It's my birthday...I can have a mild hangover by 3 o'clock in the afternoon if I want to?

Today I turned 36. It sprang on me a little like my children did this morning well before the agreed 'lie-in' time of 8.00am! Every birthday previous hasn't really made me feel any older. Now, now seems different. Like a sober tapping on the shoulder of reality that I am on a slippery slope to 40. And then, well then I'm like as old as my parents. I'll clarify my childish musing. I don't have any real recollection of my parents until they were in their 40s. And your parents always seem old don't they?

Anyway I digress! So I was forcibly removed from my bed at something rude o'clock. Excited boys, excited Evelyn (she sensed a second round of breakfast most probably) and an excited husband. A real effort had been made by all - G had decorated the whole house and baked me a birthday cake, Hector and Rufus had managed to not open any of my presents or cards or pop any balloons, and Evelyn had managed to just be Evelyn! We sort of tumbled through the early morning, presents, cards, birthday cake breakfast (the shred is recommencing after the bank holiday!) and then we were off to Bath. Specifically to stuff our faces courtesy of Jamie Oliver (to repeat the shred is recommencing after the bank holiday!)

I didn't let the miserable woman who took my booking dampen my spirits. After all I was in for a free bottle of prosecco and a free pudding! I knew my rights, if it's yer birthday that is what Jamie will give you! I didn't even let the boys constant fighting annoy me (this was on the way there, on the way back I really let it annoy me, like really!)

Cut to Jamie's! Our waitress was very unpersonable! This doesn't help matters when dining out with the three children! We really need personable! To help mask the disappointment and dismay at the noise and potential mess that will result in us being there. See the boys are fairly easy to contain (as long as Rufus isn't in one of those moods) but Evelyn has now found her voice she can just take off screeching without warning. The table of two ladies next to us wanted to leave as soon as we sat down. There were a few raised eyebrows as the drinks were brought out and my personal ice bucket with prosecco was placed down for me. I mean, I would've shared but G can't handle even the taste after an extreme Prosecco night got out of hand a while ago, and also we needed him to drive). So without much ado I got 'Mum pissed in the afternoon' pissed! I took too many selfies of myself with my children, I loved them, I wanted to sit on my own table without them, I gorged on too much pasta and too many desserts, I spilt water, I walked into the gents loo's by accident. It was a mixed affair! But good!

Leaving the restaurant I immediately regretted being mildly incapacitated. It was hot, the children were tired, Evelyn needed to sleep. The last thing I should have done was to attempt to spend some birthday vouchers in a well known department store. Well no, the last thing I should've done was take  Evelyn in the pram into said well known department store. Stairs, everywhere. An actual inescapable maze! Now it would have been easy to work this out and leave but you know, did I mention the prosecco? So after a while of going around and around a little like a hamster in those stupid balls....I approached a member of staff working at a franchise desk.
Me 'hi, could you tell me where the jewellery is please?'
Smartypants staff  member 'erm, yes madam, it is here' (gesticulating to the crap necklaces hung up on the cash desk)
Me (distainful sneer at the tat that had been offered) ' I meant the actual jewellery?'
Smartypants staff member 'oh well it is all around the store......(and she added this to piss me off I'm sure) if there is anything specific you would like me to get then I could?' (Ok maybe she was in sober reflection just being nice, but anyway!)
Me (hugely tempted to name several random items and send this lass on a wild goose chase around the store) 'well how am I to get about in this shop? The stairs are everywhere?
Smartypants member of staff  'oh well you can't! Not with that!' (Pointing at the Bugaboo, along with Evelyn who was staring straight back at her!)'

I was pretty tempted to do a Pretty Woman moment and start 'big mistake-ing her' but I'd have looked like a ropey, pissed Julia Roberts so I opted for walking off muttering about the ridiculous stairs and what would hey do if I were in a wheelchair!!!

So yeh, sorry about that, but I just wanted to rant, as when I left the shop and tried to recall the story to G it was all lost as the boys had become fixated on finding the 'balloon man'. This then pretty much took over the rest of the trip. We didn't find him, we found another balloon seller but didn't fancy spending just over a tenner on a balloon guaranteed to never even make it to the car. So Rufus went full force into a tantrum. His blonde curls (it was humid) turning to custard yellow against the violent red of his face! The good thing about Bath is that there are so many tourists milling about that really there is no judgement. Luckily we found a weird outside  play place near to the car park. A very odd situation in the middle of the plaza. A huge bit of fake grass with a massive, like climbable massive, fabric dog (for future reference this IS the shit kids go crazy for!) and a couple of big cushions scattered around the edges (seemingly for dads to sprawl out on).

We let them play, throwing themselves off of the top of the dog, burrowing themselves and other children with some of the massive vacant cushions, we even didn't lift a finger when one of the cushions 'burst' and then started splurging out polystyrene balls all over the green grass. Hector running gayly around scattering the balls screeching 'it's snowing, ITS SNOWING!' His voice twisting in pure ecstasy! I chuckled loudly when the 'Security Attendant' ran into the emergency and grapple this injured cushion from the children. It was a fair fight and someone's Dad broke it up and the cushion was retrieved.

The car journey as I've said was horrific, the boys high on sugar, and me falling victim to a mild, hot afternoon hangover. I shall not reminisce it.

So that was that! All done for another year! I must admit, and I don't like to admit that often, but I am the luckiest person. My family are awesome. Even when playing the 'train game' in the car - which basically involved Rufus repeatedyl twatting Hector over the back his head. I love them. And Evelyn, well she is Evelyn so literally perfect. And G - well he is whatever I said he was to me in the car on the way to Bath that made him get a bit of dust in his eye!

Done!

Disco, disco, disco........

Today was Hector's school disco.....he is 4. He possibly has more of a life than me. This makes me feel awesome!

So I was hoping to go to said disco to sniff out some worthy material for here. This idea was scuppered by two factors. One being I have succumbed to some illness after being up North for a long weekend. And two, my husband is a PTA wanker (I say this with love, obviously!) so he had to go down and help out. I did ask him for some good goss but as per usual he was too nice a person to cast massive judgement and seek out awkwardness.

I did drop Hector off and felt a little bad that the 'cool' Star Wars T shirt that I picked out for him was maybe not upto the dress code. It was honestly like a child black tie event. In fact one kid in the queue did have a full on suit on, with waistcoat to boot! Lots of little girls in dresses (some a little revealing!) I envisaged Hector to come back and look like he had been to a 90s rave. He did not disappoint. Sweating, glow sticked, high on sugar and sporting what I thought was an injury (it was a spiderman logo apparently) he came home and did not stop talking until bedtime! He told me he was disappointed there was no 'Gummy Bears' song played (anyone that knows this song maybe able to imagine about 40 little kids going mental running around a school hall) but they did play the 'Lego' song which saved the day.

Meanwhile, I did feel sorry for Rufus, who after dropping off Hector basically loud cried all the way home (I can not emphasis just how loud his loud cry is! It literally stops me from being able to actually see straight!) He cried all the time I tried to find the Sherman and Peabody DVD, all the time I couldn't find any sweets (damn me for eating them one bored evening!) and all the way upto locating some glow sticks of our own! We then had a little rave of our own (I didn't tell hector, but we DID have the Gummy Bears song) which I think really slotted in well with Evelyn's bedtime routine!

Anyway, all children are asleep now. Hector still looks as though he has a head injury, Rufus has glowstick whip marks on his chin (our rave did get pretty intense) and Evelyn, well Evelyn is just Evelyn!

And now to eat the remains of their sweet bags that have been thrown across the living room floor.

Screw you nameless Health Visitor

[Side note to the entire of this blog entry. This is literally just a rant. I great, big, massive rant. So if you are in a pretty bright mood, or if indeed you are a health visitor just don't bother. Move along and do/read something else]


Today was Evelyn's 10 month check up by the health visitor. No worries I thought to myself this morning. I should have not been so hasty.

So I must back up a little, last night was the third night in the row that I have been awake with her for a couple of hours at a time. Last night was bad, real bad! Pretty much a zombie this morning. I also had to do some ridiculous stairgate Tesco mission before the appointed time. And because I live in the middle of nowhere this was a lengthy (and in parts speedy) drive. I got back with 10 minutes to spare, enough time. I have enough time I said to myself as I drove upto my house. Not quite finishing my sentence as I see her car parked up (exactly where i wanted to park annoyingly) The Health Visitor is here.......sigh.

To begin with, it was awkward, weird even. I sort of beckoned her to come in as I was unloading the car (it was also pissing it down so I didn't want to hang about) but yet she remained in her car. Then about one minute after I entered the house, she pings the doorbell and weirdly says when I answer, 'oh have you just got in?' Odd. Anyway I shuffle her in and sit her down and start to make her a cup of tea. Thinking about it, she was weird again, as normally when asked how you take your tea, surely you just answer how you take it. Not say oh whatever, however you like to make it? Odd.

So to the bit which really hacked me off. So Evelyn is only just 10 months old. She crawls, she smiles, she babbles, she eats, she pulls herself upto standing. I think she is pretty bright (comparing to her two brothers) and I expect she has no problems. About 3 weeks before this appointment i was sent a questionnaire to answer questions about her development. I did chortle at some of the questions as they seemed in the reams of ridiculous. I answered honestly. My answers, and her abilities seemed to cause the health visitor worries it seems. This is basically where my rant lies. Who the hell makes these questions. One of which Evelyn was flagged as needing referral (to who i didn't ask) as she was unable to bend down to pick an object up whilst standing against the sofa. WHO MAKES THESE QUESTIONS? WHO ARE THEY?

She then got onto eating. Evelyn struggles to hand to mouth eat. This is my fault. I know it is. I have limited times at mealtimes to get all three children fed and watered. I feed her because it is easier. Cue blank look from health visitor.

She then goes onto give me a recipe for play doh. I am getting a bit tired now and say i am not really down for that. This woman was obviously the Mary Berry of playdoh making. She would not stop. Three further times she made reference to it and the recipe. She stopped once I gave her a sideways smirk and a murmur of some commitment to it.

The entire meeting was punctuated by Rufus, being, well Rufus. I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry, I'm hungry. Actually to be fair to him, he did vary it a little bit. He asked for play doh out (which on reflection will have been why she started banging on about the play doh) and also to go out and play (it is still absolutely pissing it down at this point)

I feel a little vulnerable today, and to be honest this woman made me feel pretty shit about the job that i am doing with my children. So in an effort to give her some justification of the state of my face I tell her about the last three nights sleep and in particular how Evelyn was awake from 2-4.30 last night and being tired. It sinks in I think, this woman is going to show a little bit of empathy......'would you like any advice on sleep? do you need me to refer her for this?'........

Anyway she is gone, unfortunately coming back in two months.

A few things from this morning that  need a mention. Throughout all of this I have no idea what this woman was called. The only jeans that fit me have a hole at the knee (and not a fashionable one, just one that shows constant wear and tear of being on my knees picking bloody toys up). Lindum stairgate extenders are impossible to fit. The plastic bit that you have to remove to fit in the extender....yeh that bit, you listening? Fuck you! The end!

Today we went to a Mum's group.....imagine my joy

So, today I was invite to a coffee morning. With other Mum's. Some known to me, others not. It was a risky decision, as it wasn't even a traditional playgroup where if you are stuck you could always actually just play with your child/ren. There was no where to hide. This could also get a bit awkward as I think I will try and reattend to explore further friendship opportunities.  I had been abandoned by my sole (for the record awesome) friend , so what did I have to lose.

I was urged to blog about this, I wasn't sure if it was a desperate 'please tell the world about some of these people' plea. Either way I will, in my one style, just describe what has happened to me for the last few hours.

I got there late, which was a tactical plan. Saw a few familiar faces and made a beeline and plonked down Evelyn, and in a kind of begging tone asked if Rufus would like to go and play with the toys. He was pretty sure that he didn't want to, luckily there other outlets (mostly the cafe there that sold sweets and other refreshments) so I was able to shake him off fairly easily. Because that is what these groups are about....right? At first I sat in a quieter area and was happy with the level of mingling. I could sit from this vantage point and observe the crowd. However, quite without warning, I suddenly found myself in the thick of it as all the Mum's came and sat in the same area. This was it.

Here, I found all the usual competitive Mum chat, the verbal competitions of baby weight, progressions, the birth stories. I wasn't privy to the fully fledged birth stories where all women nearly die, but an insinuation of catastrophe. See it always very difficult to judge my facial expressions in any normal circumstance, i find in these situations it best to go for totally neutral (also i am never sure if they are being actually serious, or if they just had to do without any drugs and thought that they were dieing) There was also a lot of breaking voices as the word 'SHARE, PLEEEEEASE' was reiterated a dozen times every two minutes.

Amusingly, the whole group warmed to Rufus immediately. Now let me tell you he is definitely ready to go to pre school (in a couple of weeks hurrah!) and has been nothing short of a nightmare about 70% of the time at the moment at home. There were musings of 'oh what a sweet boy', 'look at how good he is' as he diligently handed out toys to the other children. I refrained from rolling my eyes. What they failed to work out was that he was doing this so that he kept the fire engine that he wanted to play with!

There was the Mum who tried to strike up weird chat with me specifically about the consistency of her breastmilk? From all accounts, she must have actually sampled it to have known in such detail the taste and consistency of it. I started to visibly try and stop the conversation when she asked how mine had been each time. She was the one who got it out of me that I had three children. Something which seemed to cause a bit of outrage to the whole group it seems? Did I plan it? Did I want that? How did it happen? (Quite personally)....was I breastfeeding still....and then, had my periods come back? How on earth did I cope? What do I do with them? And will I miss them when they all go to school? I was fairly blasé about the situation. I horrified them further that really the transition from having one child to two children is the worst (this was pretty much all of their situations at present) They all jumped on board, who is this new woman, she has three children? Look at her, she is still functioning (within reason). I do hope that I wasn't the weirdo in this group.

Sadly there was no mum wankers, I mean there was one who unbeknownst to her actually struck a huge resemblance to a mum wanker I unfortunately know. She wasn't all that normal though as persisted in her observation of how heavy Rufus was. I mean what do you say in response......I find it best to just look straight back and wait for their awkwardness in the situation to change the subject.

Women are a funny breed, especially when in mass!

Anyway, that was it. My morning. I am exhausted! I got home to find that Rufus had managed to literally shoplift a toy guitar in his back pack. So I guess that means I will have to return.....Now can i just do what Evelyn is doing!!

Coming to terms with a hangover in a forest. Parent drinking.

For those who don't know me, I don't really 'do' woods. I am not in my happy place there. I like the outdoors - the moors, the seaside, parks, other outside locations. But forests - there are tripping hazards everywhere, usually muddy, cold places. They also usually harbour forest people, not literally people who dwell in the leafy glades, but those folk who enjoy rambling about and getting down with nature. They also probably enjoy to camp in said woods - again this is an activity that repells me. So why would going there with a mildly bad hangover not be a good idea!

Firstly we need to go back as to why I am hungover, two good friends came over for a sleepover. An actual adult sleepover. Basically a poor mask of an excuse to get a bit pissed. As in true binge drinker style I go immediately into mixing my drinks, I mean they were all drinks that I liked so that was a good thing. We didn't progress onto shots of a cheeky bottle of peach schnapps that had been bought earlier, which even just this morning disappointed me. It's almost as now we have children, I have also regressed as a human being to being a teenager. The exciting prospect of drinking in larger amounts than one or two glasses is too exciting. My friend offered some great parent drinking which is sadly very true, good advice - 'start early, finish early'. The inference also was on quantity, but to finish in time that we could get a decent amount of sleep in before being rudely awoken by our morning sleep thieves. That awful moment of reality of a fully fledged hangover at 6.00 am.

Anyway, back to the forest....

The boys showed a good amount of zeal when we arrived, running and screeching into the enclosure as you'd imagine may befit legoland more. A few folk turned and looked as to what the terrible accident may have been to make young boys scream so, I just don't even bother looking mildly apologetic anymore. Yes, these are my children, and yes, they this excited about being in this woodland area! Once on the main pathway, they pointed out green things upon green things, and trees, and asked a constant source of questions. I find the best thing to do in a situation of pretty much zero knowledge is to make up the answers. Unfortunately i seem to be programmed to scare my children, 'mummy, let's go down that track' (for pretty much no reason, I don't like the look of said track and don't want to go) I respond with a negatory, which is obviously questioned. My retort, well we can't go down there as there may be a monster. Hector is getting a bit wise to my usual answers, so he gingerly starts off away from my chosen safe path, I go for a guaranteed deal breaker - 'and also there may be mud down there, that your shoes will get stuck in.....and you'll get dirty!!' Yep, back on MY path!

There were a few hairy moments, fear of walking on a fallen tree trunk, fear of spiders (Rufus), fear of swing (also a Rufus - to be fair it was fairly ropey), fear of sitting in a daisy strewn pasture (Evelyn), but on the whole as a family we embraced the wander or wonder of the morning. We stopped for a picnic, to be honest I desperately needed bread and other carbs to satisfy and quell my hangover.  It was here that I witnessed my friend rip an apple in half with his bare hands! An amazing feat, one which I did try and copy but failed dismally (I obviously blamed the apple!)

All in all a successful day - as in, we have now left the woods and g is cooking a Sunday roast!

......but I didn't even do a shot of peach schnapps.....

So, I may have had a bit too much to drink last night. In true binge drinker fashion, I also mixed my drinks fantastically! For everyone's best interests Evelyn halted all proceedings and our adult sleepover (sounds many shades of wrong, but just pitifully two sets of adults longing for other adult alcohol fuelled banter) was cut short. Today we are venturing to a forest walk....I feel further update will follow!

The definition of....mum wanker

I thought it best to give a clear, defined description of what I consider to be a mum wanker. See, I'm not just simply calling other mum's rude names (I would chose most probably much ruder, if I was to) it so much more than that.

It can be referenced in a playful way, along the lines of  'bus wankers'. For those occasions where you just want to point out that a fellow mum is being a bit of a twat.

Other than that, on a more serious inclination, the mum wankers mostly lounge about in soft playgroups. Always in a group - strength in numbers.  At their most deadly they specifically dwell in a child song session or a sensory outlet. They know all the words, actions, sign language hand gestures to the songs. I know all the basics but struggle beyond Old Macdonald. I patted myself on the back once for my ingenious extra line to 'The Wheels on the Bus' (the Daddies on the bus are off for a beer, off for a beer, off for a beer - hand motion was gesticulating downing a pint!) These women, usually have the younger children, ones that don't answer back yet, and sit where they've been plonked and don't have to be chased around the room every second of the session. They are judgemental, often outspoken, and generally not ones to go near. They won't have your back if your child makes contact with their child's head with a plastic figure (it happens, it doesn't mean my child will turn into a serial killer). They LOVE craft and messy play, like overly so.. Somehow when they say their little ones name it is sort of sung in a mezzo soprano tone. They are competitive, ridiculously so (their child will have always slept through, they crawled at 3 months,  they spoke at 5 months, only organic, maybe a fashionable dietary requirement thrown in for good measure, and whatever else ridiculous claims they make) They basically want to make themselves look and feel better about themselves. Unable to accept that motherhood is hard and sometimes unrewarding and sometimes we all mess up. Our children will on the whole just do what they are going to do, whenever they want to do it. We shouldn't have to pretend to have it all locked down and perfect.

See what these mum wankers need to realise is that, it is all just bollocks some days. They are holding up an absolute facade of themselves that really, even though may make us non mum wankers feel a bit shit about ourselves sometimes, one day they are going fall flat on their mum wanker faces.

bank holiday misery

So today I want to sit and watch an entire two series of Peaky Blinders, eat Twizzlers, quietly in my living room, enjoying the sun streaming through the living room window warming my feet. Instead - we are on the hunt for a car seat for Evelyn......in Basingstoke (?!) I am currently held up in the car with the children as G does some research in Toys r Us. Imagine the upset that the children are staring at the toy shop but not allowed to go in. What makes it worse is there is also a Macdonalds in sight. I've stopped talking to the boys - all pleas to stop fighting and to stop kicking my chair and to leave their sister alone have fallen on deaf ears. I just wanted to wish everyone well for their bank holiday Sunday!

stonehenge versus ikea......

So today the option of where to go according to the boys was Stonehenge or IKEA (for the meatballs). 

It was a close call but Stonehenge won. Off we went for round two, and I did think that really not much out of the ordinary would happen. There was an immediate realisation that the wind was actually a howling gale, and Baltic cold. Clothing error with the boys thin raincoats but still, I figured they wouldn't be standing still much. Off we went on the bus, all good. 
There was the same manic screeching 'wheels on the bus' rendition from Rufus. 

There were highs and lows from the start, including some foreign tourists trying to take pictures of the boys, to which before I could think of any response, they responded perfectly for me. Hector screamed 'he touched me' (he hadn't, it was me ruffling his hair) and Rufus shouting (anyone that knows him, knows the volume this kid has capacity for) 'it's an alien, AN ALIEN!!'. Anyway, it was a little awkward as with the stop start nature of the crowds we basically we're always near to these two weird dudes. We pondered Stonehenge a little more this time. Hector was fairly sure that under the stone was glass. And Rufus thought there may be a bouncy castle in the middle. To which, he did actually slip under the small, ankle height rope 'deterrent' and make a run for the stones. As if in undercover operation two English Heritage staff were on him, guiding a sulky wild haired Rufus back to me. (The two things I thought here were, that they are way more switched on that National Trust staff, and also I could really do with them, with me, at every point in my life to do exactly what they do best! Retrieve my child/children for me!).

 Anyway, we had lunch. Fairly uneventful, apart from some wanker woman who judged my 'cheers'ing rufus and his drink?! And when her little sprog asked to cheers her, loudly and haughtily said (blatantly put on for maximum judgement levels) 'I don't think saying cheers to a child is very appropriate, no Thomas just drink your apple juice'. My two further thoughts on this was based on the three words 'for, fucks and sake'. The first one being that I wished I'd gone over and quietly muttered into her ear (once I'd gotten past the wirey barnet on her head) 'I think that there are way less appropriate things I say all the time, a little like struggling to mask grumbling, for fucks sake, when one of my darlings moans Muuuummmmmyyy at me for the millionth time before 9am'. 

The second thought was that little Thomas probably was thinking of the same three words at that very time. Well that was a right long rant.

a lesson learnt

I chuckled yesterday as one of those 'this is what you did so many years ago' things cropped up on my Facebook. It was about poo. It was about Rufus managing to smear poo across the entirety of the back of my hand, as he flipped and crawled off mid nappy change. Then incidentally the same day Hector had come to me holding a gift of his own poo in his hands. I had apologised in this status update to those who were unprepared for such poo incidents from lack of children experience themselves. This post comes with no such warning. I think you have all come to realise that I live a demented life, led purely on the whim of whatever child is dominant in the day. I lost me, and being interesting in any other way roughly five years ago!

So, last night, I woke upto a not very well Evelyn. I went through the motions of getting her milk, and a nappy to change her. She never poos mid sleep in the night. Till now. I was unprepared. I did it in the dark. A straight one off, one on swap I thought.......until something fell....straight.....slap....on....my...foot 🙈💩

party a go go

So today we all went for a birthday party date. It went reasonably well I feel. I knew one person (luckily for me it was birthday girl's mother). There was near miss of wrestling from the boys, they managed to not blow out the candles and resisted actually opening any of the presents. I fear my comedy one liners to alleviate awkwardness only went down well with about 30% of the rest of the crowd. 

I'm taking a positive that I didn't say fuck, or get drunk, or even suggest drinking in fact. I think a mid year resolution needs to be made on teaching the boys to pose normally for impromptu photos, as fishhooking one of the birthday girls, posing like a camp man from campsville, or looking like you may in a police mugshot aren't the obvious looks to go for?! 

when your child renders you defenceless

So, whilst being the general Lego bitch of the house (creating a house with a boathouse and also incorporating a train line to the main structure?) I started to feel a little melancholy. 

I stopped my Lego duties, leant back against the living room door (I say leant, it was more a slump). Pondering what may be causing my slightly down mood - Evelyn's pre 5 am wake up? Glancing on the calendar and seeing a large chunk of the year minus G? Antony and the Johnsons singing their sorrows to me? My home cut (well, trimmed) fringe? I just don't know? Just then Rufus comes upto me and gives me a hug and tells me he loves me (he can be nice sometimes) I feel a massive swell of love and pride and all blue goes out of the window. I watch him, quietly go behind the large box of Lego....crouch down.....and start...to.....crap....in....his....pants 🙈