Remember the last post where I was hoping that Beautiful Baby Daughter would be my only regular human child? Well, that's not working out too well, truth be told.
On return from school today Beautiful baby daughter informed me in a proud and happy voice that she'd learned a new word.
From her English teacher.
So far so good.
So, as is a good mummy's wont, I enquired as to the new word.
Would you like to know too?
Promiscuous.
Splendid, so no hope for me then.
As you were.
Wednesday, 9 November 2011
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Help me
You know your kids aren't quite the same as others when...
Your elder daughter rings you and says " Mummy, I've just been to Asda and they had no pesto and when I came out there was a man weeing just outside the shop. What kind of a place doesn't sell pesto?"
And in another supermarket, in another town, your son says in a proud and happpy voice "Oh God that's brilliant, a free glass with the Budweiser, that means me and Johnny have the same glass, how good is that?"
So I have a daughter who doesn't gee her ginger at men weeing in the street and a son in the throes of a bromance.
Help me, Lucy Abigail, you're my only hope.
Your elder daughter rings you and says " Mummy, I've just been to Asda and they had no pesto and when I came out there was a man weeing just outside the shop. What kind of a place doesn't sell pesto?"
And in another supermarket, in another town, your son says in a proud and happpy voice "Oh God that's brilliant, a free glass with the Budweiser, that means me and Johnny have the same glass, how good is that?"
So I have a daughter who doesn't gee her ginger at men weeing in the street and a son in the throes of a bromance.
Help me, Lucy Abigail, you're my only hope.
Friday, 4 November 2011
Things that made your auntie cheery today
I love Fridays, truly I do, best day of the week for me usually. But today, oh my mercies, aunties wee cup of happiness overfloeth.
My morning got off to the best start as when I woke up it was sheeting down with rain and I didn't have to get up and go out. Indeed I snuggled back down with a humungous mug of coffee and some of my preferred porn, aka The White Company Christmas brochure, they have 20% off dresses and tunics this week, so it'd be rude not to really - auntie has ordered THIS
I proceeded downstairs still fully jammied up and topped up the caffiene levels and proceeded to source flights for an upcoming secret jolly. So far so good.
Then my lovely, lovely friend LOOKING FOR BLUE SKY sent me this
Now I defy you to watch this and not be cheery too. Incidentally, is it wrong that I now fancy John Barrowman as well? What is it with me and camp men? I started off with Alan Cumming, progressed to DT who is not the machoest (if it wasn't a word before when it gets typed in the blog of auntie it becomes one)and now John Barrowman.
Gawdonlyknows who it'll be next.
My morning got off to the best start as when I woke up it was sheeting down with rain and I didn't have to get up and go out. Indeed I snuggled back down with a humungous mug of coffee and some of my preferred porn, aka The White Company Christmas brochure, they have 20% off dresses and tunics this week, so it'd be rude not to really - auntie has ordered THIS
I proceeded downstairs still fully jammied up and topped up the caffiene levels and proceeded to source flights for an upcoming secret jolly. So far so good.
Then my lovely, lovely friend LOOKING FOR BLUE SKY sent me this
Now I defy you to watch this and not be cheery too. Incidentally, is it wrong that I now fancy John Barrowman as well? What is it with me and camp men? I started off with Alan Cumming, progressed to DT who is not the machoest (if it wasn't a word before when it gets typed in the blog of auntie it becomes one)and now John Barrowman.
Gawdonlyknows who it'll be next.
Sunday, 30 October 2011
10 things that could only happen in my life
You know the 1 step forward and 2 steps back analogy?, that could have been written for your auntie. For me if a good thing happens then a not so good thing comes along to even up the score. A more Pollyannaish auntie would say that if a bad thing happens a better thing comes along and I do try and reframe stuff to that end but for the purposes of slight comedy value we will go with the 1 forward and 2 back.
Since the dawn of time I have been trying and failing to lose weight This is my lifelong battle as I am an auntie who loves cake with a passion. I am losing badly. Imagine my surprise and delight when I got thinner. Yaay, happy middle aged woman dance of joy.
The down side - it was my wrist and my hands that got thinner. My watch and ring are now hanging off me. Turn away now if you don't want to read swearing, what the actual fuckity fuck fuck?
Both The Beautiful Son and the Beautiful Baby Daughter were out at parties and sleepovers on Friday night. I had looked forward to this unexpected free night with an expectation usually only experienced by kiss and tell girls when they finally realise they are going to shag the footballer of their grubby little dreams.
Then Eldest Beautiful Daughter arrived home from university and that meant all my plans had to be accommodated to include her as she needs constant feeding and entertainment.
I spent a whole day making a presentation so that I didn't scare lay people about a disease. I normally only train doctors and nurses so I can talk about symptoms and side effects and no one turns green or cries.
Then the chairman of the support group showed up and spoke at great length and with astonishingly graphic detail about the scary bits and the side effects that I had been so keen to avoid.
I got a letter from the Inland revenue to say I had overpaid tax and they were sending me five hundred and something pounds.
The next day I got a letter saying I owed them four hundred and something pounds in unpaid NI contributions.
In a fit of unexpected efficiency I ordered 200 stamps from Royal Mail online. I get through stamps on an industrial basis and I am forever running out and then I have to drive to the village, find a parking space and wait behind the pensioners who hide around the corner and appear in a flash mob just before I join the queue. I smugly congratulated myself on such a time saving ruse.
I arrived home from work and find a Royal Mail card saying they had a package that they needed a signature for. I drive to the collecting office, have to pay for parking as it's conveniently situated outside of the village but just inside the city centre and tucked away behind the railway station. I wait in a very long queue and retrieve a very flat envelope. Which contained 200 stamps.
As I always say, my life is massively entertaining if you're not living it.
Since the dawn of time I have been trying and failing to lose weight This is my lifelong battle as I am an auntie who loves cake with a passion. I am losing badly. Imagine my surprise and delight when I got thinner. Yaay, happy middle aged woman dance of joy.
The down side - it was my wrist and my hands that got thinner. My watch and ring are now hanging off me. Turn away now if you don't want to read swearing, what the actual fuckity fuck fuck?
Both The Beautiful Son and the Beautiful Baby Daughter were out at parties and sleepovers on Friday night. I had looked forward to this unexpected free night with an expectation usually only experienced by kiss and tell girls when they finally realise they are going to shag the footballer of their grubby little dreams.
Then Eldest Beautiful Daughter arrived home from university and that meant all my plans had to be accommodated to include her as she needs constant feeding and entertainment.
I spent a whole day making a presentation so that I didn't scare lay people about a disease. I normally only train doctors and nurses so I can talk about symptoms and side effects and no one turns green or cries.
Then the chairman of the support group showed up and spoke at great length and with astonishingly graphic detail about the scary bits and the side effects that I had been so keen to avoid.
I got a letter from the Inland revenue to say I had overpaid tax and they were sending me five hundred and something pounds.
The next day I got a letter saying I owed them four hundred and something pounds in unpaid NI contributions.
In a fit of unexpected efficiency I ordered 200 stamps from Royal Mail online. I get through stamps on an industrial basis and I am forever running out and then I have to drive to the village, find a parking space and wait behind the pensioners who hide around the corner and appear in a flash mob just before I join the queue. I smugly congratulated myself on such a time saving ruse.
I arrived home from work and find a Royal Mail card saying they had a package that they needed a signature for. I drive to the collecting office, have to pay for parking as it's conveniently situated outside of the village but just inside the city centre and tucked away behind the railway station. I wait in a very long queue and retrieve a very flat envelope. Which contained 200 stamps.
As I always say, my life is massively entertaining if you're not living it.
Wednesday, 26 October 2011
10 things my children are quite cross with me about
I have spectacularly failed to be a millionaire and keep them in ponies and Jack Wills all the live long day.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter is cross that she is going to have to get a part time job. This is because she didn't get a job in the summer and save some cash for term time. She is extremely cross that I am not financing her drinking oops sorry studies this year. Her life would be so much easier if I just kept giving her £60 a week for food oops sorry supernoodles and alcohol, wouldn't it?
She is cross that she didn't get to come to Turkey with us last week and missed out on a free holiday. This is due to uni students not having a half term break. The point that it's the university that sets the timetable and not me has escaped her.
EBD is also cross that she isn't allowed to keep her bigger bedroom now that she doesn't live here, when she comes back in the holidays she will have to sleep in BBD's smaller room.
I will not let Beautiful Baby Daughter die her gorgeous titian tresses jet black. She is properly cross with me about this but I will not have it. Yes, I am aware that at 15 I dyed my hair jet black and at 15 her elder sister dyed her hair jet black, I just can't bear the thought of my baby dying her hair.
BBD is cross that I expect her to live in 1 bedroom, she has now spread her crap over her old bedroom and into the bedroom grudgingly vacated by EBD. That means there are 2 bedrooms that look like Beirut on a bad day.
BBD is annoyed that she always has her birthday on holiday, she sometimes has to wait for big presents until we return, she has to delay her party as most of her friends are away tooand she feels it's not as good as when you have a birthday at your own house. My conception of her was very poorly timed, in her opinion.
The Beautiful Son is cross that I won't leave him home alone overnight, especially now he is 16. EBD was at uni before she spent a night alone. I don't like to leave him alone for an evening.
TBS is cross that I impose an 11pm curfew during the school week, he thinks if he can get up for his paper round and school then he should be able to come in at anytime that takes his fancy.
TBS is cross if I go anywhere without him that isn't work or the supermarket. He gets very tetchy if I go out for a meal or God forbid, a gig or a weekend away. I so can't wait till he has a girlfriend and I'll whinge and whine to be taken with them. Everywhere.
Eldest Beautiful Daughter is cross that she is going to have to get a part time job. This is because she didn't get a job in the summer and save some cash for term time. She is extremely cross that I am not financing her drinking oops sorry studies this year. Her life would be so much easier if I just kept giving her £60 a week for food oops sorry supernoodles and alcohol, wouldn't it?
She is cross that she didn't get to come to Turkey with us last week and missed out on a free holiday. This is due to uni students not having a half term break. The point that it's the university that sets the timetable and not me has escaped her.
EBD is also cross that she isn't allowed to keep her bigger bedroom now that she doesn't live here, when she comes back in the holidays she will have to sleep in BBD's smaller room.
I will not let Beautiful Baby Daughter die her gorgeous titian tresses jet black. She is properly cross with me about this but I will not have it. Yes, I am aware that at 15 I dyed my hair jet black and at 15 her elder sister dyed her hair jet black, I just can't bear the thought of my baby dying her hair.
BBD is cross that I expect her to live in 1 bedroom, she has now spread her crap over her old bedroom and into the bedroom grudgingly vacated by EBD. That means there are 2 bedrooms that look like Beirut on a bad day.
BBD is annoyed that she always has her birthday on holiday, she sometimes has to wait for big presents until we return, she has to delay her party as most of her friends are away tooand she feels it's not as good as when you have a birthday at your own house. My conception of her was very poorly timed, in her opinion.
The Beautiful Son is cross that I won't leave him home alone overnight, especially now he is 16. EBD was at uni before she spent a night alone. I don't like to leave him alone for an evening.
TBS is cross that I impose an 11pm curfew during the school week, he thinks if he can get up for his paper round and school then he should be able to come in at anytime that takes his fancy.
TBS is cross if I go anywhere without him that isn't work or the supermarket. He gets very tetchy if I go out for a meal or God forbid, a gig or a weekend away. I so can't wait till he has a girlfriend and I'll whinge and whine to be taken with them. Everywhere.
Monday, 24 October 2011
10 quirks my family has
I have lived in England for the last 11 years and I don't see my family often as it's a 700 mile round trip. Having spent the last week on holiday with my parents I am slightly more aware of their little quirks than usual. You know the things your family does and some of it is quite endearing, some of it is puzzling and some of it makes you reach for the gin. I wouldn't say it was stressful or anything but my jaw is beginning to unclench now.
My dad prefers to keep his holiday money in a cushion cover, that's as safe as houses for him.
My dad doesn't think the evening has ended until he's bought some more hooky dvd's. He was buying 10 a night, he has more films than blockbusters.
They both seem to be ambrosia to mosquito's, their anti mosquito protection going to bed routine takes quite some time. They have the plug in deterrents, they spray the room, they wipe stuff they buy from the chemist on any exposed skin, they wear full length pyjamas, they both sleep inside a net they bought in Ikea and they tuck themselves oh so carefully in and still they are bitten to death. I did nothing, not a thing and I wasn't bitten at all. This made my mother a tad tetchy.
My mother looked like a mafia widow most evenings, she has a tiny bite on her face which meant huge black sunglasses had to be put on when we went out. She said she was scared someone would think my dad had hit her. In my head, every evening went the refrain of "only the lonely" but her glasses weren't as nice as Roy's.
When I was in a bikini, they were in jeans and jumpers, my mum even had her tights on under the jeans, she does wear her sunhat though, as it was in the 80's, that is her concession to the temperature.
My mother can't speak to waiters at all, she would tell us what she wanted and when the waiter asked her for her order, she would look frantically at us and mouth what she wanted.
My mother never, ever enjoys what she gets in restaurants. No matter how good the food is, there is always something not quite right with it, if she enjoyed the fish, the potatoes were not right, too lumpy, too seasoned, too hot, too cold, too something. She would always leave most of her dinner uneaten and then we would have to have the conversation with the waiter, obviously she wouldn't complain about anything but she would make us explain that the food was lovely but she's just not a big eater, that's what she likes us to say. I just wanted to say sorry, she's a bit mental and fussy and she hates seasoning and any kind of taste in food at all, she only wants things to taste like porridge.
Silence is a big no no for them, they like to have conversation at all times, especially if you're trying to watch a film, most especially then.
They do insist upon telling you everything 3 times over, it's difficult to appear interested when it actually didn't really matter in the first place
As they are both tee total, they just don't understand why anyone would want to drink, at all. This means my holiday becomes much more sober. At a time where I need alcohol just so much more.
My dad prefers to keep his holiday money in a cushion cover, that's as safe as houses for him.
My dad doesn't think the evening has ended until he's bought some more hooky dvd's. He was buying 10 a night, he has more films than blockbusters.
They both seem to be ambrosia to mosquito's, their anti mosquito protection going to bed routine takes quite some time. They have the plug in deterrents, they spray the room, they wipe stuff they buy from the chemist on any exposed skin, they wear full length pyjamas, they both sleep inside a net they bought in Ikea and they tuck themselves oh so carefully in and still they are bitten to death. I did nothing, not a thing and I wasn't bitten at all. This made my mother a tad tetchy.
My mother looked like a mafia widow most evenings, she has a tiny bite on her face which meant huge black sunglasses had to be put on when we went out. She said she was scared someone would think my dad had hit her. In my head, every evening went the refrain of "only the lonely" but her glasses weren't as nice as Roy's.
When I was in a bikini, they were in jeans and jumpers, my mum even had her tights on under the jeans, she does wear her sunhat though, as it was in the 80's, that is her concession to the temperature.
My mother can't speak to waiters at all, she would tell us what she wanted and when the waiter asked her for her order, she would look frantically at us and mouth what she wanted.
My mother never, ever enjoys what she gets in restaurants. No matter how good the food is, there is always something not quite right with it, if she enjoyed the fish, the potatoes were not right, too lumpy, too seasoned, too hot, too cold, too something. She would always leave most of her dinner uneaten and then we would have to have the conversation with the waiter, obviously she wouldn't complain about anything but she would make us explain that the food was lovely but she's just not a big eater, that's what she likes us to say. I just wanted to say sorry, she's a bit mental and fussy and she hates seasoning and any kind of taste in food at all, she only wants things to taste like porridge.
Silence is a big no no for them, they like to have conversation at all times, especially if you're trying to watch a film, most especially then.
They do insist upon telling you everything 3 times over, it's difficult to appear interested when it actually didn't really matter in the first place
As they are both tee total, they just don't understand why anyone would want to drink, at all. This means my holiday becomes much more sober. At a time where I need alcohol just so much more.
Thursday, 20 October 2011
10 things I have learned about my youngest daughter
Today Beautiful Baby Daughter is 15. I have no idea how that happened, as clearly I'm only 29, ahem. The BBD is the most complex of the offspring and from the get go she required a more flexible approach to parenting. I wonder if this is true of other youngest children?
She is always right, even when she is clearly wrong, she will argue her point until you agree or your ears bleed, whichever comes first
She is startlingly and astonishingly messy, like no other child I've ever met and yet she is so fastidious about her work and her appearance
She is a brilliant young leader at Girls Brigade, she is adored by the little ones
She has a deep seated faith and a genuine belief that God will look after us
She is appalled by racism and truly astonished when she comes across it
She loves heinz tomato soup and would eat it every day
She thinks mayonnaise is the work of Satan
She has a frankly too high capacity for crap telly, Hollyoaks, Big Brother, Eastenders et al
She gave up her cheerleading place when she realised that she was holding her group back. That decision showed real maturity and thought for others, a fine example of team spirit.
She will rule the world one day, but only if she wants to. If she prefers she will stay in her jammies, drinking Heinz tomato soup from a mug and watching crap telly.
Lucy Abigail, your middle name is Hebrew for my fathers delight, which you are but as always, you are mo chridhe, my heart and every day I am thankful you are mine.
Monday, 17 October 2011
10 reasons you should go to Turkey
I'm lucky enough to go there a few times a year, my house is on the outskirts of a fair sized village and really close to the beautiful Olu Deniz beach. Everywhere I look I can see the most amazing scenery. Let me persuade you to visit
It really is beautiful, the seas are crystal clear and the sand white
The mountains look so incredible, you don't have to look far for a great view
The people are so friendly and helpful
Nothing is too much trouble and people genuinely want you to have the best time
You can rent my house, it's lovely, honest
The local food is amaaaaazing - it's agriculturally self suffiecient and the fruit and veg have real proper flavour, you eat what's in season and it tastes all the better for it
The local cheeses, nuts, olives and oils are fabulous
Eating and drinking are very reasonably priced, it's not in the euro so it's a very affordable holiday
You will be given free bread and olives in 90% of restaurants before your meal at no charge. The bread is lush. You will nearly always be offered free coffee and sometimes a free liqour as well after dinner
Did I mention the sunshine? it's very sunny there.
Friday, 14 October 2011
10 Things I miss
Apart from my sanity and youth, that is... More along the lines of things you can't buy anymore, this list appears to be food and drink related.
Cadbury creme bears - like creme eggs but you got them at Christmas. They came in a box made to look like a shop window, I loved them but very few people remember them, they were real, honest
Cremola foam - crystals that you mixed with water and it made a fizzy drink, gawdonlyknows what it did to my teeth and insides but as a child I loved them
Fry's five centres chocolate - milk chocolate with fruit flavoured cream centres, the fruit all mixed together, it never corresponded that 1 segment would have 1 flavour, just a bit mushed. We were easier pleased in the 70's.
Fruit toffos - lovely rot your teeth fruit flavoured toffees
Tudor crisps - so much better than Golden wonder which retailed at 2 and 1/2p per packet. Tudor were only 2p bargain and they had a great advert with paperboys and a strap line of "a canny bag of Tudor"
Tennants lager with ladies on the back - not to drink, I used to look at them in shops and pick my favourite girl, yep I was a strange child
Lucozade - when you were a poorly girl or boy you got Lucozade. It was only sold in chemists and the bottle was covered in orange cellophane. It seemed magic to me and always made me feel better.
Kraft macaroni cheese - came in a box, you cooked the macaroni and made the sauce from a powder in a shade of orange visible from space and in my house was always served up with chips and peas. That was my favourite tea when I was young.
Swiss nougat - I only had this when the Ideal Home Show came to the Kelvin Hall. We went every year and this was a strawberry flavoured non sticky version, the texture of fudge but less sweet. It was what I always spent my money on.
MB bars - chocolate with a cream filling but surprisingly firm in texture, a bit like a Frys chocolate cream bar but nicer.
So then, what foods do you miss from your formative years?
Cadbury creme bears - like creme eggs but you got them at Christmas. They came in a box made to look like a shop window, I loved them but very few people remember them, they were real, honest
Cremola foam - crystals that you mixed with water and it made a fizzy drink, gawdonlyknows what it did to my teeth and insides but as a child I loved them
Fry's five centres chocolate - milk chocolate with fruit flavoured cream centres, the fruit all mixed together, it never corresponded that 1 segment would have 1 flavour, just a bit mushed. We were easier pleased in the 70's.
Fruit toffos - lovely rot your teeth fruit flavoured toffees
Tudor crisps - so much better than Golden wonder which retailed at 2 and 1/2p per packet. Tudor were only 2p bargain and they had a great advert with paperboys and a strap line of "a canny bag of Tudor"
Tennants lager with ladies on the back - not to drink, I used to look at them in shops and pick my favourite girl, yep I was a strange child
Lucozade - when you were a poorly girl or boy you got Lucozade. It was only sold in chemists and the bottle was covered in orange cellophane. It seemed magic to me and always made me feel better.
Kraft macaroni cheese - came in a box, you cooked the macaroni and made the sauce from a powder in a shade of orange visible from space and in my house was always served up with chips and peas. That was my favourite tea when I was young.
Swiss nougat - I only had this when the Ideal Home Show came to the Kelvin Hall. We went every year and this was a strawberry flavoured non sticky version, the texture of fudge but less sweet. It was what I always spent my money on.
MB bars - chocolate with a cream filling but surprisingly firm in texture, a bit like a Frys chocolate cream bar but nicer.
So then, what foods do you miss from your formative years?
Wednesday, 12 October 2011
10 steps to getting through
I made a mistake and it is consuming my every waking moment. If I am not in tears or shaking with worry I am apologizing for my mistake. It is inconvenient and expensive and causes a whole lot of people a whole lot of extra work but fixable. I am usually okay ish at life but when I am coming out from a whole load of stress I realise what pressure I have been under. In no means am I unusual in this, I have a busy job, I have children, I have a house, I am tired all the live long day, I am sure most of you will understand that feeling, that strength sapping sense of having total responsibility. At this moment though I have reached my wall, I cannot go on like this any longer. However I know this feeling will pass, I know that I will be okay and quicker than I know I will feel happy again. Tomorrow is definitely another day.
Here are the 10 things that are getting me through
My mistake is being sorted, I am taking steps to ensure it never happens again, no one is giving me a hard time about this except myself
My son and daughter are not being horrible to each other too much as they can see I'm fragile
I know I will be able to cope again
I am going to drastically cut down on my work load
No one expects me to be superwoman/supermum/superworker except me, I am going to cut myself some slack
I am going to go and see my GP, I think there is an underlying reason for how I am feeling
This week is halfway over
I fly out to The Beautiful House on Friday for a week of rest
My parents will be joining me and I will actually be able to rest, that rest will help me carry on
The support and love that my nearest and dearest and colleagues have given me has been immense. The fact that they all have their own stuff to deal with but still have found space to help me has been hugely appreciated, again I am so incredibly grateful that I am so lucky. Please say a good thing to someone you know today, the world can only be a better place if we are kind to each other.
Here are the 10 things that are getting me through
My mistake is being sorted, I am taking steps to ensure it never happens again, no one is giving me a hard time about this except myself
My son and daughter are not being horrible to each other too much as they can see I'm fragile
I know I will be able to cope again
I am going to drastically cut down on my work load
No one expects me to be superwoman/supermum/superworker except me, I am going to cut myself some slack
I am going to go and see my GP, I think there is an underlying reason for how I am feeling
This week is halfway over
I fly out to The Beautiful House on Friday for a week of rest
My parents will be joining me and I will actually be able to rest, that rest will help me carry on
The support and love that my nearest and dearest and colleagues have given me has been immense. The fact that they all have their own stuff to deal with but still have found space to help me has been hugely appreciated, again I am so incredibly grateful that I am so lucky. Please say a good thing to someone you know today, the world can only be a better place if we are kind to each other.
Sunday, 9 October 2011
10 last free bloggy thing I've turned down
I get asked to review stuff, give away stuff as competitions, promote stuff fairly regularly. Now I accept that you probably have to work your way up with reviews etc before you get a go of the good stuff like free holidays and shoes. I'm an instant gratification girl, I want the good free stuff first. I am more than happy to sell my bloggy soul (and possibly a child) for free holidays and shoes.
These were the last things I have been offered
A £500 baby hamper as a comp prize - not likely to set my heart a flutter as my youngest will be 15 in less than a fortnight
To be an adjudicator at a Guiness world record attempt - there was no mention of cake
Pregnancy vitamins launch day - oh I'm not going back down that road, thankyouverymuch
Free £100 voucher to promote a shopping site.
Book blog site - oh I read and I blog but would others want to read about what I'm reading?
Theatre trip - I was on holiday
Experience days - I'm not madly keen on experiences, when someone says "well, that was an experience" I tend to think that is nice lady speak for "well that was crap"
Another theatre trip - a family one, show more suited to younger children than mine, although their behaviour might suggest otherwise
A day out at a science museum - again been there when they were much younger
Diet and fitness app - stop bloody laughing
Free washing powder - I want more exciting stuff than that.
Now once again, please offer me squillions of free stuff to review and promote, especially free stuff that I like, eg cake, weekends away especially trips to Barcelona as Kellogsville and I have a cunning plan, holidays, plastic surgery, clothes, make up and other nice lady things. I will do it properly, honest.
These were the last things I have been offered
A £500 baby hamper as a comp prize - not likely to set my heart a flutter as my youngest will be 15 in less than a fortnight
To be an adjudicator at a Guiness world record attempt - there was no mention of cake
Pregnancy vitamins launch day - oh I'm not going back down that road, thankyouverymuch
Free £100 voucher to promote a shopping site.
Book blog site - oh I read and I blog but would others want to read about what I'm reading?
Theatre trip - I was on holiday
Experience days - I'm not madly keen on experiences, when someone says "well, that was an experience" I tend to think that is nice lady speak for "well that was crap"
Another theatre trip - a family one, show more suited to younger children than mine, although their behaviour might suggest otherwise
A day out at a science museum - again been there when they were much younger
Diet and fitness app - stop bloody laughing
Free washing powder - I want more exciting stuff than that.
Now once again, please offer me squillions of free stuff to review and promote, especially free stuff that I like, eg cake, weekends away especially trips to Barcelona as Kellogsville and I have a cunning plan, holidays, plastic surgery, clothes, make up and other nice lady things. I will do it properly, honest.
Friday, 7 October 2011
10 Worst Presents
Leopard print snood - birthday this year, I am not really an animal print kind of girl and I didn't even do snoods in the 80's
Black and white glass bowl - all fluted and swirly from the Colin and Justin range, Xmas present last year, I love my sis in law dearly but that was just hideous. It may have been an emergency present.
A ceramic lemon with a pot scourer inside - from my ex mother in law when I was still married as a birthday present, enough said.
A set of eyeshadows instead of an Easter Egg - I might have been 14 but c'mon, actually my mum still buys me an Easter egg now, she must be scared to stop in case I did another "you've really upset me" teenage strop.
Red lace g string and suspender belt - bought by my brother in law, the minister in an attempt to be "hey I might be a minister but I still know people have sex" It was the Christmas after I got married, I was only 22, and mortified.
Cream fake fur body warmer - the ex mr auntiegwen one Christmas, I looked like a small chubby polar bear
Candle shaped like a wedge of chocolate gateau - looked bad and smelled worse, from my sister
A trip to a Lake District hotel for my 29th birthday - the sentiment was great, the ex mr auntiegwen bought be a Joanna Trollope novel, a box of chocs and a night in a hotel by myself. Jack was 8 weeks old and as I couldn't leave my bosoms at home would have starved. The ex mr auntiegwen didn't think of that. Still I enjoyed the book and the chocolates.
The biggest box of chocolates Thornton's do - I could have had a frock and shoes for the money, (it cost £50 around 15 years ago) but oh no I had to eat them all and get fat (ter).
My 40th birthday trip to Barcelona - I love the city and had been before with friends but the ex mr ag took me and when I was there I/we realised that it was all over. I hope to go back under happier circumstances.
Black and white glass bowl - all fluted and swirly from the Colin and Justin range, Xmas present last year, I love my sis in law dearly but that was just hideous. It may have been an emergency present.
A ceramic lemon with a pot scourer inside - from my ex mother in law when I was still married as a birthday present, enough said.
A set of eyeshadows instead of an Easter Egg - I might have been 14 but c'mon, actually my mum still buys me an Easter egg now, she must be scared to stop in case I did another "you've really upset me" teenage strop.
Red lace g string and suspender belt - bought by my brother in law, the minister in an attempt to be "hey I might be a minister but I still know people have sex" It was the Christmas after I got married, I was only 22, and mortified.
Cream fake fur body warmer - the ex mr auntiegwen one Christmas, I looked like a small chubby polar bear
Candle shaped like a wedge of chocolate gateau - looked bad and smelled worse, from my sister
A trip to a Lake District hotel for my 29th birthday - the sentiment was great, the ex mr auntiegwen bought be a Joanna Trollope novel, a box of chocs and a night in a hotel by myself. Jack was 8 weeks old and as I couldn't leave my bosoms at home would have starved. The ex mr auntiegwen didn't think of that. Still I enjoyed the book and the chocolates.
The biggest box of chocolates Thornton's do - I could have had a frock and shoes for the money, (it cost £50 around 15 years ago) but oh no I had to eat them all and get fat (ter).
My 40th birthday trip to Barcelona - I love the city and had been before with friends but the ex mr ag took me and when I was there I/we realised that it was all over. I hope to go back under happier circumstances.
Sunday, 2 October 2011
10 Best Presents
In October I like to do do 10 posts about 10 things, last year I was a bit tardy and had to do 11 posts of 11 things in November. This year I'm trying to get back on track. In no particular order
My teddy, given to me the day I was born by my auntie Gloria, he's called Michael and over the years he's gone from yellow to pale cream but it's the one of the few things I still have from my childhood.
My dolls house, with sliding glass doors and a roof that was hinged to lift up, made for me by my grampa who was a joiner, I was gutted when it rotted out in the shed and gadget mad dad threw it out. I was about 30 at the time. I'm still a bit gutted to be honest.
My bike, I had a Raliegh chopper, I was 9 and thought I was so cool, I think I was the only girl to have one, mine was purple.
My Kindle - God how I love it, wasn't sure if I would but I do.
My ipod shuffle, it's a tiny wee pink clip on one, and I can't run without it.
My childhood photos, taken from slides and made into prints, given to me as a gift when I had my first daughter so I could see if we were alike, we were/are.
My mothers day poems - written by my son and younger daughter and loved all the more for the spelling within.
My wooden hearts - each child wrote their message on their heart and gave it to me for my 40th birthday. They sit in a bowl on my windowsill that my niece Cat brought me back from her trip to Malawi.
My "Windows in the West" print by Avril Paton, hangs on my bedroom wall and is the first thing I see when I wake up.
My engagement ring - I looked at gazillions of rings and tried on a fair few. I kept saying I'd know mine when I put it on. I was right, it fitted perfectly and despite the cost, he knew it was mine and gave me it. I will cherish the ring and the memory of the love I felt at that moment for the rest of my life.
I'm a bit gutted I didn't have room for my sat nav, as it's been one of the most useful presents I've ever had, maybe I should have waited and did this in November. You see, even when I'm being efficient it goes agin me.
Friday, 30 September 2011
Home alone
Last night we delivered Eldest Beautiful Daughter to the student house she will live in till next year. Mummy no likey, mummy really no likey. It's awful, really grim and it smells funny. It's a 3 bed terrace with a skanky bathroom and nasty old furniture but I expect White Company and Cath Kidston would be a waste of the grand a month rent the landlady's getting, wouldn't it?
I so should have gone into student housing, that would have made my fortune, low cost house stuffed with cheap nasty tat, and spend the rent money on my own house, it would have the White Company coming out the wazoo. Another fail on my part.
There has been intense and protracted negotiations re EBD's bedroom at this house, it's the biggest and the newliest decorated, EBD was really not keen to let it go but BBD is quite forceful and as she says, EBD doesn't live here anymore, just in the holidays. Let's just say it's been tricky, and I, as always have resisted making a decision. However by the time I got back, Beautiful Baby Daughter had moved all her stuff into Eldest Beautiful Daughters bedroom, had a bath and was wearing EBD's dressing gown (which EBD was gutted to have forgotten) and was having a hot chocolate out of EBD's mug (also forgotten) If EBD finds out she'll kill her and I won't have to decide who gets the bigger bedroom.
So today, for the first time in 3 months, I am completely home alone, no EBD floating around demanding to be entertained, TBS and BBD at school and just me. What will I do with myself all day? I wonder...
I so should have gone into student housing, that would have made my fortune, low cost house stuffed with cheap nasty tat, and spend the rent money on my own house, it would have the White Company coming out the wazoo. Another fail on my part.
There has been intense and protracted negotiations re EBD's bedroom at this house, it's the biggest and the newliest decorated, EBD was really not keen to let it go but BBD is quite forceful and as she says, EBD doesn't live here anymore, just in the holidays. Let's just say it's been tricky, and I, as always have resisted making a decision. However by the time I got back, Beautiful Baby Daughter had moved all her stuff into Eldest Beautiful Daughters bedroom, had a bath and was wearing EBD's dressing gown (which EBD was gutted to have forgotten) and was having a hot chocolate out of EBD's mug (also forgotten) If EBD finds out she'll kill her and I won't have to decide who gets the bigger bedroom.
So today, for the first time in 3 months, I am completely home alone, no EBD floating around demanding to be entertained, TBS and BBD at school and just me. What will I do with myself all day? I wonder...
Monday, 26 September 2011
Downsizing
I am in a decluttering frame of mind. I am paring down my possessions, downsizing, freeing up, clearing.
Last weekend I took over 500 books to Oxfam. My book collection was getting completely out of control and had spilled into every room. I have only kept what fitted into the 3 bookcases I have in the office and the lounge. Any new boooks will only be bought for my Kindle and one day I will replace the books I couldn't bear to part with as an e version and be actual book free and virtual book heavy.
I have asked for an Ipod for Christmas and I will then get rid of every CD and LP I own.
And then I'm onto children...
Only joking, EBD is going back to uni into a shared house (because as I predicted way back here in JANUARY she hasn't learned to drive and I can't/won't do a 60 mile uni run) but TBS and BBD don't show any signs of moving out.
Yet.
But I live in hope.
Last weekend I took over 500 books to Oxfam. My book collection was getting completely out of control and had spilled into every room. I have only kept what fitted into the 3 bookcases I have in the office and the lounge. Any new boooks will only be bought for my Kindle and one day I will replace the books I couldn't bear to part with as an e version and be actual book free and virtual book heavy.
I have asked for an Ipod for Christmas and I will then get rid of every CD and LP I own.
And then I'm onto children...
Only joking, EBD is going back to uni into a shared house (because as I predicted way back here in JANUARY she hasn't learned to drive and I can't/won't do a 60 mile uni run) but TBS and BBD don't show any signs of moving out.
Yet.
But I live in hope.
Wednesday, 21 September 2011
Mummy fail
Picture the scene, a kitchen with 2 daughters and my best friend. I am pottering around doing chores and they are making dough for pizzas. A lovely contented, peaceful picture, could even be used as an advert. My daughters are reminiscing about all the things I used to do with them, they recall baking sessions, cooking sessions, craft sessions and so forth.
The next time I enter the room, I get this
Eldest beautiful daughter - " God, Mummy - you never do anything like that with us anymore, you're so boring now"
auntiegwen - "that's because you are nearly FECKIN TWENTY, I am in flitters with entertaining you. I have had almost 2 decades of finding stuff to do with you, again, NEARLY 2 DECADES.
I know you don't need the capitals for emphasis, sure you're probably the same yourself. I think after all the top notch mothering they have received I should be allowed a bit of time off for good behaviour. I mean all I want is a bit of peace, the ability to water my plants unmocked and not have my clothes ridiculed. Oh and an end to war, a cure for all diseases and thinner thighs, obviously.
The next time I enter the room, I get this
Eldest beautiful daughter - " God, Mummy - you never do anything like that with us anymore, you're so boring now"
auntiegwen - "that's because you are nearly FECKIN TWENTY, I am in flitters with entertaining you. I have had almost 2 decades of finding stuff to do with you, again, NEARLY 2 DECADES.
I know you don't need the capitals for emphasis, sure you're probably the same yourself. I think after all the top notch mothering they have received I should be allowed a bit of time off for good behaviour. I mean all I want is a bit of peace, the ability to water my plants unmocked and not have my clothes ridiculed. Oh and an end to war, a cure for all diseases and thinner thighs, obviously.
Thursday, 15 September 2011
It had to happen
It was only a matter of time, I mean me with my White Company addiction and my fondness for Cath Kidston fripperies.
I must be their target demographic but I have never succumbed for myself, when the children were smaller I did dabble and I was bought something once. But I held firm nothing for me thanks.
They wrote to me, told me I was a hard nut to crack, offered me all sorts of enticements. I ignored them. They emailed and whispered promises of all kinds of middle class loveliness. I caved.
It had to happen eventually.
So I will fess it up.
My name is auntiegwen and I...
sorry, I can hardly bring myself to type the confession
My name is auntiegwen and I bought a Boden raincoat.
The cliche of the middle class mummy.
Feck
I must be their target demographic but I have never succumbed for myself, when the children were smaller I did dabble and I was bought something once. But I held firm nothing for me thanks.
They wrote to me, told me I was a hard nut to crack, offered me all sorts of enticements. I ignored them. They emailed and whispered promises of all kinds of middle class loveliness. I caved.
It had to happen eventually.
So I will fess it up.
My name is auntiegwen and I...
sorry, I can hardly bring myself to type the confession
My name is auntiegwen and I bought a Boden raincoat.
The cliche of the middle class mummy.
Feck
Wednesday, 14 September 2011
More teenage boy stuff
Just because your boy has grown to 6 foot 2 doesn't mean he's grown up in anything other than a physical sense.
The Beautiful Son had a sore throat, it was so painful that we had biscuits and crisps in our house that survived more than a day, which was unheard of. I told him to go down to the doctors and make an appointment. Our surgery insists you present yourself in person (or a representative if you are too ill to leave home) at their reception desk at 8am to make an appointment. They won't do it by phone, I am sure there were communist bread queues shorter than we have at our surgery.
TBS insists he can't go by himself, so off we go and make his appointment. We get one for 9.10 am, so we go back home for an hour. He insists I have to back with him too. I enquire would he still want me there if it was for a sore bum, he assures me I'd still have to show up for that. As he put it "you're my mum, of course you'd have to come, I can't deal with doctors on my own" I just pray he never gets an STD.
The doctor diagnoses tonsillitis, prescribes antibiotics and says if things don't improve in 48 hours to return for a blood test to rule out glandular fever. He also remarks on TBS being an infrequent attender. TBS felt slightly put out, a bit like he'd been shirking.
Of course TBS can't go to the chemist by himself, I have to take him there too. I tell him he can't take alcohol whilst on them. I elaborate by telling him that mixing alcohol with antibiotics causes diarrhoea, and it's so fast acting most people don't get to the loo on time. I wonder if I can still get away with him believing everything I say if I use my mummy's never wrong tone, will it still work? I see no signs either way.
Later I overheard him tell his friend Johnny "nah, I'm not drinking at Rachel's party, no chance I want to cack myself"
The last word goes to me, we all know how I like the last word. Scuse me whilst I throw my head back and laugh like a muscateer.
The Beautiful Son had a sore throat, it was so painful that we had biscuits and crisps in our house that survived more than a day, which was unheard of. I told him to go down to the doctors and make an appointment. Our surgery insists you present yourself in person (or a representative if you are too ill to leave home) at their reception desk at 8am to make an appointment. They won't do it by phone, I am sure there were communist bread queues shorter than we have at our surgery.
TBS insists he can't go by himself, so off we go and make his appointment. We get one for 9.10 am, so we go back home for an hour. He insists I have to back with him too. I enquire would he still want me there if it was for a sore bum, he assures me I'd still have to show up for that. As he put it "you're my mum, of course you'd have to come, I can't deal with doctors on my own" I just pray he never gets an STD.
The doctor diagnoses tonsillitis, prescribes antibiotics and says if things don't improve in 48 hours to return for a blood test to rule out glandular fever. He also remarks on TBS being an infrequent attender. TBS felt slightly put out, a bit like he'd been shirking.
Of course TBS can't go to the chemist by himself, I have to take him there too. I tell him he can't take alcohol whilst on them. I elaborate by telling him that mixing alcohol with antibiotics causes diarrhoea, and it's so fast acting most people don't get to the loo on time. I wonder if I can still get away with him believing everything I say if I use my mummy's never wrong tone, will it still work? I see no signs either way.
Later I overheard him tell his friend Johnny "nah, I'm not drinking at Rachel's party, no chance I want to cack myself"
The last word goes to me, we all know how I like the last word. Scuse me whilst I throw my head back and laugh like a muscateer.
Monday, 12 September 2011
In real life
When you have a blog you can present a view of yourself that's quite flattering, selecting carefully which bits of your world you want to share with t'internets. You can project an image of a perfect life if you so choose. I could tell you that I live in a gorgeous house with beautiful children and my life is chock full of joy all the live long day. I could tell you I am thin, unwrinkled and without a grey hair upon my head, I could claim great wisdom, good dress sense and a serene inner calm and be thin, did I mention that? I am seven stone and 5 foot 10 and have no boobs. I can also cook, sew and sing and I once ran a sub 4 hour marathon. I also have my dream kitchen. In my head.
I wish I'd thought of that, instead I regale you with tales of domestic incompetence, technical ineptitude, drunken teenagers and fatness. It's too late to tell you my life is perfect, some of you have been reading for years and some of you actually know me in real life.
I have a million faults, I wish I didn't. Some of them I've known about for years, some of them I've tried to address and some of them I've just not been ready to see.
In my head I am laid back and almost impossible to stress out, I'm a "go with the flow" nothing fazes me type. In real life I can get to full fat cross shouty shreikery more quickly than a Ferrari gets to 90.
In my head I am a proper traveller, turn up with a passport, credit card and a spare pair of knickers and see where I end up. In real life, I book flights and transfers and live with a low level degree of anxiety that something will go wrong. I am terrified of missing flights and don't relax until I actually arrive.
In my head I am great at sharing, I am a "what's mine is yours" help yourself nice person. In real life if it's mine I like it to stay mine and if I lend you it especially books I want it back, even if I know I'm never going to read it again, it's mine so give it back.
In my head I can't bear the sort of people who at shared dinners whip out their calculators and demand we all pay for what we have eaten, in my head I am one of the people who say oh there's 6 of us, lets just divide by 6. In real life I am secretly glad that they do as I am fed up subsidising someone elses's 3 course and a bottle of wine feast when I've had a plate of pasta and a sparkling water and paid £30 for the privilege.
In my head I am not a control freak and an insistor on getting my own way but in real life my way isn't just the best way but the only way. And I insist upon things being my way and say such caring and loving gems such as "you don't have to live here"
I am just coming to terms with how much control I have and seem to need, I always thought I was really flexible and open to other peoples point of view and wants and needs. I always thought that the kids set the agenda and I just facilitated things. I am sometimes okay with things if it suits me, that's the key right there. I suppose that being the only adult in the house for the last 5 years has given me the last word. I like the last word. I like to be the boss.
In my head I never wanted to be a bossy kind of girl. In real life I have become the bossiest of bossy girls, but I am trying to be less bossy and more open to other peoples wants and needs. I am trying to be better at sharing. I am trying to be less stressy and anxious.
But I still want the last word.
I wish I'd thought of that, instead I regale you with tales of domestic incompetence, technical ineptitude, drunken teenagers and fatness. It's too late to tell you my life is perfect, some of you have been reading for years and some of you actually know me in real life.
I have a million faults, I wish I didn't. Some of them I've known about for years, some of them I've tried to address and some of them I've just not been ready to see.
In my head I am laid back and almost impossible to stress out, I'm a "go with the flow" nothing fazes me type. In real life I can get to full fat cross shouty shreikery more quickly than a Ferrari gets to 90.
In my head I am a proper traveller, turn up with a passport, credit card and a spare pair of knickers and see where I end up. In real life, I book flights and transfers and live with a low level degree of anxiety that something will go wrong. I am terrified of missing flights and don't relax until I actually arrive.
In my head I am great at sharing, I am a "what's mine is yours" help yourself nice person. In real life if it's mine I like it to stay mine and if I lend you it especially books I want it back, even if I know I'm never going to read it again, it's mine so give it back.
In my head I can't bear the sort of people who at shared dinners whip out their calculators and demand we all pay for what we have eaten, in my head I am one of the people who say oh there's 6 of us, lets just divide by 6. In real life I am secretly glad that they do as I am fed up subsidising someone elses's 3 course and a bottle of wine feast when I've had a plate of pasta and a sparkling water and paid £30 for the privilege.
In my head I am not a control freak and an insistor on getting my own way but in real life my way isn't just the best way but the only way. And I insist upon things being my way and say such caring and loving gems such as "you don't have to live here"
I am just coming to terms with how much control I have and seem to need, I always thought I was really flexible and open to other peoples point of view and wants and needs. I always thought that the kids set the agenda and I just facilitated things. I am sometimes okay with things if it suits me, that's the key right there. I suppose that being the only adult in the house for the last 5 years has given me the last word. I like the last word. I like to be the boss.
In my head I never wanted to be a bossy kind of girl. In real life I have become the bossiest of bossy girls, but I am trying to be less bossy and more open to other peoples wants and needs. I am trying to be better at sharing. I am trying to be less stressy and anxious.
But I still want the last word.
Wednesday, 7 September 2011
Dads
Over the last few days Dad's have been on my mind. Probably because of this I keep finding and reading blogs about dads and what they mean to people.
I tried to write about mine but I can't yet.
I read Looking for blue sky and that really touched me
And then I read Adventures in Reality and that completely reduced me to floods of tears.
So to both of these bloggy friends, from the bottom of my heart I send my love and prayers and thoughts to you and your families. I hope I can manage to face my dads illness with a fraction of your grace.
I tried to write about mine but I can't yet.
I read Looking for blue sky and that really touched me
And then I read Adventures in Reality and that completely reduced me to floods of tears.
So to both of these bloggy friends, from the bottom of my heart I send my love and prayers and thoughts to you and your families. I hope I can manage to face my dads illness with a fraction of your grace.
Sunday, 4 September 2011
Sleepless in suburbia
I am a woman of few talents, I can't cook knit or sew, my house isn't filled with things I've made (excepting offspring and mess) and the only thing I can play is the lottery. Oh please don't feel sorry for me, I am decidedly happy with my humble lot.
I have been utterly blessed in what I feel is my best talent. I am ace at sleeping, if there were sleep Olympics I would be up there with the gold and the "God save the Queen" The only time I have had sleepless nights have been when the children were babies and truth be told I was a teeny tiny bit cranky then. Then I sleep trained them and all was well in the world. I am not too shabby at sleep training either, 100% success rate at teaching babies to sleep through. Nothing makes me happier than getting into my jammies and going to bed. My metier is sleep.
In fact, I am sooo good, no matter what is going on in my life, death, divorce, teenagers or lack of gin - I will take myself off to bed, usually accompanied by a humungous mug of fully caffeinated coffee and pop myself between the White Company's finest and nod off. Sometimes just before I drift off I remember the mug of fully caffeinated and rouse myself enough to gulp it down like a student with a Jaegerbomb and then snuggle down for a full 8 hours. I am not showing off here, I'm just explaining. I never feel too hot or cold, or uncomfortable or restless, strange beds or having someone with me do not gee my ginger. I am grand. Nothing wakes me up either, I could sleep through anything, I expect I have slept through all of the childrens parties and there are several photos of assorted weido friends of the children on my good silk throw accessorised with beer bottles and pointy foam fingers. I set my children curfews but I have no clue if they keep to them as I am always asleep.
Which is just as well as I am crap without sleep, really really useless, so God in his infinite wisdom has given me the gift of sleeping, so I don't hurt people on a daily basis.
Except something has gone wrong, my forte has fecked off.
I am not a happy auntie, on Friday I just couldn't get comfortable, I wriggled and jiggled, I changed my jammies before removing them completely (sorry for the TMI - I'm just trying to give you the full picture, well not the full picture, that's on a pay per click at nakedauntiegwen.com, shut up I've got to pay for a new kitchen somehow)
Where was I? oh yeah Friday, I fidgeted and agitated and then I eventually fell asleep. Only to be woken by The Beautiful Son coming in at 2am dressed in a ladies Primark black and white zebra striped onesie. yes I agree, it is slightly peculiar but I didn't want to waste brain power trying to figure it out as I was tired.
Readers, the rest of the night didn't go well and I was working on Saturday so suffice to say I wasn't the cheeriest of aunties yesterday, until around 9pm when I realised I could put my jammies on and go back to bed. That was a moment of mere bliss in my day. So armed with the coffee I go to my happy place And I go to sleep.
To be woken up by someone else's sons at 4.30 am, giving me the full benefit of their alcohol fuelled opinions on the world. And that was it for the night, sure I had a doze on and off but that's a bit like being on a diet, you don't want carrot sticks you want cake, thank you very much. When you've had the good stuff you don't want to go back.
So, I am now rantie auntie, I have been robbed of 2 good nights sleep and I get a teeny tiny bit cranky without it. I might have mentioned that. I imagine that's why everyone is giving me a wide berth today.
I have been utterly blessed in what I feel is my best talent. I am ace at sleeping, if there were sleep Olympics I would be up there with the gold and the "God save the Queen" The only time I have had sleepless nights have been when the children were babies and truth be told I was a teeny tiny bit cranky then. Then I sleep trained them and all was well in the world. I am not too shabby at sleep training either, 100% success rate at teaching babies to sleep through. Nothing makes me happier than getting into my jammies and going to bed. My metier is sleep.
In fact, I am sooo good, no matter what is going on in my life, death, divorce, teenagers or lack of gin - I will take myself off to bed, usually accompanied by a humungous mug of fully caffeinated coffee and pop myself between the White Company's finest and nod off. Sometimes just before I drift off I remember the mug of fully caffeinated and rouse myself enough to gulp it down like a student with a Jaegerbomb and then snuggle down for a full 8 hours. I am not showing off here, I'm just explaining. I never feel too hot or cold, or uncomfortable or restless, strange beds or having someone with me do not gee my ginger. I am grand. Nothing wakes me up either, I could sleep through anything, I expect I have slept through all of the childrens parties and there are several photos of assorted weido friends of the children on my good silk throw accessorised with beer bottles and pointy foam fingers. I set my children curfews but I have no clue if they keep to them as I am always asleep.
Which is just as well as I am crap without sleep, really really useless, so God in his infinite wisdom has given me the gift of sleeping, so I don't hurt people on a daily basis.
Except something has gone wrong, my forte has fecked off.
I am not a happy auntie, on Friday I just couldn't get comfortable, I wriggled and jiggled, I changed my jammies before removing them completely (sorry for the TMI - I'm just trying to give you the full picture, well not the full picture, that's on a pay per click at nakedauntiegwen.com, shut up I've got to pay for a new kitchen somehow)
Where was I? oh yeah Friday, I fidgeted and agitated and then I eventually fell asleep. Only to be woken by The Beautiful Son coming in at 2am dressed in a ladies Primark black and white zebra striped onesie. yes I agree, it is slightly peculiar but I didn't want to waste brain power trying to figure it out as I was tired.
Readers, the rest of the night didn't go well and I was working on Saturday so suffice to say I wasn't the cheeriest of aunties yesterday, until around 9pm when I realised I could put my jammies on and go back to bed. That was a moment of mere bliss in my day. So armed with the coffee I go to my happy place And I go to sleep.
To be woken up by someone else's sons at 4.30 am, giving me the full benefit of their alcohol fuelled opinions on the world. And that was it for the night, sure I had a doze on and off but that's a bit like being on a diet, you don't want carrot sticks you want cake, thank you very much. When you've had the good stuff you don't want to go back.
So, I am now rantie auntie, I have been robbed of 2 good nights sleep and I get a teeny tiny bit cranky without it. I might have mentioned that. I imagine that's why everyone is giving me a wide berth today.
Tuesday, 30 August 2011
And that, my friends, was August
My August went something like this
work, laundry, shopping (of the supermarket variety, not the nice ladies things variety), try to stop kids from killing each other, try not to kill the kids myself, eat ever such a lot less but still not lose weight, be very very tired, repeat to fade.
And in other news...
I gave up ironing, doing everyone's ironing on a Sunday night made me feel like I did when I was a kid, doing my homework at the last minute, so I gave up, we are embracing the casually dishevelled look. The beautiful children are not best pleased, they're not arsed enough to do it themselves but they are great big glowering and sulking masses of crumpled Jack Willsness.
I had a birthday which made me old and a trip to the Isle of Wight where it appeared to be 1977 in the place I was in, I adored it, I wanted to buy a flat in Sandown but wasn't allowed, meaners. I actually saw the shop windows of my childhood with dresses hung from the ceiling with fishing wire, and cardigans fanned out on the base of the window and a wee note attached saying "Lovely on"
That was the nice bit, oh I got a Kindle too and other nice lady things such as perfume and flowers and some strange assortment of presents which make me think - have they met me?
My son, the 6 foot 2 lump of useless, let his friend Henry try and burn a smiley face onto his arm with a lighter which has still not healed 3 weeks later. You probably heard me, he got full fat cross shouty shreikeyness, stupid stupid boy. This is a child who actually possesses qualifications and now has a hole in his arm, again (in capitals for emphasis) STUPID STUPID BOY AND I DON'T FECKIN CARE HOW MANY FECKIN GCSE'S YOU GOT, YOU ARE A STUPID STUPID BOY. I am still cross about this, I will still be cross at Christmas most probably.
I have spent masses of time in hospitals recently both work and not work and I have turned into the visitor/relative I used to hate. The one who says "I used to be a nurse you know" and follows it up with "in my day" I hate myself for it but I'm not madly impressed. I am not even satisfied.
I have a new car, it is temporary until my company car arrives, it is a Renault Megane, it has an internal sat nav and a strange radio. Both of which defeat me on a daily basis. I am now officially my mother.
And speaking of my mother, she has been on a diet, a very successful one. In truth she is existing on black tea, water and porridge, as my dad says she is the only geriatric anorexic in Glasgow. She has no other conversation except how many pounds she's lost, she tells my sister and I, a lot. A big lot. We are fed up being told how easy it is to lose weight if you just don't eat. We were kind enough not to mention that she's been no stranger to a fish supper for the last few decades so we wish her to stop weighing us with her eyes and shut the feck up.
So if you've read to the bottom I apologise for not putting in a "Middle aged woman ranting" alert, but thanks for reading and a big thanks to those of you who texted, emailed and commented wondering where I'd been.
So, what have you lot been up to?
work, laundry, shopping (of the supermarket variety, not the nice ladies things variety), try to stop kids from killing each other, try not to kill the kids myself, eat ever such a lot less but still not lose weight, be very very tired, repeat to fade.
And in other news...
I gave up ironing, doing everyone's ironing on a Sunday night made me feel like I did when I was a kid, doing my homework at the last minute, so I gave up, we are embracing the casually dishevelled look. The beautiful children are not best pleased, they're not arsed enough to do it themselves but they are great big glowering and sulking masses of crumpled Jack Willsness.
I had a birthday which made me old and a trip to the Isle of Wight where it appeared to be 1977 in the place I was in, I adored it, I wanted to buy a flat in Sandown but wasn't allowed, meaners. I actually saw the shop windows of my childhood with dresses hung from the ceiling with fishing wire, and cardigans fanned out on the base of the window and a wee note attached saying "Lovely on"
That was the nice bit, oh I got a Kindle too and other nice lady things such as perfume and flowers and some strange assortment of presents which make me think - have they met me?
My son, the 6 foot 2 lump of useless, let his friend Henry try and burn a smiley face onto his arm with a lighter which has still not healed 3 weeks later. You probably heard me, he got full fat cross shouty shreikeyness, stupid stupid boy. This is a child who actually possesses qualifications and now has a hole in his arm, again (in capitals for emphasis) STUPID STUPID BOY AND I DON'T FECKIN CARE HOW MANY FECKIN GCSE'S YOU GOT, YOU ARE A STUPID STUPID BOY. I am still cross about this, I will still be cross at Christmas most probably.
I have spent masses of time in hospitals recently both work and not work and I have turned into the visitor/relative I used to hate. The one who says "I used to be a nurse you know" and follows it up with "in my day" I hate myself for it but I'm not madly impressed. I am not even satisfied.
I have a new car, it is temporary until my company car arrives, it is a Renault Megane, it has an internal sat nav and a strange radio. Both of which defeat me on a daily basis. I am now officially my mother.
And speaking of my mother, she has been on a diet, a very successful one. In truth she is existing on black tea, water and porridge, as my dad says she is the only geriatric anorexic in Glasgow. She has no other conversation except how many pounds she's lost, she tells my sister and I, a lot. A big lot. We are fed up being told how easy it is to lose weight if you just don't eat. We were kind enough not to mention that she's been no stranger to a fish supper for the last few decades so we wish her to stop weighing us with her eyes and shut the feck up.
So if you've read to the bottom I apologise for not putting in a "Middle aged woman ranting" alert, but thanks for reading and a big thanks to those of you who texted, emailed and commented wondering where I'd been.
So, what have you lot been up to?
Wednesday, 10 August 2011
In which I make myself laugh, a lot
I have loads of faults, truly I could do a daily post of what is wrong with me and you'd still be reading at Christmas. One of my less endearing traits is my insistence on thinking I'm funny, genuinely I think I am hysterical. And I laugh at my own jokes, a lot.
On Monday, I was visiting my best friends dad, lovely bloke he is and he's reading a book about World War 2.
"Are you enjoying your book?" I asked him in a very polite tone and his reply of
"I've just started it" quickly followed up with "would you like to borrow it" in a slightly hopeful tone made me think not. And before I could stop myself, I hear these words coming out of my mouth " no thanks, I know how it ends"
and then I collapsed in hoots of laughter, and I'm still laughing about it now.
Aw, you had to be there
On Monday, I was visiting my best friends dad, lovely bloke he is and he's reading a book about World War 2.
"Are you enjoying your book?" I asked him in a very polite tone and his reply of
"I've just started it" quickly followed up with "would you like to borrow it" in a slightly hopeful tone made me think not. And before I could stop myself, I hear these words coming out of my mouth " no thanks, I know how it ends"
and then I collapsed in hoots of laughter, and I'm still laughing about it now.
Aw, you had to be there
Friday, 5 August 2011
Crime and confession
This morning as I waited for the kettle to boil, I noticed that the chopping board was in the wrong place, oh yes Miss Marple has nothing on me, even before coffee. As I moved the board, there was a sheet of paper addressed to me covering this. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you exhibit A - the crime, a very peculiar stain upon my white worktop.
Exhibit B - the confession
The bit you can't read at the end is a list of things they've tried...
fairy liquid, dettol, baking powder, flash, cif, cilit bang and water
I do love Joe, yes, this is the same Joe who had the party in which his mother's and his dead great granny's wedding china got broken but he does dress up as Santa when I need one for my parenting skills group's Christmas party, he must get kudos for that.
And when he refers to the cute note, he means this, exhibit C -
the sorry note (which I kept as he made me hoot with laughter) when he broke my outside light and indeed it was fixed by Joe Cryor.
So, when people tell you children get less messy and break less stuff as they get older, and you're thinking that you, one day, in the fullness of time, can have a lovely home stuffed to the gunnels with White Company and Cath Kidston, don't bank on it before they're 36 or so.
Exhibit B - the confession
The bit you can't read at the end is a list of things they've tried...
fairy liquid, dettol, baking powder, flash, cif, cilit bang and water
I do love Joe, yes, this is the same Joe who had the party in which his mother's and his dead great granny's wedding china got broken but he does dress up as Santa when I need one for my parenting skills group's Christmas party, he must get kudos for that.
And when he refers to the cute note, he means this, exhibit C -
the sorry note (which I kept as he made me hoot with laughter) when he broke my outside light and indeed it was fixed by Joe Cryor.
So, when people tell you children get less messy and break less stuff as they get older, and you're thinking that you, one day, in the fullness of time, can have a lovely home stuffed to the gunnels with White Company and Cath Kidston, don't bank on it before they're 36 or so.
Thursday, 4 August 2011
Hi honey, I'm home
Eldest Beautiful Daughter and her friends Poonam and Joe were quite confused when they saw, what they described as "a small Asian woman" walk up the path and let herself in the front door.
I am back and extremely tanned following my trip to Turkey, I am like an Cadbury's creme egg in human form, small, round and brown.
The house and EBD have survived, my Bombay Sapphire has taken quite a hit and you can still see the outline of Joe's vomit on the front doorstep but compared to Joe's mums return and finding the breakage of both her and her beloved deceased grandmas wedding china, I think I've got off quite lightly.
I am back and extremely tanned following my trip to Turkey, I am like an Cadbury's creme egg in human form, small, round and brown.
The house and EBD have survived, my Bombay Sapphire has taken quite a hit and you can still see the outline of Joe's vomit on the front doorstep but compared to Joe's mums return and finding the breakage of both her and her beloved deceased grandmas wedding china, I think I've got off quite lightly.
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