First day back of lone parentage. As a precursor to this rant, I warn of not mixing my words in any way and to referring to my children as bastards (apart from Evelyn, of course never Evelyn!)
I feel sorry for G as he has said that amongst other things today he has swimming pool circuits, survival training and pt 😷.
Today was always going to be hard, baptism of fire back to reality. I, however, have dealt with Evelyn deciding to pull off her nappy before doing her morning poo (teething as well!) Literally not knowing what to do (I even found myself lamenting 'I just don't know what to do......' to the boys who were sat on the sofa watching frozen, literally not giving a fuck!) I decided all I could do was put her in the bathtub. At least there the shit couldn't be ground into the carpet anymore. I swiftly realised the dress she was wearing was going to have to be destroyed (even if was only because I was never going to be able to look at it again or be served a reminder of this event!) so I quickly grab some scissors to cut it off of her. At this moment I catch a glimpse of something in the corner of the bath (it is a tiny bath) a gigantic spider. There was no time, she could've grabbed it in her shitty paws, or it somehow may have realised the grave situation it was facing and try to flee (most probably in my direction and immediately into my hair) the shower was out and set on boiling to quickly disintegrate it down the plug. Evelyn got cleaned and redressed and I left the house fairly promptly, feeling unsure as to what had actually just occurred, but sure I definitely needed to leave the scene.
Since then the boys have taken the baton of basically being little bastards. Constantly not being satisfied with anything, being taken to a friends for a pizza play date (they have obviously decided they no longer like pizza?!), fighting with said friends girls, destroying anything they can get their hands on, developing a newer insatiable thirst for anything the other has their grubby (not shit stained like their sisters, thank god) hands on, Rufus's voice seems much more penetrating today, maybe it's the humidity. He constantly has a red sweaty brow, maybe this is causing him some discomfort, or maybe he really does just see everything as a competition that he feels he is losing. Since getting back home and needing a bit of a rest and Evelyn a sleep I have said that they are to play in their room (where approximately 150 different of their toys are, and in fact as of later on all of their toys will be.) So far they have bounded back downstairs for reasons of needing a wee, needing a drink (both fairly valid) needing dory, needing to tell me something, needing to see if it is raining (it was and the washing was out, fuck!) needing to see if daddy was back, needing to see who I just talked to (I'm sat in silence.)
The message of them needing to go upstairs and play has sunk in now. It sounds like there are five of them up there, so it's hard to work out exactly who is doing what but someone is clearly running a train around the walls, potentially whilst thudding their feet. There is the constant mumbling humming an undefined, indescribable song (that is defo Hector). There seems to be something bouncing and also something being dragged?! They are potentially somehow lost (it isn't big enough to get lost up there, I've tried!) as there is a lot of Rufus calling out for Hector. But they for now are up there.....
I'm sort of catching a rest with Evelyn napping next to me on the sofa when she is rudely woken by a Woody doll (his batteries have never been changed and we bought it for Hector) announcing that 'this town ain't big enough for the two of us' and that marks the end of any sort of resting for today.
Well ain't that the truth.....
Thursday, 25 August 2016
Sunday, 12 June 2016
Sink or Swim,
I have always thought of swimming as more a survival thing than a fun thing to do. Maybe my introduction to it at an early age explains why. See, my parents don''t swim, in fact my Mother holds a deep phobia of water. Being anywhere near it makes her anxious. I 'learnt' to swim at Primary School at about the age of 8 or 9. Everyone else seemed to be able to swim, including the deaf girl and the girl with the hole in her heart! But not me. A ghastly Maths teacher named Mrs Child was tasked with the job of teaching me. It was basic, it was survival.....I was dragged around the pool by the drowning hook until i started to kick my legs and 'swim'. I hated that woman, and still do to a degree!
So, today I was feeling rather charitable towards the boys. Hector's ongoing saga with his eyes is playing on my mind somewhat. Weirdly it seems to manifest itself as guilt. I feel guilty that he has the problems he has, and that I can not actually physically take them away from him. Anyway, so last night in a weaker moment I asked him what he wanted to do today and swimming was the response. Well, you can imagine my face!
I googled and picked a leisure centre close by, in fact it was a bit of a smart gym kind of place. I had a quiet word with myself whilst getting ready, and did what any mother would do....drew on my eyebrows and started to pack four thousand bags of towels and what not that is needed for such an escapade.
See, I really don't like swimming, and I know that when you take your children it isn't 'swimming' as such. At this age, I am not expected to swim lengths with them. It is worse. This is water play. Splashing water in my face, at any given moment, a water spray fountain will go off unexpected renching you through. YOr worse, a bloody wave machine will go off! Yes, I know i am in a swimming pool and getting wet will happen. I don't like it though.
In fact I will go a step further in explaining why I don't enjoy the experience. It is invariably too cold, the water that is. However, no matter how cold the environment once crammed into a family cubicle with four other bodies, you literally go into heat overload. I must also dwell on the facilities some more on my rant of dislike. There is a strong chance that whilst in the changing rooms, you will step on other peoples pubes/piss/shoe dirt/did I mention pubes? All of this whilst trying to shoehorn yourself into a swimming costume. Or worse, trying to get it off. Like superglue fastness a wet swimming costume is near impossible to remove. The joy of trying to remove said item with a mild amount of dignity and fairly stealthily so to avoid both your sons staring and shouting loudly about where my willy is, and if there is any milk in my boobies!? Then there are the lockers, for which you can never find enough change for more than one locker at a time. They are too narrow, and when opened will ALWAYS spill out your pants/socks/ any other item of clothing you don't fancy sitting in whilst sopping wet from the gross floor. Shower before you go in.....that will be more standing in other peoples pubes then, no thanks. Shower when you get out....more pube standing, and also soap scum from people actually having full on showers. Lets move on.
Once in the pool, obviously the boys go berserk. Screeching so all turn to look...oh great, my attempts of an inconspicuous pool entry have been shattered. Streaky fake tan and a badly fitting swimming costume... I almost want to shout out to everyone that I am only on day 4 of the 30 day shred, and i have had three children in four years! In fact this brings me onto another thing. Swimming costumes. Who designed these things. I have a fairly long body so mostly the lower half of the entire costume will be inside my vagiba. This is not a good look, especially when children are around. It is also NOT comfortable. I did muse these thoughts to G on the way to the swimming pool. His only advice was to not go down the water slide. He found this amazing funny. Maybe not so much after he was forced to take the boys down said slide about 10 times in a row. Anyway, a huge divergence, back to my point....children. Children in swimming pool environment seem to devolve into basic mode. They are unable to do anything but splash (to which I am pretty much sure is on purpose as they know I am the one who looks like the arsehole shouting at them to stop splashing...in a bloody swimming pool!) Other faculties they lose are the ability to hear, see, or speak normally. All communication is on a screeching high pitched basis, and repetitive. Very repetitive in fact, the same thing over and over....slide, slide, slide, bubbles, bubbles bubbles, look, look, look etc.
Then there are the people there, a mixed folk. The sporty mums who wear sport swimming costumes, who 'love' it (I guarantee that no woman loves this experience that much!) The pervy dads - on reflection maybe they aren't pervy, but more akin to my way of thinking and just look shifty as they don't want to be there and there are too many women with ill fitting swimming costumes on. The guy in the jacuzzi today was DEFO a perv though, and G nearly sent me through to him like an awards swingers party but with only two people there. Luckily I saw said pervy Dad, and lowered myself back into the pool. There is the token fat dude. Not just fat, but like epically obese. The hairy dude. The one who everyone swims wide around, just in case of coming into contact with the hair. There is usually one overly hot mum who wears a phenomenally inappropriate bikini (there wasn't there today, more the shame!)
So, today we took them swimming. It was not good. It will happen again in a few more months when I feel a better mother than I feel right now. As I said, swimming is more survival to me. And so is Motherhood. Survival that is. And I do what I must for the children to be happy, and also myself to exist. So, for the record, next swimming playdate....dont expect an rsvp.
So, today I was feeling rather charitable towards the boys. Hector's ongoing saga with his eyes is playing on my mind somewhat. Weirdly it seems to manifest itself as guilt. I feel guilty that he has the problems he has, and that I can not actually physically take them away from him. Anyway, so last night in a weaker moment I asked him what he wanted to do today and swimming was the response. Well, you can imagine my face!
I googled and picked a leisure centre close by, in fact it was a bit of a smart gym kind of place. I had a quiet word with myself whilst getting ready, and did what any mother would do....drew on my eyebrows and started to pack four thousand bags of towels and what not that is needed for such an escapade.
See, I really don't like swimming, and I know that when you take your children it isn't 'swimming' as such. At this age, I am not expected to swim lengths with them. It is worse. This is water play. Splashing water in my face, at any given moment, a water spray fountain will go off unexpected renching you through. YOr worse, a bloody wave machine will go off! Yes, I know i am in a swimming pool and getting wet will happen. I don't like it though.
In fact I will go a step further in explaining why I don't enjoy the experience. It is invariably too cold, the water that is. However, no matter how cold the environment once crammed into a family cubicle with four other bodies, you literally go into heat overload. I must also dwell on the facilities some more on my rant of dislike. There is a strong chance that whilst in the changing rooms, you will step on other peoples pubes/piss/shoe dirt/did I mention pubes? All of this whilst trying to shoehorn yourself into a swimming costume. Or worse, trying to get it off. Like superglue fastness a wet swimming costume is near impossible to remove. The joy of trying to remove said item with a mild amount of dignity and fairly stealthily so to avoid both your sons staring and shouting loudly about where my willy is, and if there is any milk in my boobies!? Then there are the lockers, for which you can never find enough change for more than one locker at a time. They are too narrow, and when opened will ALWAYS spill out your pants/socks/ any other item of clothing you don't fancy sitting in whilst sopping wet from the gross floor. Shower before you go in.....that will be more standing in other peoples pubes then, no thanks. Shower when you get out....more pube standing, and also soap scum from people actually having full on showers. Lets move on.
Once in the pool, obviously the boys go berserk. Screeching so all turn to look...oh great, my attempts of an inconspicuous pool entry have been shattered. Streaky fake tan and a badly fitting swimming costume... I almost want to shout out to everyone that I am only on day 4 of the 30 day shred, and i have had three children in four years! In fact this brings me onto another thing. Swimming costumes. Who designed these things. I have a fairly long body so mostly the lower half of the entire costume will be inside my vagiba. This is not a good look, especially when children are around. It is also NOT comfortable. I did muse these thoughts to G on the way to the swimming pool. His only advice was to not go down the water slide. He found this amazing funny. Maybe not so much after he was forced to take the boys down said slide about 10 times in a row. Anyway, a huge divergence, back to my point....children. Children in swimming pool environment seem to devolve into basic mode. They are unable to do anything but splash (to which I am pretty much sure is on purpose as they know I am the one who looks like the arsehole shouting at them to stop splashing...in a bloody swimming pool!) Other faculties they lose are the ability to hear, see, or speak normally. All communication is on a screeching high pitched basis, and repetitive. Very repetitive in fact, the same thing over and over....slide, slide, slide, bubbles, bubbles bubbles, look, look, look etc.
Then there are the people there, a mixed folk. The sporty mums who wear sport swimming costumes, who 'love' it (I guarantee that no woman loves this experience that much!) The pervy dads - on reflection maybe they aren't pervy, but more akin to my way of thinking and just look shifty as they don't want to be there and there are too many women with ill fitting swimming costumes on. The guy in the jacuzzi today was DEFO a perv though, and G nearly sent me through to him like an awards swingers party but with only two people there. Luckily I saw said pervy Dad, and lowered myself back into the pool. There is the token fat dude. Not just fat, but like epically obese. The hairy dude. The one who everyone swims wide around, just in case of coming into contact with the hair. There is usually one overly hot mum who wears a phenomenally inappropriate bikini (there wasn't there today, more the shame!)
So, today we took them swimming. It was not good. It will happen again in a few more months when I feel a better mother than I feel right now. As I said, swimming is more survival to me. And so is Motherhood. Survival that is. And I do what I must for the children to be happy, and also myself to exist. So, for the record, next swimming playdate....dont expect an rsvp.
Saturday, 4 June 2016
Car crash farms, and gatecrashing BBQ's
So we had already had an eventful day. A trip out to town where the boys were very good! FYI, Paperchase, however lovely a shop - literally turns into a living hell when you apply two young children! Anyway, once we had escaped the rubbers, pens, lunch boxes, dinosaur stamps, snow globes and all other possible pointless purchase, I felt like they needed a little bit of 'them' time.
On the drive back I spotted a sign for a 'rare breeds farm' sounds like it may be worth a punt. It's half term, I should really be doing something like this I thought. I put my own personal preference for avoiding these places at all costs aside and as the sun came out, I thought, yes, this is going to be good. Entrance was promising, once out the car the boys started to chase a gaggle (see, look at my nature knowledge!) of geese. It was a bit pricey but I got discount so I splashed out and bought two bags of animal feed. Immediate disappointment.
A couple of desperate sheep, some suicidal chickens and a forlorn looking highland cow. It wasn't rare, it smelt bad (not just farm bad, like disease bad), it looked shabby. A few accents of bright graffiti tried to give it some weird street edge, why they thought this would work with it being a farm essentially catering for young children. There were, however, a huge number of massive trampolines dotted about the place which quite frankly the boys were more than happy with. We dumped , literally, the two bags of feed with two lonesome ponies. A chase of a peacock, a fruit shoot and a bag of wotsits later (also for the record Rufus does NOT like these cheesy snacks, and is most offended if presented with a bag of them - a fact that all of the diners at the cafe there were left in no doubt of!)
I was quite grateful that the staff were weird. The lad at the cafe fitted the expected mould when I asked what drinks he had for kids - the response (with a wink?!)' oh I'm sure I could do something with some milk?' Those who know my unfortunate face will be able to imagine the look?! I was, I think more bemused at the wink rather than questioning what in the hell he was planning on doing with the milk.
Anyway we left, exhausted. We drove home in near silence. We came home and returned to the default setting of sitting and watching a disney movie.
G returned, also exhausted after a pretty epic week at work. He, however had to go to a works BBQ. I may have mumbled something about this new job not being very family friendly, as I threw around some homemade pizzas that were mine and the children's tea. He left. I continued my monotonous routine. But, tonight, instead of wrestling Evelyn into her babygro, all whilst asking, begging the boys to just be quiet and stop fighting. I put them all into the car and drove to the BBQ. It wasn't completely spontaneous, there was a vague invite there. I knew no-one (apart from G obvs). There was wine, which I accepted, again....and again....and again (you get what happened) See, whilst I've been living here I haven't really had much social occasion. I think I have regressed so deep into living this mental life and being so open and lucid about how bonkers being a Mum is I forgot. These people, most of them were not parents, they were what I was before, they were normal. They were not going to ask me about my breastmilk, or my periods, or baby poo, or competitively drill me on child development. The main source of questioning seemed to circle about the lack of sleep, and how did I do it. I was open...I fear too open. My response was along the lines of 'well, I find, that I lost my shit so long ago, what is now, just seems normal?' accompanied with a slight deranged cackle. The thing is, it all seemed to go down very well, as did the wine.
Poor G was demoted to basically watching the children. They also provided a fair bit of crowd entertainment. Hector stood up in front of everyone and tried to execute the jokes he has learnt recently. His favourite is 'what do you get when you put a witch on the beach? A sandwich!' He also tried to make a speech. This was thwarted by G. Between the two of them, Hector and Rufus chased, hugged, kissed, pushed and screeched at the only other child there, a particularly cute little girl. There also was a rabbit escape at one point which I am fairly sure was down to them also.
We were there for a couple of hours. We made our mark. We left. Again in silence on the way home. The day after I did enquire as to what G's work colleagues thought of me. He joked (I don't think it was a joke though)
that I swore a lot, but was really nice. A fairly accurate and fair epitaph I think!
So I think from all of this, I think I fit in somewhere between the mentals down the farm, and the people who I used to be one of at the BBQ? A sobering point that occurred to me whilst nursing my hangover in Waitrose, surprisingly not the most middle class thing that i have ever said!
On the drive back I spotted a sign for a 'rare breeds farm' sounds like it may be worth a punt. It's half term, I should really be doing something like this I thought. I put my own personal preference for avoiding these places at all costs aside and as the sun came out, I thought, yes, this is going to be good. Entrance was promising, once out the car the boys started to chase a gaggle (see, look at my nature knowledge!) of geese. It was a bit pricey but I got discount so I splashed out and bought two bags of animal feed. Immediate disappointment.
A couple of desperate sheep, some suicidal chickens and a forlorn looking highland cow. It wasn't rare, it smelt bad (not just farm bad, like disease bad), it looked shabby. A few accents of bright graffiti tried to give it some weird street edge, why they thought this would work with it being a farm essentially catering for young children. There were, however, a huge number of massive trampolines dotted about the place which quite frankly the boys were more than happy with. We dumped , literally, the two bags of feed with two lonesome ponies. A chase of a peacock, a fruit shoot and a bag of wotsits later (also for the record Rufus does NOT like these cheesy snacks, and is most offended if presented with a bag of them - a fact that all of the diners at the cafe there were left in no doubt of!)
I was quite grateful that the staff were weird. The lad at the cafe fitted the expected mould when I asked what drinks he had for kids - the response (with a wink?!)' oh I'm sure I could do something with some milk?' Those who know my unfortunate face will be able to imagine the look?! I was, I think more bemused at the wink rather than questioning what in the hell he was planning on doing with the milk.
Anyway we left, exhausted. We drove home in near silence. We came home and returned to the default setting of sitting and watching a disney movie.
G returned, also exhausted after a pretty epic week at work. He, however had to go to a works BBQ. I may have mumbled something about this new job not being very family friendly, as I threw around some homemade pizzas that were mine and the children's tea. He left. I continued my monotonous routine. But, tonight, instead of wrestling Evelyn into her babygro, all whilst asking, begging the boys to just be quiet and stop fighting. I put them all into the car and drove to the BBQ. It wasn't completely spontaneous, there was a vague invite there. I knew no-one (apart from G obvs). There was wine, which I accepted, again....and again....and again (you get what happened) See, whilst I've been living here I haven't really had much social occasion. I think I have regressed so deep into living this mental life and being so open and lucid about how bonkers being a Mum is I forgot. These people, most of them were not parents, they were what I was before, they were normal. They were not going to ask me about my breastmilk, or my periods, or baby poo, or competitively drill me on child development. The main source of questioning seemed to circle about the lack of sleep, and how did I do it. I was open...I fear too open. My response was along the lines of 'well, I find, that I lost my shit so long ago, what is now, just seems normal?' accompanied with a slight deranged cackle. The thing is, it all seemed to go down very well, as did the wine.
Poor G was demoted to basically watching the children. They also provided a fair bit of crowd entertainment. Hector stood up in front of everyone and tried to execute the jokes he has learnt recently. His favourite is 'what do you get when you put a witch on the beach? A sandwich!' He also tried to make a speech. This was thwarted by G. Between the two of them, Hector and Rufus chased, hugged, kissed, pushed and screeched at the only other child there, a particularly cute little girl. There also was a rabbit escape at one point which I am fairly sure was down to them also.
We were there for a couple of hours. We made our mark. We left. Again in silence on the way home. The day after I did enquire as to what G's work colleagues thought of me. He joked (I don't think it was a joke though)
that I swore a lot, but was really nice. A fairly accurate and fair epitaph I think!
So I think from all of this, I think I fit in somewhere between the mentals down the farm, and the people who I used to be one of at the BBQ? A sobering point that occurred to me whilst nursing my hangover in Waitrose, surprisingly not the most middle class thing that i have ever said!
Saturday, 28 May 2016
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!
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!
Wednesday, 25 May 2016
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.
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.
Wednesday, 18 May 2016
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 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!
Tuesday, 17 May 2016
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!!
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!!
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