Update on life as we know it ...

I reached new professional heights this week when I was on the phone to our advertising agency. I was giving some amendments for some advert copy and I said the following;

“Yes, put a curly ‘c’ in front of the salary?”

As I said it, I knew I had forgotten that I was indeed speaking to a 40+ year old man and not my 4 year old daughter. I hastily ended the conversation and put down the phone. I then had an ‘I carried a watermelon’ moment (Haven't you seen Dirty Dancing?).

I am starting to notice changes to my body. So far this week I have noticed huge wrinkles around my eyes when I smile to myself in the mirror. Please note I do not spend time smiling at myself in the mirror, it was an accidental find. Nor do I chant 'Go get them Laura, you are the fabulous!' three times before I go to work.

Clearly these lines are caused by laughing. I like to laugh. I do not like the wrinkles. Also, nasal hair. After 30 years of just being there out of view it's suddenly grown. At the grand age of 30 is it time to invest in some anti ageing creams and find some way to stop the nasal hair before I can plait it upwards and into my eyebrows. Not an attractive look.

We have a house, the dream house in fact. Hooray! We move in 4ish weeks. I am particularly excited by the fact that we will have a dishwasher after 3 years without and a normal persons bath. We currently have a corner bath, being tall means this is not remotely comfortable.

I have started de-cluttering the house. A natural hoarder, I have found de-cluttering quite cathartic. I pick on a room armed with a bin liner and get rid of anything that has no use.

The 4 year old is fine, a little wobbly about the new house but she will be fine. "You'll have a bigger bedroom" I keep saying animatedly with a big smile as if that will make her feel more at ease.

She has said to me on three separate occasions this week that she doesn't like her dreams, that they are always bad. I have started giving her happy memories to think about when she starts to think about her bad dreams. The latest one was when I was pregnant with her and she kept me and the husband amused of an evening by hiccuping from within. She thinks this is amusing and I have told her it will ward off the bad dreams. Let's see how long that lasts.

She is still skipping with her rope at every opportunity and lassoing random people in the school playground. She keeps her skipping rope in a powder pink shoe box she got from school ... "It's the skipping ropes house". Who am I to argue.

The 3 year old is fine and dandy. He seems unfazed by our house move. He has recently added to his people collection (Mickey Mouse and Tramp) and soon will not be able to get into bed for his people. He has his post op (grommets) check on Friday which I'm sure will go fine. I'm paranoid that his hearing has dropped again ... it could be selective. If only they could do something about his foghorn voice and his snoring too ... Jeez ... the snoring. Each snore shakes the house.

He loves pre-school, more so when it doesn't rain and he can play outside on the bikes, pulling wheelies and handbrake turns, much to the horror of 'the ladies' as he affectionately calls them. He thinks it's OK to burp every time we sit down for a family meal, but it's alright because he says 'excuse me'.

The Husband doesn't burp during family meals or snore, in fact he makes no noise when he sleeps. Occasionally I have to check that he is even breathing. This week he has discovered Twitter, Wordpress and that he doesn't like iced muffins. he is designing a new website (to be unveiled sometime soon) for his freelance work and is about to embark on redesigning my blog. All this rain has accelerated the cabbages, peas and onions in his vegetable patch which he will be unable to transport to the new house. A case of 'look at what you could have won'.


The Tadpoles worry me and I think we shall be leaving them here. We had 30 tadpoles, stolen from Auntie Kate's pond. I thought it would be great for the children to see them morph into frogs. They are currently living on the decking in a large box. I feed them, but they much prefer the taste of fresh tadpole. We now have around 12 giant tadpoles.

Dream a little dream for me ...

I dream a lot but I don't always remember my dreams.

This week I have had three dreams and I have remembered each one vividly.

I was jolted awake by the first. Early last week I dreamt that a ginger man in a green nylon tracksuit was trying to burn our house down as we slept. When I awoke I wasn't sure if I had dreamt it or not. I lay for while trying to pull myself together in a cold sweat. Before settling back down to sleep I had to patrol the house like a member of the SAS, only they wear all black combat suits, I was wearing just a pair of big knickers to protect myself.

Last night I dreamt that the three year old had stopped breathing and I had forgotten any first aid I had ever learnt.

This dream was predetermined by the events of the previous day.

We had visited friends for Sunday dinner. The kids were introduced to Pacman on the super fandangled projector screen and they played with two puppies in front of a roaring log fire.

Before we ate the 3 year old fell on his knees knocking into the hearth of the fire. In pain, he got up crying and walked towards my husband. As my husband picked him up he arched his back, his eyes rolled back in his head and he went floppy. I lurched across the room towards my husband and boy just as he came round. Looking bewildered he started crying again. In total this event took less than 5 seconds from his inital fall. My husband and I were fairly shook up but put as he was OK put it down to fainting.

His day continued as before ... rolling around on the floor with the dogs, more Pacman, roast dinner, some shouting and chasing of dogs.

On the journey home I wondered what others would have done. I have friends who have taken their children to A&E for a simple fall or sniffle. If I followed that example I would live there.

I am fairly laid back but I started to wonder if I was too laid back. My intuition kept shouting at me that he was fine.

At work today I kept thinking about my dream. I wondered fleetingly if he might be passed out behind the OAP childminders sofa whilst I was sat typing away at my desk.

By 3pm I had rung the Dr's. At 5.15 pm I was sitting in the Dr's consultation room. My boy jumped up and down on the spot whilst I explained what had happened the previous day.

The Dr told me what I already knew. My boy had probably fainted due to the shock of hurting himself in front of a roaring fire and getting up too quickly. I was sent packing with a "GoodbyeseeyoulaterMrsD". The appointment lasted all of 60 seconds and I left the room feeling foolish, whilst my boy shouted 'Iapowaing' (translated means 'I am a Power Ranger').

The third dream ... oh god ... was AWFUL ...

On Friday night I dreamt I was being romanced by ... Freddie Starr. Yes, the short, portly, 66 year old comedian. Luckily the dream ended just before anything rude happened, but I still feel unclean.

For One Night Only - A New Husband

The 4 year old and I had a sleepover last night. I was looking after the big cousins whilst Auntie K was out of town with work. I took the 4 year old because I had to deposit her at school this morning on my way to work.

The 2 year old stayed home with Daddy and had some man time. I found out later that ‘man time’ involved two walnut whip poos on the potty and stripping a chicken carcass for tea.

I had an odd night’s sleep. I drifted in and out. Bouts of wakefulness were prompted by the 4 year old wittering and flailing in her sleep. At one point she walloped me across the face … accidentally of course.

Even though I slept badly I dreamt I was taking part in Channel 4’s Wife Swap and had swapped my house and family for a gypsy caravan, a new husband and several children.

In ‘real life’ there is a gypsy settlement within a few miles of school. Most of the children from the settlement attend the school. I discovered this one morning as I exited the school gates after dropping the 4 year old off. A transit van sped round the corner with a screech and mounting the kerb came to a sudden halt. It was like a scene from the A-Team, that is, until the side door was thrown open to expose two ladies with pushchairs (already erected with toddlers strapped in) and more than a few school children. Wasting no time they leapt out and proceeded to run towards their different classrooms. It was an incredible sight. The ratio of people Vs van square footage should win a place in the Guinness Book of Records.

Unfortunately I was woken mid dream by a foot in the ribs courtesy of the 4 year old. I was most disappointed because I was about to introduce my ‘rules’ to the new family.

My first rule was going to be that the A Team van must be fitted with appropriate seating and seatbelts. My other rules would include me NOT having to empty the chemical toilet or wear large golden hoop earrings.

I will sleep in my own bed tonight. I will sleep clutching my lucky heather.