Out and about with the famous & In and around with the commoners

Monday 19th September


It has come to my attention that I live in an area where chatting to the A listers is par for the course.


My day started out like any other Monday, dropping my eldest at school whilst being ignored by the various bitchy mums, popping home to finish clearing up with the help of my 2 year old (no breakages) and being very angry at my broken television.


After clearing away the morning rush I took my son to a toddler gym activity that he goes to every week and was surprised to see quite a few children had joined the class.  This immediately put my nose out of joint due to the fact my child is normally spoilt for attention.  But I needn't have worried.  He was pulling his usual faces and running around like a child on amphetamines.  I was so proud.  Not so proud of a new trick he has where he pulls up his eyebrows whilst saying "look Japanese".  I wonder how long it will be before he is put on the young racist lists that the Government have so helpfully created.


After lunch and a chance to sit in the lounge watching Something Special on my laptop I picked my eldest son up from school.


After getting changed I dropped him off at tennis to find myself confronted by a very famous singer who was also taking her son to tennis.  I am pleased to say I managed to somehow annoy her by breathing and tried in vain to be friendly to redress this issue.  By doing so I managed to look like a groupie desperate for her to acknowledge my presence.  Nice!


At least my email to a Z-list reality celeb and fellow school parent went down well.  I was asking him to attend a Fund Raiser I am holding next year.  


Speaking to a friend whilst my eldest played tennis, we realised we must live in "Mount Pleasant" where your neighbour is a singer, your school friend is a footballer, a parent is a Z-list celeb and the local rugby coach is an ex-England player.  Definitely another dimension.


Tuesday 20th September 


Its funny how one day you are chatting with the creme de la creme, and the next you are waiting in for a brick layer who has decided not to turn up and a tv repair man who is refusing to give me a time any more accurate than between 9am and 5pm.


At 12pm, the TV repair man arrived with his henchmen and proceeded to whistle through his teeth (a sure sign of being ripped off) and wouldn't commit to a further delivery date.  Do you think he is going to steal my TV?


After my run in with the TV repair thief I briefly had lunch followed by a short argument with my husband regarding getting a job or working from home ... ideally that pays.


Oh, the joys of real life only occasionally impaired by my fleeting life as a housewife who rubs shoulders with the elite.

April - The Chocolate Drug and Being a Royal Observer

Thursday 21 April – Maundy Thursday

Half Term is a funny thing.  Once your kids stop their regular activities it gives the body time to adjust and get very very ill.  In my eldest son’s case it is Gastro Enteritis which involves an initial house decoration of vomit and poo followed by more poo and lots of sleep.

Poor thing and to make it harder my youngest is now getting cabin fever and has started to climb the walls, or more specifically me.

Roll on the end of May when I am sunning it in the Med whilst my husband has to run rings around the kids ... ah bliss!

Friday 22 April – Good Friday

Finally my prison sentence has been lifted and my parole officer, Mr Kingston, is off work for a long weekend.

At the same time my eldest is now started to improve.  I just hope he is well enough for Sunday, the biggest day of his life so far and ours for that matter.

Sunday 24 April – Easter Sunday

Today is a very important day in the Kingston household.  Aside from giving my children chocolate poisoning from overeating but my eldest is going to be a mascot at the Saracen’s Rugby Game and will play rugby on the pitch at half time.

At the match the sun was shining and my husband was so proud I thought he was going to have a hernia.

I, of course, was my usual competitive mum screaming from the terraces and watched my son score a couple of cracking tries.

When they came off the pitch I demanded to know the score and then smugly looked on at the 10,000 strong crowd as if to say “Look at my fantastic son”.

I must have taken about 1000 photos to bore people with over the next few days.

Monday 25^th April – Easter Monday

Woken at 5.45am by my youngest.  This as it turns out in the following days is a lie in.  But today this was a killer.

Got woken up again at 6.15am by my eldest saying he wants to do the easter egg hunt straight away.

After forcing my kids to have breakfast whilst i walked outside in my dressing gown and slippers feeling the 6.45am sunshine I managed to hide all the small eggs in the garden.

By 7.21am all the eggs were discovered and the kids were egg-static (sorry couldn’t help it!)

Within another 10 minutes they found the huge easter eggs my sister had left for them which they proceeded to open.

By 8am the kids were on the biggest sugar rush of the century.  They would have been less active had I given them a Class A drug.

By 8.15am Mr Kingston and I were regretting the sugar rush and were praying for the day to end.

It didn’t until 14 hours later when we were nicely tucked up in bed waiting for our early morning wake up.

Friday 29^th April – Royal Wedding

I have been so excited about the wedding, you’d think I was a guest or even the bridesmaid.

My invitations had gone out specifically telling everyone to dress in red, white and blue.  The BBQ was cleaned.  The food was prepared.  The alcohol was plentiful.  Most importantly the bunting was up and the flags ready for waving.

As my guests arrived they congratulated me on my beautiful tiara and we waved our flags as we watched the procession of people arrive.

Obviously I was so jealous of Kate.  How dare she live the dream that millions of us have only imagined.

The dress was stunning, Pippa very graceful and the Abbey beautiful.

After waving our flags and singing the National Anthem we ate our food and drank copious amounts of liquid.

And best of all, I was voted the most regal one at the party, obviously!

Leapfrog Maths Adventure to the Moon DVD

Maths is very popular in my house.  I have a husband with a Masters in mathematics, a six year old who is very keen on multiplication and a two year old who can count up to 14, albeit skipping seven on a regular basis.


I have always tried to make learning fun at home which is not always easy.  With the television, computer and the wii to contend with just trying to get my family's attention is a triumph.


So I was ecstatic to be given a maths DVD for pre-schoolers to review.  Happy but skeptical.


But it seems my skepticism is unfounded.


Both my two and six year olds were glued to the television, watching Leapfrog and his friend Lilly fly a rocket to the moon, reach the stars and meet fun aliens.  All this and on the way they sang songs about counting, skipping numbers and sorting colours and shapes.


My six year old predictably narrated his mathematical prowess during the 30 minute film but I was very pleased to see my two year old engaged in the DVD, not only showing interest but trying to count on his fingers.   And together we shouted the colours when we saw them.


The DVD also offered the chance to watch the film with the lyrics so we could sing to our hearts content.


Whenever you are stuck for ideas to entertain the kids whilst secretly educating them I would highly recommend this DVD.


It will keep the whole family entertained.


To be in with a chance to win one of three DVDs before it's official release on 9th May just answer this question:


What is the name of Leapfrog's friend.  Is it:
A) Lilly
B) Billy
C) Dilly

Talking of poo has got me reminiscing ...

Talking about vomit and poo has got me reminiscing about the good old days when my eldest, now six, was very young and my husband and I had our first "poo conversation".

We've all been there. young, free and single and a married friend with a new baby starts to talk incessantly about the bowel movements of her little darling.  It is then we vow never to have this discussion.  But like all parents vowing never to sound like their sad friends, or worse, their own parents, out it comes, the "poo conversation".

First you talk to each other over a glass of wine and a curry about how proud you were the first time your little one pooed real poo rather than that nasty meconium, then you move onto your friends who are forced to hear about the contents of your little one's nappy.

And to make matters worse, you don't care that your friends are screwing their faces up and turning away.  In fact not only do you not care, but how very dare they imply your child's poo is anything other than wonderful when it should be perceived as gold nuggets.

Now I am a seasoned mum who knows when to keep her mouth shut about the contents of her kids' nappies and pants.  Unless of course they are ill, then the real discussion starts about it ...

Man-flu, a son with real sickness and a wasted week

Saturday 17^th and Sunday 18^th April

This week has felt like a holiday for me as my youngest has been in a kiddie camp every morning with his brother.  So for the first time in two years I have had each morning to myself to do anything I want.  These have included:

·        Putting petrol in the car

·        Food shopping

·        Folding clothes

·        Cleaning the house

·        Studying

·        Replying to community emails

What a bloody waste !

Then the weekend arrived and with that illnesses.  First my husband was complaining of man flu and complained that I wasn’t sympathetic enough to his needs.  I wasn’t.

As my husband started to recover from his mystery illness my son decided to have real sickness which started out as a tiny tummy ache and ended in a decoration of the hall carpet of vomit mixed in with lots of diarrhoea.  Whilst my husband dutifully scraped up the sick and used our carpet cleaner I was delegated to runny poo management, wiping up my son, the clothes, the toilet area and my hands.  This was followed by a couple of hours of “sharting”.  Please see me for a description of this wonderful word.

At least the sun has been shining.

A reptile, a car washer, lots of vomit and 2 horses "lying very still"

Saturday 9^th April

Today has been a very surreal day.  It started off as a normal Saturday, home-made pancakes followed by Mr Kingston taking the youngest swimming whilst I took my eldest to Kumon.

After rushing to a birthday party the kids enjoyed arts and crafts followed by lunch and football in the garden. 

After the party we walked home bumping into the local car washer who discussed which football star has moved in where.  I didn’t recognise a single name but my son got very excited.

After the nice walk we decided to go garden furniture hunting and drove to the local garden centres.  A great strip of road with garden centres, aquariums, pet shops and a reptile house.

So after looking at a dozen garden tables we bought the children a “99” each at £1.50 and walked to the reptile house.  At this point our youngest didn’t want the ice-cream and alarm bells should have rung then.  But we put it down to tiredness.

Going into the reptile house my eldest and I stood outside with our ice-creams but the owner ushered us in saying it was not a problem but not to spill it on the floor.  “No problem” we said.

My youngest squealed with delight at the snakes, chameleons, tarantulas and lizards until he threw up all over the shop floor not once, not twice but three times.  Poor thing was so sick and cried his eyes out.

My husband and I came to his rescue immediately and after offering to clear the mess off the floor, which they said they would sort out, we left the shop and drove home.

Taking the kids home and putting our little one to bed to rest we watched the Grand National, a great tradition in our home.

It proved difficult to lie to a six year old about the two dead horses when explaining why the jockeys were riding around Beechers Brook and the Chair.  He bought it, phew!

What will tomorrow bring?

I got an award from a fellow blogger ... how lucky am I

A brilliant blogger has decided to give me The Versatile Blogger award ... you can catch her on http://wouldliketobeayummymummy.blogspot.com/ ... a must read

Now, this is the science bit ...

Here are the rules:

1* Thank the person who gave you the award and link back to them in your post

2* Tell us 7 things about yourself

3* Award 15 recently discovered new blogger

4* Contact these bloggers to let them know they've received the award

1. I like to go under a pseudonym sometimes ... sssshhhhhh
2. I have so little time to blog when I eventually get one out I feel very smug
3. I love chinese food and salt popcorn
4. My favourite films and tv are sci-fi
5. I have a very wicked sense of humour ... which sometimes gets me in all sorts of trouble
6. My husband has competed in a natural body building championships UK and will kill me for saying this ... so I'll mention he also has an MSc in Financial Mathematics
7. People think I am cleverer than I am

People I would like to award are:

http://multiplemummy.blogspot.com 

http://mothersalwaysright.wordpress.com

http://sahmlovingit.blogspot.com/ 

http://mummyattheschoolgate.blogspot.com 

http://www.notanottinghillmum.co.uk 

http://helloitsgemma.wordpress.com 

http://notyetayummymummy.blogspot.com

http://www.kidz4mation.com/blog.php 

http://themumblog.com/  

All worthy of this award and all brilliant blogs xxx 

Mothers Day, Shmothers Day ! It's all about the kids

Sunday 3^rd April – Mothers Day

Pre-children I always thought Mother’s Day was an excuse for mums to get their own way and not be at MY beck and call.  It was a travesty.

Flash forward to today and I am now a massive proponent of Mother’s Day.  In fact, I firmly believe it should be mid-week, not a Sunday and that it should be a public holiday designed solely for mums everywhere to fully utilise the day being completely selfish.  Of course shopping centres, hairdressers, spas and other useful shops should stay open with penalties for closure.

Today was a very special day for me.  Of course it started as any normal day should with my youngest waking us at 5am.  Dozing off at 5.45am I was awoken at 6am by my eldest shouting “Happy Mother’s Day” and presenting me with a card and gifts before announcing he was still tired and going back to bed.

So far so annoying.

I was fully prepared for a selfless day of rugby, watching my eldest at a rugby festival (didn’t even know these things existed) followed by a Saracens game.

But thinking my glass was half empty I ended up having the time of my life watching my son win match after match against all odds, chatting with his team mates’ parents and enjoying the sunshine.

The best part of the day was realising that the winning streak meant we were too late to watch Saracens and instead took my family for a lovely meal where we wallowed in our son’s glory.

I have lost my voice from cheering my son on and have gained weight from the fudge, icecream and chocolate bought for me but I have realised that the best mother’s day is enjoying my children shine and cheering them onto victory.

No spa could ever better that.  However to test that theory I have of course booked a luxury spa weekend away in June with a friend.  Well, you have to be sure, don’t you?

April Fool and the art of sucking up

Friday 1^st April

I love April Fools Day.  An opportunity to torment anyone and everyone whilst hiding behind the thin veil of April Fool.

Today I managed to fool my six year old into thinking he was late for school resulting in inside out clothing and buttons being done up incorrectly.  Oh, what joy.

But today has not been all jovial.  There has been work to do around this bloody community playground renovation.

I have been busy doing a suck up letter to a local celebrity asking her to be patron of our charity, knowing full well the letter will be unread and unopened.

I have started organising a fund raiser which involves more sucking up to potential attendees, sponsors and raffle prize donators.   All this sucking up is very bad for my health and I am sure I am coming down with a nasty rash and bad case of bullshit-itus.  Highly contagious.

On the plus side my fitness fanatical friend has dragged me on a power walk over hills and dales and in very muddy paths.  It has given me the opportunity to swear at someone, a nice change from sucking up.

A fun run, a grumpy Smartie Artie, terrible Buzz Lightyear and a shockingly nice reality TV star

Saturday 26^th March

Today I attended the local church Fun Run to raise money for their centenary.  This was also a chance to show off our proposed new community playground for the local area whilst drumming up support.

There was the obligatory C-list celebrity, the local MP and lots of kids and elderly people ready for the one mile run.

During the registration we were showing our plans when a man got really annoyed that we were using up more space on the common where he normally walks the dog.  It is worth pointing out at this point the common is over two acres of land and we are proposing to take about half an acre.  I appeased him by pointing out that the wayward children would be penned in the playground allowing his mutt full reign to poo anywhere he wanted.  The stupid idiot bought this and didn’t see the irony in my comments.

After the fun run we dragged ourselves to a friend’s 4^th birthday party where the Smartie Artie had obviously had a massive row with his partner and was taking it out on the kids.  He was in a foul mood and managed to make the birthday boy cry.  He was a right miserable bastard.

Sunday 27^th March

I thought yesterday’s party entertainer was bad.  He may have been a moody bastard but compared to today’s car crash he should have been up for entertainer of the year.  Today’s debacle was a young man dressed as Buzz Lightyear ... badly.  He was sweating profusely and his arsenal of entertainment equipment included a big tub of sweets and a small stereo.

He had obviously been on the lash the night before and spoke very quietly as one would after a heavy night of drinking.

Tormenting Ms Jobsworth and the farm animals

Thursday 24^th March

After dropping my eldest off at school I went home to await Ms Jobsworth from the local Council Planning office.  She was coming over to find fault with our planning application.  Ms Jobsworth would have come over earlier, however she cancelled the last appointment due to having a slight cold and as a public servant working for the Council, obviously took that as a sickie.

Ms Jobsworth was very annoyed as our plans are pretty accurate and fair, however she was able to find a petty and pathetic fault with our boundary wall declaring that the gutter was slightly too close to our boundary.

We are obviously going to contest this as we can’t afford the extension for a while and therefore have time on our hands to waste with the local Council.

Later that day I took my youngest to a Farm where he tormented the guinea pigs and threw balls at any child near him in the ball pit.  After 10 minutes I gave up shouting at him and took him out to enjoy the tractor ride. 

By the time we both left the animals were scared and the farm hands were harassed.  My son’s work was done for the day.

Dressing like a geek, trying to look chic and feeling like a freak

Friday 18^th March

Red Nose Day and that means stress for parents of young children who have to do something for school like dressing up.  In my case my eldest had to dress as a school teacher and in my opinion looked fantastic as a geeky science teacher.  In true geeky style, when he didn’t win the fancy dress competition he burst into tears.  I too was upset, I’d spent ages on his costume.

Saturday 19^th March

After eight months of split ends, looking like a witch and starting to resemble a hobo I decided to treat myself to a much needed haircut.

I bravely went to a hairdressers I had not used before that my friends had recommended.  The fact it is named after chocolate was a good sign.  So venturing into this new shop I realised I had left my wallet, phone and other worldly goods at home by the sofa.  Luckily they said my husband could pay over the phone despite the fact they didn’t know me from Adam.  Very impressed.

The hair washing experience was fabulous with a massage chair which forces your feet to go up and relaxes your whole body.  The only glitch to this experience being the client next to me crowing about her “bruvva” and “step-dad” and “man-u” and “’ow it don’t bovver ‘er”. 

The attractive male hairdresser decided to tell me my hair was lanky, thin, fine and “needed work”.  I felt very sexy and self assured at that point.  However he actually did a half decent job and I came away looking a few pence more than when I went in.

When I got home however I was confronted with an angry husband, crying child and frightened toddler.  I knew then that England had lost the rugby.  This did not bode well for the night ahead which involved eating at a restaurant my husband hates with a couple he can’t even remember because he found them so dull last time on a night when we are both exhausted.

As it turned out the evening was as predicted.  The food was hideous, the company monotonous and my husband a moaning bastard.

At least the hairdresser’s appointment was a treat.  

Sunday 20^th March

I tried to subtly tell my husband I have “women’s pains” and my son says “oh, does that mean they are not as painful as men’s pains?  Men have more pain than women!”  He has much to learn.

A shed, a Kev, a luxury and a chav

Thursday 17^th March

Today has been a surreal day.  It started like any other Thursday with my regular workout at the disease infested indoor play where I was, as always, confronted by lazy parents drinking their cup-of-chinos and others who were very annoyed at my youngest son bumping them on the bumper cars.

Arriving home with a catatonic toddler enjoying his nap, I bought my first shed.  This was an enlightening experience but I am now fully versed in all things shed-like.  I can tell an apex from a pent and a superior to a classic.  I can even tell you whether you will need timber bearers or not.  But most importantly I have discovered that sheds are bloody expensive!

On to my next endeavour, I finally booked my night away with a girlfriend at a very exclusive hotel where I shall be pampered to within an inch of my life.  This is happening in June but already I am planning this major event with microscopic accuracy.

In the afternoon I was pleased to see it was cloudy and damp as the mums organising the renovation of the playground wanted a dull day to photograph the kids looking like orphans from Oliver!  It didn’t go quite to plan as we discovered asking kids to look miserable makes them laugh uncontrollably. 

After this event, a child in my eldest’s school, I’ll call him Damian, decided to target my son as practice for his evil amusement.  Pushing him off the balance beam infront of his mum he immediately pronounced his innocence whilst his mum, as usual, screamed like a banshee at him but actually did nothing about the event.  Wiping the tears from my son’s face we angrily left to go to swimming practice where I can again enjoy indoor play with my youngest whilst the other one catches feet and ear infections in the public swimming pool.

Today I was blessed even further to have 2 chavs in the indoor play talking about “Shazza” and “Tray” and then encouraging their darlings to demolish the place.  I believe their names were “Paris” and “Kev”.

Giving to Japan

A funny thing happened on the way to 2011 ... we went from enemies in the 2nd World War to Friends to Admirers of a Great Nation who has shown true bravery and comradeliness for their fellow man during this time of great crisis.


The other day I was saying to a friend I wonder how good we would have been in Blighty with such an awful disaster and I could only hope we would be half as great as they have been.


But as much as they are dealing with everything Mother Nature has given them, they are friends who need help from us.


There are 2 charities that are helping Japan during this crisis:


www.redcross.org.uk/JapanTsunami


www.savethechildren.org.uk


There are many more but these two spring to mind as one helps the children and the other is a National Symbol of help for anyone in the world.


Good luck Japan, we are with you 100%

Because his heart belongs to daddy ... Part 2

Monday 14^th March

After a night where my youngest on waking would only go back to sleep if “Dada” put him back to bed I felt relieved that finally I would catch up on my much needed sleep and restless because no longer does my baby want me to put him to sleep but his daddy.  I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night fretting about this!  Irony at it's most cruel. 

Because his heart belongs to daddy!

Sunday 13^th March

It has dawned on me today that my youngest son who was always a mummy’s boy has defected to the dark side and started to vie for the affections of daddy.  Bastard!  My eldest was always a daddy’s boy and I had reluctantly accepted my position as second to the alpha male.  My youngest however made sure I was the alpha in my family, coming to me to show me the work he had done – translated into the mess he had created – crying to me when he had scuffed his nose on the concrete or to get food for him. 

But in the last couple of weeks he has been nagging my husband more than me.  In practicality this has offered me the opportunity to actually enjoy my weekends a little more but emotionally this has left a small hole in my heart.  The cries for “Dada! Dada!” are frustrating.  Why not “Mama! Mama!”? 

Mr Kingston has rightly pointed out in the next few years he will bombarded with activities with two boys whilst I can leisurely enjoy my weekends.  I’ll go mad with boredom!

Garden Centres are the new black ... and gastro pubs hate families

Saturday 12^th March

Going to a garden centre when the sun comes up is the new black and with this in mind we ventured out to a large one with a mini steam train, lots of small animals and a beautiful florists.

The day started off brilliantly with my sons eating a “99” each although it should of course now be called a “£1.75”.

After covering themselves in ice cream and chocolate ensuring my washing duties are up to speed we went to have a look at the chickens.  My husband decided that we should get a couple for the garden which sent my eldest in a frenzy wanting it “NOW!”.  Needless to say he was disappointed.

Once my son realised his cruel mother was not going to give him a chicken or three, we went on the small steam train which broke down half way through and made a funny burnt tyre smell.  The kids loved it.

After the broken steam train we ventured into the shed section where my youngest thought he would test the saying “people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones”.  It seems now they are hardened glass this phrase is no longer relevant.

Getting to the cafe ten minutes too late for the hot food my husband said he noticed a pub less than five minutes away.

So into the pub we went.  And the moment we arrived I knew it was a mistake.  The pub was a very smart gastro pub which meant two things – very child unfriendly and very expensive.  The waitress seemed really pissed off we had arrived and told us they were booked up from 8pm.  It was 5.30pm and pointed this out.  “Oh, right.  Sit here then.”  Putting us next to the kitchen we asked to move.  We were put in a much better position next to the toilets. 

Ordering food and drinks and asking it all to come as quickly as possible the drinks for the kids were in pint glasses (apple juice) with no straws and lots of ice.  My two year old thought they were fun for a few minutes.  We were fortunate enough to wait for over 45 minutes for our food resulting in tantrums, yelling and lots of throwing things.  My children were very embarrassed by me.

When the food did arrive it was lovely but we had to rush it and the bill was ridiculous ... £66 for two kids meals and two main courses. 

And the worst part, I left a tip.

When you start to succeed you forget the reason why you started in the first place

Let's start by saying that I started this blog under a pseudonym allowing me to look at the world as a Middle Class Mummy with my very dry sense of humour.

I am lucky to have people who actually read my nonsensical rants and because I am conscious people are actually reading this I have started to make my posts less dry and wicked for fear of upsetting the reader. 

Yesterday I went out for dinner with a friend whom I shall call "J".  J pointed out to me that the reason people read the blog is because it was raw and funny and to get back on track.

I wrote a post about 2 birthday parties and very politely suggested why the latter party wasn't very good.  Last night I told J the real story and after pissing her pants she asked why I never put this in the blog.

Needless to say the real reason we left the party was because it was full of nerds (not geeks which I am very partial to) who were hostile, unfriendly and let's face it ... not particularly good looking or well groomed.

Mr Kingston and I walked in looking ... well ok, I'll say it ... bloody hot ... and all we got were sore looks and sideways glances.

I said in my blog that my youngest was crying enabling us to leave.  Did he bollocks.  We sat down for 10 minutes to debate whether or not to use our kids as an excuse as we don't believe in this ... but we did.  And do you know what, driving home we had a lovely time and Mr Kingston even tried to treat me to a crepe ... it was shut!

So I promise you from now on I will be honest, brutal, real and only tell it like it is ... with a humourous eye of course.

Today for instance I had son number 1 at home with a severe case of bullshit-itus and son number 2 was acting like he was on speed.  Tonight I shall be getting very drunk to forget I have kids.

So welcome to my blog and happy reading xxx

Feet Eating Fish and The Star Struck Stalker

Monday 7^th March

There was a glimmer of hope today from Mother Nature.  And what better way to celebrate the beginning of spring than with a school of fish eating your feet whilst drinking a Chai tea latte and talking shop with a close friend.  This was followed by a lovely walk in the sunshine and a debate about the benefits of fish nibbling dead skin off your toes.

The day only got better when I became star struck at my youngest son’s nursery, coming face to face with a very famous pop star which resulted in my staring at her for a full 10 seconds until she gave me a look to indicate I was a stalker.  My day is complete.

The Sunday Rush

Sunday 6^th March

Sundays for us are always rushed affairs, making sure our son makes his rugby game.  I say “us” and “our” to convince you that my husband is part of this manic process.  In reality I am barking orders to three men of varying ages to do certain tasks in order to be ready for the off.  “Go to the loo!”; “Have a shower!”; “Pack spare clothes!” etc etc.  At least my husband takes full glory when we are in the car on our way.  “We made it in time again.”  Yes darling.  What would I have done without you?

A Tale of Two Birthday Parties

Saturday 5^th March

Today was very much like a game of 2 halves.  Both halves revolving around birthday parties and ironically the 6^th birthday party was more fun, more relaxing and more sociable than the 40^th birthday party.

Dragging my husband to the 6^th birthday party meant I could interact with adults discussing such important matters as who is the sexiest male in True Blood and why we hate Artie Fartie – or whatever his name is.

The 40^th birthday party was a more mature affair with a gorgeous marquee, alcohol on tap and lovely food served on a regular basis. The host and hostess were as always fabulous.  The right recipe for a beautiful party, except for the 150 attendees who were cliquey, nerdy, uninteresting and unsociable.  I have never been a wall flower but after being rebuffed by a few individuals who were more keen to stick to their group of friends, my husband and I cowered in the corner contemplating whether or not to leave.  As luck would have it our youngest was not happy with the babysitter and screamed for our return.  He must be psychic.

Half Term Hangovers Are My Idea of Heaven

Thursday 3^rd March

It must be the aftermath of half term but the indoor play was quiet today.  Very, very quiet.  I am used to going to indoor play areas to mix with spoilt children left to run around whilst their mother’s drink their coffee and talk manicures. 

Because of my attention being put solely onto my son rather than keeping a keen eye out for a maniacal toddler wielding a stick I got to see my son’s first in two things – jumping off a little step and  sliding down the big boy slide.  Thank goodness for half term’s hangover.

The True Sadness of Playground Politics

Tuesday 1^st March

My eldest is in Year 1 at school and already I have noticed there is exclusion, segregation and isolation and I wish this was from the children.  This I can excuse.  This I can fix. 

Today I came home crying from the school playground.  No one was nasty to me, but no one came to talk to me either.  At one point my youngest who is obsessed with babies went over to another Year 1 mum to look into her pram and I overheard her talking to another mum about rearranging the girly night as no one could make it.  Had my emails been mislaid?  Had my phone not worked properly?  No, this is the second clicky group who has arranged a mum’s evening without me.

Don’t get me wrong, some of the mums really like me and I have even had a night out with a couple once or twice.  But as my husband always says I am marmite.  I am outspoken, honest and share my feelings with others.  I am NOT nasty, bitchy, rude or hateful behind people’s backs.  I make the mistake of showing my true self. I do not put up fronts, smile inanely and make small talk about makeup, the weather or show business.

And for this I am persecuted.  I have learnt over the years that shallowness makes for good acquaintances.  Do I sacrifice myself to be liked or do I carry on being who I am, risking no invitation to an inane evening of coffee and bitching.  I know the answer is to stay true to myself.  But just once I would like to be liked for who I am, not who people want me to be.

The Half Term House ... AKA: Bedlam, Harassment and a Jeans model posing as an Area Manager

Monday 21^st February

Day 1 in the Half Term House:

My eldest starts his 3 day tennis marathon which of course means drizzly weather. During his attempts to become the next Fred Perry I dragged my youngest son to the playground for a meeting. 

Now at this point you wouldn’t think that a jeans model would turn up for the meeting pretending to be an Area Manager of some playground equipment company so obviously I didn’t have any make up on showing all my blotchy skin, the rain helped my hair look as frizzy as possible and my youngest made it very clear he wanted to jump in every cold puddle going with shoes on.

So by the time the jeans model arrived I was looking very radiant indeed.  Bastard!  Try having a meeting with George Clooney after a fight with your beauty regime which you will lose and feel good about yourself.

On the plus side I was forced to walk in drizzle forever to get my youngest to sleep which was great for my glutes.

Tuesday 22^nd February

Day 2 in the Half Term House:

Drizzling again, obviously due to it being half term and my eldest insisting on playing a whole morning of tennis.

In the afternoon I ventured out to M&S to get some food.  Being half term I was amongst good company of harassed mums and screaming children. 

Normally I am smug mother as my youngest will sit happily in the trolley pointing at the items.  But not today.  Today he insisted on walking whilst “helping” me by picking up every glass jar he could find.  My talent to inhale swiftly was at it peak.

At the checkout, after loading all the bags and feeling immensely harassed, it appeared I had forgotten my credit card and all other payment so had to go home empty handed and very embarrassed.  It gave me the chance to cry all the way home and my husband was very sympathetic and kind, “that was stupid!” he said.  My love for him multiplied as I slammed the phone down.

Wednesday 23^rd February

Day 3 in the Half Term House:

Would I surprise you in that it rained a lot.

My eldest insisted on playing again today making him drenched but very happy.

I think I am a masochist as I decided to go to Tesco’s.  Fortunately my youngest son was on his medium behaviour only tantruming when I wouldn’t let him throw glass items into the trolley but at least he didn’t refuse to get out and run around knocking everything off the shelves.  A bonus.

The afternoon was spent in the RAF Museum running after the kids telling them not to run and feeling a sense of comradery with the other mums who too looked grateful that it was half the week over with.

Thursday 24^th February

Day 4 in the Half Term House:

The rain has stopped and it is sunny outside.  So obviously this meant my eldest insisted on going to an indoor play.  On the plus side the weather made the indoor play very busy rather than extraordinarily busy so you only had to push past fifty children to get what you want rather than sixty.

The afternoon was taken up in the park pushing a tricycle, watching my eldest forget how to ride a bike and look into the dead eyes of all the other mothers who had endured four days of “endless fun”.

Friday 25^th February

Day 5 in the Half Term House:

I cannot contain my excitement.  My husband has taken the day off so I am officially no longer dead mum walking. 

We have asked the kids what they want to do and they have insisted on Woburn Safari Park.  A place with about 3 animals and lots of mole hills and for the cheap sum of only £40.

My husband kept reminding me that although it is outrageously expensive, in need of some refurbishing and perhaps another animal or twenty it was worth it to see the children’s faces.

You can tell he has had a break from the kids for a week!

On the plus side even he noticed the harassed mums pointing out that you could tell the mums on their own this week as they looked as though they had lost their souls.

Thank goodness the week is over and it’s back to normality next week.

Cake Sales and Weather Woos

Friday 18^th February

Today was my son’s class Cake Sale which in true English fashion is held on the coldest day outdoors, it was a wonder it didn’t rain.  I was very excited to show off my baking skills so in true Slummy Mummy fashion I shopped for some lovely goodies which I then passed off as my own.  I had no guilt as I was not alone in this although the mums in the class priced everything as though it were from Fortnum & Mason rather than the local supermarket.  Despite this the stand was heaving thanks to the mum no one likes who did actually bake some amazing cup cakes.  I really don’t like her!

Saturday 19^th February

In true half term tradition, the week has started off cold and rainy and this is likely to last another four days at least.  Thank goodness.  I was worried that the sun might actually show its face allowing some fresh air time rather than reconstituted air from the inside of my house.  If winter goes on much longer I’ll start to believe I am in a Scandinavian country rather than Blighty.

My bloody Valentine, Overdosing on Carotene and My War with Alpha Females

Thursday 10^th February

My weekly trip to the disease-infested indoor play is a great place to learn how not to parent your children or socialise with other human beings.  This week the other mothers where getting very annoyed with me for bumping their bumper cars on the slow bumper car ride.  I assumed the object of the game was to do what it said on the tin, but I am invariably wrong.

Due to over-ordering carrots on an online supermarket shop I have made sure my children get their weekly dose of carotene in a single meal.  They loved the extra dose of carrots which I was immensely smug about until my children did their usual bedtime routine of running around like nutters until my youngest decorated my bedroom carpet, bedsheets and side table with vomit induced orange with a hint of pink.  At least the smell was awful!

Saturday 12^th Feb

Going to children’s birthday parties are a similar experience to soft plays.  A social experiment where the alpha females rule.  I was fortunate enough to attend such a party where the more competitive mums wearing their designer clothes, designer make-up and designer bling were at their most fertile.  There was a lot of puffing up of chests (presumably paid for by their husbands) and squinting eyes observing their territory.  It was a lovely experience being blatantly ignored.  I knew I should have looked less like a mother and more like a catwalk model.

The day did improve with my husband taking me to a lovely Japanese restaurant in Hampstead followed by the best crepe this side of London.

To complete the evening my youngest decided not to sleep for most of the night, preferring to call me into his room on an hourly basis.  I didn’t mind, I was drunk.

Sunday 13^th February

Whilst my husband and oldest son went off to play rugby I decided to be the dutiful wife and make a large Sunday roast.  This is not an easy task with a two stone child clinging to your hip, but I successfully managed it allowing me lots of praise and the promise of a relaxing afternoon.

I’m not sure which afternoon my husband was referring to or if he understands the word “relaxing” as shopping for bulk items in a warehouse with two children is not particularly restful.  But at least the items were essential like sandwhich bags and toothbrush heads!

Monday 14^th February (Valentine’s Day)

It is traditional in our house to celebrate Valentine’s Day whilst at the same time dismissing it and calling it a waste of money.  We believe this way we are justified in our actions.

Tonight was no exception with a beautiful meal laid on by my good self for my husband consisting of asparagus, large mushrooms, an entire garlic farm and steak, rare of course.  This was followed by a horror movie.  It was a great evening.

Wednesday 16^th February

I’m sure glass shelves in fridges (especially ridiculously expensive ones) are toughened and therefore unbreakable.  Well I was sure until the middle shelf decided to shatter all over the inside of the fridge today causing chaos and a little bit of swearing. 

Word of advice, try to break glass when the kids are asleep, they do enjoy walking in broken glass and eating bits off the floor if you’d let them.  Instead I enjoyed a full on tantrum because I wouldn’t allow him to play with the shiny pieces on the floor.  Now I’ve got to trawl the internet for the exact same dangerous shelf so that I can clear up the mess in another few months.