Category Archives: Comedy

My life, The Comedy Sketch Show -Two Weddings, A Missing Diamond, And What’s That Clicking Noise!

My life often feels like a comedy sketch show.

“Who wants to read about your life!” I hear you cry.

Well, you for starters otherwise how did you find yourself here eh (winks slyly whilst dodging a virtual slap). So I’ve always had a knack for making my seemingly normal and pretty average life seem a little more entertaining. I don’t know if it’s my ability to see the positive in everything that allows me to give my everyday situation a lighthearted edge. But nonetheless I often feel like if I was starring in my own episode of “Friends”, in that I may get a few titters if anyone was watching in.

These past couple of weeks have been hectic, crazy, fabulous, stressful madness. We have attended two wedding weekenders, got some amazing shots in the New Forest, a week in the Isle of Wight, One airshow, visited several family members,and the rest of life in between.

Our trip began to Southampton to watch one of hubs maternal cousins get married. It was a beautiful day and anyone that knows me, knows how much I love weddings. I have recently written about my own wedding here .

summer loving

We managed to sneak away in between the wedding breakfast and evening ceremony to get George to nap. Hubs took us on one of our favourite and awe-inspiring drives, The New Forest. We first discovered The New Forest last year on a staycation at Sandy Balls (yes that really is the resort name). This time around and with me looking a bit better than my standard mum life get up, we captured some beautiful shots with the horses. This is one of my faves.

summer loving

As we headed back for the evening reception hubs programmed his satnav and off we went. It felt like we had been driving forever when I knew we had only gone 20 minutes down the road getting there. Suddenly hubs stopped.

Hubs: “Oh shit, Mum asked me during breakfast how far away the ferry terminal was for tomorrow. I programmed it into the nav to show her”

Me: “What does that mean?”

Hubs “It means we are just coming into the ferry terminal! We’re half an hour away from the wedding venue now”

Well you can imagine my face. We were using my valuable vodka drinking time after all.

The first of our beautiful wedding weekenders over, we headed on with the in-laws, straight to catch the ferry for a week in the Isle of Wight. This shall be known as the holiday were many “fucks” were uttered.

After our first day at our holiday home, I called my Mum. I was speaking to her when I looked down and realised my engagement ring, which belonged to my Nan and is over 75 years old had lost the diamond! The only diamond! Gone! “Fuck” My Mum told me not to panic and whilst everything in me told me I should be distraught and crying…I wasn’t. I’m so precious of my ring. It’s not worth much monetary wise, but sentimentally it means the absolute world to me.

Cue me and hubs crawling round on our hands and knees in a 4 storey townhouse with thick beige carpets! It was a dead-end before we started. It was never found. I suspect it’s now floating through the sewers of the Isle of wight. My Mum has since paid for it to be replaced and reset. It’s such a good feeling to have it back on my finger, looking its beautiful self. I hope my Nan loves it as much as I do.

summer loving

Our lovely little holiday home may have had 4 floors but they packed in enough furniture that tripping over things was easy. On the first day, pre diamond disaster, I walked into a chair leg and spent the night sleeping with my little toe throbbing. Our room was in the loft and it was so hot and stuffy even with the windows wide open.

summer loving

That night I woke up to a weird noise. It was a loud horn. I wondered if it was some sort of thing only Islanders knew about. Did we have to evacuate. Hubs was still awake so I asked him. It was a fog horn. No need to evacuate. Where the fuck we would evacuate to I don’t know. I hadn’t thought that bit through. The fog horn continued most nights on and off for the duration of our stay and I soon realised why the houses are so cheap there!

But my beautiful town house woes did not end there. We were on a budget due to the wedding hotel blocking some of our money accidentally. Hubs was eager to try the nachos when we went out for lunch but decided it would be cheaper if I made some that evening. Mine is better anyways. I picked up a nacho kit (which I never use!) and set about making us an evening snack. I found a cheese grater and the cheese grater found me.

It turns out this was the mo-fo of cheese graters. I’m used to a flat grater and this was round…. it wasn’t long before I lost something else….one of my knuckles! Fuck!

summer loving

This pic is the day after. It really fucking hurt! My Nan in law was threatening to try and flap the skin back over whilst hubs was asking if I needed stitches. It was comedic stupidity at its finest. Vom!

Just to top it all off, hubs and I have been trying for another baby but to no avail. No violin needed. My body is in such a state at the moment. So we kind of had the choice to stop made for us as I’m under a consultant for severe hip pain. I’ve had it the last 2 years or more but the last few weeks it’s got really life limiting and it’s not improving. So adding baby weight to my body wouldn’t have been sensible.

The doctor gave me some strong anti-inflammatories to help me deal with the pain. I read the stupid leaflet, which you should never do, because someone has always reported something horrific. And there it was;

…may affect your chances of falling pregnant as ovulation can be affected. Should you fall pregnant whilst taking these tablets, please tell your doctor immediately as they can cause mutations to the unborn child…

All sounding fabulous so far! So I decided I’ll take them to get me through the next month of events and hope everything goes back to normal, I’d already ovulated that month as I was due on my period the day of the wedding (what joy!).

Cue mid holiday madness in the house of horrors as I realise my period is 7 days late! For Fudge sake! Not now! Off to the shop I go, standard pregnancy test I always get (I’ve done a lot of these things ya know). Nothing! No literally I mean nothing! It’s a bloody void test! What are the actual chances? I’ve never had a void test. Back to the shop, I pick up 2 this time just in case…negative. Thank God. Although its weird feeling when only a month ago I was using all my eyelash wishes for the opposite. Do people still wish on their eyelashes?

One trip home from the Isle of Why Me! And another beautifully glorious wedding, whereby hubs tested the theory of whether you can sing church hymns whilst impersonating Johnny Cash…you can. And we are back home.

Whilst I love a staycation, I feel I’m ready to venture further into the big wide world for our future holidays. I feel I owe it to George. I’ve found some fab tips on How To Plan The Perfect Family Holiday .

summer loving

But wait… listen closely…yep that’s me. Everytime I stop my engine there is a weird clicking noise. Now it’s not the typical engine cooling down clicking noise, and we have actually discovered the clicking noise happens even if you just turn the key to ignite the battery and not the engine so who the hell knows.

What I do know is, I took it to the garage and approached them with the query;

“At the risk of sounding like a complete woman…there is a strange clicking noise coming from my engine”

I absolutely hate it when garages treat me like a “silly” woman. Like we can be fobbed of and spoken to like an idiot because it’s a car and cars are for men or some such shit like that. Ooh I wonder if I’ve just noticed a gap in the market for all female mechanics? You can get women only gyms and taxis so why not.

summer loving
Image courtesy of www.pexels.com

So the guy is none the wiser. Guesses at the throttle flap and says they will call me with a quote. They don’t. I also inform him that I’ve recently made a discovery via the wonders of Youtube that if your electronic car window is stuck you can close it with this snazzy trick.

Slam the door hard, whilst holding your finger on the window up button. It works! Something about jolting the connection.

So one week and no phone call later, hubs and I, ok hubs gets the credit for this. He discovers that the clicking happens without actually starting the engine. He takes it back to the garage and tells me they’ve booked it in for next Tuesday and will charge me £35 to “take a look”!

“Huh! They looked at it for nothing when I took it!” I say “what the heck did you do!”

The next morning I called the garage, and explained. The receptionist repeatedly asked me if I realised where they were and if had the right place. I was getting rather exasperated because I knew exactly who and where they were. They didn’t have any record of my husband booking the car in.

It’s now we find out the REAL reason my car was looked at for free! Whilst relaying the story to hubs when he got home from work, he pipes up that he had actually taken the car to a different garage. The garage that I shouted out “…and don’t take it to xxx garage because we had a bad experience!” That explains the fee! My garage doesn’t charge! Doh! The next morning I returned to MY garage with my tail between my legs to offer an apology for my idiot husband.

My car is now fixed, thankfully, and the clicking noise has stopped. Halejuah!

It’s all fun and games eh! I’d totally love to read about some of your recent crazy life tales in the comments below.

Parenthood epitomised with epic song lyrics

I think I’ve spent way too long living with hubs in that I now randomly walk around at home singing. Sometimes it’s songs that have already been made, other times the poet in me makes up little rhymes to summarise whatever emotions or activities I’m going through. I’d actually love to be a songwriter, but not a singer, save that role for someone who can actually hold a tune.

This is a side of me that no one except hubs and George see as I manage to stifle it if we go away with family. People often laugh when I say I am shy but in certain areas that I lack confidence, my shyness prevails.

Since I became a Mama to George and quit my career in pharmacy, I spend ever-increasing amounts of time at home. Often not seeing many other adults in person for more than a few minutes. The joys, stresses and tribulations of parenting go unnoticed by the world and so I need an outlet for dealing with the variety of emotions a parent at home with a child goes through in a day.

This outlet is song. As I warble my way around the house I find myself singing songs to express how I’m feeling. It is by doing this that I’ve discovered some artists are unknowingly epitomising parent life…for me anyway. See if you agree. Sing along if you know it.

Sam’s Town – The Killers

“Now, why do you waste my time?
Is the answer to the question on your mind
And I’m sick of all my judges
So scared of what they’ll find
But I know that I can make it
As long as somebody takes me home
Every now and then
You know I see London; I see Sam’s Town
Pulls my hand, and let’s my hair down
Rolls that world right off my shoulder”

Kids are forever wasting our time with their indecisive whining..just my house? It’s always the wrong cup, the bread is sliced in the wrong shape, the list goes on… We have all been judged by at least one person in our role as a parent right? This song represents for me everyone who’s had their parenting skills judged. But also for everyone that just wants to have a day off of parenting, have someone grab them by the hand and take them to London or their nearest fun town so they can let their proverbial hair down. Just me?

Somebody to love – Queen and George Michael

“Ooh, each morning I get up I die a little
Can barely stand on my feet
Take a look in the mirror and cry
Lord what you’re doing to me
I have spent all my years in believing you
But I just can’t get no relief, Lord!”

This opening verse completely epitomises how I feel when I get woken up at 6am or earlier each morning. Par for the course, and whilst I’m not religious I totally imagine every parent getting up and wearily singing this into the bathroom mirror whilst one or several children hang from their legs demanding milk and CBeebies. Just me?

The Lazy Song – Bruno Mars

“Today I don’t feel like doing anything
I just wanna lay in my bed
Don’t feel like picking up my phone
So leave a message at the tone
‘Cause today I swear I’m not doing anything”

I sing this song and reminisce, for just a moment, about when days like this were possible. I love and loathe the responsibility of parenting. Of course it has so many rewards but from the moment that little dot is conceived, they will forever be in your thoughts. Doing nothing at your own pace is a distant memory once you become a parent. AHHHH the days of playing GTA on the Playstation are but a distant memory lol. Still love this video though.

Cbeebies Bedtime song – Goodbye Sun, Hello Moon

“Goodbye sun
Now that the day is done
Its gonna be
Night time soon
Good bye sun
We’ll have more fun tomorrow
Now its time to say
Hello moon
Goodbye sun hello moon”

Oh come one! What self respecting doesn’t have a CBeebies tune as their current soundtrack for life! I know as soon as I start singing this song, that the daily parenting grind is nearly over as we approach the bedtime hour. George quite enjoys me singing this as he dozes off. My 13 hour slot as children’s entertainer, laundry women, caregiver, maker of food, wiper of arse is nearly over. Thus approaches my evening chill time.

I’ve very fortunate that at 3 and half, George now more or less sleeps through the night. Trust me this is only something he started in recent months and he still has his moments. I’m totally grateful for a bit of evening time to myself and hubs. I know so many friends and family, who for one reason or another don’t get this. Back when George was newborn, nighttime was most definitely not something I looked forward to.

I’m completely aware that these tunes all focus on the stresses and strains of parenting. But for every moment of difficulty, there are hundreds of moments that give your heart that warm glowy feeling.

Being a mum is the hardest thing I’ve ever done but it’s also one of the most rewarding. You don’t always feel like you are getting it right, but you know you try your hardest to make these little humans the most incredible versions of themselves they can be. And so I end with this song, which I planned on having on my birth playlist. Something I pointlessly made, thinking I would give two shites about listening to music whilst I was in labour. It a song that’s forever stuck in my mind when I realise how incredibly lucky I am to be a mama to a happy, healthy little angel.

Special Angel – Malcolm Vaughan

“You are my special angel
Sent from up above
The Lord smiled down on me
And sent an angel to love (to love)
You are my special angel
Right from paradise
I know you’re an angel
Heaven is in your eyes
The smile from your lips brings the summer sunshine
Tears from your eyes bring the rain
I feel your touch, your warm embrace
And I’m in heaven again”

I hope you’ve enjoyed listening to some of my favourite songs that, for me,epitomise parenthood. What are yours?

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday

My Life, The Comedy Sketch Show, part 2 “I’ll be in the bedroom”

My life often feels like a comedy sketch show. It would be wholly appropriate for someone to follow me around, editing in slots of canned laughter at various points in my day. Today’s sketch is aimed at my bedroom antics.

I’m not some ditzy, brainless knob head. Ok maybe the knob head part could apply to me. I pride myself on being relatively intelligent. I aim to try and learn something new every day.

Intelligence aside, and no I’m not arrogant, I’m just not afraid to highlight my positive traits and confidence. Trust me I’m happy to point out my flaws and ugly traits too. So intelligence aside, I somehow manage to lack a certain amount of common sense.

I think a lot of problems with common sense were apparent back in school days. The teachers used to say the answer was right there in front of me. But I was alway looking past the easy answer and searching for the more complex answer. Believing problems are never solved with the easy answer.

Just in case my lack of common sense isn’t enough of a giggle for you, my knob bead tendencies also mean I regularly put my foot in it when talking to people. Usually people can see the funny side as it’s never intended in an offensive way. I always go out of my way to make people happy.

This week has been hectic, preparing for holiday and lots of birthdays to buy for and send out and visit people. The washing pile is always the Bain of my life. We had booked for my friends hubs, Mike, to come and renew our fence. He’s a fab handyman and has now hand made us a beautiful fence for the front of our house.

bedroom

The evening before, chatting to hubs about our plans for the next day, I said to him I would be putting washing away up in our bedroom whilst our friend Mike replaced the fence.

I often play through scenarios of how events and situations will go. In my head I thought about offering Mike a cuppa and then using my child free time to get the clean washing put away, maybe even packing for holiday. George would be at preschool so it would get done in no time. I would want Mike to know that I wasn’t going to stand and watch him work but that I’d be available if he wanted a drink making or if he needed to run anything past me. Then it popped into my head;

“If you want me Mike, I’ll just be in the bedroom!”

Yeah that sounds wholly inappropriate! Way to give our newly made friends the wrong impression about me. Smiling to myself at the idiocy of this, had I actually said it without pre-thinking it, hubs asked me what I was smiling at. I told him and he laughed and promptly declared me a knob head which we do, cussing and sarcasm is our thing.

I thought it was funny, so the next day I told Mike the story anyways. Then I thought I’d better text his wife in case they were both new to my humour and he went home and declared me a home wrecker. And people say I over think things! (Shrugs and winks)

On the subject of Mike, and no I’m not obsessed he’s just pretty much one of the few adults I’ve spent time with this week. I messaged him the day before the impending fence job to tell him I had cleared the bits in the garden and woke up all the big spiders. Remember Fred? He replied;

“Marvellous, no creepy little buggers to deal with, hopefully”

“No,” I responded by tapping into my messenger “I’ll keep George indoors out of the way” Gave hubs a titter.

We have this thing, me and hubs. We’ve agreed that he kind of sets the bar for whether something is funny or not. It actually takes a lot to make me laugh. Except myself. I can bring myself to hysterics, I’m talking crying with laughter. Aside from Dad jokes, I’m slow on the uptake and whilst I might smile and appreciate the hilarity of something, it’s rare I proper belly laugh. So hubs is the decider on whether something is funny.

I thought my response to Mike was pretty clever, made me smile so it must’ve been funny. I told hubs and he smiled. One more for the canned laughter crowd.

Finally for this week, on the advice of another friend, I thought I’d share with you another knob head decision. We are almost a year since George was potty trained, yet we go through phases of him wetting himself several times a day. Not fancying a million accidents on our roadtrip, I thought I’d dash out early this morning and grab some pull-up’s. So focused on price…one brand was £7 was 20 odd! I grabbed the supermarket own brand. They had a choice of pink or blue (let pull-ups be pull-ups ffs!). Grabbing the blue, I paid and headed home.

Uber efficient I shredded the receipt before tearing open the pack and asking George to take his kecks off so we could put the pull-up on ready for our trip. As a grabbed a pull-up I thought it rather large. I’ve bloody picked up a pack for 8-12 year olds! Dammit! The branding is slightly misrepresentative, as friends have pointed out. What a twat. Off hubs went to buy the right size.

bedroom

Moral of the story? Don’t shop on an empty stomach before 8am in the morning when you have a million things to do in your head and a time restraint. Just pay the £7!

Have you done or said anything silly this week? Go on, try and make me smile.

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday

My life, the comedy sketch show.

It occured to me that much of this blogging malarkey is focused around writing about your life. Should anyone actually be interested. But much of what us bloggers write are now well thought out, controversial, educational pieces. That’s when we are not writing reviews. But what about the mundane, everyday realities of life?

“Who wants to read about your life!” I hear you cry.

Well, you for starters otherwise how did you find yourself here eh (winks slyly whilst dodging a virtual slap). So I’ve always had a knack for making my seemingly normal and pretty average life seem a little more entertaining. I don’t know if it’s my ability to see the positive in everything that allows me to give my everyday situation a lighthearted edge. But nonetheless I often feel like if I was starring in my own episode of “Friends” that I may get a few titters if anyone was watching in.

Today has been a fine example. After conquering this mornings toddler meltdown before 6am, I dropped the Georgeous off at preschool. There are some great mums at the preschool and we often have a little chat. We got to talking about my mornings childfree plans.

I’ve got a bit of a crazy week trying to organise the house in prep for going away. We also have a friend coming to fit us a new fence and gate tomorrow. Checkout Bored Monkey UK for your Essex craft and handyman needs.

So I was explaining to my fellow mamas the need to move bits away from the fence in prep. My reluctance being, that I knew a huge spider was living in that vicinity with who knows how many of his mates. One of the mama’s amusingly named him Fred and then off I went home to tackle Fred and his temporary eviction.

Fred was the least of my worries. On the way home I stopped in town to collect hubs meds from the chemist. As I was walking along I noticed a bank note on the floor. With no one close by and it being right in the middle of the path, I picked it up, wondering who could have dropped it. The owner nowhere obvious in sight. On closer inspection it was a Nigerian bank note for 500 Naira. I popped it in my bag and decided to Google its value whilst I was walking along. I wanted to know how much I was dealing with here before deciding how best to find its owner. As much as you can with an abandoned note.

Shit! It came up it’s worth £1,030 great british pounds! I suddenly felt like I was in too deep! Who carries a grand’s worth of note on them. It was fresh, not damp so it’s obviously been dropped recently. Shall I hang around and see if anyone comes wandering back looking for it?

I check for CCTV camera’s thinking the person could maybe find it that way using local shops. I couldn’t see any. I called hubs and he told me if it’s unclaimed after 30 days it’s effectively finders keepers. We have a local Facebook page I could post it to, but how best to word it so I don’t just get a chancer claiming it. After all it’s a currency note. It’s not easy to prove the owner.

Then my little devil kicked in. Of course I would feel absolutely terrible keeping it secret and spending it but we are all guilty of thinking a little naughty sometimes. But that poor person. What did they draw it out for? What was they going to spend it on? But George would love a trampoline and a fancy wooden playset in the garden. Hmmm.

I called hubby back. He’d now pulled over on his way to work as his cogs were turning. The GBP is usually worth more than foreign notes. It doesn’t quite add up. With him on speaker I opened my Google and there it was. In my tired state and not fully concentrating as I was trying not to trip over loose slabs in flip flops I had entered 500,000. My discovery was actually worth just over £1. Not even enough to buy George an ice cream. Laughing at my stupidity, hubs hung up whilst I went home to tackle Fred.

Back home in the garden and Fred is happy to run off once he sees me with the broom. He’s also clearly been taking part in the Healthy Mummy UK eating plan I’ve been following (not an ad, it’s just fab) as he’s now half the size I thought he first was. CHECK IT OUT! Healthy Mummy UK

Fred and his mates had no worries. Whilst I’m not a fan of spiders, I don’t like the idea of killing them if it can be helped. I once missed my train because I was moving a worm out of harm’s way off the pavement. I accidentally squashed a woodlouse and could almost hear the echoes of his (or her) screaming family. I instantly feel dreadful that I’ve killed someones Mum, Dad, brother, sister uncle. The world of woodlouse under my paving slab is mourning his loss this evening.

Jobs done it’s time to bring the child free period to an end. My three hours are up! I’ve achieved what I had hoped, minus making myself look foolish about the note. But before I dash off to pick the Georgeous up I see a large bumble bee scrambling around in the  dirt with a thick cobweb caught on his back leg. I try to help him get it off but he keeps buzzing it me.

“Calm it mate, I’m trying to help you, you stupid fuck” Lord knows what the neighbours are thinking.

After a good few minutes I decide that turning up late to the preschool pick up because I was trying to free a pissed off Bee isn’t going to cut it. My time is well and truly over. Not before I notice a pair of ladybirds shagging on a pallet. Literally never witnessed it in my 34 years. Can cross that off the bucket list now can’t I! And just in case you were wondering…

I’ve since learnt a lot about Ladybirds! The Truth about Ladybirds . Enjoy!

What do you reckon? Did I give you chuckle? Never mind…there’s always tomorrow…

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday

“We Need To Talk About The Conditions Of My Imprisonment : …and other funny parenting stories”, a book review

** Disclosure – I was sent an electronic copy of the fabulous compilation of parenting stories in return for my honest review. This does not detract from the fact that this book is fucking hilarious and I can’t lie about it!**

I was recently fortunate to be sent a digital copy of the wonderful, “We Need To Talk About The Conditions Of My Imprisonment : …and other funny parenting stories”. This compilation of rib tickling parenting stories was sent to me by the fabulous Susie.

Susie is one of my favourite bloggers over at So Happy In Town . Mrs S.H.I.T as she is known under her blog persona, is a part of this fabulous book along with many other fantastic bloggers from across the U.K, USA and Australia.

parenting stories

With a glass of some yummy cloudy lemonade in hand (it was the middle of the day!), I set about reading some of the most truthfully hilarious 186 pages of my parenting life! When I became pregnant and as the pregnancy progressed, I became rather angry with the world.

Despite researching my heart out over what to expect, this pregnancy malarkey was total BS! Don’t get me wrong, it had its magical and wondrous moments, but my word was it tough! In ways I never thought were possible, my body punished me hourly for making it endure the supposed magic of growing a child.

Cut to once the Georgeous was born and that wondrous magicalness again returned until reality hit. As hubs returned to work after his 2 weeks paternity leave, the shit storm that was now my life hit me. And yes I loved it BUT it wasn’t as other mums had led me to believe.

It was tougher than my spinal surgery which I endured as a teen and spent a year recovering from. Tougher than climbing one of the more difficult paths of Mount Snowdon in Wales as I had done in previous years. Often relentless, overwhelming,intense and sometimes depressing.

I so wish I had a book like this brought to my attention prior to becoming a mama. Now mama to a 3 year old George, it’s easy to relate to. Whilst non parenting types reading it may think you can’t possibly live like this, trust me…you can’t make this stuff up!

This collection of hilarious parenting stories has been compiled by the amazing Michelle Tan.

“Michelle is the absurdist comic writer behind the Facebook persona, Ms. Awesome, Mother Extraordinaire, where she dispenses unsolicited funny advice about surviving parenthood.”

It’ll make you feel human, restore your confidence that you aren’t actually insane and this is in fact life for many parents across the globe even! Most of all it will leave a big, fat smile calorie free on your face. Better than any glass of wine or bar of chocolate.

Get your copy here We Need To Talk About The Conditions Of My Imprisonment…and other funny parenting stories.

Press release :- 

The book will be launched at a public event on Saturday 21st April 2018 at XSCAPE, Yorkshire. There will be activities for children and many of the writers. Families will find solidarity and humour on offer throughout the day. People will be invited to share their experiences of the absurd, surreal and downright funny things about parenting.   We want to spread the message that eating their chocolate in hiding is perfectly normal because some things in life should not be shared.

The dictatorship – life with a two year old toddler.

**This post has sat in my drafts for a while, forgotten and lonely.  My toddler model is now over three years old and still thriving. But before I tell you all about how “the model” has evolved, let me take you back to a year ago when I was living with a two year old. Continuing on from one of my more popular posts Life with a toddler – the 2014 model .Enjoy!**

As the parent of a toddler, I’m finding myself under the dictatorship of a two year old. In a similar fashion to a communist regime, I’m regularly told where to sit, who to talk to, how to play certain “games”. To be honest it doesn’t feel like playing when I’m being ordered what car I can and can’t play with, and exactly where to drive it. 

Mainstream music is limited to anything on the CBeebies or nursery rhyme playlist. Disney films and CBeebies get the seal of approval but otherwise the only other programme to frequent our screens are Paw Patrol and Blaze and the Monster Machines.

Our day begins at a semi reasonable hour but orders to “go downstairs” ring out on on the toddler tannoy before I have time to even open my eyes. His lordship dictates specific rules such as;

  • The bath must be completely empty of water before exiting.
  • Face washing will only commence once there are at least three toys in the sink of water.
  • Drinks will only be drunk if provided in a container to Sir’s satisfaction.

You may be familiar with the term “terrible twos”. It’s a widely used phrase that many people now know and use. Closely followed by the supposéd “threenager” phase.  As my parenting journey began as a follower of the gentle parenting regime, I was led to believe these were not ideal terms to label a your toddler with.

However, being a good few years into this parenting shizzle I can confirm that these are inevitable stages that your mini dictator will go through. At two years old you will have days that you will swear this model truly can be terrible to be in the company of. My own experiences are teaching me that patience and calmness help.

When your mini dictator goes into terrible mode whilst in a public setting, a huge dose of trying to ignore what’s happening  goes a long way. People may stare because they either don’t have this model or they haven’t for a long time and they have forgotten what it’s like to take it out. Remain calm, composed and patient and this will help settle your mini dictator back to it’s usual lovely self whilst showing the world that “you’ve got this shit”.

So if you’ve recently installed a future mini dictator into your fine self and you are reading this, never fear, we’ve all pretty much dealt with this in year two. For anyone going through year two with their model I hope my tips help. I’m learning that the cuteness mode is ever increasing and the fun mode has now been upgraded. This upgrade allows you to enjoy their marvel at everything and days out feel a lot more worthwhile. Gone are the days where you take your early model out, waving it at fish tanks in an aquarium hoping for a reaction.

If you have read all of this and have no idea what I am going on about, please rest assured that this is a tongue in cheek account of living with a two year old. The good, the bad and the ugly.

Can you relate?

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday

The year of the alternative advent calendar.

For me, 2017 will be remembered as the year that advent calendars went mad. They stepped into a whole new level. Some smart Alec (where the heck does this phrase come from?) decided that chocolate advent calendars were not enough. Cover my ears! You can now get an advent calendar containing almost anything.

Of course there have been “fill your own” advents for a while now. Mainly focused on children and adopted by parents who don’t want their precious munchkins having chocolate or because they suffer with allergies. All fab reasons.

But now our little munchkins are being indulged by the supermarkets. A couple of pound (if that, thank you Poundland) on a chocolate advent calendar will no longer suffice. You can now be nagged into buying advents anywhere from £15 upwards to £10,000 (yes really, the feature gift being a £300 Dyson hairdryer) containing Cars, Lego, Playmobil, Frozen characters. The list is endless. I know this isn’t that new but it’s got bigger and more varied this year. Everyone is in on the act.

As for the adults? Well this is where the fun really starts. Counting down to Christmas? For many this is still a celebration of the birth of Christ. So why not count down with a sex toy a day (enter monkey that sees no evil emoji here)! I’m not religious myself but I’m sure this has gone down fabulously amongst those who still hold sacred the true meaning of Christmas.

Sex toys not your thing? We’ve got wine, gin, Yankee candles, bath bombs, makeup, some YouTube girl that everyone has gone bonkers over her charging £50 for bits you can find for a quarter of the price. I just can’t even imagine how next year can top this! Will people be hitting self storage. 25 lockup’s, each containing a new Range Rover a day for the missus. Our consumerist minds have gone mad!

So this year I’ve treated myself and hubs to a little more upmarket calendar in the form of Lindt Chocolate. £5 each in Asda if you don’t mind (not an ad).  Next year I may well demand a nail varnish or bath bomb advent calendar who knows but for now I’ll sit back and enjoy my first love, milk chocolate. Mm mmm. And this little festive rhyme for your reading pleasure.

On the twelfth day of Christmas my true love gave to me

12 Yankee candles

11 Star Wars Lego’s

10 sample scents

9 gins for drinking

8 Peppa Pig toys

7 fizzy bath bombs

6 tins of Pringles

5 wines for swigging

4 Clarins skincare

3 toot toot cars

2 nipple pasties

And a box full of stinky cheese.

I hope you enjoyed that. Hands up if your are now googling nipple pasties?

Advent

Have you and your family opted for an alternative advent calendar this year? Please share them with us. Seasons Greetings to you all.

Much love until next time.

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday

The truth about pregnancy

The truth about pregnancy is obviously my truth. I know every pregnancy for every person is different. I’m hoping some women or indeed men will read and relate to this as I like to think I’m being open about the parts people really don’t go into detail about on a daily basis. Let me know what you think. Did you experience anything similar during your pregnancy. Feel free to laugh. I did! Blimey when something less than always pleasant is happening to you for 9/10 months you’ve got to laugh or end up seriously peeved. So here goes.

Anyone else feel like announcing you are having a baby is a bit like telling your parents you lost your virginity. The slightly awkward realisation that everyone is congratulating you on having sex. Like we all know one another is doing it. But to say to the world “hey (little wave), we’ve had sex over here! I mean let’s get a high five for the sex yeah!”

For 9 months I feel like a walking advert for sex. Reasons to have it. Reasons to not have it. I don’t even get paid for advertising space, for the walking advert of magical crap that I’ve become.

Pregnancy

My pregnancy with George could’ve been worse but then if you had seen the state of me! I’ll still tell you now, as magical as it is and I loved feeling bubba move, pregnancy really wasn’t all it cracked up to be. It fucked my body in so many ways. Ways that will never be fixed. Have I come to terms with it? As much as I can. I look at the kid and he was totally worth it. But still.

I think some bodies were made for making and carrying babies and some weren’t. I was the latter. It took us a bit longer than average to conceive and I ended up not being able to feel or use my hands, with a nose even wurzel gummidge would struggle to contend with. Amongst the rest of the swollen crap. Elephants feet, grapes for a bum hole and the purple veiny things taking over my thighs of all places!

But otherwise yeah it was fab. Thankfully I didn’t experience morning sickness. I once vomited at 8 months pregnant and let’s say THAT took me by surprise. I had nausea in the first trimester and migraines but nothing a few fruity polos didn’t sort out.

Pregnancy
Photo courtesy of Little Smilers studio

Then there’s your poo. Everyone knows I love talking about poo. My sis actually feel pregnant 5 months before me so she was able to prep me on the stages of poo your pregnant self goes though. Starting with the “cow pat” phase and ending so elegantly with the constipated haemorrhoids phase. Honestly it’s so hard to poo when you have a ginormous belly in front of you and you ant adequately lean forward.

And don’t think you’ll be done with panty pads either. Oh no. There’s various levels of discharge stages you must experience on top of all the other uncomfortable magicalness. I must’ve wanted to escape my body at least once every 24 hours.

Then there’s the insomnia! Like what the actual fuck! It’s like your body says “hey! You wanna have a baby? Let’s get you used to this sleep deprivation thingy now”! Why! I won’t be growing a human once the baby arrives will I! Let me sleep!

Pregnancy

As glamorous as it sounds, it was. Snuggling into bed with at least 5 pillows behind me to prevent the reflux and heartburn whilst ensuring the Rennie’s could be found in the dark on my bedside table. Then more pillows between my legs and behind my back because oh my gosh your hips and back really like to let you know they are carrying a baby. Then win my hands strapped up in wrist splints for the carpel tunnel syndrome I would just start to snooze and relax. 20 minutes later and a swift lean on my bladder from my wonderful bundle of magic and I needed the loo. This would happen at least 12 times a night.

I often just stayed up because my hands hurt too much if I fell asleep. I’d wake up and have to pull my fingers and rubs and shake my hands in an effort to regain the feeling and remove the pain. Not forgetting the restless legs. Trying to relax and all my legs want to do is kick out and flip around. How hubs didn’t move out is beyond me. And sadly for him there was no spare bedroom. Thankfully I had. A family of foxes living in our garden that kept me entertained in the early hours. Not to mention some epic lightening shows.

But there was MANY positives to being pregnant. Playing with my bubba inside my tummy using a torch or music provided me with hours of joy. Watching and feeling him move inside me and being able to share that with family and friends. Feeling like a superhero being able to grow this amazing human being. Knowing I was their source of everything and taking the responsibility of motherhood the moment I conceived. Feeling so grateful that I had this opportunity that so many women don’t.

Pregnancy

My hair. Oh my hair. I mean it was rather unfair that at a time when my bikini line was about to become like a challenge on the krypton factor to shave, it also started to grow out of control. The boundaries stretched and suddenly my bikini line became a “let’s-venture-down-her-let’s-So there you have it. We had sex! And this is what happened. I’ll save the shit storm that was my labour for another post.
**Edit** I’ve since thought of more delightfulness experienced whilst pregnant. This wouldn’t be the truth, my truth if it wasn’t the whole truth.

  • The weird spotting you get during implantation that makes you think you are about to come on and then you do a test before a night out on the piss only to find you are going to be on the lemonade all night.
  • The way your mouth always tastes like you’ve been sucking on a metal pole for hours.
  • Your superhero sense of smell. You can smell any smell a mile off. I had lots of fun guessing what people were cooking in the next room at lunch break at work.
  • The way you think all your baggy pre pregnancy tops will fit you when your pregnant because it’s just a fatter belly right? Wrong! Under your bra thickens and widens as your ribs expand, sending your organs god knows where and you end up looking like a sausage in a skin that’s too small. And that’s why maternity wear is big business lol.
  • Hot flushes that appear out of nowhere and make you wonder if you are dying of flu whilst you stand there dripping with sweat looking like you’ve got the plague.
  • Your nipples getting strangely darker. Who the heck knows why.
  • The surprise you get when you have your first scan (12 weeks) and you expect them to be al over your belly like they are on the tele and in films and they actually do it under your belly button because surprisingly that’s where the baby is until it grows bigger.
  • The feeling of bubba move and thinking it couldn’t have been further from the “butterflies” people told me I’d feel. It was actually more like bubbles popping.
  • Wondering why my throat was burning of a night and finding out that’s reflux for you.
  • Having hubs have to cut my dinner up towards the end because the carpel tunnel syndrome meant I couldn’t grip properly or feel my damn hands through the pins and needles.

Oh the joys. Until next time…..

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday
Rhyming with Wine

Ain’t No Pleasing You – Why I really mustn’t grumble

This post is a shameful admission that I am a bit of miserable, moaning Mama. Ain’t no pleasing you is a Chas and Dave fav that myself and hubs like to sing along to. We have both mutually agreed that it is most definitely “my” song. I’ve come a long way from my song being “You’re so vain” by Carly Simon. Ain’t got no time for that shizzle anymore. Although I’ve always tried to still do my makeup most days since George arrived. Anyways, I’m waffling (blame my Dad for that trait).

Being a Chas and Dave fan it felt very apt to use two of their song titles to summarise this post. I often listen to “Mustn’t Grumble” as a way of reminding myself that no matter how tough or bad things seem, there is always worse and things always work out.

I can’t explain to you who I was Pre-motherhood but I can tell you what I wasn’t. Complaining and moaning was not on my agenda Pre-motherhood. I was known for my optimism and always being able to look for the good in everything. (Or at least I felt I was ).Yet as George gets older I feel as though I am moaning and complaining more and more.

The last thing I want to be remembered for is whingeing, moaning and sapping the fun out of everything. Never fear though. My solution to happiness is here and it starts with a theory I have. The theory as to why I may have this negative personality trait growing within me.

My desire to want the world to be a better place for George is leading me to see any negative aspects and want them hidden or fixed before he becomes aware of them.

Whereas previously I have chosen to live these past 30 years hoping on and off of a cloud. Avoiding news and turning a blind eye to anything that was less than perfect. Now I can’t just do that.

I can’t control what George witnesses and experiences all the time. No one wants their child disappointed or upset. I’m starting to realise that it’s a human emotion that we must all experience. I can’t stop it. Whether it be that you can no longer hand feed the sheep as he is so used to at our local farm. Or that the dinosaur puppet show I bigged up was actually a woman with a duster on her hand.

Nine times out of ten he is oblivious and none the wiser, happily smiling and enjoying his day. Maybe that’s the best part of me he has inherited. I’m trying so hard to go back to that part of me and stop looking for and dwelling on the negative. Be that with people, places or events.

Recently I have tried to just sing, dance or be silly to get past it. If I am starting to feel disappointed in a situation or a person’s behaviour, behaving like a child and making George giggle reminds me that the world is still ok. As mothers, parents, grandparents, we all (I would hope) want our children to live happy and fulfilled lives. I’m sure this is a natural attribute.

Miserable moan bag is not something I wish to remain a part of my personality and I shall try hard to eradicate it before it starts to rub off. The last thing I hope to create is a miserable mini moan bag.

Can you relate? Have you noticed a shift in your character or personality trait since becoming a parent? Do you think I have come to the right conclusion or could there be another answer as to why I am suddenly so critical. I have always had pretty high moral standards.

Let us know what you think in the comments below, if you would. And I’ll be sure to send some positive thoughts your way.

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday

Gorgeous George’s Mama’s – a series of unfortunate events

The last few weeks have been interesting shall we say. Interesting makes it sound like it’s been fun….it hasn’t. It’s been damn right misfortunate is what it has been. I’ve said more “fucks” than I care to admit to and I’m clearly stressed. Wanna know how I know? Freaky dreams! Whenever I have things on my mind I start to have freaky dreams.

I once remember being on holiday with my brother in law and getting up in the morning to report I had had a freaky dream.
“Me too” he chirped up.
“Go on then, let’s here it” I replied
“Well I dreamt we were playing a footie match and I was playing in a different position to normal!”
“Is that it!” I said. I then proceeded to tell him the sort of dreams I have. Vivid, freaky and so not on any realm I’ve ever heard other people dream of.

I can’t remember my dream from that time because I’ve had so many since but this week’s dream was roughly as follows;

I was in a sort of scientific aquarium type building. They had a creature. The centre of its body was like a six foot man. Attached to the man was a soft shell tortoise. The entire creature itself was whiteish grey and just flapping about in this isn’t tank. Imagine it’s easily 6 foot tall and across the same of not more. For the most part of the dream I was creeping about going through trap doors and trying to find a way to free this crazy, sad creature.

Think you can beat that? I’d love to hear some of your strange dreams in the comments below.

So anyways. Back to my real life. afew weeks back my neighbour had a new fence fitted. She was so wonderful and made me handmade chocolate cupcakes in advance of the event. Unfortunately the fencing company were not as pleasant and completely trashed my garden whilst completing the work. My neighbour was oblivious so I had to tell her in order to get the guys details. Long story short, my neighbour was wonderful and couldn’t do enough to help me. The fencer on the other hand didn’t really have much to offer the situation. I tidied up my garden and bought new plants to replace the ones he had demolished. It encouraged me to have a good tidy up (although it wasn’t a messy garden). I pride myself on my garden, it’s in my blood.

As a result of all the garden tidying, my household waste wheelie bin was a little more full than usual and the lid was ajar. Something which rarely occurs. I aim to recycle as much waste as possible so the bin was only full of items I couldn’t recycle. The local tip is good but it is closed one of the days George attends nursery and it’s difficult and dangerous in my opinion to take a toddler to the recycling tip. So I assumed the dustman would be kind as I never have my bin full. Unfortunately they wasn’t and I returned home to a fortnights worth of used cat litter and nappies and garden rubbish still sat on my drive.

Having collections only once a fortnight I was feeling desperate about where I was going to store and dispose of another two weeks worth of rubbish. I dropped George at nursery and had to resort to lying the bin on its side, removing the contents and taking as much to the tip as I could. Not a productive use of my child free time.

After tidying up and putting some washing on, I went to collect George at lunch time. The road had been closed after we dropped him off (we were the last car down that road) so we had to leave earlier and detour. Using up even more of my ‘productive child free time). When we returned home I noticed the washing machine wasn’t moving and the lights were not showing up properly. Only parts of the numbers were showing. It was broken! Not only that but it had only been repaired 4 months ago! I have a cover care plan for it, thankfully? I’m undecided whether that’s a good thing or not at the moment!

I’m very wary of appliances, especially since the Grenfell tower tragedy. I wanted it unplugged immediately as it was acting strangely. However, it is plugged into the wall under the unit behind the machine. As it had stopped mid cycle it was full of water and too heavy to shift. By this point my calm side had all but diminished. Hubby was chucking “you need to’s” at me whilst I screamed at him to “shut up and fuck off”. I needed his help but he’s the main recipient of my frustrations.  I emptied all the dripping wet washing out of the machine. Removed the water from the drum by hand using a cup, and hubs helped removed the remainder via the filter using a baking tray and lots of teatowels that I now couldn’t wash easily.

Machine emptied, moved and unplugged I then began the sweaty and arduous task of hand rinsing and wringing each item to allow it to drip dry on the line whilst we still had a good part of the day left.

I then called the care cover company who have always been so helpful in the 10 years we have had them but this year they are utter shite. Last time they made me wait in all day, only to turn up at 8pm after George was in bed. They then didn’t have the part (although the next engineer that finally repaired it said they always carry the motors). All in all I was without a machine for 3 weeks and I made them reimburse my launderette fees. I also had a whole host of problems due to them still not updating my married name. I’ve been married 8 years this year!

So when I called last week to report the fault and I was told they didn’t have anyone by my name on the system, I lost it! I’m a calm person really and hate to be rude to people. But bearing in mind I’d spent my morning elbow deep in cat and toddler shit and filthy water I think my patience had been well and truly spent. I had also re-sent them a copy of my marriage certificate 4 months ago after the last fiasco. They informed me that someone will be coming this week and I will receive a text tonight with a 4 hour time slot. I’ll believe it when I see it.

To add insult to injury last week, hubby was in the process of trying to transfer over the finance on his car to a newer model. He has covered 80,000 miles in just over two years commuting and needed to switch to a comfier and less worn model. There were problems left right and centre with the finance and it has been a massive fiasco trying to work it all out. Then finally it was all agreed. We had the new car in our possession. Cut to collection of the old car and we couldn’t find the spare key. I say we, it’s hubby’s car, hubby’s key, but he suddenly needed my assistance finding said key to avoid a £150 penalty charge. He also couldn’t find the v5 document and had to apply for a new one.

 

I try so hard to keep our tiny house organised but we somehow have magic black holes that swallow things up for years. You then find them way after you no longer need them. Being told the car was being collected by 11, we waited in all morning. 11am came and went. Hubs called them. The collection guy was in Brighton! FYI, thats’ a long way from Essex! He agreed he would be with us by 1.30.

I collected George from nursery and took him swimming after another relatively wasted child free morning. On returning home at 3pm I was confronted with the old bloody car still sitting there! The guy eventually collected it not long after my return. Hubs then reported to me that the oil light was coming on in the new car despite it only having 2000 miles on the clock and having supposedly been serviced before they gave it to us.

Queue hubs driving to the dealers to try and find out what the heck that is all about. They have decided it’s not a leak but more likely a sensor fault and it is booked in tomorrow for repair.

I realise that these problems are hardly end of the world stuff. I have perspective. Especially in light of Grenfell and people having lost loved ones and everything they own.

Needless to say I am only human and there are only so many unfortunate events can occur before I start to wonder what the heck I’m doing wrong. I have decided there is only one conclusion……. that bloody fencer!

He broke a mirror I had in my garden (throwing the sharps pieces around my garden for my toddler to find I might add, twat!). He must’ve brought us 7 years bad luck as it’s on my land. Hopefully we have been dealt those 7 years all in the last fortnight.  One can only hope.

Do you ever feel like everything is working against you?

Keep Calm and Carry On Linking Sunday