrong trousers approximately 347 times during the holidays. He didn’t see the joke. When we arrived home he demanded to go to the toilet and revealed that he was wearing a pull up nappy too. The childminder had got the children and their bags totally mixed up.

This was all by the by, because 10 minutes after we were home the bickering started which fuelled some red in the faced shouting from me. The day was partially saved by the 4 year olds dancing show to the music from Mamma Mia which was accompanied by her brothers wailing. I did snigger at him when he did a swan like dive on the floor. But, the reason for the dive was because I wouldn’t feed him chocolate 10 minutes before bed and it WAS funny.

My husband pointed out, quite rightly that our children had returned from school even more irritating than usual …which was punctuated by the 4 year olds desire to have the last words ‘No we’re not’.