Wedding Dress

Want to skip gym but "the wedding dress" mantra keeps me focused.

PMT

You know you got PMT, when the sound of children laughing , makes you want to  reach out grab their little lapels and give them and good telling off for being happy and having fun. How very dare they be happy to be alive.
If the kids are leaping about, squealing with glee and generally making hay while the sun shines ... they are probably stamping on my nerves.
As my son says "mummy , your job is to spoil people's fun. Your the fun spoiler."

Abs

I have been going to the gym at least once a week for nearly a year . Sure there have been times when I have not attended, just couldn’t get there during the summer holidays. However overall I have been good. I started with no stomach muscles. Oh , let me re phrase that because I do and did have them but they just served no purpose; they didn’t work, as they were never in use. When I tried a sit up, the mind progressed through the movement but the body was in a state of paralysis. Anyway using balls, great big ones and half spheres too, I have followed exercises shown to me by my personal trainer to activate my abs. A year later, I am now at the point whereby I can perform a sit up ta da! Thus I have been attending 15 min abs classes and by Jove I feel a change a coming.. Rocking my hard bod I got Gav to have a look and feel. I lifted my top , to expose my 8 pack albeit in the making Staring blankly at my trunk he eventually said “ ahhh I think there might be some slight improvement.” Not one to be defeated and truly feeling as though my tummy was almost at washboard standard I demanded he had a feel “underneath,” I said “the muscle is underneath, you see if you press you can feel it, it’s underneath, underneath. IT’S UNDERNEATH THE FAT . Ignore the fat and focus on the muscle, good damn you”

Hmmmm I don’t think the improvement is significant to the untrained eye but I can definitely feel it and feel great for it .

Escargot

Yesterday my son told me “I want to try French snails.” Interesting I thought , so I responded “ ahhh yes, they are a French delicacy. The French call them call them escargot. Why do you want to try them? ”
After a few seconds he said “Horrid Henry had them and he said they were like chewing gum.’

I love his innocent understanding ;what a shock he would have ,if he were to try one soon.

Actually it has made me think about , how much information my kids get from TV. I do remember a conversation about being gay. I heard Teia mention the word. He said it meant happy or when a man loves a man. I quizzed him "who told you that?" Without a second thought he said "Homer. "

Zen mummy turns psycho

I have a black eye and it is developing quickly. It changes colour and size every few hours, fascinating.
The fatal blow was delivered via the inverse headbutt. If you have spent anytime around children , you’ll know what I mean. For those who don’t know, it goes like this: Adult stands over child or holds a toddler , who is in tantrum mode. Then child child jumps up or jolts back , flipping head southwards to strike a killer blow. They know what they are doing, tis no accident. They want to inflict pain and maybe see some blood.

My black eye is the result of my eldest son leaping to his feet , crack KO!
The context ....
I have had a few epiphanies recently regarding parenting. Basically I am trying , very hard to : listen more, say maybe instead of NO, negotiate, compromise, be more understanding and use an elaborate language code .Nope I didn’t do this before, well not much . It was my way or the high way, rush –rush, shhh shhhh, not now later, stop that or else. I have always felt like I oil the cogs of this family. Would there be a bedtime time routine and swimming club id it weren’t for me? Well there’d be no one to take them but hey I couldn’t afford to pay, which is where daddy comes in. Anyway the new chilled tolerant and zen like mummy that I have become, was negotiating with Teia . I wanted him to start homework. First I let him watch the end of Scooby Doo, then I agreed to have a pre homework game of chess. Teia procrastinated , then finally he walked butler fashion to the HW table to set up the board. En route he dropped all the pieces and duly blamed me. He shouted ‘ why don’t you pick them up, I do everything.’ Staying calm, I took a deep breath and replied ‘I pick up after you all the time, if you drop something, you pick it up, that’s how it goes.’
Mantra ....Zen.... Zen..... zen .... Meditation... intuition... Calm.....fluffy white clouds... bunnies....don't hurt him, for he knows not what he is saying.
I stood over him while he picked them up . Then suddenly he leapt to his feet. At that point I was transported to a place called anger and pain. Automatically I began to attack an inanimate object. The door to the sitting room was the closest thing. I grabbed it then slammed it and whacked it against the sofa. I saw paint fly off as I karate chopped it. The weird thing is that I seemed to stop after 4 digs, then started again till I reached 6. The pause was comedic, it was like someone was walking me away saying ‘ don’t do it, the door ain’t worth it.’ instead of listing to my invisible friend I went back to finish the job ... Yeh baby I am a bad ass mo fo. No door is gonna get the better of me.

I returned to Zen mummy after a 5 min psychotic episode. Thank the lord, I was able to fight the desire to bang on for a further 3 hours. Looking back , I was prepared for bad behaviour, moaning and a contrary attitude. However ABH had been omitted from the list. Now it most definitely at the top.

H is for Hayes

Today I met a fellow dog walker who has lived in Hayes for 56 years. Betty said ‘ people don’t leave Hayes, they move around but they stay in the area,everyone's happy in Hayes.’ Ironic as although I was enjoying the scenic spoils of Hayes , I was not happy but that’s another story. Funny I thought that lots of places beginning with H are salubrious and possibly where lots of the inhabitants are happy . Like where? I here you ask, well you’ve got Henly, Harrogate, Herfordshire, Hampstead,Hamptons, Hollywood need I list more. My dad has an opposing opinion,he reckons he couldn’t live here. He needs hustle bustle, dirt grime, ethnic markets and cultural diversity. He reckons that he’s not ready to die, which is interesting because an Estate Agent told me that ‘the only way you leave Hayes is in a coffin.’ The latter views should be disturbing but they are not to me , because at present I want good schools, low crime (non if possible), clean streets and lovely parks and commons for Rugby and Cricket. Yes, cultural diversity would be nice . For now I am happy to fly the Eurasian flag and maybe sometime in the future a little Asian shop will open on the high street and there'll be people living her to buy from it.

Indoctrinated into my own family

A waning desire to go out coincides with a lack or little to no ability to hold my drink or cope with a hang over. So nights out are few and far between. I want and need to be with it for the kids. Need to be good mum and on the ball. I think such aspirations are normal and I’m happy to have them. Days and stages roll by so quickly , I remember when I first heard the pharse ‘bedtime routine.’Such Questions would roll off every monthers’ tongue ‘breast or bottle? how many bottles is he having? What time is bedtime? does he have a bedtime routine?’ The BTR has become an essential part of my day , as is the same for many other mothers. Preparing children for and putting them to sleep , is a serious business, tempers fray, tears are shed , bottoms smacked, stories told and finally if your lucky your little one sleeps .It is funny that something that was so new is now so normal and integral part of my day. Children and family life is simultaneously draining and rewarding. Toddler years are filled with 1 o’clock groups and nursery. The big jump to school is great because by 5 a child is ready , arguably to begin learning , albeit through play. For us mums , running the gauntlet that is the schoolrun, is interesting to say the least , sometimes it’s fun and at other times it is dreaded. I tell you more about that, another time.
I am lucky enough to have my folks near by to help. Many a time I have dozed off and Papa and Nanny have taken over as stand in parents. Over the years I have grown out of such dozing because the restrictions of BTR, school run, homework and clubs dictates that I am virtually always on the go .Just last week I was horizontal on the spare bed at Papa’s house. It would have been cool to just doze of and sleep BUT worringly I began to think of the ironing, the BTR and even consequences for the following morning . So instead taking a break when I could , I leapt to my feet carried on with the duties for the rest of the day. That’s it I thought , I’ve been indoctrinated into my own family.I didn't even own an iron until 2 years ago.24 months later and I'm rushing home to iron tea clothes. Between the 3 of them Teia, Luca and Gav have got me worrying about the inanely boring ironing instead of having a well deserved rest.

PS Ironing isn't so boring , as I recently had a brain wave, watch 4od or Iplayer whilst doing it. Ironing isn't half as bad when your watching "have I got news for you."

1660

Last March I was a having a mid 30’s crisis. Although I didn’t feel mature and half a decade from 40 , the facts were clear I was 35. Knowing this I felt I wanted to look the part, mature, grown up, sophisticated and chic. My long hair which had almost always been that way , apart from a glitch at 10, just had to go . The Glitch to which I refer,occurred when I was 10 and went for a Lady Di hair cut. Imagine that look on a little Eurasian kid. It was totally incongruous. Tis no wonder I never deviated from the classic long black hair with a few layers cut (if you can call it a hair cut, as it is was as close to a no hair cut as possible) .So for 15 years I stuck to long hair until last year. I was convinced a bob like Leigh Lezark would make me look a million dollars. I looked at pictures of her every night for a month and finally plucked up the courage to chop my long hair off. At the hairdressers I explained, “I want LL hair but about 2 inches longer.”The stylist looked at me like I was on day release from the Maudsley. It made sense to me , at the time but now I realize , you either want the hair cut like the picture or you don’t. I walked out of the HD with one of the worst cuts I have ever had. It was sitting at the bottom of my nape and jutting out like Darf Vaders helmet. It lasted a couple if days, until I couldn’t stand it any longer and I went for a second cut somewhere else, which was equally rubbish. By the end of the week anything would be better than the helmet . I was told I could go back to the first HR for a re cut, so long as it was within 7 days. So I did and requested a cut the same as the picture. I walked out with an amazing LL cut. I loved it UNTIL I realized that I had to blow dry the mo fo everyday for it to look any good. I am not high maintenance. I’m a scruff at the best of times. Blow drying my hair made it break and I even burnt my neck with a metal brush that got to too hot. Not only that but the cut dictated what I wore. Girlie stuff was off the menu. Maxis and vests didn’t look right. I needed structure, shoulder pads and shirts, think Mary Portas . Great for her but I am simply a mum with a part time job. Rocking up to the school gates, with a power suit and hair cut to an angle that Leigh or Mary would covet, just wasn’t gonna happen. I looked more like an off duty BBC morning news reader and not in a good way. The hair cut aged me and I wasn’t ready to leap to 40 . Of course, this just wasn’t sustainable and hell I want to look feminine not Like `I want to crush a pair balls with my bare hands.’ So I have been going through the whole , growing a bob out stage. Man , it takes a long time. I have had to get inbetween haircuts which doesn’t help, as it feel like it is 2 inches grown and 3 inches off. Finally I am here , with hair that is long enough to feel pretty and girlie. So YAY I can get married if I want or someone asks me, I can wear a cute dress and I can throw away the enormous metal blow drying brush etc etc.

I am soo glad I experimented and that I did it at 35 not for 40. A bob at 40 would make me feel 50 and tip me over the edge and into a deep depression. I am proud that I had the nerve to chop a substantial amount of my hair off. Yep Glad and Very Glad that the experiment is over. 16 from the back and 60 from the front BRING IT ON.

The pros and cons of face book

Just joined FB and I am hooked . Just into day 10 of my confirmed addiction. I find myself asking why, why am I hooked and I the only one ? most definitely not. What makes FB so addictive?

I am not a FB virgin. OH no tis my second go. First time was rubbish and had some nasty side effects , sounds like something else doesn’t it! Honestly though I didn’t like it because I didn’t know what I was doing so I found myself poking people left right and centre. Not a problem if that’s the intention. Second dislike was the strange feelings that emanated from seeing other peoples, somewhat edited lives played out in the photos on their respective walls (only show the good, cool and good looking bits). Why wasn’t I as busy or on such a lovely holiday, I would ask myself. I bailed out after 7 days. My nerves and ego couldn’t take any more. After that I scoffed at all things FB. Tis unnatural I would say, it is evil , ban it, I thoroughly agreed with the Daily Mail on this point (that’s scary, must be getting old). Checking people out and being nosey just wasn’t my style. If I want to communicate with you, then I’ll call or email you, that was my tough no nonsense line.

The years rolled by and I would get the odd friend invite via my hotmail account... That’s how it was Until this Xmas , when I received my own little mac book. Easy access to www meant I felt it easier to sort through work, mummy stuff and even get back to my blog. Then FB sprang back into my mind. I decided to give it a second go. Like a scorned lover I took tentative steps towards opening an account. Second time round I knew what to expect the pros and cons , I set my privacy at the highest level and made sure I only poked those worth poking. I also reminded myself that facebook is about the good times. Down days and poopoo photos are personal and you share that Sxxx with friends over a cup of coffee or glass of wine , not on the www. Now I am hooked. I check it a couple of times a day... Ok maybe times that by 2 or do I mean add a zero, and your getting close to real figure. The kids are getting their own T and the washing hasn’t been done in days. FB is like having kids, what did I do with my time before . The good thing is I am finding that it’s fun and I get to communicate (communicate being the operative word, in that I am not stalking) with friends, some of whom are on the other side of the world or North London , which may as well be. I love seeing pictures of friends and commenting, it’s engaging. So FB is fun fun fun and funny if you use it in a positive way. It can be a fantastic advertising tool too, sharing political views-recipes-good restaurant. Oh and don’t get me started on CHAT, that’s like amazing. Yesterday, I chatted to a friend in Bali . Technology never ceases to astonish me.

What are the (my) rules of engagement for FB ? I have some.. Only good pictures please, I don’t want to see a school hottie that has turned into a 70s Elvis and giving Henry 8th a run for their money. Hey but make sure there not too good , dare I say unrealistic .Remember ...This isn’t a dating site / competition Or is it. Keep you personal info to a minimum, you don’t want some psychopath knocking on your door. It does and has happened you know. Accept friends , not any old Harry. Who cares if you’ve got 8000 mates on FB . Question is have you met them. Some queries are still in the consultation process, as I feel ambivalent about them. Like do you accept friendships from people you went to school with and barely remember, if at all, scary when not even a picture triggers the memory. Is it Ok to contact/poke an old crush?What about de friending. Can you remove someone from your list without offending.
I believe I’ve got to be tough , if I am to use Fb in a way that is conducive to a happy and sound mind.

P>S>
Has anyone checked out the status options and laughed at “it’s complicated.” Isn’t every relationship.

My final thought ..Vive la Face Book. If I haven’t got this obsession under control by next week, I’m checking into rehab.

I’m off to change my profile picture.

PPS I just attempted to remove a couple of FB friends that I have had no communication with and couldn't do it for fear of reprisal and offending someone. Will try again but this time with a stiff drink in my hand.

x

Is it coz I is Asian?

If you know me personally you’ll know I am half Irish and half mauritian. My mauritian dad , is of Chinese decent. Hence my oriental look.

This is of relevance to my anecdote because today at work I was told “ hey, you know,you act well Asian.” Interesting statement , I thought, no one has ever said that to me before, prey -tell me more, so I said “why, what do I do?”
“ Oh ...Asian stuff , like cut people off mid sentence, speaking formerly whilst having a jovial conversation.” By this point I was cracking up, this boy had a index or Oriental behaviour right at the tip of his tongue. I was laughing so hard because I recognized the first trait . In my defense I said “ Yeh I do that, because some people need to be put out of there misery.I’m doing them a favour, god damn it everyone knows that at times, interjection is completely necessary." However I couldn’t relate to the latter observation but the first was enough to keep me amused until the accuser explained that there were other Asian behaviours, such as pointing with ones lips...OK difficult to understand but picture this, point your face in any given direction and purse your lips for a milli second, eureka you got PWYL. The second is acknowledging people by simply raising your eyebrows.Curiously my dad and my aunt do this. Ok so this lad may have something.

I have always seen and said that I take after my dad. I can be blunt, terse, cut people off and generally surly. I thought this was a Lai-Cheong thang but maybe I got it wrong , maybe it be a Oriental thang. So now I can say , I can’t help it, it’s in my genes, blame my ancestors.

If you are caucasian, what are you thinking , do you relate to my colleague’s comments. Are you like hell yeh, those Chinese folk are always pointing with their lips, selling dodgy dvds and eating noodles.

The conversation was funny and made stranger when another colleague added a Chinese stereotype would be that they are inscrutable. What the hell does that mean , had to look it up.For those of you how are as ignorant as me, it means impossible to understand, apt! The thesaurus synonyms read like this.. enigmatic, unreadable, opaque, abstruse.

Ok I said, so I have a dead look in my eyes, emotionless face, I point with my lips and I cut people off mid sentence.I thought I only did the latter when inebriated.Or at least that's when I notice it.

The idea still makes me laugh now. My colleague’s observations were funny and not taking maliciously because his girlfriend is half Filipino, so he can’t be racist. You can't beat Asian babes. Hey isn't there a magazine with that title?

X

Spooning

Another MP is busted for having an extra marital affair with a man, or was he? Apparently the rumour stems from the fact that he and his 25 aid , who happens to be tall dark and handsome, shared a twin bedroom , whilst campaigning. The duo would not have shared a room if they had have known such rumours would emanate from such an arrangement. Let’s assume they shared the room innocently.Is it normal for boys to share, real question as I have not come across such a scenario.Will ask my man what he does on a stag do. Although he very different from a politician. Think manual workers falling asleep face down on the bathrooom floor.
What really happens when men get to hang out..behind closed doors , do they like to have pow wow, do each others hair ,paint toe nails and complain that their wives don’t appreciate them? Although I find the idea amusing I doubt very much that be the case. That is one angle eliminated, so on to the next, saving money. Well I am sure what with MPs expenses , a hotel room each is a genuine expenditure which would withstand the close inspection of the Daily Telegraph. Ok so they’re not pow wowing or needing to save money... That leaves spooning. Even if they are not spooning I don not understand why a politician who can be so guarded during heated and high pressured debating can drop their guard and better judgement when it comes to actions. If you were going to have a cuddle why not cover up properly, take separate rooms and sneak out later, actually forget that , why not come out, stop living a lie and tell the truth.That is the way to earn respect.

Does any male of the human species flush the toilet?

Honestly, if you know one, name him and while your at it, tell the natural history museum too because I am sure the latter will want to know of such a leap for mankind.
I live with 3 males. I appreciate my almost 3 year old is new to the toilet game , thus flushing in the last thing I expect. To make it to the toilet is enough effort to satisfy me. My almost 7 year forgets to flush for numbers 2s but sems to habitually leave wee in the toilet. Gav the elest male in the house flushes for number 2s but like Teia, my 6 year old, he does not flush after a wee wee.

Clearing up after the toddler is a disinfectant job.I Usually have to do the floor and seat.If I am the last person to visit the loo in the morning , I will have to deal with the remnans of several visits from the boys and between all 3 of them none of them will have flushed. The smell and site would tick anyone off ,especially if that person happens to be the poor soul that has to deep clean the area.Cheers boys. The thing, tis only gonna get worst as they get older.

I want my own loo, pretty please.

Lettuce

Oh boy , this sedentary summer has lead to some serious excess weight on my ass and trunk. I got some serious belly rolls going on. Reacting to this weight gain, I have been looking at gym membership and intend to join in October. In the mean time I have been laying of the bread , as to avoid the carb face .My face is large at moment and I used to have a neck but that's on its way out too. Other changes to marathon eating means laying off the kids left overs. Gone are the days of cooking a dozen fishfingers for the kids lunch and then eating 10 plus my own grown feast. Tis no wonder I am a fat mo fo.

Replaced bread and cheese with a whole lot of salad. Bowls and bowls of the stuff. On Sunday I got through about half a dozen just before dinner . Dinner was, you guessed it , an even bigger bowl of salad. Whilst enjoying dinnner,my eldest son looked at me and said "Mummy you eat so much salad," I thought about an extended code response, " why yes Teia,I eat salad because it is good for you, did you know that lettuce leaves are a excellent source of vitamin B . Vitamin B is great because it helps us stay happy."Almost immediately he turned away with an obviuos knowing smile. I knew some smart alec response was due to follow. He seemed to hesitate before he spoke and then there was a clear sod it attitude when he said " Oh that is strange mummy because you are always so grumpy."

Missing my hospital appointment

You know the feeling.. Loosing your keys, getting a parking ticket , missing a train, plane or Dr appointment.Today I achieved the latter. I missed an appointment with my consultant. It was a very important one as it would mean a review of my recovery from my foot op and more importantly removal of my 4 week old moudly bandage. You read correctly, 4 weeks.Yes 4 weeks of wearing the same stinking bandage. A soft bandage which has some crazy, plastic disc that seems to be slicing my foot in two.Honestly its evil.

I thought the appointment was tomorrow. So convinced I was right, that after I noticed the possible mistake, I rolled up my sleeves before I checked the family calendar, I was sure the NHS systems were at fault and when this was confirmed I was gonna call them and give them a piece of my mind. The family calendar only proved how utterly stupid I am. I even wrote the right day on the calendar. What is it with me , I joke that I have early onset of alzheimers and humorously, I blame the aluminum pots my parents used to prepare food. Oh I am hilarious but perhaps it is true. Maybe I do have brain rot with a bit of dementia thrown in. I know that I would benefit significantly from home help and meals on wheels.

I am now faced with that horrible and strangely familiar feeling of loss. Perfect time for the kids to call out “ Mummy, can you,” to which I will roar like a T rex and turn into a zombie mummy “ what , what do you want, I never get a chance to think straight, damn you, I blame you for missing my most important hospital appointment.” Poor dears it is not their fault and luckily they were not around to be blamed, as of course I would have put the blame squarely on their little shoudlers. No they are not here so I must go through the five stages of grief as described by Kubler-Ross . Pretty much dealt with denial, anger and bargaining Right now I am stuck in the depression phase. Mostly because my foot is throbbing like a mo fo. As if it has been hit with a sledge hammer.At least once I am over depression there is the sweet taste of acceptance.

Belsebub

Teia , my almost 7 year old, had a sleep over on Thursday. He came back as the devil in human form. Oh boy, he was a horror. It was a tantrum every two hours. Real stroppy followed by malicious jibes. Eventually, I sent him to bed with a nose bleed and no sympathy. Nope... I did not give him a right hock. His nose bled of its on accord ,honest gov. No really the bleed was probably something to do with his devil possession. I admit, I did feel like giving him a Scotch kiss on more than one occasion. Obviously I refrained. Anyway he slept till 9.30 this morn, which is a new precedent. So now I know that sleep did not occur at the sleep over. Does it ever?

New day , new me trying not to hold a grudge but it is hard when he turns into another bad mood , having been awake for only an hour. Lord give me the patience. What is up with him... Does he have bi –polar , depression or some other problem of the mind. I think I have cheered him up with the promise of a visit to uncle Myles’ house. It seems we have all perked up, mostly due to the idea of leaving this house. I think summer holiday cabin fever is getting to all of us.

Oh I must also mentioned the high pitched squeal that little Luca has developed. It is like the noise of a pig in a moment of acute stress. I think the pair of them are gonna have me in straight jacket by the end of the month.

Men suck

Last night I went to two fortieth Birthday parties. Madness I know...I split the evening between both parties. I left one earlier than expected due to Gav ogling a young filly. Staring at her he said “wow look she is amazing, she has a great figure , what’s she doing with that fat lump for a boyfriend” I stared at him as if he were mad man with a death wish. As I didn’t speak , he continued with his lascivious compliments. I actually got quote annoyed, so annoyed that I couldn’t speak. Finally I broke my silence as it seemed to be encouraging him “ dah, I am your partner, girlfriend etc I am not your mate and I don’t need to be hearing this.” He became a little embarrassed and lost for words...I then nipped in a “ she’s alright I suppose, if you like tarts.” With that cutting remark I flicked my bob to the side and walked off in my sky scrappers and wet look leggings... It was difficult to walk off in a huff without breaking my neck.. But I managed.

Boyfriends suck.. Especially the caveman type.

Bog Roll

What an amazing weekend. Sunshining ..just the day to visit my new next door neighbours for a BBQ. Delightful, kicking back enjoying the sun , panama hat on and sipping Pimms No 1. My neighbours are lovely and today was the first official visit for the boys.So it was imperative to be perfect house guests. Picture this 29degrees in a beautiful English Garden with lovely company. Conversation was flowing as was the Pimms (with all the trmmings)... Gav disappears and then reappears from a visit to the loo. He was brandishing approximately 15 squares of crumpled up loo roll he put the white mass on the table . My observation was confirmed when Gav said proudly “ Look I found this on the floor in the toilet, it hasn’t been used , I thought we could use it later.” What the hell.... Is he on drugs... Is it it me or is it a complete NO NO to salvage loo roll for later...never mind putting it on a dinner table. Faux pas is an under statement.. I thought we were going to be shown the door, right there and then. Luckily our neighbours are so sweet and polite they went along with whole “waste not want not” motto.

This blunder was the second embarrassment in 2 days. Yesterday he went on hunter gatherer mission and came back with Jamaican BBQ. Hehappened to roll up in car with the rusting heap of junk , just as my neighbours were saying good bye to guests.The thing is massive a real eyesore, the whole street must have seen him lumbering it in. It is Made from 2 oil barrels (they look like oil barrels) that have been soldered together. The top even had a chimney.. think red neck .. "Deliverance" and your on the right track... I half expected a body to be inside it. Not only is it enormous but it is also rusty, I pointed this out to Gav and he happily replied "I know, don't worry, I have an idea, I am gonna paint it." With a crumpled up face I retort "WHAT, " all I could imagine was the rusty eyesore being replaced with big black eyesore and I don't want either. Reading my mind Gav said " Yeh, I am gonna paint it red , gold and green."

Am I kill joy, no don't answer that. Maybe in years to come my boys will laugh and joke about their eccentric dad , who would turn rubbish into useful objects. Maybe I should chill and see interesting side instead of being so annoyed. Maybe Gav is totally cool and I should should try and understand instead of criticize. Yeh, Yeh I need to try and be a better person.. Will work on it!

Ill placed confidence

Last Saturday I went out with 2 of my oldest friends (no pun intended) .Like any good night it was filled with food, drink, tears , dancing and a whole lot laughter. The hot topic of the night was age and getting old. Us girls realized that we had passed our "pink of perfection." It is a difficult reality to come to terms with. Youth and everything that goes with it are completely taken for granted when you have it. I have always been critical of my looks lack ability , when I look back I think Wow I actually look good back then and I had opportunities that I simply passed by because I was too busy partying or hating myself.

Our night began with aperitifs and ended in a club named Ponana's. We almost didn't make it as my home girl was refusing to go to a club that had a name that sounded so much mike poo na nee. Was Ali G gonna be there , No far from it , Once inside we found that we were in a Bristol Uni posh boy ecosystem. Revellers were an average age of 19 years,wore seemingly compulsory freshly ironed gingham shirts and stood at a minimum height of 6foot and 1 inch and up to 6foot 7inches .At one point it looked and felt like a tall man convention.

Initially the girls and I felt awkward in such a place, especially since we were dwarfed by giants but after more than a few sambucas the place was ours , to terrorize with our witty repartee and killer dance moves. I do recall shouting “ in my day people would go out to have fun and dance.” Oh dear, why do I continue to sound like an old woman. We shook our booties for several hours and spoke to anyone that would listen.Even if folk weren't interested , we ranted anyway! I vaguely recall moshing and jumping around as if I were attached to a pogo stick. You got it, I am a girl who knows how to have fun and deeply annoy people.I certainly had a fantastic time doing it and laughed my head off for most of the evening.

Today is Monday I ask myself was this ill placed confidence. Should I have left such a inappropriate situation , was the night an imbroglio that should could have been avoided or did us girls do well to make the best of our unusual surroundings/company. I think the later, our age and happy family lives leave us to be “free , to do what we want to do, have fun,”without the constraints of youth such as diffidence, insecurity and the hunt for a man.

Computer induced tantrum

My eldest son Teia has been so good recently but tonight there was huge fall out, it was a return the raging tantrums he used to have . It happened when I collected him from a play date and asked him to end his turn on the computer. Heaven forbid I should dare to request such a thing. A long tantrum followed. His reign of terror went on for approx 90 minutes. I didn’t lose it, so proud of myself. Teia even pretended to leave home . It was an ill thought out plan as he left the house with no shoes on and had to hobble instead of strut away from the house.It was a pitiful yet funny site.

After a few minutes he returned to loving yet flat bosom of his mother, ME. Where I lambasted him briefly before trying to put him to bed. Finally he calmed down and we shared a moment of piece, just as daddy came to sing him a song... the final part of his punishment!

I think video games are evil. They were the reason for his tantrum. Maybe I should expose him to video games more often, so that he can learn to "step away from the " computer in a gracious fashion. Nah ... I just don't think it is healthy to encourage an obsession with a visual display unit!

Standards

In July I will be having an operation . The old biddy that I am ... I will be having me bunionette fixed and will be in bandages, plaster and using crutches for 6 weeks. Think “The mummy returns.” I was gonna pass on the op but that would be the beginning of the end. What would I “let go” of next... grow a beard and hairy chest, not wear mascara... No methinks not... have to keep some standards even if they are low.

Speaking of standards, my cleaner came today for her 2nd visit. I found that the cleaner- high is not restricted to during and after the fix. There is actually a pre fix high and I would say it lasts approximately 3 days. It’s basically re adjusting my standards and tolerance of mess. Since Friday instead of hoovering and cleaning every night , I have merely picked up toys , when thoughts of hoovering entered my mind I quickly counteracted them with “no--- pea chill your boots, don't bother because the cleaner is coming on Monday.” Boy , that thought process felt good and my limbs appreciated not having to do a full work out. Are my standards slipping or is this normal behaviour. Meaning that the cleaning ritual that I used to do every night was part of my existing neurosis? Whatever... at least I am getting better.

The cleaner has done another lovely job. I think I am falling in love with her. Don’t think she’d have me though... too much baggage and she probably thinks I am lazy cow, who is defo passed her prime... she wouldn't be wrong re the last point.

This is the good life. I think the days of stepping on , or even worse kneeling on a piece of lego have finally passed.Horay!