I had this great piece written about my comments, or lack of. It was brilliant and witty but with just enough caustic remarks to make any Haloscan Techni that was wandering by sit up and feel guilty....and what happens when I go to post....the bloody things have returned. Can't even rely on Haloscan to be reliable at being unreliable! Unfortunately, I am pretty sure I will get another chance to post my tantrum again in the near future so will hold my tongue until then.
I have a nice shiny new bath tub...you probably already knew that from a previous post...but it gets better....it's now in the bathroom! I've been in it tonight. It sits there I grant you surrounded with bare plaster walls and equally naked floorboards but the taps sparkle and water flows beautifully and totally unhindered by limescale. I'm so excited I could burst....!
I am worried about Daughter No. 1. I am very nervous about her magnetic qualities, she seems to have more than her fair share. I know as a mother I am biased about her beauty, brains and personality but it is not that magnetism that concerns me…yet! No, it’s her lay-lines or aura, call it what you will but she has an ability that nobody else in the family possesses….she can crash a computer from 10 feet away! I kid you not, she only has to sit on the chair at the desk and the screen freezes. It’s not just the computer either – her mobile phone also freezes periodically. The Nintendo game machine will loose pre-saved games in her presence and the Sky will loose it's signal when she has control of the remote. Himself has suggested she needs earthing! Not quite sure what he has in mind but we need to do something quickly before she leaves school and starts looking for a job – what if she chooses a career such as intensive care nursing? I know I wouldn’t want her anywhere near my life-support machine!
Any school holidays are a minefield for children and parents alike. Keeping little ones amused without breaking the bank and keeping older ones out of trouble without cramping their style is a delicate balance. This week being half-term I have heard of a couple of stories guaranteed to put the hairs up on the backs of all parents. Both of these occurred in Daughter No. 1’s circle of friends so we are talking 13/14 year olds.
Earlier in the week a local boy had a sleepover – now I have to admit I wasn’t aware boys had sleepovers so alarm bells rang straight away – well bottles of vodka appeared on this particular night. Mum and Dad gave the boys a bit of space for the evening and went out, returning at 11.30pm to a quiet house. Quiet until the throwing-up began.
Yesterday I took the girls into town for a shopping trip and we saw some boys that Daughter No. 1 is friendly with. Later in the evening we heard they had been arrested and charged with shoplifting. DNA and finger-prints had been taken and parents were still at the police station some 6 hours later.
This is the age of experimentation and of testing the waters. I know a lot worse goes on and I’m equally sure that a lot of teenagers manage to scrap through adolescence without getting into deep water but as you can imagine I have left out none of the gorey details when relating these tales to my daughters.
Himself has come home today and announced the following:
Statement 1 - Saturday is D-Day, or rather B-Day….it’s the day that my dad and Himself have decided will be the day for removing my old cast-iron bath and replacing it with my new shiny tub. Now bearing in mind that we only have the one bathroom you can appreciate the need for this operation to not only succeed but do so with the least possible upheaval and in the quickest time possible.
Statement 2 - As his chest still hurts from the infection he had a few weeks ago, Himself has been back to the doctors today (we are thinking of getting a season ticket this year…) Apparently he has strained his inter-something muscles (I think they’re the bits between the ribs?). The doctor's advice was to rest as much as possible for 5-6 weeks and certainly not lift anything heavy as they will be agony if they tear completely.
If there’s one thing I hate more than going to the doctors it’s finding when you get there that the old guy has turned into a dishy young just-out-of-medical school hunk! And he has a French accent thrown in. Thankfully it was nothing “personal” but embarrassing nonetheless.. I shan’t go into details in case you’re eating whilst reading this but it involved puss and him telling me off like a school kid for squeezing! I blushed, naturally, and promised never to do it again. He prescribed some ointment and asked me to come back in 10 days time, I swooned and smiled, stumbled as I reached for the door handle and left with his delectable voice still ringing in my ears. I won’t be going back though – I could really make a fool of myself next time!
My Cappuccino Candy paintwork is growing on me slowly. [Read: Himself is refusing for fork out another £30 for more paint]
My Cappuccino Candy paintwork will look fine once the furniture is in place. [Read: Himself is refusing to prolong the upheaval any longer by having to repaint and also he refuses to fork out another £30 for more paint]
My Cappuccino Candy paintwork looks okay in the daylight. [Read: Himself says the days are getting longer and in the winter we’ll buy daylight light bulbs – far cheaper than £30 for more paint]
The Mail on Sunday had a lovely large photograph and article in it today. It was of the Stealth Bomber. “The most secret plane in the world”. The plane that the US government “don’t want anyone to see”. The “exclusive” photo was a good close up shot of the underside of the plane. Apparently, according to the paper it will be “the last thing Saddam Hussein will see". Well if he reads the Mail on Sunday he'll be sure to know exactly what to look out for now!
Have just listened to a 1571 message from my mother:
“Look Dear, I’ve rung three times now today and I’m getting the message machine every time. I suppose you are on that Internet again. Every time I ring you are on it. I am sure it’s not healthy Dear. I don’t know what you find to do on there all day. I hope the children aren’t using it. [they were] It’s not safe for children you know. There’s all sorts of strange people use the internet these days. Anyway Dear rang to ask you if the hotel you’ve booked for our wedding anniversary has a website – your Dad wants to check it out…”
I’m never quite sure about Valentine’s Day, especially now I’m married. On one hand it feels more and more like we are forced to buy each other a card at least. This year I did get some flowers, which were lovely, but on the other hand I know that Himself hates being made to pay twice if not three times as much as if he bought them tomorrow. This in itself means I feel guilty that he did part with his money. Himself does buy me flowers at other times and sometimes even if there is no occasion to tie them in with. It’s these surprise, for-no-reason bunches that mean the most to me. [but just in case He is reading this - if I were not to receive anything today I would be very p****d off!]
We have been shown here how Americans have been told to stock up with water, food and essential supplies. They have been shown how to seal up their houses in case of a biological attack. They will need enough to last three weeks in isolation. I may be missing something vital here but what about lack of oxygen or carbon dioxide poisoning in their bug-tight/air-tight homes? Is it just a matter of choosing which way to go?
Daughters, ...make sure you marry a man who can cook.
I’m all for kids learning to cook – I really am, just not in my kitchen, please. I always felt a maternal need to accompany them in this bonding opportunity when they were younger (and I also didn’t trust them an inch with my knives) but I just couldn’t do it. I found it almost impossible to just supervise; my hands were itching to take over. I would try not to get agitated whilst explaining for the third time about folding in flour NOT stirring for a cake. It is so much easier to show them how to fill the tarts with just the right amount of jam than explain it and far far easier to just do it myself!
As they are getting older standing over them is required less and less but no sooner do I decide to make a discreet exit and relax with a cuppa in the lounge then I hear “Mum, where’s the rolling pin” or “Have we not got any eggs?” or even worse “Ooops!” And that’s something else - They don’t plan a cooking session, they don’t tell me before I go to Tescos that they will want to cook this week and need dried fruit, or chocolate chips or bun cases. Oh No! They will decide at 8.30pm one evening that the only recipe they can find that they fancy cooking is Mango and Lime Cheesecake or Coconut Macaroons and expect that I will have all the relevant ingredients just sitting in the larder waiting to be called upon.
It must be something that develops as you get older because when I mentioned this to my mum she said I was the same but she just used to send me round to my Gran who had infinite patience for such activities, yet now my mother can cook a full Sunday Roast for a dozen people whilst various grandchildren stand on chairs rolling out pastry or stirring pudding mixture.
At last I have paint on my lounge/dining room walls. It has only taken months and months of steaming, straping, sanding, filling, and then more sanding. I have had 7 different tester pots spread in mosaic fashion over the area. I have stood and looked at them in different lights and at various times of the day. I have held up fabric swatches and flooring samples and finally the paint hit the walls over the weekend. It's just a pity I don't actually like the colour now its on!
The Children's Medical Handbook, Dr Miriam Stoppard (..can also be used on husbands...)
There's so much unhealthiness (not sure if that's a word...) in our house at the moment. It has been going on since before Christmas what with sore throats; pneumonia; lesser chest infections (although as the latter belonged to Himself I daren't use the word lesser within earshot); coughs, sniffles, wheezes, gungy eyes and glue ears.
None I have to say have managed to infiltrate my immune system but I feel it is only a matter of time. How I have managed to last this long is a miracle as my limited nursing skills have been called on so many times over the past few months even my mother has taken to calling me Florence. I am consuming vitamins, fruit and vegetables and have taken to walking around with my hand permanenty across my mouth. I have lost track of the last time I received or gave either daughters or Himself a kiss and even cuddles are given at arms length (not strictly a cuddle I know but tough that's all they're getting until they are all germ free).
I have dared to suggest that Himself may like to camp out on the sofa but he feels that as a patient he should get the warm comfy bed. I, of course, feel it should be me that gets the bed as I have to keep getting up to administer cough medicine, Calpol and Vic and have to struggle into work inbetween accompanying daughters to the doctors. As we cannot agree on this an invisible line has been drawn the length of the bed and I had thought that if he so much as sneezed over it I would just give a swift poke in the ribs but having tried this once, only to be kept awake for hours whilst he coughed and spluttered, I have given up.
We’ve been invited to an engagement party tonight. The couple are only 18. The bride-to-be is of the very skinny, bare-midriffed, belly-button pierced, back-tattooed variety. All her friends are exact clones. Daughter No. 1 can’t wait (amazing how quickly you can feel better when you get an invite to hang out with cooler older girls!). Daughter No. 2, who is not the slightest bit impressed, would prefer Ant & Dec’s company on TV so doesn’t want to go. Himself whose attitude to life in general and especially during his recent bout of flu puts him nearer 60 than his real age of 43 would rather not go and end up feeling even older!
So it’s just me and eldest daughter. She would really rather go on her own but as my parents are also going I feel I should show willing. Daughter No. 1 has already chosen her outfit. Needless to say it is not in the slightest bit suitable for a 14 year old who is going out on a cold evening after just having a head cold and cough and I am sure my mother will have something to say to me for allowing her to even think of partying without her vest tucked in!
Daughter No. 1 has requested that I don’t get up and dance – no chance! If I have to go and watch all those lithe young girls trying to shake non-existent curves on the dance floor all night the least I can do is get up there and loose a few calories!
Once again I find I haven't had the time to keep this blog uptodate - forgive me please! It's not that I can work out why these little slots of time have disappeared nor can I work out what else I've been doing in place of rambling but each day comes to an end without me managing to write. Take this week...
The snow came, it stayed a while, it went, it came back and it went again.
Daughters 1 & 2 went to school, they stayed home (because of the snow) and then went to school again. Daughter No. 1 then stayed home (with head cold and rasping cough that is testing even the angelic patience of a concerned mother!). Daughter No. 2 went to school. Daughter No. 2 stayed home from school (with a sore throat that turned out to be very temporary as demonstrated in argument with Daughter No. 1 over control of the remote). Daughter No. 2 went back to school. Daughter No. 1 is still off school.
Himself went to work (in the snow) and came home again (eventually!). Himself also has head cold and sore throat but went to work anyway. Himself now has chest infection and antibiotics but went to work anyway. Himself has now come home for the weekend and promptly gone to bed. Hmmmm!
I stayed home in the snow (because it was my day off). When the snow had gone I went to work, then I went again and again and again. I do not have a head cold nor a sore throat not a chest infection but today I stayed at home (because it is my day off again).