How to wind me up…

1. Give my TV reception a snow effect.

2. Have the phone line die on New Years Eve, so that we can go without calls till at LEAST Tuesday.

3. Torment me by leaving broadband supposedly untouched, but then force me to reconnect every f*cking time I try to load a page.


Oh yeah, have a Happy New Year!

Trying to find lots of things not to do...

I was up at six thirty this morning, for no good reason at all. Very odd, as this time next week four hours sleep will definitely feel like too little.

Haven’t got a lot to tell you about because we're busy doing nothing around here. Total waste. But not, as walks in the woods and making couch covers (yes, the cushions are finished!) seems to be the answer to my happiness. How sad is that?

Though I did pop into town with the boys this morning, to get their hair cuts. Almost a breeze as P didn’t raise merry-hell about getting it done! Though he wasn’t what I’d call gracious about it, but I guess the threat of his father doing it, if he caused a scene, worked its magic. We were ridiculously early and beat three of the four barbers to work, and that turned out to be a blessing as there was a little lad in front of us. He was about two, sobbing and clinging to his father, in fear of the big nasty scissors. It was a trip down memory lane for me, and I’m almost sad those days are gone…at least I think they’ve gone – S has never had her hair cut, so we've yet to see...

I also spent some of my birthday and Christmas vouchers. Vouchers are wonderful! At this time of year everything is half price and even though I can’t afford it, I get to buy things! Got myself a watch and a necklace. Wasn’t sure about the necklace, but at £3.50 you can’t really go wrong. And the watch is a tad big, but I figure I’ll wear it like a bracelet as removing links will make my wrist look pathetically small, which of course it is. In fact I once had a boyfriend who reckoned he’d be able to snap it with the mildest of effort. And he was probably right. Though the worry wasn’t the size so much as the fact that that boyfriend asked if he could try.

And of course small wrists lead to small hands, which I’ve always rather liked. Except when a chap in a pub informed me plenty of men like women with small hands. I can’t believe I was naive enough to ask why!

And talking of naivety, I’m losing another! And it’s all your fault! Well, probably not you personally, unless you’ve mentioned pussies lately. A year ago I wouldn’t have thought anything of J wandering around the house making up ‘pussy songs’ as she cradles her new pink kitten, but now…?!

Anyways, I think I’m starting to waffle. Oh, but a quickie question to the cooks out there, how do you get icky scrambled egg remainders off the bottom of the pan? The BH scrapes it – yuck. My favoured way is putting some washing powder in some water and boiling it up, but that irritates the BH beyond words because of the smell. So…any tips or miracle solutions out there? (And no, we can’t use the microwave as the BH is very stuck-up about his scrambled eggs ;o)) Let me know!

Narky!

I keep writing posts and deleting them. It’s because my mood keeps changing, up down all-around, don’t know what I am. But I’m typing madly because I’m giggling at the moment.

Just listened to a message from my father – actually I’m impressed it’s taken him three days to pick up the phone and ask how to operate his new photo-printer (except maybe that means he hasn’t even played with it before today!). He wants to know if he can link it to the computer and print some pictures he’s been mailed.

My guess would be yes, based upon it being a fancy-ridiculously-expensive-printer, and I remember seeing a disc. Not being a techie myself I would imagine you have to install the software so the computer recognises the photo-printer, choose the correct printer for printing and way-hay, off you go!

But I don’t have the manual, he does. Think I’ll suggest he reads it to me, then I’ll tell him what to do ;o)

And whilst I’m here, I’ll explain a little of my mood. Things are irritating me at the moment, but I don’t feel like I can let loose and really moan. Take the sky.

Grey and miserable, and it’s been like this for ages! Views like this bring me down, and you can’t guarantee any prettiness till May, and I’d like to gripe about that! But then this morning I woke just before dawn, and because I still haven’t got around to making the bedroom curtains, the first thing I saw was the moon. Perfectly placed, perfectly beautiful. I’m not sure how awake I was, but I’m sure it was almost pink. And so bright. We’d also had a smattering of snow and the fir tree just outside the window, looked delicate and added to the exquisiteness. I thought of getting up and taking a picture. But I fell back to sleep and woke an hour later with that icky tired feeling and the grey sky and a patchy lawn.

And TV! That’s causing me general narkiness too. What a load of rubbish we’ve had this Christmas! It’s a bloody conspiracy to make everyone sign up for satellite or digital, or whatever they’ve come up with now. I mean how many times can they show programs like Fools and Horses, and Porridge, and they even showed Steptoe and Son again this year! That was first out, before I was even born! But I’m not going to have to put up with it for much longer. The BH was given a years Sky subscription by my parents for Christmas.

Bet you imagine I’m thrilled… well I’m not!

I don’t begrudge the BH getting to watch sport again, but I have visions of the kids flicking through hundreds of channels and bad chat shows playing all day. Not to mention those shopping channels. Even the thought depresses me. I did suggest not tuning in anything but news and sport, but you can guess how that went down. I expected the children to groan, but the BH shouldn’t have been giving me funny looks! The worst part is I’m partly to blame. My father listened as I bitched about terrestrial TV before Christmas, and he passed the Sky TV idea past me before he went ahead. But what was I supposed to say? Yes I want better TV, but on the BBC please? It seems it can’t be done anymore. And everyone else in the house has wanted it for years and it felt too mean to say no, so I didn’t.

The BH has tried to enthuse me by pointing out that there’s a history and sci-fic channels, HA! Like I’ll get the chance to watch anything? With that many channels you can bet there’ll be too many sports or kids TV shows for me to get a look in, especially as I have no one onside with me.

Which reminds me, where are the Royal Institute Christmas Lectures? I look forward to them each winter between Christmas and New Year! But I can’t see them in the listings at all, totally bummed, they probably went to Sky. Which of course we won’t have for several more weeks. Thank goodness. But then again, they might repeat the lectures…

So as you can see, I’m in a mixed mood and I don’t want to be! There’s a week of holiday left and I want to be relaxed, and I am – after all, if I was doing the school runs as well, I’d probably be wanting to skin irritating children and people who can’t reverse. Bloody hell... you see?? I’ve done it again!!!

Damn can you tell I’m pre-menstrual? DON’T ANSWER THAT!

'A f***ing iron?'

No, these weren’t my words today – but my brothers when he opened his present from our parents. And yes, I’m still laughing! If I hadn’t already opened my new sewing machine, I’m sure he would have thought they’d just got the tags mixed up!

But it’s no ordinary iron (according to our mother, who didn’t hear him cursing) it can steam suits while they stand! Which wasn’t the best thing to tell him as he awfully like our father, and chances are he won’t read the instructions and try it whilst he’s wearing the suit.

And talking of instructions, I could knock my father’s head together with that of my second born! The pair of them are so bloody stereotypically male! They both received gifts that required five minutes of looking at the manuals. Did either of them bother? Why no! They are alpha males and what can’t be figured out, must be at fault! Honestly, both mumbling about things going wrong, and there was nothing bloody amiss that five minutes reading couldn’t solve. Even after I read the manuals FOR THEM P didn’t hang around longer than to hear the instructions on what he wanted his electronic pet to do that second. And my father didn’t even listen, but told me to do it for him! Which of course, I did. With a reminder he should READ the manual. Reckons, he’ll play with his photo printer tomorrow – which in translation means he’ll dump the paperwork and call me when it won’t do as he wants!

But Ho,Ho,Ho back to the beginning…yesterday didn’t end. At least that’s what it feels like! We went to bed at one, but within half an hour I saw the outside lights go on and knew a little darling had hit the wrong light switch.

Turned out to be the biggest, R. Can you believe he talked back to me when I told him he couldn’t open Santa’s presents before 6am? Stood arguing in the hall with me! Bloody pre-teenagers, I swear one year I’ll leave a bag of coal and hide the real sack till he’s grovelling!

But I won’t. Because I can still remember that feeling kids get. The hope of getting something amazing in your stocking or under the tree. I like to think each of them got something that thrilled them, and they’re certainly look happy…

Except my brother! Hahhahahahha – sorry, still giggling! Not at the gift I should add (it sounded handy!) but his reaction.

But back to the hoard. Next up was S. She wet her bed at a quarter to four and screamed the house down with fury when the BH and I couldn’t find a nightie – now, she almost did get her Santa gifts, as he had kindly got her one for Christmas. But no, I didn’t get quite that stressed (probably because I was too bloody tired!) and we had her sorted by four. And luckily we then got a whole three hours sleep. I just wish she wouldn’t keep sneaking into our bed. Apart from the worry with her recent flooding habits, she’s flings herself about and waking up with an elbow in the face isn’t the nicest way to start a day.

Then the conveyer belt of presents arrived. Santa’s this morning. Grandparents and other relatives at lunchtime. And family pressies this evening. I insist upon splitting them up, or the kids run through them all in half an hour, without really looking at any. Mean mommy!

Overall the day was surprisingly nice. No one got angry, no one got upset, my brother was neither ill nor hungover (I think this was a first!), though my father telling J she was only a girl and so couldn’t play with the boys stuff, did make me raise my eyebrows and remind me I must have a chat with her about not taking his attitude to heart!

Oh and my mother made me laugh. And think. At the dinner table my eldest commented that tomorrow is our family’s favourite day, as everyone has their presents to play with and we close the door on the world. Literally (and this wasn’t an easy thing to implement and took years to persuade people not to pop around or invite us to parties). No one bothers getting dressed if they don’t want to, and there are no prepared meals – total slobbery. What made me laugh was my mother’s face as she uttered ‘Disgusting!’ when she realised what we do. She was completely serious and gave me a filthy look. And if I’m honest – I enjoyed her reaction! Christmas as a child was ghastly – nothing wrong precisely, just a huge party (not a knees up, but a stiff affair) that required a military timetable starting at six in the morning and three changes of clothes. The thought of taking it easy and sitting around doing things at your own pace, was not appealing to them – but very much envied by my brother and I. And whilst the party no longer happens (though there were people there for drinks when we arrived today), I still dream of doing a Christmas my way. Instead we do boxing day, our way! But it made me wonder how much of my behaviour is still like that of a teenager out to annoy the parents. Then again, I do REALLY enjoy it, so I shall choose to consider the reaction, rather than the behaviour, that’s childish!

--x--

I just got back from bedtime which has unfortunately resulted in an argument with P. He wanted the girls out of his room and I finally intervened and sent the girls to their own room. But he wanted their DVD to watch (they don’t have a player in their room), but as he wouldn’t let them watch it with them, I said no. And left. Then he passes me in the corridor with his best present from Santa in his hands and J asks where he’s going. I overheard him saying he was going to put it in the bin because he didn’t want it any more.

Now a rational, none-tired parent would realise the little bugger was after attention – and a part of me knew that. But quite frankly, I’m tired of the shitty acts of petty nastiness he comes up with. I went potty.

I’ve spent about five minutes yelling (I had to, when I first shouted his name, J was so shocked she started wailing, and I had to raise my voice to be heard over her!) then I sent him to his room where I spent a quarter of an hour sitting on his floor explaining why his antics disappoint me so much.

At the moment he’s saying he hates me. That he doesn’t want me to love him anymore. And there was a time when his words would have had me in tears. Instead I told him I knew his game. It’s all about attention, and he should have been an only child with the amount he wants. I’m not paying him any heed, he’s straight to bed and he can stay in his room till he apologises for his ungratefulness (except for toilet visits and breakfast, if it goes on that long – and if I know P, it will!)

Bugger! I was going to end with a warm Christmassy glow. Now I’m upset, angry, guilty, all the typical mother things when you adore your baby, but detest their behaviour.

If he’s like this now – what will the next decade bring? Good grief, that’s a thought. Maybe I’ll read this and laugh at how little I had to worry about! Heck I think I’d better stop now before I really scare myself.

Yes, I’ll focus on the iron, hahahahhahahahhaha!

Christmas Eve

Unfortunately time is short, just time enough to say

I wish you all a very merry Christmas, with good company and cheer, peace and joy!

And in the interests of posting something, I offer you some minor distractions…

Your Christmas Stocking Will Be Filled With a Puppy

Well - one cute, soft, cuddly puppy... And a very soiled Christmas stocking.

What Will Be In Your Christmas Stocking?

And here's a snowball game (adults only, lots of swearing – depending on your hit ability!)

Cookie, anyone?

Apologies for not coming back yesterday, I was too busy… baking! At last! And as I’ve finally got everything out the cupboards (including an unopened box of 100 cookie cutters I bought seven years ago and forgot about!) I’ve baked more today! But I’m quite surprised we’ve only ended up with six different types as the time and mess add up to a whole lot more.


To stuff ourselves on, we have: Almond and chocolate wheels, vanilla biscuits, chocolate whirls, chocolate pecan snowballs, truffles and soft Christmas biscuits. I was planning brownies too, but since eating the less shapely biccies all day, and now having had dinner, I’m thinking I should stop as there’s also a trifle and a black forest gateau to get eaten.


In truth I feel sick and am thinking I won’t eat at all tomorrow. Luckily the kids – who ate a mountain – don’t feel the same way. They drove me mad loved helping me, especially with the decorating.




The little darlings spent a lot of time following me about, reporting on the goings-on within the oven as they gazed through the glass door. But watching things cook isn’t as much fun as you may imagine, so I washed dishes and wiped the table between bouts of mixing, chilling, rolling, and cutting and telling them over and over, AND OVER, to stay away from the bloody-hospital-trip-I-don’t-need-oven door!


That’d be all the little darlings except S, who instead became fascinated with flour. Truly amazing stuff! It can make your face and clothes white, and designer handprints are particularly attractive when located strategically. When you blow it, it flies. When you push it around the table, you can make snowdrifts. Push it off the table, and it’s a waterfall. And when the stupid dog thinks it might be tasty and decides to help you clear up, it sets hard as bloody concrete and sticks to the carpet. Not to mention how handy it is in biscuits, when it can find the bowl.


At the end of a long afternoon the BH (who had thought to remove himself to a safe distance for the day) came to question my sanity. Reckons baking with the kids stresses me out. Well, NOT AT ALL! Rocking like this and mumbling incoherently with a glazed look in my eyes, relaxes me…

To clarify…

This is a mince-pie.


And whilst it is a little fun to allow gullible readers to imagine what might be in them, you can see they’re yummy and contain no meat (anymore, Dave wasn’t kidding (much) with the historic explanation) only fruit and spices these days.

Unfortunately having stuffed myself on mince-pies (what’s a photo-shoot for?! And I had to get the right angle!), I didn’t get around to baking any cookies yesterday, but unpacked several boxes of books instead.

There’s no real way to explain what this means to me, but living four years without my books has been miserable, and so even if Christmas was to stop now, I’d be happy. What joy to have to my books again, at last!

And I cleaned my bathroom. For hours. In fact I’m embarrassed to admit how long I spent scrubbing – not that it desperately needed it, it DIDN’T! But the opportunity was there to scrub and dry each tile to shining (though they don’t actually shine, because they’re matt), so what’s three hours out of my life, in return for a sparkly-good-as-a-TV-advert-bathroom? It made me happy. Sad silly woman. And of course, by tonight you’ll never know I’d been in, but I’ll worry about that tomorrow.

Christmas-wise we’re doing splendidly! All the presents I’m giving are bought, and only about a dozen to wrap. And as I type the BH is in town with the girls finishing off something for me. I don’t think I know what it is, which makes it bloody exciting in my life! And it’d better be good as it seems I may not be getting many after hearing the BH on the phone complaining about delivery times. But again, I’m not worrying, there're days yet.

What it is I’m worrying about, I’m not sure. But there is something. A bad feeling in the pit of my stomach, distracting everything, and sending me on hyper.

I’m not sleeping well, but I’m think that’s because of the worry, not the reason. And last night I don’t feel like I slept at all, like there was a constant chatter going on around me. I woke up before the alarm (beaten it every day this week - and that's just NOT RIGHT!) with S’s feet kicking me in the stomach and the electric bed blanket on. I don’t remember it, but I guess she must have come in complaining of feeling cold.

And I wanted to share this with you:


It’s the picture on the front of one of the BH’s presents. Looks exciting, huh? Well, maybe not. And you’d be right. The present isn’t exciting in the least, but it’s something he wanted and I’m a practical soul. But I liked the picture, thought it was cute and it looks just like the BH when I first met him. Except he wasn’t as chirpy looking, more misunderstood and moody and it was a cigarette behind his ear, not a pencil. And he wouldn’t have worn a shirt like that either, or now for that matter. Geeze, what's the matter with me? I’m talking myself out this post! It does look like him! It does! Like he used to look, anyway. Now the hair is…less, and a different shade. And he favours suits, but he did then, so that shouldn’t count. Ah, and he’s got a beard now, not a grizzly-adams-thing, but short and neat – just like him! Do you think he’ll find that funny? Umm, should I worry? Oh heck I can say what I like as I’ve asked him not to visit till after Christmas as I’m mentioning his pressie! Notice I’m not actually telling you what he’s getting - that’s in case he peeks. Because he might, it’s in his nature. My attitude really used to piss him off when we were first together. Not only do I not make any attempt to peek at presents or beg to open them early, I prefer to wait till Christmas night to receive them too. I like to enjoy the whole day to the full, and anticipation is a huge part of that. And it’s not coming around again for a year – so drag it out!!

Umm, have to stop as my brother’s just called and is popping around for tea. But I might be back later, as I’m too tired to clean and am in the mood to type. Lucky you ;o)

Catching up!

At last the Christmas cards have gone! All except one (isn’t that always the way?!), because I’m an idiot who didn’t copy the new address into my black book. They sent me one of those ‘new home’ cards earlier in the year, and it sat in the back of my black book for months getting bashed about within my handbag. But then it vanished, and now it’s Christmas. What a crappy friend I am! But then, they could have put their new address on the back of their card to help out dipsticks like me. I suppose I could call, but they’re not really my friends, they’re the BH’s, so shouldn’t he do it? I’m making excuses. I suppose I could send an e-card…

Other news includes: sickness. Yes, the kids are ill AGAIN. S and P (so far), with a vomiting bug. It started this morning when S rushed into our bedroom and woke me, shouting she was going to throw-up.

Luckily the BH woke up and went to the rescue as I don’t do sick. I can’t do sick. It’s the sound, though the smell doesn’t help. Between the two it sets me off. Seriously. I start throwing-up along with whoever started the vomiting party. The BH saw it in motion when I was twenty-one, when I was trying to help my brother’s girlfriend. It must have been a sight to behold, as to this day he doesn’t argue or gripe* that it’s always him on sick duty. (*much)

And anyway, there was a silver lining, it got him out of the Christmas food shop! But I’m not allowed to comment on that, because S threw up all morning in various parts of the house, and the BH said I didn’t deserve a mince-pie because he had the worst morning – so if I take the mickey, I’ll never get a mince-pie!

But I wasn’t walking in the park this morning, either. I was facing the final Christmas present shop in town. Except I got desperate for the loo and gave up before hitting the last store, and so shall have to pop into town again later this week. You may be wondering why I didn’t use a public toilet. Or maybe you’re not as I know there are plenty of people who won’t, but I will, when desperate. But this morning I couldn’t. Too many bags you see. I had been counting them (to make sure I didn’t leave any in a shop when paying) but lost count after twelve, and instead concentrated on ignoring the pain in my hands.

I’d forgotten what it’s like to have your arms feel like they’re being tortured and your palms sliced open. And why do some retailers have bags with the handles in the wrong place? When the gift goes in, it lies the wrong way and bashes your leg at the same time. Well, maybe not if you’re holding just a couple of bags, but if you’ve got more bags than a tree has baubles, it gets bloody annoying. Especially when you need to pee but know you couldn’t get in a stall because of all the damn bags!

But I mustn’t bitch about the bags because I like not pushing a buggy and they were holding all the presents, and I did well too. Got myself some perfume – or rather I got the BH some perfume to give me – Be Delicious by DKNY, yummy smell. But I wish perfume didn’t cost so much! I wish I could have several so I could pick and choose what I wanted to smell like each day. Which reminds me, our lottery draw is today and I went overboard and bought a ticket. Been a few years since I’ve done that – and you only need one, right? Actually it’s kind of a shame the draw is today as I’ve been letting myself have warm fuzzy dreams about what I would spend the money on. Not that it’s a huge amount of money, but with a population of less than a hundred thousand, what do you expect? But it’d be enough to make me smile, and the day-dreams have been fun! It’s Daisy’s fault, as we get to hear about mind boggling amounts of money with the lottery she sometimes plays. But she hasn’t won yet either. And thinking of Daisy makes me think of cookies too, and I really want to bake some – so I should get out of here and make an effort!

You can tell we’re on holiday…

So far we have sorted out the girls clothes, removed their beds, put up the bunk beds, re-hung their curtain pole and curtains, finished the lounge curtains, started on the cushions, hoovered, cleaned windows, finished the boys blinds, wrapped Santa’s gifts, amassed four loads of laundry, and played tag-rugby. Well I didn’t play, the BH did (that’s why he’s the Better Half) but I stood taking photos (big raspberry to Dave ;o))

Guess which child is mine (hint: we were told to wear silly hats today! Am I the only parent forcing encouraging my child into the spirit?!)



It was fun to see so many of the dads show up, turns out quite a few of the lads come from rugby playing families, and if they take after their fathers will be forces to be reckoned with. Unfortunately the BH never played rugby and the look on his face was priceless when several of the tanks men began whipping off their coats and diving for the tags with glee at the opportunity to show off their prowess. Once on the pitch the BH did look like he was having fun, and at the end of one and a half hours he declared his morning invigorating (and it's not often he says that!)

They mixed the ages up, which was fair as most of the grown men were taking full advantage of their extra arm length by plucking the ball out of the boys arms, with a giggle as they went! It was also the men who were ignoring all shouts of ‘TAG!’ in their determination to score tries. But no one minded, the mood was good and everyone had a laugh.

Now I must get on, I still haven’t got those pesky Christmas cards written...

Things to smile about

Yesterday the kids and BH finished for the holidays.


And S discovered lipstick.




The clouds were pretty, and last night the moon full and brighter than ever
.




And this morning I spotted Snowdrops.





Have a great weekend!

Don’t I know you?

I think I made a new friend today. By mistake.

Being that the kids’ schools all finished at the same time this lunchtime, I had to park in J’s school’s lower car park to ensure I could make a quick getaway to pick the boys up. Surprisingly for me, this wasn’t a problem.

Once parked up I looked around for Sally as she normally parks down there, and sure enough her car was in the corner and I headed over for quick natter before the kids arrived.

Being that Sally is my nutty friend, and being that I’m a tad nuts myself, I wasn’t walking entirely normally as I approached. And I was pulling a bit of a face too. More than a bit really. In fact if I hadn’t been cross-eyed I might have been able to see past the window glare and notice it wasn’t actually Sally’s car.

But I was at the drivers window before I realised the horrified face looking back wasn’t Sally. "I thought you were Sally," I mumbled intelligently. She took it well enough, I think. But I wasn’t hanging around very long as my blush was getting hot and I shuffled off trying to look purposeful, but feeling lost. And stupid.

Ten minutes later, having caught up with my friends and explained what a fool I was, I collected J and dashed off to my car for the next pick up. But guess who was just in front of me as I pulled out the car park? Bad enough that I could see her watching me in her rear view mirror, but then the traffic didn’t move.

And it really didn’t move.

One lane was blocked with the school buses, and the other just stopped. After a minute of wheel taping I saw the woman in front get out, and talk with the bus drivers. Then she got back in her car.

But I was none the wiser. And late for two children. And the traffic stood still.

When I couldn’t stand it any longer, my humiliation faded and I got out to ask her if she knew what the hold-up was.

She gave me the biggest smile and chuckled away as she said hello. I have no doubt she knew it was me, even if she hadn’t seen me looking normal before. And I didn’t have any time to say anything before she began telling me about what a hurry she was in, as she had to get to another school. The same other school in fact. We commiserated and then she explained what the problem was. Someone in front had just stopped their car there and ran into the next school along (it’s two schools in one campus). But as she told me she became flustered and she began firing looks at the bus drivers who were standing around looking very amused as the traffic backed-up behind us, and horns started sounding.

"Oh yeah, it’s real funny when it’s not your five year old standing on the road waiting!" she yelled over at them.

"Next time we can share a run, if you like,” I offered.

She smiled and nodded just before noticing someone was walking towards the offending car.

“Thank god! Yes, we’ll talk in the new year. Happy Christmas!” then her eyes narrowed, “Wouldn’t you know it, a BLOODY MAN!” she shouted out her window and pressed down her horn.

He stopped and looked over to give us a little wave of apology. I hurried back to my car as she yelled, “DON’T WAVE YOU IDIOT, JUST DRIVE!”

Couldn’t have said it better myself!

Only one more day to go!

This time tomorrow the kids will have broken up! Yippppppeeeeeeeee!! I think I might just be getting some of that Christmas cheer at last, though it may have more to do with no school runs and activities than goodwill to all men. But I’m trying for that as well!

Last night’s Christmas concert was an odd affair. Only the year 7 parents were invited, and yet the year 7’s only sang two songs – which worked out at about fifteen minutes. Seeing as the concert lasted for two and three-quarter hours, you can probably see why I’m confused.

It was basically just a musical concert (and a few drama mimes, yet to figure out why) though a couple of the groups did Christmas tunes, but not many. Having got great seats at the front, I quickly discovered why these aren’t necessary when listening to live bands.

The first drum solo was excellent, the second was good, the third pleasant, the fourth loud, and by the fifth I thought I was going to start screaming my head was splitting that badly. It wasn’t just the noise, I could feel every damn beat! And at the interval we moved seats to the back, which was a whole lot better as the piano and drums didn’t blot out everything else.

Some of the boys were very good, but I think the music department likes to encourage everyone and therefore lets anyone who wants to play have a go. Dear heavens. Some of the parents must be saints. Or deaf. Either way I’m mighty glad R plays the guitar and not the violin or trombone. But I mustn’t moan as they apparently have forty kids playing the drums at the moment and they only let a dozen or so loose upon us!

My vicar’s son did a wonderful sax solo, and some of the groups were good with one twelve year old on a fast track to being a pop star – though I got the impression he wasn’t jumping around as much as he wanted to with us as the audience. And the stars of the evening were a band of sixteen year olds. Except you wouldn’t know they were sixteen by the look of them! Dressed straight from the seventies (or so it appeared to me, but apparently it's the fashion of today) they acted as roadies for everyone else (I swear kids weren’t so generous when I was young, or maybe that was just me?!), then performed the finale. I can’t get over how confident they were, or how good. I won’t mention the band name here because I reckon sixteen year olds would probably google too much, but when they become famous I’ll let you know.

All things considered it was a good night, except some fool (the music teacher) gave the microphone to the Deputy Head as the evening wound down. I groaned as soon as he stepped up and after several minutes I asked the BH if he had actually said anything yet. The BH grinned and pointed out the DH had yet to thank the teachers, the boys, the parents, the church, the piano players, the sound guy, the roadies, etc, etc. And of course each required a round of applause. The end of the evening was s—l—o—w, but he got there in the end!

Hey-ho, just one more concert tonight!

Hurry up!

The week is crawling along in a most annoying fashion, I want it to be Saturday! I want the holidays to start!

So does J, and I think she may have pulled a sickie today claiming she had a sore throat – but watching her fidget, and listening to her complaints about having to stay on the sofa or in bed, I’ve told she has to go back tomorrow. Especially as she has a party she planning to go to on Saturday.

I still haven’t got my Christmas cards out. I know I should be fretting, but I’m too busy trying to make my lounge look nice. One set of curtains are now completely finished, so just the other set and the door curtain to hem now. And cushions to make. And the sofa to dye.

Actually I dyed the sofa cover last night. But it’s gone wrong and I now have a patchy very hippish cover, so I’m trying again. Bit of a pain as I had to pop into the sewing shop again to buy more dye. The woman in there knows me, or maybe she hates me. And I would hate me too, always showing up with kids who like to fiddle with her array of glittery and dangly things, and me hissing ‘Look with your eyes, not your fingers!’

Yesterday I got caught in there for twenty minutes as we discussed whether I should go with synthetic or feather cushions. I went with the feather and near wept at the cost. When I went in this morning she asked how the cushions had turned out. WTF? I don’t think she has kids, or at least definitely not four! I haven’t even taken them out the bag yet.

And I won’t today either as I have to get my house clean before my mother shows up to babysit tonight. But don’t get too excited, it’s just so the BH and I can attend a carol concert. And we’ve got another tomorrow night, and the over abundance doesn’t do much to raise my Christmas cheer. Now I know why people are pleased to have twins, or triplets.

Normally I would get my brother to babysit as he doesn’t care how many toys he has to clamber around or over, but he pulled a feeble excuse claiming he was attending college tonight. Feeble because he’s fibbing, but I didn’t say anything. But you’d think being my brother he’d know what my BH did for a living, though he evidently doesn’t realise my BH also arranges the computer shift cover at our only college, and guess what? Evening classes finished last week! Still, maybe I’m wrong about the excuse and the fool will trudge up there and sit in an empty classroom for twenty minutes before realising. Umm, now I’m wondering if I should have called his bluff and informed him, as this is a real possibility! I think I shall call him tomorrow and ask.

But I’m not complaining (not really anyway ;o)), this year should be nice as it’s the first time the BH and I have attended the concerts together. Wish us luck, it lasts for two and a half hours.

Good old days

I was grinding my teeth and muttering curses today! Just a silly thing to get annoyed about now I’m thinking back, but at the time I could have merrily slapped someone.

It’s Monica’s fault. Bloody perky Monica. I stood outside nursery with this woman for YEARS. Or rather I didn’t because she was mostly late. But when I did, she pretty much ignored me, which wasn’t a bad thing in my book. Though I feel I should add there nothing wrong with her, she’s just too much like Cheri Blair, with perkiness and less intelligence, for my taste. And she can’t park for shit!

Day after day she would block me in and coo at her child as he attempted to kick her face in, as she attempted to strap him in his car seat. Ideally her husband wouldn’t buy her huge cars and she would take lessons and learn how to reverse, that way she could take a proper parking place and coo at leisure – as she does anyway, but I mean just her pleasure.

And she likes to chatter (though not to me, as I’ve mentioned). Little Miss Perky Popular with the Volvo moms. Not that I care about that! Except when I have to sit waiting for them to finish their gossip.

But I don’t have to sit waiting, because her son left in July! But she just can’t stay away.

Any bloody excuse and she’s back. Today was the Christmas party – and THAT’S an excuse! Oooo, and just like old times she pulled in and blocked my car as we were getting into it! No-one else’s I might add. Just mine, with me sitting in it.

‘Two minutes,’ she yelled with a smile and perky wave. Seven minutes later, as I sat drumming my fingers on the steering wheel and grinding my teeth, S asked if she was my friend.

Now look what’s happen, I repeat a tale of a moment’s frustration and I’m right back in it! That wasn’t supposed to be the point of today’s post. Because the point was that after this incident with Miss Perky, S made me smile and all my gripes vanished.

It wasn’t the friend question, but her confusion about why we weren’t going home before going to pick J and the boys up. I tried explaining that today, wasn’t proper nursery, but the Christmas party and as such the times were different and we were running two hours later than normal (and another fifteen minutes thanks to Miss Perky!).

S got really cross and began kicking her seat. Her face was all scrunched up with her fury that she wasn’t getting a lunchtime orange (she’s adores them at the moment) and I was reminded of P at that age. Somehow when one horrid toddler grows into a nearly normal person the second ghastly toddler that comes along doesn’t worry you so much, and I found her antics amusing. Which of course, just fuelled her fury. She ranted and raved and kicked a bit before she began listening to my explanation. I thought she was understanding it and seeing reason, till I took a look and saw she had fallen asleep.

She’s still so little and I think sometimes I forget the different ages of my kids. Umm, but maybe not quite, as I’m always aware S is the baby and the least hassle, I just forget exactly how young she is, and operate to an age mid-stream. But this year is turning into something special, because now they’re all singing the carols and telling me what they want from Santa. S has joined the others and has activities of her own to show-off, and my baby doesn't often seem such a baby anymore. Earlier in the year I felt relief that I now get more freedom than I’ve had in a decade, and I’m not taking that relief back, it’s just her reaction to everything at the moment is a constant reminder of how small she really is.

I wish I could keep her this little.

It’s not the holidays yet!

I got a tad too relaxed over the weekend and forgot real life was arriving this morning. And after going to bed at 1am you can imagine how delighted I was to be woken at three fifteen, just to receive a telling off - all because I laid out the girls clothes for today on S’s bed!

There’s nothing quite like a three year old screeching ‘Noooooooo’ in your ear, to wake you up with a start. And then S insisted I accompany her back to her bed so I could see where she had flung relocated the offending items.

And tiredness doesn’t make for a pleasant day, more so when the BH has to be in work early so my school run doubled. Then my car had a mad moment. Seriously mad. The damn thing wouldn’t turn off! I had the keys out of the ignition and the thing’s still chugging away – albeit not in a healthy tone. Downright embarrassing in a busy car park too!

But I didn’t have time to worry care as I had to secure seats at S’s nativity play. And you’d think being forty-five minutes early would have earned me the best seats in the house – but no, there are many more dedicated than I. Bummer though, as this is my last year of attending this nativity after the better part of a decade (unless I turn into one of the sad moms who refuses to believe there is no just cause not to go, even if your child isn’t attending nursery anymore – I guess I won’t know till next year!).

Of course I should have had pictures to post - I took over forty, but being so far back and sat behind the biggest (late arriving) daddy there, sent the auto-focus into a twirl with all the hands, heads and general jigging about, so none AT ALL to share.

But I was stressed by then so maybe some of the wobble came from me. And I shouldn’t have been. I shouldn’t have cared that almost every person who came in, was BORN IN A BARN! But if I open a door and walk through it – I close if after myself! Did they? NOOOOOOO! One after another they dripped in, swinging the door wide and inviting the wind and chill to follow!

It drove me insane. I could feel myself wanting to stand up and scream at them all. Don’t they know how long it takes the Aunties to heat that church? I guess not. But that’s not even the bloody point. Unless it’s your door, in which case, do as you please, and ignore my ridiculous hang-ups.

Anyway, mustn’t let this get to me again. I was only bothered because I’m tired. I’ll laugh tomorrow. Probably.

And by the time I got back to the car, my vibes must have preceded me and my car was behaving again. I even got the Christmas parcels posted today. Almost organised!

How are you doing?

It’s been a busy few days.

Who am I kidding - it's always busy! (But the difference is, I’m still smiling)

I had a wonderful birthday this year, thanks in part to all *your* lovely birthday wishes! Thank you, they mean a lot to me. And to add to my delight, the BH took the day off and accompanied me into town to attack the Christmas list. He’s still recovering, whereas I’m thinking it was the easiest it’s ever been!

We also bought a tree, a fake one. It wasn’t an easy decision to move over from the real thing, but my carpet is grateful, not to mention the kids whose chore it was to water our previous trees. And you don't get the pine smell if you opt for the no-drop needles anyway, so... The new fake one also came with lights attached, which almost made the decorating a joy! We should have done this years ago. Another added bonus is we had lights left over, which we’ve put up around the kitchen and made the children jump around with glee. The only complaint has come from my father, who thinks it's too dull - but he's got his own to keep him happy!


Oh, and if you look at the photo, you will see the curtains – my curtains – the ones I’ve been making (forever!). And no, they’re not finished. Nearly, but they need hemming, which I shall attempt to get around to this week.







And talking of the children (I was! Jumping around, remember?!), J did well at her ballet recital. Though it is a wonder how her ballet teacher puts up with all J’s chattering – but I’m not complaining as it was only a couple of years ago we were worried sick because she didn’t talk!









And P had a rugby match this morning. It was freezing and the frost was so thick it looked like it’d snowed during the night. But the sun soon melted it away and P remembered his thermals, proudly telling the lad next to him, that he was wearing three layers. P’s under 8 team played the under 7’s, and they got their asses whipped by the shortest, prettiest little girl. Yep, virtually single-handedly she ran the boys of both teams ragged. (But I told P not to worry, because in a few seasons her parents will start to worry about broken noses and cauliflower ears, and pull her from the team.) Actually I’m being a tad unfair saying they got whipped, as the under 8’s did manage to draw the match – but it should have been a picnic, and it was anything but!

And I must remember it’s *silly hats and the parents match next week – am trying to persuade the BH to go in my place, that or I’ll have to wear high heels, or borrow crutches maybe…




* yes I know P's serious hat is pretty silly in it's own right, but he LIKES it, and those of you that've heard about P before, will remember what an awkward little darling he can be!

Wonderful day!

Today was a busy day! Much too busy, with J on half day (in honour of the immaculate conception), the boys’ school had their Christmas fayre and S had her ballet recital.

Isn’t she cute? No sense of rhythm or sign of grace, but my baby elephant was cute as she lumped about!

In amongst all this, I was set up. But in the nicest possible way.


I had to ask a favour off one of the moms at J’s school, because as they were finishing early and I couldn’t be in two places at once so needed someone to collect J.

But I’m not keen on asking favours, and I only met these people three months ago. Having said that there are a couple of women I have really clicked with. They came around to mine over half term, and we’ve fast becoming a solid little group.

So I dared to ask one of them, Abby (she’s also J’s best-friend’s mom, which is brilliant for me!), as she lives just down the road. She happily agreed but mentioned she didn’t know what she was going to be doing with her daughter for the few hours before her son finished nursery.

Well, I had a couple of hours between pick-ups too, so I suggest she come to mine for a bite to eat.

Great, and then another mom, Sally (this one’s wonderfully nuts and always makes me laugh), asked what we were planning to do with the afternoon, so I invited her too with only the mildest worry about when I was going to find the time to tidy up and make my home respectable. But Sally po-poohed the idea saying I didn’t need the hassle, and instead suggested lunch out, and by this time a third mom, Trish said she’d like to join us.

Except we all had to be back in town for the afternoon pick-up and there’s no where in town that has a child play area. It was proving difficult, until Sally shrugged and said we should all go to hers.

This was a great idea as we’ve all been hearing about her huge freshly renovated house, and were dying to check it out.

Because I was arriving from another direction to the others, I got there first and sat outside the gates unsure whether it was the correct place, but the gates swished open and her husband waved me in.

Her house is unbelievable! Big but cosy; not too posh, but stylishly French fabulous; completely to my taste, though not my pocket ;o), and she’s like me, and loves her kitchen best of all – the big difference being mine could fit inside hers twice over (and I thought mine was big!) I could go on but you get the picture.

Of course it was total chaos with a hoard of screaming girls running about the place and toddlers investigating anything that looked vaguely edible. Sally didn’t care a jot, and we sat drinking tea around the refectory table her husband made (WOW!) and adoring Sally’s home (especially her underfloor heating, heavenly, and we all kicked our shoes off and watched the kids do roly-polies across her rug).

So we were all in her kitchen when Sally excused herself and vanished into her utility. When she reappeared she was carrying a great big chocolate cake with a lit candle on top.

Then they all started signing happy birthday.

When I say it took me several seconds to realise who they were singing to – I mean it REALLY did not occur to me, that it could possibly be me!! It’s not my birthday till tomorrow and I’ve only known these women a few months!

Lost for words is an under-statement. All I could manage was a goldfish impression and I had to be reminded I should blow out the candle and make my wish!

I was near tears. I am still. No-one has ever done something like that for me before.

Trish was sitting next to me and I asked if she had known about the cake – she laughed at me, and explained that was why we were all there!

Can you believe it? I’m still having trouble! Don’t get me wrong, people do nice things for me. But to arrange an afternoon like that?

I’ve never liked my birthday very much, but this one hasn’t even arrived and yet it’s going down as the second best ever! (The best was my twenty-first when the BH proposed) In fact it’s going down as one of my favourite days EVER! I am so lucky and today I truly feel it.

Getting seriously stressed!

I’m wading through the mud again, clawing my way to the end of term. But I’ve been wondering if my sheer desperation to have a break from the school runs, is as a result of the term being too long, or whether it’s all in my mind because I know a break is approaching?

And this year I’m making sure it is a break! I’ve ignored the pleas to attend tennis club, I’ve binned the intensive swimming lessons leaflets, I’ve reminded the guitar teacher we’re term time only, and I’ve told all my friends we’re out of circulation!

Only another week and two days to go (just two days for S), and then…sweet nothing for seventeen whole days. Except that Christmas thing of course.

Ups and downs, round and round

Further to my moan of yesterday, and the subsequent advise offered (for which I’m very grateful) I have made a decision. And that is: I’m not going to rely on anyone but myself (and the BH) in future. This isn’t meant with any bitterness or anger, I just feel that the process of people agreeing to do something, then changing their mind, irritates me more than them not offering in the first place.

I decided this after reading your comments and talking with a girlfriend this morning. Moaning again (I wasn’t quite finished ;o)). What I like about this particular friend is that we’re the same, like two peas in a pod, hating and loving the same things. Though all my friends are wonderful, she’s the one I share my wickedest thoughts and feelings with. Did she sympathise? Offer great advice like some of you did? NO. She laughed at me and went on to prove she could better me, by telling me what her mother-in-law had been up to!

After twenty minutes on the phone I was laughing so hard, I had tears in my eyes and we made a pact not to make our children’s lives so difficult (though this doesn’t kick in till they leave home!)

And then something else happened. S’s swimming. It was the typical rush up there. In the rain. But at least now my parents are home, I didn’t have to check their mail or water their plants, so we made it on time and before I started screaming.

And S did great. Really great. In fact today was the first time she allowed herself to let go of her instructor and the edge of the pool. A breakthrough for S! She was so pleased with herself, and I clapped and cheered her on from behind the glass wall. And realised I couldn’t stop her lessons for next term.

And you know what’s weird? Sitting there deciding I could, and would, continue with the hassle of Tuesdays didn’t feel so horrendous when it was MY decision.

Of course when I looked at the clock and saw that the teacher had overrun, I was panic struck again and hurried S out, to set off on the next pickup!

Coincidence?

For the past month or two, I feel my general mood has been better. Of course I may not be the best person to judge and I leave it up to you whether to agree or laugh your socks off. But tonight it’s not, tonight my mood is falling down the bottomless pit I know a little too well.

On the face of it, there’s no reason, if anything my mood should be great as my number one daughter, J, was an angel in her Christmas nativity play this afternoon. And she was a delight. I even got there on time and got good seats. Better still I remembered the camcorder and camera, and I would’ve posted pictures if I’d remembered to take the bloody memory card too! But I’m not overly upset about that, as I have the memories and anyway, it’s my own fault and this mistake will mean I won’t forget next year.

In fact everything is my own fault, and I’m not even sure what it is about everything that’s making me so pissed off. Though I have an idea, and shall have to start at the beginning.

I live on an island, it’s small and because of where we live nowhere is further than five miles away (apart from the rest of the world!). But living in a small place means that after twenty odd years of living here, I consider any drive longer than fifteen minutes, too darn long. And the speed limit is stupid because all the roads are small, so it really can take you half an hour to get three miles, and that’s downright annoying when it’s your life.

Anyway the point is, I detest driving and avoid going further than two miles in any direction. The north of the island is too windy and bleak for my taste, so no problem there. The east has very little to offer, so again no problem. But the west is a nuisance because it’s where R’s tennis is, P’s rugby, S’s swimming is, and it’s where my parents live.

And my parents got back today. After seven weeks in the sun they’re back for my birthday and Christmas time with the family. Great.

In fact double great, because maybe it means I’ll be able to get a little help with things. After all when my mother signed S up for swimming on Tuesdays (at the sports centre next door for her convenience), she swore blind she would do the running to and fro.

Except. MY MOTHER’S NEVER BLOODY HERE. And when she is, she signs herself up for golf! I wouldn’t care if I had more than four days to finish my Christmas shopping before S breaks up. I wouldn’t be so astounded if the weather wasn’t utter crap, and it made sense that anyone would want to be outside for four hours. I wouldn’t be so ungrateful if my mother didn’t give me a hard time whenever she wants see the children, and it’s not convenient for me. I wouldn’t be so narked, if my mother showed the tiniest bit of regret or remorse for booking up her day without a thought to the prior commitment. And I wouldn’t be so fed up if she thought to warn me with less than twenty hours notice.

And another thing! Tonight she told me S should go to gym tots because she obviously loves jumping, as the state of my sofa reveals. I said no bloody way was I signing up any of the kids for anything more, because there is only one of me, with one car, one pair of hands and only twenty-four hour in each day to get everything done.

‘Oh I’ll do it!’ she piped up, still smiling.

‘Like the swimming?’ I asked.

She thought it was hilarious.

But I managed to stop her laughter. And no physical force was required, I just said the form had arrived for next term and I wasn’t signing S up. Before there could be any argument I explained I just can’t manage it. I mean three out of four weeks, I do. But the ten minute lunch window, along with the twenty minute drive each way (mostly in the pouring rain at the moment), and immediately on to the school runs, just stresses me out to the point of wanting to scream. And it’s only a Tuesday! Maybe if it wasn’t followed by Wednesday’s bedlam I wouldn’t mind so much. But it is, and I do.

My mother’s not happy with me, but when she consulted her diary she noticed she wasn’t here for another seven weeks of next term, so she hushed up pretty quick.

However I’m thinking my parents stress me out. Generally. Not what they do, or don’t do, just them. Don’t get me wrong, they’re wonderful and I love them dearly. It’s just the effect they have on me. Whenever they get back they’re always fed up if I have other things planned. They like me to meet them every Saturday and the family to go to theirs on Sundays. These things are nice, we all enjoy them, except if you want to do other things, then you’re treated as though you’re slapping them in face. They also like to pop by, and be served tea, without any notice, which is less than ideal for a secret smoker. And even when they do give notice and I warn I’ve got to be someplace else at a certain time, they don’t pay any attention. In short they wear me out. They’ve been home less than a day and I’m exhausted and fed up.

And I know that’s wrong. It’s all my own doing. If I had some nerve I would explain to them when they drive me bonkers (except the smoking bit, which I’ll never have the nerve for). And most of it is probably my imagination anyway. And knowing all this, adds another element: GUILT, for being so damn ungrateful.

--x--

So here I am, typing this. When I started I wanted to scream and kick things. Now I want to cry.

And I may not have to worry about swimming tomorrow anyway as P has a rumbly-tumbly (AGAIN!), not that it makes much difference as I still won’t get any shopping done. Bloody hell, you would think some of them would figure out I need some time to buy the presents they all want for Christmas! I’d better go look on eBay.

Sorry for the pitiful rant folks, but if I get it all out here, it means I’ll be nicer to the kids ;o) And if you’re still reading, thank you.

Deep Breath

Bar humbug, I’m going off this Christmas thing! On Friday the Christmas cards I ordered finally arrived. The reason they’re so late is that I ordered them from my daughter’s school after they had the children design their own for our approval. I thought it’d be cute to send out a card J had designed herself. But I didn’t anticipate the printing process. Or maybe I didn’t pay enough attention to her design in the first place. I certainly noticed the price of this luxury, but it’s a bit unusual, and a better than average way to raise funds for the PTA, and it was a cute idea!

Here’s what we got:

Is it me, or does this remind you of a cheap seventies Christmas card? That’s what they remind me of. They’re horrid. I just can’t bring myself to send them out, especially as the recipient wouldn’t know why my taste had dive-bombed unless they look on the back cover and see J designed it herself. And if I was sure everyone would do that, I’d also feel reasonably sure, they’d see it was a cute idea too!

But I don’t look to see who prints the cards I receive. I suppose could write a comment in each, explaining. But then, why not go one better, and prove my kids helped design them?!

Yesterday afternoon, feeling determined after my *pathetic attempt to dent the Christmas list failed miserably, I got out the glue and glittery things and put my children to work.

Oh the **fun we had! And we even remained calm right up until the final ten minutes, by which time the entire table was covered in glitter. And most of the floor. And there were snowflakes stuck to the chairs, and door. Of course all clothes and hands had to be washed, and quite a few faces too. (You’ll notice I said we stayed calm. Even the BH didn’t escape this fun! Not that it didn’t occur to him to ***try.)

In traditional family spirit, everything was argued over. How much glue other people were using, who mixed the red glitter with the silver (it was S!), why so-and-so was hogging the angels. Yes, it was what memories are made of (I can even smile about it already!)

And here’s a sample of the appalling hand-made Christmas cards we shall be torturingwowing our friends and family with this year:

The children are delighted, and can’t wait to do it again. And I suppose those closest to us shall see the cuteness of this year’s effort. I hope. And as for the rest, well they won’t forget they got one from us!

--x--

* I did manage one item on the Christmas list, R’s guitar! Having let the BH see the advice of all, and Maureen’s threat, the BH agreed to my father’s choice and R’s going to be a very lucky boy! Many thanks to all.

** Yes, this is sarcasm.

*** Husbands are like Labradors, all for sticking around when the going is fun, but when they spot something they’re rather not witness they silently slink along the wall looking for the nearest exit. Of course once cornered they don’t put up much of a fight ;o)

An odd thing

This morning the BH got up first to make the tea, and I’m sure any normal person would like their Better Half’s to do this occasionally – and I’m not complaining. It’s just, if I don’t get up within a minute or two of waking I stay tired for hours into the day.

Having said that, I was pleased it was him who first went into the kitchen today, because there was a BIG puddle waiting. When the BH came back to bed he told me that the dishwasher had leaked (you remember it’s a temperamental sod at the moment). But when I got up and took a look at the floor around the dishwasher it was dry, so the BH checked the ceiling, and that’s fine too.

So where did our puddle come from? My suspicions lie with the dog! The weather here at the moment is screwy beyond belief and last night when I tried to tempt him out into the wind and rain, Ryker (my dog), stuck his nose out the door then thought better and headed off for his bed instead.

I’m impressed, as my last words to him last night were, ‘If you pee on my carpet, I’ll skin you!’ It’s a wise dog who opts for the tiles. And of course if I had a sense of smell and the BH didn’t have a cold, we’d probably know for sure!

If it's not one thing, it's another...

For several hours today I didn’t have internet access. Even before this morning I could have told you how I react when my email is taken away! Still, on the bright side my house is cleaner ;o)

And it looks like being the month when things go wrong as the BH’s car is poorly and can’t be driven. Woe is me as I’ve lost my backup picker-upper, and am now taxiing him to and fro too.

Moving ahead on the Christmas present front and the obstacles keep coming. Apart from the lack of funds and space for all these gifts, the shops have sold out of the stuff I want. This is the joy of living on an island! So I’m madly ordering online and can only hope everything turns up in time.

No.1 son is also causing an issue. He wants an electric guitar for Christmas, but his father said no. Trouble is Papa said yes, went into town, found one he liked, put it aside and told me we’d go halves and could I go in and pay for it. I haven’t because the BH isn’t pleased with me and I’m panic-struck it’ll be gone before Papa returns to the island next week and balls me out for not buying it.

For my part, if R wants a guitar – so long as he understands the family have to club together and he’ll get nothing else – then he can have it, because anything else he gets he won’t be thrilled about. But (why is there always a but?!) the BH says we should get him a cheap one, Papa says it’s a waste of money and we’ll only be buying another next year, and R is whining his friend got one for eighty quid and if I got one for eighty quid then Papa could buy him some other stuff he’s after.

I feel like I’m between a rock and a hard place and can’t do right for doing wrong, and I’m sure this isn’t what Christmas is supposed to be about!

Anyway, no rest for the wicked, S needs taking to ballet before I hit the school run, go back to pick her up, then meet the godmother, take R to guitar, pick the BH up, pick R up, and I suppose I should think about we need for dinner.