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.