The innocence of youth..

My daughter is truly hilarious at times, and usually unintentionally. She rarely understands that she's said something funny - in fact she can get quite furious when you laugh at the things she says! In particular I like her take on music; she doesn't let the small matter of not understanding the words get in the way of a good sing-song. Kylie's song 'All the lovers' became "All the brothers, ner-ner gone the world". Which I thought was a lovely take on the lyrics. For Rihanna's latest, 'What's my name', she sings "Banana - it's a game". Of course I won't correct her - the actual lyrics to most of these songs are way too explicit for little ears; I'm happy to let her continue to believe modern day popsongs are about brothers and bananas.
This afternoon I was so glad of her innocence, when she was flicking through one of my celeb-rags, and came across an advert featuring two ladies in a compromising position. She said "That's nice isn't it mummy, those ladies cuddling? Everybody likes a cuddle". Yes they do my sweetheart, yes they  do ♥

Waiting for a star to fall

Call me a sap - please, feel free - but I like to read my horoscopes. Not the crappy ones in magazines, they have to be by somebody who at least tries to make an effort to sound like they're not making it up. Jonathan Cainer for The Mail - he's suitably seedy looking. And Claire Petulengro for The Express - if she isn't descended from gypsies, I'll eat my hat. I wouldn't say I believe them per se; it's more of a vague hope that my financial worries will all be resolved in December, and my health will indeed receive a welcome boost in the new year. I don't actually think any of the things that have been predicted for my starsign (Aries, if you're interested) have materialised yet. But I am eternally hopeful of the tall dark stranger the likes of Cainer and Petulengro keep promising..;)

Sometimes it's hard to be a woman

Don't get me wrong - I love being a mum. My kid's are funny, cute, clever, affectionate - all the things you hope your kids will be. But sometimes, being a wife and mother is totally overwhelming. Some days feel like a constant barrage of demands - for your time, your energy, your cooking, your money and your patience! There are very few thanks for everything you do, day in day out, for what you do is what is expected of you. It is in the job description that i will cook, clean, wash, tidy, bath, decorate - all whilst having the cries of "Is my tea ready yet?/I want Cbeebies on/Mummy, Charlie's eating the cats biscuits" ringing in my ears. But this morning I think my small daughter understood that Mummy was becoming a little fraught with the constant questioning and barrage of noise, as she paused and said "I don't have any more questions. Love you Mummy." And so, peace ensued. For about 47 seconds, until I began brushing my teeth and heard the smallest small one screeching, and the biggest small one shout "NO Charlie! It's MY barbecue!" Sigh.

Fightclub...quite literally

It was a few weeks ago that my daughter (3 and a half) was being bullied at pre-school. By a 3 year old. Her face was bitten, she was poked in the eye and pushed over. Obviously, I was furious initially and could have cheerfully strung the little culprit up by her ears. But then I got to thinking that it's quite sad that that is how she expresses her feelings, when my daughter has ALWAYS got the words to tell you how she feels or what she wants - and I mean always! We popped over to an elderly neighbours house a few days ago for a cuppa and a chat, and The Daughter sat quite nicely for a few minutes listening to us. Until it all became too boring for her, and she leant forwards, flung her arms up in a flamboyant manner and asked "Isn't anybody talking to me?!" Needless to say we were in stitches, resulting in a furrowed brow from The Daughter.
She loves pre-school, and is (usually) full of the joys when I collect her. But if anyone else tries to ask her what she's done during her day, it's like trying to crack a thoroughly trained secret agent. She rolls her eyes and announces "I don't want to talk about it anymore!" A bit like Fight Club - what happens at pre-school, stays at pre-school...

What goes around, comes around

Last week was the harvest festival at Biggest Little One's school (or 'harbest bestibal' as she called it). So began the annual clearing out of the cupboards for our donations. Some lucky pensioner was feasting on lobster bisque and tomato soup, wild mushroom couscous, and on-it's-date low fat rice pudding (only the best in this house!) And as a bonus, my cupboards are now looking respectable again.
Only this morning - when The Mother In Law dropped the Smallest Small One back home, she was brandishing a carrier bag. "Nan got this lot from a harvest festival" she said "and she thought you might like it". Oh good. Let's just hope the shelf life on it is long enough for me to give it away next year!!

Guy-gantor

This week I am feeding my neighbours cats. It always seems to coincide with The Husband being away or when I'm already snowed under, and to be honest - with already having to look after my own 3 feline beasts, I do feel like the Spondon Cat Lady. So off I pootle twice daily, with the Skids in tow ready to wreak some havoc in new territory. The Cats - Tom, Guy, and J - usually like to leave me small gifts when they know I'm on duty. Sometimes a headless and skinned mouse, sometimes a bird with it's guts on show. Yesterday, however, I was greeted by about 15 piles of sick. It looked like they'd either a) all decided to synchronise gut flu, or b) one of them had developed cat bulimia. Judging by the size of all of them, it is entirely possible that one has simply become too ashamed of their colossal frames and decided enough is enough. This is Guy - the biggest.

Guy has tried and failed many diets, and I'm sure will now spend the rest of his days looking like an overstuffed beanbag on legs. Considering he is so massive, he is suprisingly sprightly and comes flying across the garden and through the catflap (yes, he can get through) at breakneck speed when he hears movement in the kitchen.
It is with some shame that I admit one of our cats is getting to be a fair old size. His idea of exercise is yawning and venturing 3 steps outside to take a crap. Rather than being put-out when the new kitten arrived home, he was merely delighted at the thought of an extra trough to feed from.  As much as we do try to move the little zeppelin out the way while the other cats eat, he continues to get bigger. I'm beginning to think he must be microwaving himself meals in the middle of the night..

Shouldn't laugh...but I will

There is a girl I used to go to school, and then college wiith. To say she is accident prone is probably the understatement of the century. At college we used to sit and watch her (with our sausage rolls or cakes in hand, like we were at the cinema), waiting for her to walk into a table, or a concrete pillar, as she so often did. To protect her dignity (what's left of it anyway, after all the catastrophe's!), I shall refer to her as Calamity K. Anyhoo, I see Calamity K around and about our village, and she used to work in the McDonalds in our local Asda. It was here that I witnessed what I assume (and hope, for her sake) to be her biggest calamity yet. As I was loading the shopping into the car, I saw her get into her crapmobile (I couldn't tell what make it was for all the dings and scrapes on it). I stood there, open-mouthed, as she reversed - straight into the side of a BMW waiting and indicating to get into a parking space. Eek. So you can imagine my horror when I saw her pull up next to me at the petrol station this morning - in a brand new Ford S-Max! I give it a week before she's parked it in the middle of a lake.