Chicken of the sea

so many years ago, Jessica Simpson proved herself undeniably blond when having a conversation about tuna....it's worth the google. https://www.youtube.com/watch?reload=9&v=k2h72aXVP8o .
It's like one of her most famous bloops.
anyhow, cut back to present day and I thought I was being THE BEST MOM EVER by buying a fancy chicken instead of a normal chicken for our roast dinner. I mean, who needs a common, farm chicken when one can have a chicken fed on a diet rich of omega 3's? Not only am I giving my kids some good lean protein but it will be infused with those yummy oils that taste like a salmon farted in your throat right? ....but it's chicken so you won't even taste it. Um, no.
So I lovingly prepare it this morning, Gwyneth Paltrow rotissarie style, and put it to slow cook.
I was excited about this chicken, and made all the trimmings - potatoes, broccoli, spinach salad, Yorkshire puddings, about 1/2 cup of gravy as I had run out of granules...but the scene was set.
Took the chicken out and put it to rest, and licked the oils off my fingers that had accidentally spilled and thought that it tasted kinda odd....took a good sniff of the baking dish and I was seriously concerned - was my chicken off? Tasted a little bit - no it was okay, so I happily proceeded to serving it up to my two scrumptious girlies. Now my Miss Mouse, she loves chicken, was halfway through when she eyeballs me:  "Mom, this chicken tastes weird - what did you do?"
Don't you just love A. the trust in me and B. the accusing tone? sadly I could not deny it, as it had dawned on me as I had started my own plate that this is super duper Omega chicken literally tastes vile.....I came clean to the girls hoping they would tell me I am indeed THE BEST MOM EVER, and I have been so thoughtful and loving to think of all the dietary needs. Instead I got " Mom, this tastes like bad tuna."  ( secretly I totally agree.) but in good mom fashion I told them not to be silly and eat it in a mix with as much gravy as 1/2 cup of gravy would allow.

I don't know about you, but I reckon if I sent one of these chickens to Jessica Simpson I just might blow her brains.......
And if you feel the need to eat your own chicken/tuna combo, then follow this link:

https://www.waitrose.com/ecom/products/waitrose-omega-3-chicken-wholebird/622833-507898-507899

Camping

So we went on an unexpected camping trip - it was sunny and hot - I have the very delightful racer-back t-shirt sunburn to prove it...regardless of much slathering of sunscreen. I took some gorgeous photos...until I got home...and realized my lens was in fact dirty. Argh. I think I have got to used to using my iPhone and have actually forgotten how to use a camera....these really are the best of the bunch....

the dentist

SO today I had an undertaking of sorts. I had to go to the dentist. I L O V E the dentist - my childhood one took obscene pleasure in giving me millions of fillings, and then pulled out my remaining baby teeth when he got bored of drilling. So it could be said:
Nola + dentists = not a happy combination.
But...I figured I really needed a check up as I haven't been since before Scout was born and noticed some rather squiff teeth growing in the back of my mouth - I kid you not, they are growing sideways. At least my chubby cheeks hide them - if I were say Courtney Cox ( in another lifetime) my hollow cheeks would betray me and I would look like a hamster with nuts!
Now there are two ways to see a dentist here. Private or Health Service. Private = lots of money, but can go when you want. Health service = waiting to be assigned a dentist, which can take forever. My choice: health service. Private is far too expensive (we are talking an average of £70 just to get in the door, let alone actually opening your mouth!!!). So my name went onto the waiting list when we got to Plymouth, and I waited, and waited, and waited a little more. Then we get our official moving date and the next day a letter pops through the door telling me I finally have a dentist - Murphy loves me!!! So I make an appointment, and then freak out. I tell Mr. A that if I need anything done he will have to take time off work to come and hold my hand. I tell him this several times. He shushes me, pats my back and basically shows very little sympathy. So off I head this morning - after copious amounts of rescue remedy - just walking in the door makes me teeth stand on end. Now Mouse is with me so I am putting on a very brave front for her - I think I wanted her there so I couldn't be a wuss. And then I get called. I slowly trudge up the steps, and slide myself into the chair. My dentist looks like Santa, that has to be good right, as Santa is a good guy?!? So the examinations begins. He goes through all my teeth dictating all these abbreviations and my heart starts pounding - what does this mean? Are these good abbreviations or are you telling me just about every single tooth has a cavity? I start to get a bit hot, my heart starts going crazy, the baby senses this and starts doing gymnastics ( so not the time). When he finally gets round to telling me that my teeth are a-okay and without an x-ray there isn't much to be done to the sideways teeth (which are my upper wisdoms) and I actually do not possess lower ones (how lucky am I?), I have worked myself into such a state, all I can meekly respond with is "I think I am going to faint." Quick response by attendant as she whips my feet into the air - what a view down my sundress she must have had - and some ice cold water gets shoved down my throat. Something tells me these guys have done this before.
So, so much for being brave for Mouse. She handled her dentistry better than me, and Mr. A now feels incredibly guilty for not taking me seriously - score on my part, I shall milk it this weekend!

And just look at my poor baby's knee:


Her first roastie - OW! and in my madness I thought dettol in her bath would be a good idea....poor baby screamed blue murder! Bad Mommy!

me vs the nasty bus driver

so quite unexpectedly I had to get the bus back from playgroup. Was getting a lift from a friend but we left it to late to leave and so to save her the hassle of having to be late to collect her son from school, I happily told her we would get the bus home - Mouse loves the bus anyway!
Right, so have a big belly, a nearly 4 year old and a two year old ( no you aren't missing anything, I was babysitting for the day) ...and it is drizzling!
All I had was 50p in coins, and two £1 coins - one of which is a bit dodgy. So get on the bus, big, fat, tattooed to the hilt bus driver tells me it is £1.70, so I put my two pound coins down. He proceeds to pick up my dodgy coin, sniffs at me and tells me he won't accept it. I implore him to look in my purse and see there is no more money to give - only 50p and some coppers, but would he have it? Not a ninny. So it goes like this:
" so are you going to kick off your bus a pregnant woman with two small children in the rain?"
"Yes, ain't my fault love and at the end of the day I ain't going to have to pay for your one pound coin "
"what?"
" well they don't accept them love and would make me pay outta my own pocket and I ain't gonna do that for everyone now am I?"
"Have you not heard of doing a good deed?"
" Love if I did that for everyone I would be outta pocket."
By now I am crying - stupid bloody hormones - but do you think tears moved this hard-arsed &**%£(*%% ? - yip, not on your ninny.
I was saved by a very kind lady who paid the one pound, so as I walked past her - still in tears - I upended my wallet in her lap, leaving her 50p and an assortment of coppers. And of course Mouse wants to sit in the very back, so I have to walk past everyone looking like a raccoon on a Halloween parade. Bloody stupid waterproof mascara that is no not waterproof.
Then when we get off the bus, Mouse and Phoebe give the bus driver a big "thank you", and I won't repeat what I said as it was extremely unladylike, and by that point my tears had turned to full on indignation.

Mr. A is searching for a second car for us - just a silly little runaround to get him to and from work....please, please, please someone sell us a car....preferably by next Monday, I need my car !!!

egg hair

I had some free time today - the joy! So I decided to have a mooch around the shops....it has been a long, long, long time since I have just wandered around looking at stuff; and it shows because bloody hell! when did clothes get so expensive? Could not believe the prices of some things.
Of course I indulged in a little Mouse shopping and got her summer wardrobe for the bargain price of £30 - that's 2 sundresses, leggings, a frou frou skirt, five t-shirts and some flip-flops. Bargain! And thank you H & M for dressing my child this summer.

Now in other news, I need to tell you about my hair. I have a hate hate relationship with my hair. I hate it, and it hates me. It has been long, short, blond, brown, dark brown, perioxide blond....the list goes on. I have been growing it for two years.....it grows at the speed of a snail, and am quite enjoying the length. Until I ate lunch today. A fried egg and bacon sandwich ( what? I'm pregnant!), and this is what I found in the middle of a mouthful:


yip, that's a piece of egg white stuck on a strand of my hair.....
lovely!

highs and lows of a day

Highlight of my day:

seeing this on my computor screen!

Low Point of my day:

SCREAM! In my defense I have just had a huge bowl of oats for Lunch/Breakfast?!?

And I completely and utterly blame Mr A.

When he is not at home, there are no crisps, chocolate, sweetie rubbish in the house...

and no red meat! ( Being the farm boy that he is, a meal is not a meal unless it holds some form of slaughtered animal!)

And looking at the big picture, it is a 6.7kg *SOB* gain since last summer.

ARGH! well, my own fault really. I just hate being on diet - it makes me crotchety!

( now I think Mr A is happy he is away - ha ha!)

Thou shalt be named!

and so He Mr A came down from the Mountain Bedroom, and declared that she of the Un-named shall now be named...and from this day forth her name shall be MEDUSA! As Scout would say "oh me, oh my!"

Now I have been quiet these past few days as I have been doing things like harvesting eggs - chicken eggs - herding chickens around the garden, cleaning chicken poo off the patio....basically all things chicken related....but I did take some time out to make these:

(the flash did not flash so these dresses look crap, but let me tell you, the fabric is so bright and colourful and a joy to sew!)







mY jOY:


The sewing just kept on coming. Found a FABULOUS Amy Butler pattern book and adapted an Age 1 pattern to fit an Age 3 daughter....

so not only have I made sleeves for the first time this week, but I have found myself to be a patterner-alterer-extraordinaire!

(me humble? ha ha)

juju

WHERE OH WHERE HAS MY BAKING-JUJU GONE?

WHERE OH WHERE CAN IT BE?

WITH THE CAKE SO FLAT, AND MY FACE SO LONG;

WHERE OH WHERE CAN IT BE?

Life Lesson Number 1 837 454 763

for 45 minutes last night

+

Straight After

=

1.heart-rate WAY above normal
2.nausea
3.and more painfully
INSOMNIA

mY jOY:

Found this image on MY FAVOURITE website
I so want this room for Mouse

What is wrong with me?

I can tell you the answer to that....
Mr A. is home. Therefore my blogging is becoming quite erratic. This I do not like. I am about five days behind on posts and have so much to tell and share.

I will start with our camping trip. Not content with our Sunday yomp, Mr A. decided on Monday we must go camping.....and no, he was not joking. Now I had a choice about whether I wanted to go or not, but considering this was Mouse's first camping trip, I had to go. In hindsight I really should've stayed home.....but hindsight is a beautiful thing isn't it?

So here goes:

Mr A. picked a great spot and gave me incredibly detailed instructions on how to erect the tent, should I ever decide to take Mouse camping on my own.....and yes, a couple of pigs did just fly by us at that point....

Right, so tent up, now we move onto the fire pit instructions.....
1. Dig hole with super-duper Marine folding spade ( okay, I will admit it is a very cool tool to have)
2. Surround with rocks. ( is this for aesthetic purposes? No. Oh, okay it is to keep the fire in)
3. Build a little tee pee of twigs over a firelighter. (ha, gotcha cheating buddy!)
4. Light firelighter and very carefully nurture flames from twigs to branches to logs.
Not that hard.

the replenishing of the firewood though just did not interest me....

Getting to grips with the head torch.
1. Adjust strap before attempting to place on head....yes, it will hurt and leave a big mark in the middle of one's forehead if one were to try and use it just after daughter has.

Take some cute photos to prove how much you are enjoying yourself....
oi! those pigs just made another fly by!

Put child to bed in tent.
Get out book.
Put on warm woolly sock....but care is needed not to place warm, woolly socks to close to fire in an attempt to warm them......

and this is where the photos ended as the rest of our camping trip can be surmised by my husband's update on facebook:

"Adam Stone is relieved that the camping is over!!! imagine a 3 year old that occupies the space of a teenage elephant in her sleep, kicks like an abused donkey and talks in her sleep like a senile drunk having a conversation with whoever!!!- thats the kind of nights sleep scout let us have. next time we go no further than the back garden !!!
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naughty me

I am being a very bad blogger...and I am sorry I will continue to be one...
There is so much to do, so much to get ready, so much to sew....
my brain is working double time.....
I keep on zoning out in the middle of conversations, much to my embarrassment and the annoyance of friends...I am not being rude...well I am...but I don't mean to be....my mind is occupied by one thought and one thought only.....
MR A. WILL BE HOME IN LESS THAN TWO WEEKS!!!!

add one little girl's THIRD birthday

and I am all over the place!

Forgive me one and all for not phoning, emailing, just about anything as my brain is so not working, please bear with me, and if I call you thingy instead of your real name...forgive me!

mY jOY:
I fixed the kitchen floor...me..all by myself ( after Steve did all the hard work of lifting 4 layers of glue), and now we just better scuff it up a bit to get the colours to match...I am thinking a weekend jamboree?!?

fussy eater?

So you would think that when Scout started solids, I would be the one to be very careful about what she ate. I had been a nanny for years and the job of a nanny is to feed only healthy meals and snacks, and it is the parents prerogative to spoil - carrot sticks are sort of imprinted on my brain. However, it turns out that Mr A. is the Jules Oliver of our parenting coupling. At parties he would swoop in and stop Mouse from eating "junk".
In the last 6 months I have had many a conversation as to Mr A.'s obsessive behaviour. The reactions I receive vary from incredibility to all out hysterics. I have done my best to try and continue his regime, but it has been hard. Picture this:
On H O L I D A Y with the Rabbits, on the first morning as I was getting dressed in our little room, I heard Carlos offering the girls some cereal. They had brought those really cute little Kelloggs mulitpacks, and Sophie had Coco Pops, Belle had Frosties, and just as Mouse was about to choose some yummy cereal, there is this howling from our room "NNNOOOOOOO Carlos, Mr A. will kill me, no chocolatey cereal, give her the Cheerios!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She was on HOLIDAY and the most exciting she got was Cheerios - my poor baby.
At playgroup twice a week, she gets a *gasp* chocolate biscuit, and the moms there find her regimented eating habits as incredibly funny.
Now I have not been so disciplined since Mr A. has been gone. I have tried very hard to not spoil Mouse, but I will admit that she has had the taste of chocolate buttons, but still has no idea to the scrumptiousness of say a kit-kat.......and I also give her ice-cream! SHOCK HORROR.
Now a while ago, Mr A. telephoned one evening whilst I was partaking in a Mini-milk ( I mean these are the most sugary, decadent, ginormous ice-creams - NOT! they are like the carrot sticks of the ice cream world) , and it was a sneaky snack - Mouse was upstairs and I was licking downstairs as quick as I could. Well when she heard my enthusiasm as to it being daddy on the phone, she came rushing downstairs. Sadly her eyes clocked the mini-milk and that was game over. There was no talking to daddy, only begging for a lick of my mini-milk. I was horrified I had been so engrossed in my own delirium of talking to my husband that I hadn't chucked it away, and the child had seen it and squealed with delight....I was BUSTED! Poo!!
I really haven't thought much more about it, but as Mr A.'s homecoming nears, I have become more pedantic as to what passes Mouse's lips, I am reconditioning her....poor baby. But I received this email this morning, and I am going to print it, take it to playgroup and show my fellow moms - the ones who think I am being a bit over the top as to my husband's behaviour.
To put it in context he is writing about how she has changed so much in the last 6 months, and it is going to be quite a shock to be with Mouse again ( all understandable and something we are very aware of - it will be a shock for both of them)....
I have been trying to get Mr A. aware of her habits, and had said she has taken to eating with her hands - I mean who needs a fork?

"Ha ha, I laughed at the eating with both hands. I also overheard you on the phone the other day referring to the ice cream she was eating!!! What was the occasion? I am just playing. Seriously, does she have it often though?"

but this is what I have to contend with....please feel sympathy for me.........and huge sympathy for Mouse as never shall a chocolate button nor ice cream pass her lips again......unless it is for an occasion.........

calamity capers of Noli....going a bit extreme

Today I should have just stayed in bed. Scout woke up at 5:30am....yes 5:30am!
After dropping her at school I had to negotiate my way to the back and beyond to pick up our new diningroom chairs - won them on eBay. Pulled up to this remote farm house, was admiring how lovely it was - thatched, teeny little eaves windows, wild flowers in the garden, birdsong....you get the picture...when I hear a din from inside - oh yes, the owner's dogs, which she locked in the house. I just had to get the chairs from the back porch. The kitchen door leads onto the back porch. there is a cat flap in this rather rickety door, and there hanging out the cat flap was the meanest, drooliest, gargantuan teethed muzzle from a very black, and very angry dog. I love dogs, I have never been frightened of dogs; but bloody hell I have also not got 4 chairs into the back of my car so quickly either!!!
Get home, and this is what I find in my kitchen:

Now believe it or not I was thrilled to see it in that state, after I completely screwed it up after the dishwasher leaked.....or so I thought. I had just restuck the tiles down, but the glue would not dry, even though I had left the floor uncovered over night, with a heater and did the tissue test ( that would be a Nola-style way of gauging moisture). So Steve came over this evening, to show me what he had found. On closer inspection the whole kitchen area floor is .....well how do you say delicately........FROUPED! It seems the dishwasher, although doing some damage has exposed far greater damage by the last person who layed tiles, namely our house's owner, who had cut corners and not put in a sufficient waterproof layer. We live on a slope with a stream at the bottom, surrounded by trees - our house is not exactly in the best spot to receive ample sunshine - hence is a bit of a "wet" house ......but having pools of water under your floor tiles is not joke...and in a month we are having our Stone Summer Jamboree....lots of people are coming .......oh FROUP!!!!

mY jOY:

I treated myself today. Such bliss to actually spend money on myself and not feel guilty. And the fact that I spent £37 instead of the quoted £59 makes me feel very pleased.

but.......forgot the drama from first thing this morning...Scout dropped our small tv onto the floor. Mr. A was going to purchase our new big one when he got home, as whatever I choose won't be right.....well I can tell you in no uncertain terms that I will be getting the big one pronto and Mr. A will just have to hou sy mond!

AND I forgot to say the chairs I picked up were as described on eBay - I will definitely strip and repaint them.....but bloody hell, she hadn't even bothered to clean the dog hair/coffee marks/ food!!!! off them. I am NOT impressed!!!

I don't consider myself to be vain.....

I mean the fact it took me TWO years to lose my babyweight only confirms that.....

or I can shower, dress and be out the house in 10 minutes flat.....
or if I were to be stuck on a desert island, one of my must-haves would be my Juicy track-pants!
So...I ask myself, why on the revelation I had this morning did I start crying?
I went into the bathroom - it gets great morning light....
and THERE IT WAS!
Shouting "LOOK AT ME!LOOK AT ME!...
CANT' YOU SEE!
.........
YOU'RE OLD NOW"
Now look, I don't mind grey hair, I have been growing grey hairs for a few years now..
I don't mind my wrinkles, they show how much I laugh...and frown...
BUT flippity-frappit-froup-flap-flip I REALLY REALLY mind
finding a grey hair in my eyebrow.
Damn you right eyebrow, get your act together!!

and yes, I really did start crying.

from heart attacks to bums.....

so what are you going to do when your daughter feels the whole world should see your bum?
Imagine the scene...
walking down the aisle of Sainsburys, pushing my shopping trolley...
when Mouse comes running up behind me, and grabs my skirt....with an elasticated waistband...so that offered the resistance of a clapboard house in a hurricane...and voila the whole of the dairy section got to view my derriere......and frit-frap-froop I was wearing the granny pants again....
So what did I learn from this experience?
1. Grandpa's like granny pants in an appreciative not pervy way.
2. All the granny pants have been thrown in the bin. Mortification overrides comfort, so they have to go....sigh!

peek-a-boo....I see you!

It seems Mouse is determined to keep her mom on her toes.
Last night went like this:

I bathed Scout, then went to get her dressed but saw her bed was full of sand, so thought I may as well change the sheets, did that, got her dressed and went to shower. Last I saw her, she was heading downstairs with a book
So I get out the shower, get dressed, come downstairs and no Scout - rush out the back door - no Scout , but patio gate is padlocked. Run inside, check upstairs - no Scout - Shout - offer chocolate - nothing. Try the front door - bloody hell it is unlocked - I am usually so good about locking it - Scream her name out the front - nothing - run in, grab my phone and run out and up to parking lot - in pj's- screaming her name - no Scout - REALLY start panicking. Run back to house - about to enlist the neighbour's help, but ran upstairs once more, check under our bed, and went into her room to check her closet ( all of our hide-and-go-seek spots) - shouting, promising Peppa pigs and chocolate - when THANK GOD she stirred from under her duvet. She had climbed all the way under to hide and gone to sleep......because I had changed the duvet it wasn't back exactly flat on her bed, but wasn't all fluffed up either, just enough to disguise a Scout shaped bump. My heart was in my throat, I was so so scared, and I can't tell you the thoughts running through my head. I hate that our door doesn't automatically lock, and yes it was my fault for not locking it after we had been out - I am usually super-hyper vigilant about it, to the point of locking parents in when they come to collect their kids.
I said a prayer last night, thankful that my worst fears were not a reality. That Mouse was safe and sound in her bed....and that her Dad was safe and sound in his.

WARNING! This will make you itch....

so what is every mom's nightmare?
losing a child in a shopping mall? yes, but this is even worse than that.
running out of wipes and your child has just done the biggest poo? yes, but this is even worse than that.
chewing gum in darling's hair? yes, we are on the right track here.
new hairdo courtesy of some illicit scissor action by child? yes, getting warmer.
stroking child's hair as she has a nap on your lap and noticing some suspicious little brown dots? BINGO! YOU ARE THE WINNER, GO STRAIGHT TO START AND COLLECT £200.

Yesterday Mouse was having such a sweet nap, and I was absentmindedly stroking her hair when I saw THEM!!!!! Those nasty little eggs stuck to her hair strands. My heart just sank, and on closer inspection I found her hair to be simply covered in lice eggs. I was horrified, and very cross. I think she picked them up from nursery, but we have been on a farm for a week, and we shared a bed.........so my worst nightmare has come true........I HAVE NITS TOO!!!! I was a nanny for nearly ten years and almost every child in my care had nits at some point, and I always managed to avoid them...rather triumphantly.....but now I have the dreaded lurgies and am quite furious.

Nits are not really an issue at home, but it seems these little cretins adore the British environment and it seems that having nits is completely part of your scholastic career here.
So then my next question is what is even worse than finding nits on your child and self?
Having to phone Mrs Rabbit to tell her that her children ( one with thick, luscious hair and the other with major cork-screws which are IMPOSSIBLE to comb ) may just have some unwelcome visitors too. I could hear it in her voice.....that worst nightmare realisation!
So next time you go on holiday please invite me along, and I shall reward you with the pain of nits.

I have blitzed our hair. Blankets and towels are in the wash as we speak, closely followed by bed-linen and dressing gowns.........ARGH!!!!!

And can I just add that when I told Mouse we had to go to the supermarket to buy some medicine for her hair because there are eggs and goo-goos in her hair, she was thrilled and announced it to everyone she could in Tesco's. I hung my head in shame...and silenced her with a milkshake.

(goo-goos. South African word for little bugs: not pronounced as in gooey but with a back of the throat phlegm- clearing gggggg and the oo is more like the word or.........hell, just phone me and I will pronounce it for you)

Happy Birthday Mom!

I love this photo pf my Mom and Dad, I think it is my favourite one of them.

I was in hospital and Scout was fighting to come out....or not so much as it turned out...and my Dad phoned to check up on how things were going. He then wanted to talk to Mr A. and Mr A. walked out into the corridor...only to come back a few minutes later looking a bit sheepish. Our baby had completely ruined their surprise....they have been married for like a gazillion years and were planning a trip somewhere hot and exotic....but traded it in to come to London for the birth of their baby girl's baby...girl! ....but Scout was early, so was two weeks old when they did arrive. I loved having them around, and I took this photo on the day we went to Syon House. We did low-key stuff, and they navigated trains, tubes and buses on their own - I was so proud. We also went to stay in West Sussex, and one morning my Dad was accosted by a badger at the corner of the tennis court. That is SO my Pippity-pops. Out and about at the crack of dawn, bumbling about....then will come inside to my long-suffering Mom and say " Come Luvvy, you need to see this." and off they will go to have a look. It meant so much that they came so far to see me, and it is a time I remember fondly.

My Mom is a real homebody, loves her routine, and adopts things - I am more like her than I care to admit. Carlos and Aimee have been trying desperately for me to go and spend the night at their home, but I decline and rather carry a sleeping Mouse-bundle out to the car and come home. I feel out of sorts when my routine changes - things have to be done in a certain way - heaven help me when the Jungle-Forager returns!!!!! And I have adopted a certain squirrel in my garden as Mom has adopted a certain mommy Coucal in her garden. Ha ha!

Anyway, many blessings Mom, we hope you had a great day

XXXX

mY jOY:

Driving back from Aimee just now, Scout fell asleep in the car-perfect! I could stop and get a MacDonald's burger (been craving some junk) but APPARENTLY Scout is forbidden Maccie-D's/KFC/Pizza Hut/Burger King etc etc until she is like 90 years old, and it cannot be brought into the house unless she is fast asleep......does the car count Mr A.? I had to stash it in a bag, plonk her on the sofa, put on Playhouse Disney, quickly cook her dinner, encourage her to scoff it down, let her return to Handy Manny, and go and eat ( a now COLD) burger and chips on the stairs, hoping she stays transfixed and does not discover me. I can tell you it was very worth it. I think if you don't have something very often, including 10000000000 calorie junk food, you really appreciate it. Although when did a meal start costing £4.79? That is daylight robbery - I could've got 2 punnets of strawberries ( almost!) ..........

Doing hero-girl things again.....

I did something really cool today.

It was a "boy" job and I did it all by myself.

It started with me suddenly freaking out that I need to drive to London tonight with a one not so working headlight. I have had the new bulb in my possession for AGES.......yip, true Noli-style. So yesterday evening went to get the car log-book so as to instruct myself as to how to do it.

Open cubby-hole....no log-book. Under seats? In boot? In house? no no and no.

I searched everywhere with one thought running through my mind - Mr A. is going to KILL me for losing it. I actually couldn't sleep last night I was so worried about it! I know!

Anyway, this morning thought I can't let that hold me back and will have to figure it out....open bonnet....mmmmm....need that star-screwdrivery thing...okay, down the hill....drag out the toolbox....(PLEASE SOMEONE TAKE PITY ON US AND DONATE A TOOLBOX THAT AIN'T BROKE!!!!)...take out everything and anything I might need.....back up the hill....fiddle...unscrew...pull...tug...unscrew...fiddle....mmm this is harder than I thought....back down hill...get laptop...google " how to fit a headlight bulb into a VW"...and back up the hill....with the laptop......unscrew....fiddle...undo the car battery.....YES! THE CAR BATTERY!!!!!....undo the light casing.....gently pry out the bulb...replace.....put back.......screw...screw...screw....does it work? Hold my breath......YES! I actually punched the air......yes, incredibly lame!

And that was just half an hour in the preparations for London this weekend. I am glad Mr A. is not here as I am taking a bigger version of the black-hole-at-the-bottom-bag, and this time I swear there are kitchen sinks and Dartmoor ponies packed in it. I can't wait for the wedding tomorrow, to see our friends, our god-daughters, the Princess - or the bride as normal people would call her......and tomorrow is my birthday....and I needed another whole bag just for all my presents!!!!! Thank you my beloved Mr A., thank you Mom and Dad, thank you Dee and co, thank you Aunty - I am such a giggly little girl -

I LOVE MY BIRTHDAY!!!!

So I am sure my next post will just be loads of photos!

Have a wonderful May Day everyone, and enjoy the Bank Holiday!!

XXX

ps: located log-book.

Not my fault.

I shall not name the culprit....

he knows who he is.

floating tonsils....

so I thought this was a universally understood thing:

Scenario:

I come rushing into playgroup this afternoon......Scout and Eliza being dragged along behind me like puppy-dogs getting used to a new leash. I have a huge nappy-bag....god I really thought my days of a nappy-bag were over ( although it is a beautiful Cath Kidston one...WHICH I WAS GIVEN JUST WHEN THEY CAME OUT ....AS MUCH TO MY CHAGRIN YOU NOW CANNOT SWING A CAT BY IT'S PROVERBIAL TAIL iN LONDON WITHOUT HITTING A MOTHER WITH A CATH KIDSTON NAPPY-BAG......I WAS SOOOO WAY-COOL BEFORE YOU ALL OF YOU!!!)...and I forgot how much crap you need in them.....nappies - TWO different sizes, wipes, nappy-bags, cream, suncream, hats , juice-cups.......Dartmoor ponies and kitchen sinks* ....anyway, I was also madly clutching Phoebe and her muslin. I had a crazy look in my eye....and then I saw her....my poor unsuspecting Aimee....I settle Phoebe on her lap and announce in my big voice...." I am soooooo desperate for the loo, I swear my eyeballs are floating in wee, pleaseholdPhoebeforaminute"....and as I am dashing away, some of the other moms lean over to Aimee and stage-whisper " Did she just say her eyes are floating in wee?" to which my poor friend just shrugs....I wonder if she thinks she will get tarred with the same whacky brush because she hangs out with me?

So I thought about this as I was on the loo......ah, what bliss.......and went back and asked them all...."Do you not know that expression when you are really bursting for the loo that it is like your tonsils are floating?" Um, no.......shaking of heads....few raised eyebrows....so it is a South African thing then.....

But as I sat down to write this, it suddenly occurred to me that this may not be a South African thing......this may just be a my-Allanson-Family thing.......please my lovely South African reader friends....tell me it is not so! Tell me you know this expression?

And of course, in true Noli style, I was SO DESPERATE not only were my tonsils floating....but my eyeballs too.......over-exagerate....me?.....never!

I have also discovered a new diet, and if you follow it and it works, then you owe me shed-loads of money, as it is a never-been-discovered-before diet. So easy and simple and is as follows:

Have three or more children. Preferably more.

The more you have, the busier you are.

The busier you are, the less time you have to eat.....or wee!

I ate my lunch at 4pm, and it was half....YES HALF! a jam sandwich...what? no ham, chutney, spinach leaves, cream cheese? ARE YOU FRIKKING MAD- WHO HAS TIME?

Mrs Rabbit, as I am now in the same boat as you 3 days a week ( she CHOSE to have 3 of her OWN children - all in the space of a millisecond...perhaps it is I who is painted with the crazy brush by hanging around you? Just a thought?) so you have my utmost sympathy....and I know Fifi and Belle think I am the crazy dragon lady, but you are so welcome to drop them off for a play on the weekend because just doing it for 3 days has made my head spin.........

but can I tell you a secret?

I have LOVED every second!

* see post on 13 Feb about handbag mysteries!

mY jOY:

Wearing one of my favourite summer skirts again...which is too big for me ( sweet frip-frap-froup joy)...but constantly falls down.....as was pointed out by eyebrow raising, stage whispering moms at playgroup - and today I was wearing these - but the white cotton M&S ones :

please no-one tell Mr A. he may never fancy me again!