Oh yeah, that was fun!

Last night we had to attend no.1 son’s ‘meet and greet’ with his teachers. Well, strictly speaking we didn’t have to attend, but the guilt and whining our son would inflicted upon us if we hadn’t of gone, just wasn’t worth it.

It was a nuisance from start to finish, because it meant dinner had to be early and all small people had to be ready for bed before we left to make life easier for the babysitter.

And we got our clothes all wrong. I mean, come on, why do people dress as though their going on an evening out when all they’re doing is meeting with over-stressed, under-paid teachers? But this was where we were mistaken, as there were caterers on hand serving salmon sandwiches and boar sausages with wine as we entered. In fact, if we hadn’t of been wearing sticky labels with our son’s names on it really would have been a proper night out!

Especially for the BH, as he pulled!

Though in fairness he didn’t encourage her. And I know this for a fact because I was stood right there next to him, getting more amused by the minute.

I suppose in my younger days I would have been extremely pissed off, but I don’t have the energy for that anymore, so I just watch as she giggled and blushed at everything he said.

The only thing she said to me was, ‘It’s just like a blind date, isn’t it?’ eerrr, NO, because unless the man is an idiot, he would leave his wife at home!

It all got more obvious when the room went quiet to listen to the Headmaster. Then she was really knocking back the wine and leaning toward the BH with her hand hovering to touch, and murmuring what I presume was a witty commentary.

Luckily there were other parents wanting to talk with her, and she had to wave bye-bye before she got totally pissed carried away.

The BH swears he didn’t realise what was going down, but he’s chuffed to bits and his words were, ‘ I’ve still got it!’

He surely has! But I’ve warned him, I’ll be paying close attention to R’s homework to make sure he isn’t assigned: find out your father’s email address.

Trying not to laugh

My eldest is growing up! Fast.

In a lot of ways it’s wonderful, as I love our conversations and hearing his thoughts on the world. But on other occasions….

He’s formed a band with some school friends. I’m sure thousands of little boys do this, but what amuses me to the point of going cross-eyed with swallowed giggles is, he can’t play an instrument!

Now before you think me a heartless parent and imagine he must be part of the vocals, let me explain the boy is tone deaf! And can’t doesn’t sing. Again – this is not me being cruel – it’s just a fact. He’s too like me.

So what’s he planning to do? (you’re wondering, right?) Apparently, play guitar. And he plans to learn. Preferably before tomorrow, because The Band have booked the music room for rehearsal!

Every time I think of it, I giggle. And cringe a little.

I’m worried for him when his friends realise he’s blagged his way into their group. They really do play instruments, and one of them has even written a song (I know this is true because his mother emailed me to complain how much time he was dedicating to the group and writing music!)

But the BH and I have hopefully done a good thing. He starts guitar lessons next Thursday. Yet another activity to juggle around, and extra costs, but the boy is happy!

I hope he’s still happy tomorrow night after band rehearsal!

Oh goody it’s Tuesday!

That must mean… parenting class! And what fun that is.

Actually, it wasn’t so bad today, especially as three women didn’t show up. And being a bitch it cheered me to imagine they just couldn’t hack it! Of course they may show next week and blow that theory, but it kept me warm today.

On today’s agenda was ‘in-flight safety’. Seriously, this was how it started – talking about how, if you and your kids are on a plane, (diving into the ocean, death imminent), and the oxygen masks fall – what do you do?

Being that I’m not crazy about flying when the plane isn’t in freefall, I would probably be screaming and cursing, with maybe a few begging prayers thrown in for good measure (I like to cover all bases).

But back in the world of normal balanced people, the appropriate response would be: put your mask on, and then your children’s. Because you see, you can’t take care of others until you’ve taken care of yourself (!).

Yeah.

And in real terms this equates to wine, sleep, respect, appreciation, blah, blah, blah…

And I agree. But these are hardly things I didn’t know about, so I spent the first hour AGAIN wondering why I was there! (and taking another look at the shoe choices – socks with sandals – UGH)

The second half was group activities. Yippee, I just love them! (Oh, and which style of font, would you say, reflects sarcasm to it’s fullest?)

If I had just kept my mouth shut, no one would have noticed I existed. I wish I’d kept my mouth shut. But no, I had to make a comment to the woman on my right. And then she laughed, which caught the attention of Mil & Lil (instructors, remember?).

When Mil insisted I share my wisdom with the class, I cringed. And obviously this was visible because my entire group began laughing. At me.

And it got worse. The shock of being centre of attention blew my mind and I went blank! Totally blank. I couldn’t even remember what we’d been talking about.

So how stupid did I look? Don’t all shout at once! This is why I hide at the back!!

My saving grace was the women I’d talked to, who has a better memory than me and my impersonation of a goldfish. She was able to recount our conversation and even made me sound like I knew what I was talking about. I think. In truth, my mind has blotted out the moment entirely. But whatever happened, everyone smiled and nodded in eager agreement.

After that, my opinion was asked several times. Which was horrid, but okay. Horrid because they all looked at me, and okay because they seemed to like my answers! Whatever they were.

And by the time class finished, several things had become apparent. I have great kids (most of the time) and I’m married to a wonderful man (I could say more – but he’s reading, and I want him to be able to get his head through the door tonight.) And it turns out, compared to this group, I’ve got patience too.

I had hoped they might offer fresh insights into stress relief. But I do every suggestion they had. And actually, they missed out blogging and sex (but I don’t want them reading this, and telling people we have lots of sex tends to make them hate me, so I didn’t speak up.)

So what the hell is my problem?!

I don’t know. I’ll get back to you if I figure it out.

-x-

Other news includes:

Calling my friend and getting a luke-warm reception. And this kind of ties in with today’s class, as one of the comments was to cut out unnecessary drains on our resources and emotions. Which I decided – there and then – to do. But as my friend hasn’t yet confirmed that she is physically intending to pay me back (only that she hasn’t forgotten her debt), I remained chirpy when she said she was busy this week, and just said I’ll look forward to her call. Which I am, ‘coz then I can afford to but myself some new (much needed) underwear!

-x-

And Second son P has earned himself a new nickname! He is now known as, Nero. Not Nemo, NERO – as in, ‘Nero fiddled as Rome burned’, because… he *fiddles! ENDLESSLY! We thought it was a phase, but no. He’s now seven and the problem’s getting worse.

We keep telling him it isn’t appropriate, but he forgets. It once occurred to me it was a comfort reaction and (very foolishly) asked why he did it, ‘Because it feels good,’ was his joyous answer.


* If you have any confusion over what I’m talking about, think ‘wood’ (this comparison comes care of Doug).

-x-

And having been paying attention to my time deficit, I can now confirm an hour lasts just over seventeen minutes in my life. Which makes me Wonder Women, as I had exactly one hour and ten minutes (clock time) at home between activities today; and still I managed to tidy up, and feed me, the BH, and S lunch. Whilst at the same time preparing tonight's dinner. I was pleased with myself.

But it confused J.

Because when in the car coming home, P asked what was for dinner. And I told him, ‘Lasagne’. Unfortunately J has a new best friend called Anya, but was sitting in the back of the car and so began shouting, ‘WHERE? WHERE?’

Needless to say this left us all confused.

Being Me

Last night I had an urge to paint my nails. But as it’s been several years since I’ve had this inclination, my choices of colour were limited to a pale shimmer or green. And as I can’t recall what possessed me to buy green nail varnish in the first place, I went with the shimmer.

It’s a bit of a disappointment – as you can see!

And whilst I’m showing off bits of myself, here’s the bruise that’s come up just below my knee. Definitely more colourful than the nail polish.

But I think it was more the act of painting my nails, than the effect I was after. It’s bloody annoying having to wait for the varnish to dry, and as such, it’s not often I sit still for that long!

Luckily Pitch Black was on TV, and I’ve been wanting to see this movie for a while after somehow catching the final half hour a year or so ago. It’s hardly a great film, but what I found most interesting was how none of the characters are what they first appear, and that fascinates me. So I was happy enough to be entertained by Van Diesel running around in a skimpy top and looking mean, as the paint dried.

And talking of people not being what they appear, I don’t think I am what I appear. Even to myself.

This realisation is a slow process and has been on my mind for some time. And I’m not yet sure if I can change anything. But there are certain things I think it is time to let go of, and I’m hoping whatever replaces them, shall make my life a tad more balanced.

I haven’t yet thought how to get most of this stuff down on paper, heck, I have enough trouble just facing the fact I have baggage! And I may decide it’s not for viewing anyway.

But just recognising my reactions and starting to understand them, has cheered me no end! And today, instead of my usual guilt, I’m angry. And it’s great!! Not the anger, (I’ll have to watch that, lest I become bitter) but just being able to step outside my usual view.

Having not (yet) seen The Chronicles of Riddick, I’m guessing he’s going to be consumed with guilt over Fry's death and thus enabled to begin a new life, which is kind of ironic, because I’m planning to let go of my guilt and I think that’s what’ll help me start afresh!

And on a somewhat timely note, my friend called this morning. Just after nine, which doesn’t amuse me as she knows full well I’m never home at that time and she’d have to leave a message. Instead of immediately being glad she’s called, I’m cross at her cowardice.

Apparently she hasn’t forgotten about the money she still owes me, and is sorry the friendship has ended this way. Nice of her to let me know. However I’m not done yet because I think I’m owed an explanation, and I want a chance to tell her how she’s made me feel over the whole sorry affair – without being bitter or rude of course, cause that wouldn’t be me. Even the new me (a growth in progress)!

And anyway, I hate losing friends, and I’ve lost too many of late. And it hurts. So, who knows, if she says the right things, maybe we can claw back a bit of what was lost (though I won’t be lending her any money!)

Having read through this post, I’m left wondering if it shall make any sense to you, and you'll just have to trust me when I say, I’m in a better mood than I have been for a long time – not happier, but clearer in myself.
See? I’m smiling!

I can't do anything!

Umm, I’ve been thinking, which isn’t easy for several reasons. You know most of them, well four of them anyway. As for the others…I reckon you’ve heard enough of my moans this week.

But back to the point - I think I’ve thought myself out of my low ebb, of course I won’t know for sure till the never-ending, mind-numbing, soul-eating routine starts again on Monday – but fingers crossed!

It may also be because Saturdays are turning into a little slice of heaven! For forty minutes whilst our eldest girls attend ballet class, my good friend Cass and I have time for a chat. This may sound minor to normal people, but it’s special to us because we off-load all our other little darlings and go for a drink IN A PUB. Of course we limit ourselves to coffee and orange juice, but it’s a thrill just to go someplace without any children around! (though there was a woman with a baby buggy in there today – but no baby – umm, some odd people hang about pubs at lunchtime!)

Today was the second time we’ve done it and already we’re developing a routine (same order, same table, and same grins of astonishment), unfortunately there was a football match on the big screens, so it was busier than expected. Noisier too, and we had to watch that, because every so often the din hushed and we were still on high volume.

And then I got caught.

It’s bloody unbelievable. There I was, having a sneaky moment without the hoard, when who should pull up at the traffic lights right outside the window we were sitting at? Yep, the hoard!

The BH wasn’t smiling when he saw me, and his eyebrows rose when I gave a little wave. The kids on the other hand, were bouncing up and down with delight at catching their mother in such a situation! And Cass thought it was pretty funny too.

She asked what the BH had mouthed to me as he drove forward, ‘Lush!’ (but he smiled at the same time!)

Where's my Friday feeling?!

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!

That’s how I feel today!

It’s not a bad mood, just a lousy mood. With myself. I don’t feel like doing anything today, I’d rather be left alone. But that isn’t possible, and we’ve got friends coming around after school (so another three boys to run around the house!).

I’d like to think it’s not my fault. I’d like to think it’s because I woke up cold and soaked from the worst night-sweat I’ve ever had (and I get a lot!). But. Come on, it must be my fault. I saw the doctor again this morning and all tests are coming back normal – which is great! Except that that leaves me in limbo. Again. Luckily my doctor has faith I’m not a total nut yet, and is doing more tests.

And my temperature gauge is up the spout. I don’t know if I’m hot or cold. But it’s not like getting a fever, more like someone's screwing with the heating (which, right now, I’d like to turn on FULL).

And I’m restless. But lazy too. I want something to do, but cleaning the bathroom or doing the ironing isn’t it. I’d like a hot bath, but I’ve got the school run in thirty minutes.

Or a nap. I’d like a nap. But that ain’t happening either. And why are our TV programs crap? I could lose myself in a good program. Or book. But I’m too on edge to read, and there’s never anything of interest on the four measly terrestrial channels we get. Except Lost, I like that. Though most people in RL I’ve mentioned it to, get all superior and complain it doesn’t make sense. Huh, like life does?! And am I weird for liking Sawyer the most?

Actually, I know what I’d like to watch, The Omega Man. Yep. Dark outside, kids in bed, heating turned up, duvet over me, the BH rubbing my feet and Omega Man on TV. Damn, I wish I had that movie!

I guess I’d better go start the ironing.

Tired

I’ve been sitting here trying to think of something to write, which is ridiculous because I spend my days thinking ‘I’ll blog about that!’ So the problem isn’t thinking of something to write about, it’s finding the energy to transform my thoughts into words.

Okay I don’t have the energy, but shall bore you with waffle anyway. Try to bear with me. Actually whilst we’re talking about tiredness, mine is odd, as I’m getting more sleep than usual at the moment. But I’m more tired than ever. So I have come to the conclusion, it’s not about the total number of hours slept, but the pattern with which you get them. And thanks to the girls we’ve had a plenty of broken nights this week, though in fairness, I slept through two night visits and an extra person in my bed, on the night before last!

And my shoulders hurt. Like I’m getting sick or something, but I’m not, because there would be other bits hurting. Oh another bit does hurt! My knee. But I know why. I fell over, and if I’m going to fall over, I like to make a spectacle. No, that’s not true. I’d rather not fall over at all. But as I’m one of those people who does, I get used to it, and doing it with drama comes naturally.

It was a mushroom. A surprisingly slippery mushroom. Or maybe they’re all slippery, but I wouldn’t know, having only stepped on one. Today. In the middle of the supermarket. And I had three boxes of eggs in my basket and two loafs. It was a mess. And sore. My knee is sore! And no one helped me! What the hell is the matter with people? If I see someone on the floor I go over to help them up!!

Most of the time. Well, every time unless I think they’re drunk. Helping drunk people isn’t nice. Hang on, it is nice. Of me. But they’re often not nice. The last man wasn’t nice. In fact he was downright rude when I woke him up. But you can’t leave someone lying across a pavement, can you? Don’t answer that. Others have. And I disagree, I can’t leave people like that. So I guess I’ll still stop every time, even if I think they might be drunk and grumpy.

But back to my fall! It was sore. It is sore. Still, could have been worse. I’m not sure how, but I like to find silver linings, so I’ll tell myself it could have been worse.

But something nice happened today, so the karma evened out. S started her ballet lessons! She was sooooooo excited! And she’s cute when she’s excited. Adorable even! In fact today was a good day. I’ve only just realised that. Except I lost the boys, or rather they didn’t show up at ballet class when I expected them to.

It was the first time I’ve let them walk down from school without me. We’ve walked it every Thursday for the past year, so they know the way. And I know how long it should take them.

When they didn’t show at ballet, I decided to get the car so I could drive the route and find them, but luckily they came around the corner as I loaded the girls into the car. I asked where they’d been. Guess their answer!

The sweet shop. I frowned and no.1 son carried on talking quick. P had also lost his lunchbox so they’d had to go to lost property too. I told R that sounded like a better reason for making me fret, but in future I’d rather be without the lunchbox overnight than have that panicky feeling they gave me! Even so, they seemed really pleased with themselves, but I still went over some guidelines on what to do if we miss each other in future. I probably should have done that prior to this time! Never mind, I live and learn. (Though I maybe won't mention this escapade at the parenting class next Tuesday!)

And today’s Autumn Solstice! So I guess that means summer is really over. Shame, seeing as the weather’s perked up again. And it was pretty on the beach this morning.

Me and my bright ideas.

My six week parenting course began this morning. I arrived one minute late which quite frankly, was a miracle though left the dog most unimpressed with his three minute walk. Somewhat cruelly the first item on the agenda was punctuality. And considering all the other mothers were sitting chatting and drinking coffee, I can only assume the reminder was aimed at me.

Not the best of starts. But not the worst. That was still to come.

The second thing discussed was individual confidentiality. So I can’t mention the others attending, but I figure it’s okay for me to talk about me! And I recon it’d be alright to say everyone was very nice and the two women running the show were a perfect comedy duo.

The session began with the typical cringe worthy ice-breaker – talk to the person next to you for four minutes and then you get to tell the class about them. Thankfully they didn’t make us stand up. And considering what I’m like about talking to strangers, this was probably the best tactic to force me into participating.

My partner was the last to talk, and guess who had the most children? Yep, I got the murmurs and laughter as they all turned to look at me trying to hide on my seat.

The theme wasn’t what I expected. But then, I didn’t have a clue what to expect. It mostly consisted of the mothers talking about problems they have with their children, with many nods of recognition going around every few minutes.

Then they enjoyed a husband bashing flash, ending with Lil (one of the instrustors, or whatever they are) suggesting she held a class entitled ‘Why husbands are superfluous’. I didn’t nod and I had nothing to say.

At the coffee break they all headed off to the common room, whilst I slunk off to sit outside by myself for a few minutes. But I did make it back to class on time.

The second half was the real killer for me. They discussed everyday life and play, making a big focus on priorities.

It started happily enough as all agreed the washing-up and hoovering comes after the children. This wasn’t a problem as I stopped being a house-proud nut many years ago, after I realised you can’t tell whether I bothered to clean up, ten minutes after I’ve finished.

Onto the play aspect.

I’ve never really thought about it before, but I don’t play with my children.

When I had just one child, I did. We would spend afternoons painting, and playing in the sand pit together. And even when I had P, I still found the time to sit and do puzzles with him. But things were difficult with P, when J was born. And then we moved and had the house to renovate. And suddenly I was pregnant with S and the roller-coaster ride truly began. And where am I supposed to find the time? The days never stop.

But these women find the time. Or make it. Every one of them.

My jaw dropped further as each woman in turn told the group about the favourite games they played with their children.

I was lost in a revelation. Each of them had come with a list of dysfunctional gripes they want to rectify, and I had none. And yet each spent hours each week devoting themselves entirely to their children’s whims and desires. But I don’t.

I know it’s not like I don’t do stuff with my kids. But when I think about it, I do the expected stuff like bedtime stories, and an occasional trip out, or baking a cake.

But I don’t see these as choices, more of an obligation. Truth be told, if I had a choice, I’d rather stay in bed.

So I felt like utter crap. (And I still feel like utter crap.)

The clock saved me from having to share this ghastly truth. We were running out of time and Lil and Mil (the instructors) wanted us to fill in our star and wish list. We’re supposed to write down two parenting things we’re really good at (next to the stars), and the third is a wish we want to achieve with the help of this course.

Right then I wished I’d thought more about why I decided to be there.

Lil noticed I was just sat staring at my card and announced (in a surprisingly loud voice!) I needed a pen. I didn’t. I just couldn’t fill it in.

There’s nothing I’m really good at. I get everything done that has to be done. But am I good at it? No, I’m totally freaking hopeless.

And as for my wish, I don’t think I can write: What I wish for, is to wake in the mornings and smile at the thought of the day ahead.

The BH says I’m over reacting. That they’re spouting text book stuff that can’t be applied to large households the way it can to people with just one or two children.

He might be right. I don’t know.

All I do know is, I’ve been fighting tears all day.

I avoid confrontation

But you already know that, right? You know I wouldn’t usually be telling a trio of gas workmen they had a nerve pretending to be such idiots, don’t you?

Of course they might not have been pretending, maybe they were idiots. After all, if there’s a suspected gas leak, how clever is it to block a nursery school car park entrance with a big van? Especially when the car park’s full and everyone’s trying to leave.

When they first told me they weren’t moving I laughed. But I shut up pretty damn quick when they walked away. In fact I was lost for words.

But I will admit to admiring their courage. Imagine cars full of mothers and hungry children, some with their engines running, and they strode around with total indifference.

Even when I asked if they were planning to explode us all.

Of course by the time a couple of other mothers had gotten out of their cars and evened the numbers up, their bravado waned.

Mine has too now. I don’t know what came over me. I'll blame it on the near full moon!

An unexpected afternoon.

I had high hopes! I though I was going to get to tell you how I fulfilled a small ambition today. I was going to post pictures of the island from a mile or two out, and close ups of my beloved Martello Tower.


Yep, I though today would be special. Of course it’s my own fault, I read what I wanted to read, and I was really looking forward to what I thought I read!

It came about because there was an article in the paper about ‘Walking Week’, which are simply guided walks around various parts of the island. These things tend to attract tourists rather than locals, but when I read:


Sunday 18 September. 14.00 - 16.30 hrs Napoleonic Sea Defence – ‘Round Towers'
Medium - distance- 4 miles (6.4 kilometres).
Starting at historic Harbour where the French landed, imagine being in Nelson's time as you journey along the shore. See five Round Towers and forts on this circular ramble and hear of vraic gathering and shipwrecks.


I got excited, and because the same article had mentioned the extra low tides we’re having this weekend, I read:

Starting at historic Harbour where the French landed, imagine being in Nelson's time as you journey along the shore. See five Round Towers and forts CLOSE UP on this circular ramble ACROSS THE BAY AS YOU CLOSELY PASS-BY EACH TOWER and hear of vraic gathering and shipwrecks.

You can probably guess the rest.

Yep, I promised P (as he was the only fool willing to accompany me) we’d be strolling across the sand and climbing the granite outcrops as we followed the five towers along the South-East coast. There would be stories about battles with the French with tales of daring and heroism.

Poor P wasn’t alone with his confusion when the Guide immediately led the walking group inland and followed the back roads past fields of cows and chickens. The guide stopped a lot, mostly in peoples’ driveways to tell us about the Cod Wars. Not only was my boy bored and grumbling within minutes, but the traffic was awful! Pretty soon, I was a nervous wreak from pushing him up the verge every two minutes. And I’m sure the other walkers thought me a fool to bring a child.

Or at the very least, inconsiderate. But how was I to know the Guide planned to drone on for twenty minutes at a time? And P tried to eat his crisps quietly, and he didn’t realise pulling weeds from that wall would cause those stones to fall out, and ALL kids love jumping in piles of crunching leafs. Bunch of misery guts. Though they obviously read (and understood) the itinerary because they all appeared rapt with the Guide's droning commentary.

Sorry to say not a single picture got taken, though I should have pulled the camera out when we reached the Lavertine, as that was interesting. It looked like a Roman bath situated at a corner of a crossroads, with channels for a stream to run in one side and out the other (since dried up). All made of granite (like everything else around here) with steps leading down into it, and flat stones positioned along the walls for washing clothes upon.

But that was my only photo miss, except maybe for a gross shot of one of the walker’s feet. Seriously stubby toes with ugly chipped nails (and personally, I don’t think flipflops are suitable for a four mile walk either!)

The only thing that redeemed me in P’s eyes was, we left the walking group half an hour early. Because thanks to my poor reading habits, this was where our car was parked. The rest of them all got a child-free walk back to the starting point.

All in all, I was glad we got home early. It wasn’t what I’d been expecting, and although interesting, I had a hundred other things I should have been doing.

But I’m miffed as I still haven’t walked out to my Tower.


One day I’ll get there.

Why can't I resist these things?!

Your World View

You are a fairly broadminded romantic and reasonably content. You value kindness and try to live by your ideals. You have strong need for security, which may be either emotional or material. You respect truth and are flexible. You like people, and they can readily make friends with you. You are not very adventurous, but this does not bother you.

What Is Your World View?

How You Life Your Life

You are honest and direct. You tell it like it is. You tend to avoid confrontation and stay away from sticky situations. You tend to have one best friend you hang with, as opposed to many aquaintences. You tend to always dream of things within reach - and you usually get them.

How Do You Live Your Life?

You Are 60% Weird

You're so weird, you think you're *totally* normal. Right? But you wig out even the biggest of circus freaks!

How Weird Are You?

You Are Somewhat Machiavellian

You're not going to mow over everyone to get ahead... But you're also powerful enough to make things happen for yourself. You understand how the world works, even when it's an ugly place. You just don't get ugly yourself - unless you have to!

How Machiavellian Are You?

Slow and Steady

Your friends see you as painstaking and fussy. They see you as very cautious, extremely careful, a slow and steady plodder. It'd really surprise them if you ever did something impulsively or on the spur of the moment. They expect you to examine everything carefully from every angle and then usually decide against it.

How Do People See You?

You Are 25 Years Old

Under 12: You are a kid at heart. You still have an optimistic life view - and you look at the world with awe. 13-19: You are a teenager at heart. You question authority and are still trying to find your place in this world. 20-29: You are a twentysomething at heart. You feel excited about what's to come... love, work, and new experiences. 30-39: You are a thirtysomething at heart. You've had a taste of success and true love, but you want more! 40+: You are a mature adult. You've been through most of the ups and downs of life already. Now you get to sit back and relax.

What Age Do You Act?

Your Kissing Purity Score: 43% Pure

You're not one to kiss and tell... But word is, you kiss pretty well.

Kissing Purity Test

What Your Underwear Says About You

When you're bad, you're very bad. And when you're good, you're still trouble! You're a closet exhibitionist who gets a thrill from being secretly naughty.

The Underwear Oracle

How You Are In Love

You take a while to fall in love with someone. Trust takes time. You tend to give more than take in relationships. You need your space and privacy. You don't like to be smothered. You love your partner unconditionally and don't try to make them change. You stay in love for a long time, even if you aren't loved back. When you fall, you fall hard.

How Are You In Love?

Your Birthdate: December 9

Your birth on the 9th day of the month adds a tone of idealism and humanitarianism to your nature. You become one who can work easily with people because you are broadminded, tolerant and generous. You are ever sensitive to others' needs and feelings, and you are very sympathetic and compassionate. Your feeling run deep and you often find yourself in dramatically charged situations. This 9 energy always tends to give more that it gets.

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

Your Career Type: Investigative

You are precise, scientific, and intellectual. Your talents lie in understanding and solving math and science problems. You would make an excellent: Architect - Biologist - Chemist Dentist - Electrical Technician - Mathematician Medical Technician - Meteorologist - Pharmacist Physician - Surveyor - Veterinarian The worst career options for your are enterprising careers, like lawyer or real estate agent.

What's Your Ideal Career?

The Keys to Your Heart

You are attracted to those who are unbridled, untrammeled, and free. In love, you feel the most alive when things are straight-forward, and you're told that you're loved. You'd like to your lover to think you are stylish and alluring. You would be forced to break up with someone who was ruthless, cold-blooded, and sarcastic. Your ideal relationship is lasting. You want a relationship that looks to the future... one you can grow with. Your risk of cheating is zero. You care about society and morality. You would never break a commitment. You think of marriage as something that will confine you. You are afraid of marriage. In this moment, you think of love as commitment. Love only works when both people are totally devoted.

What Are The Keys To Your Heart?

International Air Display

At P’s insistence we spent the afternoon gazing at the sky. His enthusiasm is a bit of a worry, and I’ve got a horrid feeling this boy’ll be asking for flying lessons in a few years.























Even more worrying was S thinking a huge smelly helicopter was ‘beautiful’. I asked her to repeat herself three times before being sure she was talking about the copter we were standing in. When I pulled a face at my brother (who we’d bullied into joining us) one of the RAF pilots stepped up and asked if I was disagreeing. Umm, of course not!




J adored the Red Arrows! She was over the moon when they turned the sky pretty colours, and gave her the thrill of being deafened.















R wanted to stay home and bake (!). But he enjoyed himself once there.











I guess it got called an International Air Display because the Americans came with a Black Hawk. Unfortunately, they weren’t as keen as the RAF to let hundreds of little kids scramble all over their stuff, and held everyone at arms length.







Taking pictures of moving planes not only makes you look like a geek, but it’s hard too! The damn planes move so fast, though I did learn they can fly at different speeds, this I discovered after taking four shots of the same plane and asking my brother what each was. He knows about these things because he used to be into airfix models as a kid. Umm, I wonder if the Pokemon information my eldest can spout will ever be as useful?

If my head wasn’t screwed on…

I annoy myself sometimes.

Today I had to go into town. Regular readers will no doubt be aware this is not my favourite pastime. But, at least the weather was grey and drizzly today, which had the benefit of clearing town of window shoppers.

What annoyed me about this trip was that, if I’d have been paying attention (and read all the school notes), I could have done this errand weeks ago.

But me, being me, I thought the school shop (located at the school and ran by mothers on Tuesday afternoons) had forgotten to offer me a navy cardigan for J. So yesterday, I arrived at school extra early (wow!) and waited for the shop to open.

As I queued I got chatting with another mother and discovered, you don’t get the cardigans from school, Marks and Spencer’s will do! I stepped out the queue somewhat sheepishly, and thus the trip to town this morning.

But it seems I’m on a roll, because this afternoon, having palmed S off on the Godmother I went to pick J up knowing full well we had to hurry to get the boys and head up to her swimming class.

This time I forgot J’s swimming kit (left out on the kitchen worktop, so I wouldn’t forget!) luckily I remembered as I sat in her school car park. And more amazingly my mobile phone had enough power left to make a call (amazing because I never remember to charge it, or when I do, I forget to bring it out the house).

I decided it would be best if I picked up J, went home to get the kit, then picked the boys up before heading up to the pool. The BH was the lucky recipient of my super-quick message ‘My phone’s about to run out! You have to call the school, but I don’t have their number, tell them I’ll be ten minutes late to pick up the boys.’

And off I dashed to get J.

(Umm, and I think I’ll mention the teacher too. She very nice, and very young. And looks straight through me. I know she knows who I am because J’s had a couple of difficult mornings and I’ve had to go in so they can drag J from my waist. And yet each afternoon, she passes out children to the people all around me and totally ignores me till there’s no one in the class left! At first I thought maybe she wanted to talk to me, but she hasn’t bothered yet. And this is getting annoying because J has accused me of always being late! Hey, I’m late for a lot of things in my life, but not my child’s first week of school pick up!)

But enough said on the teacher and I’ll get back to the forgotten swim kit. Having eventually collected J, I hurried her towards the car (which unfortunately was parked further away today).

“Slow down, Mummy.”

“No darling, we have to run home and pick up your swimming kit before we get the boys.”

She stopped dead in her tracks and gave me a look of horror.

“It’s alright, we’ll make it on time!” I said pulling her along.

“But why do we have to run? Why can’t we use the car?”

It was enough to make me pause and smile.


P.S. J's just come in to give me a hug and say 'Thank you for my school, it's really good." Aawwwww...

I’m cold. I’m tired. I smell of pee. And there’s a spider on the window-ledge.

Oh the joys of parenthood.

Why the hell can’t she wake up before she wets her bed? She has no trouble AFTER. And why does she sneak around my bedroom, scaring me half to death? I can’t get back to sleep after being scared.

After getting back into my then cold bed, it struck me I’m too nice about it. I’m always so damn cheerful about being woken up to change bedclothes and it seems to me, (after she started laughing so loud her sister stirred) she thinks it’s funny. And I don’t. She’s not a baby. She's not even the youngest.

None of my others has had this much trouble learning to wake up. None of my others whine to the point where you think your head might explode, if you don’t allow her yet another drink before bed. And you should see how pissed off and rude she is when you wake her to go to the toilet.

So no more nicey-nice mommy. Nice isn’t working. Her last drink tonight will be at six. And I think I’ll show her where the bed linen is kept too.

My sleeping is screwy enough without her help. This has to stop.

I guess I should go start some chores. After all I’ve got extra washing today, I might as well get an early start.

SHIT. The spiders gone. Where the f*ck did it go? I’m outa here till the spider killer wakes up.

That went surprisingly well!

J had her first full day at school today. Typically I was running later than planned.

But.

Something incredible happened.

Her school has a parking attendant! I’ve never seen anything so organised and calm. I love this school!

The attendant was so nice and when I explained I didn’t have a clue which queue I was supposed to be in, he said I was fine where I was and spent ten minutes telling me all the tricks to get in and out of the car park quickly and safely. What a guy. What a school!

In contrast I had to head over to the boys school immediately after. Total chaos and it took me three trips up and down the hill to find a space. I finally parked illegally and ran to the pick up point!

The eldest R had ‘English written’ for his homework tonight. He was supposed to write two stories, one on his happiest memory, one on his saddest.

But he couldn’t think of a single sad thing that has ever happened to him. I named a few things that saddened me in the last decade, but he was honest and said he didn’t feel those things really effected him.

P was listening and said Dingbat might be dead by the time we got home, and then R could write about that. When we arrived home and saw (much to my relief) Dingbat is still with us, P offered to scare him into a heart attack. He thought his own idea hilarious. Hopefully this means he was joking.

Other news includes me getting told I could be reported for possible child abuse. This came about because when S and I arrived at nursery this morning I began chatting with Aunty Mim, whilst Aunty Fi shot off to find one of S’s painting they had meant to give me Friday. Seeing as I’m given between four and fourteen paintings a week (and this is my fourth child!) I laughed and told Aunty Fi not to search too hard, we could live without the odd one.

Mim informed me this could be a sign of child abuse. They've just finished a course and apparently all parents should show absolute glee at their little darling’s latest masterpiece. All loving parents that is.

I’m not too worried, if the social services turn up I shall show off my art covered walls and ask if there are any laws about the visual abuse us parents have to endure with a smile :o)

But that does lead to another titbit. I’m going to attend a parenting course for 0-10 year olds, starting next week. The Aunties at nursery thought this very amusing, and asked what I hoped to gain.

Truth is, I don’t know.

I guess I’m just searching for ways to make my life less stressed, and it may offer ideas to help. And it can’t hurt. I hope.

*Sigh*

It’s been one of those days. And that’s a shame, because I was looking forward to today.

It was the start of the Rugby Academy season for No.2 son, P. Last season (P’s first) we had to be ready, on pitch, for 9:30. And although this means I never get a lie in on Sunday mornings, I no longer mind because I’ve become quite enthusiastic about the game.

Normally I am not interested in ball games, however fit or undressed the players are. But last year, with my little darling only allowed to play tag rugby, I realised I do indeed enjoy the contact and brutality of the adult version.

This morning I was excited because now P’s seven - it’s the real thing! With any of my other children the idea of them being ran into at full force with nothing but a gum shield to protect them, would scare me silly.

But not P.

P can take an elbow in the face and get up mad as hell, without a thought to his injuries, or time for a tear. So between looking forward to watching my son smashing the hell out of his class mates (his Tormentor is a player! And it's the only time he can behave like this and not get into trouble), and catching up with the rugby parent crowd (they’re a lot nicer than the footie (soccer for US readers) or tennis parents), I was on a high and approached the day with keenness.

We were about two minutes from the rugby pitch when this evaporated.

I got a flat type. On one of our busiest roads. Thankfully it happened just before the only lay-by.

P’s first words were, ‘There’s a sign saying ‘No Parking.’’

They were his second and third words too. It worried him a LOT.

Meanwhile I was calling home, so I could be rescued. Except no one answered, so I called the BH’s mobile too; many, many times, alternating between the two numbers.

The messages I left went something like this:

1. ‘Pick up. Come on…. someone pick up!’
2. ‘Please, please will somebody PICK UP THE PHONE!’
3. ‘For heaven’s sake! J, can you hear mommy? Go get Daddy!’
4. ‘I NEED SOMEONE TO PICK UP THIS PHONE!’
5. ‘You can’t ALL not be hearing this! Turn the TV off, PICK UP THE PHONE!’
6. ‘This is what happens when you have a TV on in every room! YES, IT IS OUR PHONE!’

I gave up with the messages after that, and called my parents instead.

At this point you may have the impression I’m some dainty daft female who can’t change a tyre – but I can, and have, so there!

And in this case, I would have. But. I couldn’t find the tyre.

I even ripped the carpet up in the *boot… and there was nothing there. I had a fair idea it might be under the car, but I bought new jeans yesterday and I was wearing them.

Even so, if I could’ve found the jack I swear I would have got under the car – but there really didn’t seem much point in getting the jeans dirty without the jack to do the job.

Luckily for me, my parents answer a ringing phone and within minutes were dashing to my rescue. My brother also **showed up, and was decent enough to do the dirty work.

In fact by the time J answered the phone and remembered not to put it down before telling daddy it was a real phone call, the job was almost done. But the BH was useful because he carries an air pressure inflator thingy in his car, and got the spare road worthy.

During all this I got a lift and dropped P at the rugby pitch, apologised for his lateness, and dashed back to my useless car.

We finished replacing the tyre (and found my jack) just as P finished. But I missed everything, and got dirt grained into my fingers. Coach also told me to be on pitch for nine next week. That’s just cruel.

But onto brighter things. This is a Lily:

I was planning to post a picture when it fully bloomed. This is just a bit earlier than expected as my little angels, J and S, decided I deserved a gift and picked it for me. How thoughtful of them. It took all my strength to be grateful and explain I’d rather they leave the flowers in the garden.


And now I’ve finished the weekend by burning my fingers. I don’t know what I was thinking when I picked up the grill. Typing is slow. And next time I should really try and remember: oven gloves were created for a reason!

--x--

* Most cars come with a book telling you where these things are, but I bought my car off a Japanese Auction site and had it shipped over. The book is in Japanese and I’ve never got around to ordering an English version.

** I hadn’t called my brother, he happened to call my mother moments after me and heard of my dilemma.

p.s. I deleted my messages immediately upon arriving home, for the shame, as I sounded so fed up!

The boy

We’re so poor, this is the state of our children’s shoes!











I’m joking.

I can afford shoes for my little darlings, it’s just that one little darling doesn’t like change. He insists on keeping to one style – which is fine, if you find a style he likes – but it means he can get away with removing shoes from the bin and wearing them without me noticing for a while!

I was in the coffee shop in town before I noticed he was wearing them today. And he’d chosen clean (huh?!) white socks to wear, so his toe was brightly visible once noticed.

I swear they were new, less than two months ago! Though I have to admit the condition is not unusual for this child’s shoes. I don’t know what it is about his feet, but he’s always going through his shoes (literally!) and in case you’re wondering, they are his correct size.

We immediately bought a new pair in town, but he wouldn’t let me give the old ones to the shop assistant to bin. So we carried them home, where I promptly relocated them to our bin (under a pile of papers!)

This afternoon he did this:






Now I see why he goes through his shoes!

Blimey, I’m exhausted!

I’ve just finished a marathon dance session with the kids! Of course when I say marathon, I mean three songs, but hey, I never claimed to be fit. Plus, I bounce a lot! As you can probably guess this isn’t the type of dancing one does in public, not that I ever dance in public, but I know this would be a dangerous sport if transferred to a dance floor.

The children and I gig about, jumping, twirling, and flaying our arms about, mostly to McFly or Busted, who we love (I have no shame!).

Luckily I stop before I embarrass myself and collapse on the floor, gasping for breath.

What has brought on this change of perspective, I hear you ask (go on, at least pretend you wondered!).

It’s because it’s Friday and I’ve got that *Crunchie feeling!

(*Any Brits reading may remember the advertising campaign that led to the Crunchie feeling (depending on how old you are!), but for other readers, just so you know, you can only have a Crunchie feeling on Fridays. If you have good vibes on other days of the week – that’s great, but it’s not a Crunchie feeling. )

I guess it’s just a form of anticipation. Of what I don’t know. Or much care. But anticipation is my favourite feeling and I only get it on Fridays now!

It’s not like I expect Saturday or Sunday to be any less busy than the week we’ve nearly finished, and it’s not like I can humour my appalling sleeping habits to a much greater degree – I don’t know what it is, just a hope and an urge to bounce!

Hope you all get that Crunchie Friday feeling and get the chance to dance!

--x--

Turning the tables on the BH, I looked over his shoulder and found him doing this last night. Ask them to remove their tops! Even I laughed ;o)

I have a little book

It’s called ‘Don’t Sweat the Small Stuff’. When I’m low and my perspective is shot, I open it and realise what an ungrateful bitch I am, and how I cause my own problems. Sometimes it helps.

I don’t look for particular pages, just open and see what’s there. Yesterday’s advice was be grateful. It doesn’t matter what for, it can be as simple the person who let you out in rush hour traffic.

I was about to go in for a bath, and decided I’d be grateful for whoever thought the concept of soaking in steaming hot (and I mean HOT!) bath. After all, how many of our ancestors had the luxury and ease of something I take for granted? Unfortunately, bath’s these days aren’t what they were (I used to do candle light and music) and instead my mind wandered off thinking that I really should clean the bathroom, and what a crap housewife I am to let it get so messy. I still haven’t.

But I looked again.

The next bit of advice was make eye contact and smile at a stranger. This has resulted in guilt. I was smiled at on Tuesday. By a builder at my daughter’s school, he wasn’t wearing a shirt, which in his case was a treat for all to see and I can bet many women would have felt flattered. I should have been. But instead I scowled at him and began wiping my face in an effort to remove whatever amused him. I looked for him today so I could smile back and maybe make up for my rudeness, but he wasn’t about. My guilt still is.

I’ve just opened the book again. Today’s advice is, agree with criticism directed toward you (then watch it go away), and then it prattles on about how defensive we are when someone criticises us and how we should listen and hear the truth, so we can calmly accept and change.

Oh yeah, this is bound to make me feel better about myself.

Oops

I guess if I can’t take much joy in my day to day routine, it’s a good thing that others can.

Yep, yet again I wasn’t paying attention.

Having managed to get everyone ready for school, having instructed the boys where to wait, having explained to J that I’d be picking her up at lunchtime this week, and fended off S’s tears in the car as she realised J wouldn’t be going to nursery with her, you would think I could get the bloody right day!

Not that I got it all wrong. The boys and J’s schools were back, it’s just at nursery I’m a laughing stock.

The Aunties (that’s what the staff ask to be called) probably wouldn’t have laughed so hard, if this hadn’t of happened before. But I’m known for it.

In fact, they had a betting pool.

I knew what I'd done as soon as I turned into the car park and saw only the Aunties cars. And then Aunty Fi looked up as she unloaded her car and nearly collapsed from her giggles.

‘Only you!’ she shook her head at me, ‘Dammit, Mim and I bet you couldn’t do it again! I guess Jane knows you best.’

Jane arrived right about then and the pair of them laughed together at my dippiness.

The first time this happened I didn’t realise other people never make this mistake. But as the Aunties told both year groups and people were stopping me in the car park to tell me how funny it was, I came to realise other people really do pay more attention.

--x--

There isn’t a lot to say about the kids new classes. J couldn’t remember what she’d done ten minutes after I picked her up, and getting information out of P is harder than getting blood out of a stone today. R seemed to have a good time, but complained his new maths teacher seems to think it’s a military academy because he read the riot act before anyone had said a word. But they gave him a super homework diary, better than mine!

The school run went surprisingly well, but this was due to my being late for the boys and a lot of the cars had already got away. But next week J stays for the full day and I’ll have to be early to get a good space to get away within half an hour to get the boys. I guess I’d better enjoy this week whilst it lasts.

--x--

Today’s been an odd day. And I’m blaming it on my sleep issues again. I went to bed early last night and got a full seven hours sleep. Without tablets too!

But I’ve remembered why I don’t like sleeping a full night – I can remember my dreams. And I don’t get good dreams like other people.

--x--

And guess what? My bra’s just broke! Seriously! It’s just snapped, in the middle. It must be me.

Tis almost sweet

The children are in bed. The clothes laid out. The lunches made. The pencil cases full with sharpened pencils. And bags stand ready for the start of the school year tomorrow.

Bloody hell, do you have any idea how much work this was?! And it’s coming apart at the seems! Not literally, unless P’s trousers really do give way. I don’t understand it, they fitted him four weeks ago! I’ve got three pairs, all with their shop tags on, the only trouble is I’ve already sewn the name tags onto the waist band. I think he shall have to try Maureen's juice diet ‘coz I can’t afford more!

And the shoes! I forgot to name the shoes. Well I didn’t forget, I just couldn’t get the tip-ex pen working and was too tight to buy a new one when I could hear the liquid inside the pen. I gave up this morning and spent the two pounds.



Just look at all of them! Please note the scruffy trainers in the third row. R wasn’t supposed to wear them running around the garden. Just look at the state he’s got them in. I’m not amused. And he knows it.

Ooo, and the pair at the bottom left aren’t for school. They were on half price sale and I couldn’t resist. Cute, huh?

J’s all a’flutter. We did her hair tonight. We HATE doing her hair because it takes an hour and she cries from the pain. How can two straight haired people produce a child with ringlets? It’s not fair, on her or us. I spend a fortune on hair products, but the real problem is our well water, the ph is all wrong and it’s impossible not to get tangles. Still, she bore it with good grace, in anticipation of her first day at Big School.

I’ve already mentioned we don’t have any trousers for P, but I can cope with that a whole lot better than his strop about wearing a new tie. I could understand it if it differed IN ANY WAY to the old!! I guess he’s doesn’t like change, as his jitters are obvious. But on the positive front he did say he was looking forward to the assembly next week (the Town library people come up and presents the medals for those who completed the reading journey), as he’s been tested on all six books now and bored the pants off the poor library assistant who had to listen to him passed with flying colours.

R seemed calm. Right up until we were at the dinner table and the BH asked if he had any worries. With the green light on the flood gates, we had twenty minutes of gabbled fretting of not knowing where he’s supposed to go, and how he’ll be the baby of the school. I think he’d like me to take him into school tomorrow and hold his hand (figuratively), but I want to get S to nursery with plenty of time left for J, so the BH is taking the boys. I'm hoping he’ll focus on looking after P and not have the time to worry about himself (Hey, it works for me!).

S is the only one without a care, as she’s been at the nursery since January. But I don’t think she realises J won’t be there anymore. I’m not so sure how she’s going to react when we walk away. Still, it can’t be as bad as the boys were. Their cries still haunt me now.

The BH is predictably untouched by the start of the new term. Except that he’ll have to leave early tomorrow because the school traffic adds ten minutes to the journey.

So the only one left is me. I feel sick. Here we go again. I’m starting my eighth year of the big school run, and from tomorrow I have two (technically three) schools to get to. Cars, mothers and children everywhere. My living nightmare. Did I ever tell you I managed to stop my best friend from sending her children to my children’s schools, after I took her on the school run with me? Umm, she freaked.

The trouble with my children’s schools (as opposed to the village schools) is that there’re eight schools (technically eleven, counting primary and secondary separately, twelve if you count the higher ed. college) all on three consecutive hills. There’s no way to avoid the bedlam if you’re within a mile radius.

So it’s dread from me.

But it’s not just the school runs that bother me, it’s also my sleeping patterns. I’ve been trying to get back in sync, and taking over-the-counter remedies to help. I can get to sleep (and stay asleep!) when I take them, but then the day after feels fuzzy. The bigger trouble is if I don’t take a pill (after I have been taking them, if you follow) I’m up most of the night and my pattern is worse than ever. I need to live on a planet with a twenty eight hour day.


Why am I waffling about kids and school when I originally sat down to post about our anniversary? It’s today! Thirteen years. I haven’t bothered looking up what comes with that, but I did remember to get the BH a card! And I received flowers, which was nice, especially as they were my favourite colours (this has taken years to achieve!).

I guess the end of summer is upon us. It turned into a surprisingly good (if short!) one.

No body likes a smart-ass

Well actually, I do! He’s been around five bloody minutes and the BH is teaching me a thing or two about this blog!

Remember I posted that I wanted to know how people arrived here? Apparently my site counter tells me – except it wasn’t and I assumed it was because I was too tight to pay for the extra statistics. Turns out some software (I’ve no idea what!) was out of date on my pc.

Now it’s sorted and I can see how you get here!

I know I’m sad to get a kick out of this, but what can I say, I’m easily pleased.

Thank you my sweet smart-ass!

I’m not doing very well, am I?

It seems that when my life isn’t fraught with irritations, I have nothing to say.

I could have written a post hours ago, but instead I ambled through other peoples blogs, and now I’m wondering if I’ll get around to posting today.

Oh, and I’ve been playing! See? Scroll down! See, my new clock! And I did a nice button for my Guestmap! (Which, BTW, you haven’t yet all marked! Go on…, right now)

I was going to add a cute tiger that jumps about too, but the BH cursed when he saw it and started telling me how much these type of things irritate him. So no tiger. Like no book shelves. And no puppy. (You’ll have to excuse me, those comments will only make sense to the BH. Well, you too, now that I’ve said that ;o))

And I’m not really being fair.

I will have a proper bookcase one day. And ‘Operation Get-a-Puppy’ has began, with a better than expected response. Maybe you could use my comment box to explain to the BH why books and puppies are so important? (That’d be everyone except Moxie, who can just stay quiet about Trixie’s habits).

I’ve started Operation Get-a-Puppy because Ryker, our Labrador, is getting old. He’s nearly eleven, and is possibly deaf with bad eyesight (I say possibly because, well, he’s a Labrador, and you can never be sure if they’re just ignoring you).

Ryker had his booster this week and the vet reckons he’s developing arthritis. Apparently it shouldn’t develop too quickly and Ryker will be fine, if he takes the painkillers we’ve been given. Forevermore. At twenty quid a month. And at that price you can bet the dog’ll be with us for the next decade.

So I’m not too worried, but I figure the Puppy Campaign could be long and slow, so I’d better start now. And saving! We'll have to save! Have you seen how much Labrador puppies cost these days?!! Ooo, on second thoughts I’ll drop this topic as unhelpful to the cause.

But I am hoping the BH will fold within a year or two and we can get a puppy when Ryker’s still around to help train. Ever since he’s grown up Ryker’s been such a good dog. But there wasn't another dog about when we got him, and he was frigging nightmare puppy. I won’t bother regaling you with the individual stories; I’ll just provide a list:

Flip flops (every pair we owned)
TV controls
Video controls
Camcorder
Back seat of car
Two seat belts
Two lino floors
Two sash windows
Five door frames
Dog cage
Knickers galore (this ISN’T uncommon! But always embarrassing, and taught me to pick up my laundry)

And on the bright side, Ryker never mastered wallpaper stripping which my previous dog managed with ease.

And I’ve just remembered the first night we had him, he pulled on the toaster cord and ended up with a bloodied head. Yep, Ryker was a card! It’s what memories are made of, and I’m up for doing it again! Of course the BH could satisfy my broody tendencies another way, but kids take so much longer to learn the rules and the names require more thought. And it’d take a miracle.

Dingbat’s hanging on in there too! Though I have warned the children his time is short. J started crying and asked if we’d get a new Dingbat, when I said no her wails increased and she told me she’d miss him. I pointed out he hadn’t gone yet and she could go and whistle with him. By the time she’d walked across the room to his cage, she’d forgotten why she was bothering and went to see if Miffy was on TV yet. Dingbat didn’t look too distraught.

But P said something odd when I was talking about pets dying. He mentioned that a boy in his class had had to bury his cat. I nodded and said everything dies when it gets old, but apparently this cat wasn’t old, just a kitten really. And then P went on to say Jake’s mother (Jake being the boy at school) hadn’t meant to kill it, as she thought it would get out the way when the lawnmower started up. WTF? Could this be for real?!

I had high hopes for this summer

Every week the children and I were supposed to focus upon something new and do an activity on it. The boys were supposed to finish the reading journey challenge. I was going to make all the curtains and blinds for the house. The BH was going to complete the deck. The garage was to be cleared and our long forgotten objects (and much loved books!!) found a place in the house. And the weeks would go on forever.

What happened?

I could list the excuses for you – but you already know most of them as I posted the days away.

Some got done, others didn’t, and the only thing I’m truly disappointed about is the weeks have flown by in a blur.

And this has got me thinking.

Have you ever met anyone who doesn’t feel that time has speeded up as they’ve gotten older? Are we all imagining it?

It could simply be that as adults we have more responsibility, and thus more things to fit into our day. Except… wouldn’t the summer holidays have felt slower than the usual pace? I’ve had less activities and commitments to run between – surely the summer should have stretched?

But then I suppose time flies when you’re having fun! But what does that say about my usual weeks? I don’t find cooking for six every night fun, neither is the endless washing, cleaning and taxiing around.

So if time flies when you’re having fun, AND when you’re busy, then it must slow on those days when I decide to let everything slip and relax doing nothing! Except it doesn’t, they go fast too!

What does that leave me with? Apart from the start of a headache.

Being me, and this being the type of thing I dwell upon, I googled and found ideas are few are far between.

The Earth’s Background Base Frequency seems a popular quandary some think might be related. It’s speeded up from 7.8 cycles per second in the 1950’s to over 11 cycles now. Supposedly it stops at 13, but I have no idea what that means (I’ll google that tomorrow!)

Maybe we’re like the sea floor, which locks the magnetic polarity of the Earth into itself as it’s created, with our DNA locking the rate of time at our creation.

Of course the rate is supposedly set (with the help of caesium) but there was a time when people thought the North Pole was set too! Maybe caesium is like a compass needle and no matter how fast time flies the 9,192,631,770 cycles it passes through will still occur.

But I’m getting out of my depth.

And am fast running out of evening too.

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