Sunday 29 July 2012

Dodging bullets

I was in the gym this morning, when Beyonce's song 'Best thing you never had' came on. Usually we're subjected to some completely unmotivating slow-ass stuff like Richard Marx and Wings which normally has me nodding off mid jog, so this was somewhat of an improvement. Anyway, there's a line in it which sounds suspiciously like "..You showed your ass and I saw the real you", which surely can't be right? Because not only are they appalling lyrics, but what on earth could have been so bad about his ass that acted as such a repellant?! Boils? Scales? Did he wear a nappy? I shudder to think. Got me thinking though; there can't be many people on the planet who haven't completely dodged a bullet when it's come to previous romances. One of my exes used to hollow out a baguette and fill it with beef and tomato Pot Noodle for his lunch, one wouldn't have known the truth if it walked up to him wearing a sandwich board and flashing deely-boppers and punched him in the kisser and another never wore shoes. Ever.I mean - I know we've all got our faults, but can you seriously imagining marrying someone like that?

I'm in the process of writing a book, and admittedly finding the characters relationships side of things tricky. In most chick-lit stories, the male character is usually flawed in some way (a bit of a womaniser or a commitment phobe or a mummy's boy) but at the end of book realises the error of his ways and is perfect for whichever female sap has been waiting patiently for him for the entire length of the story. But real life and real people aren't like that. Most men don't become incurable romantics with the love of a good woman, or have an epiphany and stop acting like a horny teenager. Nope. They usually just carry on into middle age still forgetting when their anniversary/wife's birthday is, still have the same bad habits of forgetting to flush the loo and eating like a cement mixer, still have that gormless expression on their face when they're concentrating and - if you're really unlucky - still trying it on with any female enough to look at them sideways. So, my dilemna is thus; do I break with convention and go with real life? Have characters who get on each others norks, who row in Asda over where to park (she wants to park next to the store, he wants to park in the furthest possible space) which checkout has the shortest queue and who both wear pyjama's that have seen better days. Or do I stick with the rules and have main protagonists who shag like they have horny goatweed sprinkled on every meal and who are achingly beautiful/trendy/rich with names like Celestial Starr and Mitchum Lovelace? Answers on a postcard please! Actually, I'm kind of keen of Mitchum Lovelace...

Friday 27 July 2012

Tapeworms and tantrums

The tapeworm is back! It must be - what other possible excuse could there be for my nonstop eating? I mean apart from being a greedy mare, of course. And because of it being the 6 weeks holiday, I've not been able to get to the gym as much. With every handful of crisps and every jaffa cake, I can literally feel my bumcheeks creep a bit further down the back of my legs. Doesn't help that The Daughter and I went to Sainsbury's this morning and filled the trolley with nothing but filth. I felt guilty all the way round the shop, waiting for someone to make a comment about my kids getting rickets or scurvy. The Daughter attracted enough attention on her own, firstly by yawping loudly as we passed the rotisserie ovens  "Mummy, does that lady kill the chickens and put them in there?". Cue lots of laughter and her World-famous poochy indignant face because she didn't understand why people thought it funny. Then, as we were passing the cigarette kiosk she spotted a woman with neon pink hair and thought she'd do a bit of public service by telling those that hadn't already noticed. I managed to clamp my hand over her mouth and skip quickly out the store just in time though.

It's been nice spending a bit of quality time with the Childbeasts; we've been swimming and to a farm, tomorrow we're going to the cinema. But I've yet to strike a balance between enjoying our activities, and wanting to throttle them. Today has been a monumental test of patience, with me having to tell The Daughter off for throwing books at her brother amongst many other things. One minute they're playing 'Holiday Club' (a game which seems to involve throwing themselves on top of each other, shrieking "YOU go to holiday club!" - suffice it to say First choice would be in rather a lot of trouble if that's the sort of activities their reps were encouraging) and the next there's tears and cries of "He kicked me in the heeeeeeaaaaaaad!".  I long for the day they can play unsupervised, without the fear of one of them falling out of an upstairs window/eating cat biscuits/dropping a toy fire engine in the fishtank, but I fear it is some way off.  Barely 2 minutes goes by without me being summoned to rescue the Boychild because he's gotten stuck in his Cosy Coupe (he just WILL NOT learn that the damn thing has a door and to use that instead of sliding down and trying to crawl out through the wheels!) or to console him after he's heard the Rag and Bone man, or to "Watch me mummy! Look at me!" for the millionth time as The Daughter performs her repertoire of daft things, ranging from silly to downright dangerous and idiotic. One thing's for sure, the house is going to be like a ghost town when school starts again in September and The Boychild is at pre-school. I'll miss them when they're not here...honestly....!

Sunday 22 July 2012

Skool's out

The 6 weeks holidays are here, stretching out before me like a sentence for non payment of Council tax. We're two days in; both children are still alive and I haven't become totally alcohol dependant, which I suppose I have to call a result. And the sun has come out! As though God himself has been so pleased with The Daughter behaving herself through a whole school years worth of twice-weekly Worship that he has decided to bless us with some decent weather. And my goodness me aren't we grateful for it! At Asda yesterday I could see the management seething as they'd reduced all the barbecue and outdoor stuff to half price , having decided Autumn was already on it's way. I took advantage of this and purchased some flowers and compost to replant all the plants that the insane amount of rain killed off - plants for £1 and compost 50p! Supermarket 0 - Thrifty consumer - 1!While I was fondling some melons down the fruit aisle, two men who obviously knew together bumped into each other and the manly greetings commenced. "Ey'up!", "Alright mate, are these yours?" (pointing to two small children in the trolley seats) "Yeah, worse luck hurhurhur". Missed a pearler of an opportunity there! He could have said "Fook me! Where did these come from?!" or "No, I found them outside" or even "No, I like to bring underpriveleged children shopping and point out the things they'll probably never have". I also saw a woman with a banana tattooed on her left breast. At least I think it was a banana. It might have been a sunshine or a flower at some point before things started heading south.

On the lookout for gardeny-type stuff, I went to Ikea today, hoping to find some cheap patio furniture and some plant pots. What I actually came back with was a piece of white plinth to go under the kitchen cupboards, 3 packets of sweets, an enormous box of biscuits, a toy rat and some door knobs called 'GROGGY'. A fruitful visit then, all in all. I bloody love Ikea. If it didn't cost me about £100 in petrol to get there (it's only about 10 miles as well!) I'd be there every week, if only for the hotdog and drink you can get for £1.10 at the cafe. A bit of a false economy but hey ho.

I have finally finished all the decorating so I guess I'm ready to start enjoying (enjoying - is that really the right word?) the holidays now. We have a few play dates planned,  a few days out in the pipeline and more toys in the back garden than you can shake a stick at. So keep your fingers crossed it's all enough to keep the Childbeasts occupied and that the sunshine lasts more than a week! All that remains, I guess, is to post gifts of earplugs through all of the neighbours letterboxes along with a warning about the above average noise levels. Welcome to the summer!

Tuesday 17 July 2012

Old Wives

I have turned into my mum. I don't mean that I've shrunk ten inches and gone grey overnight. But all of those things that my mum used to say to me that either made me cringe or roll my eyes, I'm now saying to The Daughter. There was a horror story behind everything when I was a kid, even a harmless slice of toast could have severe repercussions for your appearance. I thought of this tonight after we caught The Daughter giving The Boychild some seeds from dried up bluebells to eat. There he was, plucking them up with his little fingers like a monkey picking peanuts out of poo. Bless him, he doesn't know the difference between the nuts and seeds he gets in his lunchbox and ones that (and I quote) "are poisonous" and "can cause severe discomfort if ingested". Brilliant. I did toy with the idea of telling her something wildly random like 'He's going to have bluebells growing out of his ears every Springtime now!', just to see the look on her face. But then I remembered all the crazy things I'd been told over the years and the effect they had on me..

Eating crusts and/or burnt toast makes your hair curly. This is categorically untrue. Despite 35 years of eating crusts and crucified barbecue food, my hair remains as straight as a die.
If you eat apple pips, an apple tree will grow in your stomach. I mean, seriously??
Eating bogies gives you worms. This feeble attempt at stopping a young child digging in the bogey mines and eating the findings failed miserably.
Touching dandelions makes you wet your pants. Not sure of the biology behind this one, but fairly certain weeds don't cause bladder problems.
If your chin turns yellow if you hold a buttercup under it, you love butter. So, everybody in the world then.
If you have chips and lemonade you get jaundice. Got my dad to thank for that little gem.
"The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner Santa will have been". For years I went to bed at 5pm and woke up at midnight, only to find mum having a go at Santa for dropping 'My Little Pony grooming parlour' on the stairs and making a racket.
Eggs give you salmonella. And if you leave an egg til after it's Use By date, there'll be a chick inside. What a terrifying thought.
Putting on one sock inside out accidentally is good luck. But seeing one magpie is bad luck. This led to years of confusion about whether if you saw the magpie first and then discovered the inside out sock,  would it cancel the bad luck out? And whether if you see one magpie, and then another a bit later, does that count as two? Or does two inside out socks mean bad luck? Either way, I still salute lone magpies with a "Hello Mr Magpie" to this day - just to be on the safe side.

I'm sure there are countless others that have made me into the ball of anxieties and oddities that i am today. So even though it turns my stomach, the next time I see The Daughter burying her finger up to the second knuckle in her nose, I'll just leave her to it!

Friday 13 July 2012

Furry, feathered and fishy friends

It is with a heavy heart and a tear in my eye that I bring you some sad news this evening. Simon the fish, who was born in our tank, who outlived the rest of his Pets At Home brethren and survived the introduction of the carrier bag full of fish from our next door neighbour, has passed away. He was struggling to get off the bottom of the tank last night, and this morning was still on the bottom on his side. So out I went to fetch the net to get him out and said a prayer as I delivered him into his watery grave (the toilet). Only, as he unceremoniously hit the water he started feebly flapping about! He wasn't dead! He was still hanging on to the last strands of life in the bottom of the loo! I texted The Husband to tell him that I was the worst fish mummy in the whole world and he replied ":oO (shocked face) What did you do?" Well, what the dillydickens was I meant to do? I could hardly fish him out (for want of a better turn of phrase) and give him mouth to mouth so I had to flush the poor sod away (three times, because I was a bit scared he would somehow manage to find his way back up the pipes and surprise me while I was having a wee) and hope that his death was quick. There was Dosmestos down there at the time so I'm guessing so.

Simon wasn't the only animal that caused me grief today. I went to bed for a bit this afternoon, and was just dropping off when the sodding cockerel from round the corner started cocking, or whatever it is they do. I thought they only did that at about 5 in the morning but the noisy get was determined to ruin my afternoon siesta. Crowing! - not cocking. I'm sure cocking is something entirely different.

And Birdie rounded off the day nicely for me. We had two of The Daughters friends round for tea, and the kittens were being used as living Girls Worlds, modelling Bendaroo earrings and tail decorations. So to exact some revenge, Birdie waited until the kids were sat down to eat and went to drop her brown shopping in the litter tray. Remind me again why I like animals so much?

Update: This morning I checked the tank and saw....a baby fish!! A tiny fry was flitting about at the bottom, barely visible. It's like Simon has been reborn! Please keep your fingers crossed that little Binky escapes being eaten or sucked up into the filter..

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ndS0H6Fy1_E&feature=g-upl


Monday 9 July 2012

Give Way.

Just in case you weren't aware, or having been living in your own little micro-climate, we've had some serious rain. The wettest spring and early summer since records began apparently. As if to confirm this, we are cultivating the worlds biggest flat mushroom under the kids trampoline in the back garden, so big it could easily provide the family with all of our five-a-day requirements. I keep thinking that, one evening, I'll look out of the patio doors over the garden, and see a little pixie sitting on it and fishing into a large puddle. The weather was getting me down last week, I can't deny it. I have been a bit of a misery and the incessant rain really hasn't helped matters. So over the weekend I made the pilgrimage Dahn Sarf to see an old friend, where I get 24 hours of respite (being able to pee in peace and stay in bed past 7am). The Daughter tried her best to squeeze out some fake tears at my departure on Saturday morning (if that girl doesn't end up at drama school, I will eat my shoes), and off I went.

I'd just pulled up at some traffic lights on an island where I was to pull off onto the M1 South, when I saw a silver Corsa sitting on the M1 North sliproad. It didn't have its hazard lights on so it drew my attention. And as I passed it I saw its elderly driver start to reverse back up the sliproad towards the island, having realised he was going the wrong way! Later that day I heard on the radio about an accident on the M4, caused by an elderly man driving the road way up the motorway. A coincedence? I think not.  Bless him, he'd probably tried to reverse his way home.  The way back was almost as eventful, with a closed motorway and a detour, which is just brilliant when your bladder is brimful to bursting. Whilst stuck in traffic about 70 miles from home, who should inch his way past my car but my GP?! We both did a "Ooh I recognise you! / You put me on the pill last week!" face before a Volkswagon  campervan came between us and off he disappeared into the crowds.

I saw some bloody awful driving on that journey; lane closures and roadworks really do bring out the arsehole in people. Mean faced buggers stick to the bumper of the car in front and do the 'pretending to fiddle with the radio so I don't have to look at your pissed off face as I refuse to let you in' thing. I do consider myself a good driver, pretty courteous to my fellow motorists - mainly to try and compensate for what a total roadhogging get The Husband is! My last accident was a decade ago, after a row with The Boyfriend (before he became The Husband), when I reversed like a lunatic off the driveway and straight into a lamp post. As if that wasn't enough, I jumped out of the car and shouted "DO YOU WANT A PICTURE?!" at two elderly neighbours who happened to have witnessed the whole thing. Took me a while to convince them I wasn't a raving lunatic. But since then I drive much slower, much safer and am much nicer to people patiently waiting at junctions. Although since having the kids, I firmly believe the driving test should have a special segment in it whereby you have two kids sitting in the back. The manouvres should include: trying to get them into their seats on a rainy day without crying because the car is covered in mud, having to concentrate through a three year old trying to unclip his own seatbelt and dangling his coat out of the window, and drive with a five year olds constant yabbering "Do you know the people who sing this song? Are any of them dead? Where's that lorry going? Why hasn't that man got a coat on? Do you know that lady?". If you can pass that without driving the wrong way up the motorway or reversing up a sliproad, you deserve a medal. Maybe that poor old fella had got his grandkids in the car...

Wednesday 4 July 2012

Square eyes.

It is with a 'Whoop!' that I announce a most exciting event!!! No not the Higgs Boson thingie. The football has finished!! Normality has resumed! The seemingly endless test of televisual endurance  is finally over and I can settle back into my safe and happy routine of two hours of back-to-back soaps (apart from Wednesday which is the tv equivalent of a barren desert)). It would be more but I don't watch Hollyoaks; I cannot even attempt to identify with 19 year old blonde college-student/mass murderers with names like Mitzeeeeeee and Mercedes so I give that one a wide berth. It has been most unsettling not knowing when, or indeed if, I would see Ian Beale return as a hobo with a beard to rival Brian Blessed's (after only 6 weeks - seriously???) or being able to shout "ASHLEY!!! Tell Laurel you've got no money and no home! For the love of GOD!" at the tv. I did have a bit of a shock on Monday's Eastenders when I realised with a jolt that I owned the same top as Whitney, the Square's resident uberchav. Don't get me wrong, it's not a tie-dyed cropped batwing thing with a sequinned tigers face on, just a purple and white striped tshirt. But still. That'll be going in the next charity bag that comes through the door.

We're not big fans of watching sport in this household. Why bother when it's foregone conclusion that whatever sport it is, we're guaranteed to be shit at it? We try to show our solidarity with the rest of the nation when it's big stuff like Eurovision - sorry, I mean Euro 2012 - and the like, but we undoubtedly get bored twenty minutes in and look on demand for Louis Theroux documentaries. Don't get me wrong, there's a bit of me that's quite excited about the Olympics. How could I not be, when it's our beloved country that's hosting it ? There is a heart beating in there you know, I'm not dead inside! But there's a slightly bigger part of me that's thinking '17 days of disruption to the telly listings! Eek!' I think maybe I'm a little scared that if I have to stop watching for that long that I just might not bother starting again. And then what would I do with all that free time? It would be like living in Victorian times, I'd have to busy myself darning socks and putting on puppet shows for the kids. *Brrrrrrrr*. Doesn't bear thinking about!

Monday 2 July 2012

Men are from Mars.

Today I bring you some sad (albeit not entirely surprising) news - that the celebrity couple known as TomKat are no more. Katie Holmes has decided that she can no longer put up with Tom's over the top gushings and sofa-jumping proclamations of love, and that she can do a good enough job of being a miserable sourpuss all on her own, thank you very much. And this got me thinking. How many celebrity marriages go the distance? And by distance I mean more than 2 years. Indeed, how many marriages between normal people last these days? Not that I necessarily agree with how things were done in th'olden days; you stuck with your spouse even if you spent 99% of the time romanticising about ways to kill them and dispose of the body. Because that's what was expected of you. But I think it's fair to say that the institution of marriage isn't what it used to be. So here is my, by no means definitive, guide to relationships and how to survive them.

Advice for Men

  • Don't look at other women's boobs all the time. Not only will it enrage your wife, it may well enrage the woman whose boobs you are gawping at. And possibly her husband.
  • If your wife is in the habit of bringing home lots of cats, it is best to smile and welcome them in with open arms. If you are going to sulk, make it quick because the cats are staying.
  • Never underestimate the importance of being able to do DIY.  And gardening. And cleaning. And looking happy whilst you are doing it.
  • When your wife is trying to play Songpop, it is VITAL that you do not lie next to her making a noise by absent-mindedly scratching the logo on your t-shirt with your fingernails. Not unless you like being told off.
  • While your partner will want you to offer to help with the cooking, she doesn't want you to actually help. This is because she is better/quicker at it than you and your lumbering interference will infuriate her. But, I repeat, you must always offer to help.
  • As above, but with the cleaning.
  • Do not, under any circumstances, make a comment regarding your partners hair/clothes/weight/makeup that may be in any way misconstrued. If in doubt, remain silent.
  • Yes, romance is often overrated. but we still want it.
Advice for women

  • Men are simple creatures with the most basic of requirements. As long as they get food, water and sex, they are happy.
  • Praise them regularly. Like children and dogs, they respond well to positive comments and encouragement. And occasionally stickercharts and treats.
  •  Never drive a better or faster car than your partner. This will undoubtedly affect his self-esteem. If this is unavoidable, make sure he is allowed to drive your car at weekends as a special treat.
  • Men will never understand your need to watch rubbish telly and read rubbish magazines. Just as you will never understand his need to sit huddled in a darkened room blinking in front a screen pretending to shoot three headed Vikings. Live and let live ladies.

You see, it takes give and take to make a relationship work. None of this 'If it's meant to be, it will be' gubbins for me, because that just encourages the abdication of responsibility and effort. And that's really what makes a relationship work - a shitload of effort. Because if the grass is greener on the other side, it's usually because your neighbour is taking better care of his lawn. TomKat - you should have come to me first, I could have saved you millions in the divorce courts!