Wednesday 3 October 2007

Domestic bliss

We went out for lunch this weekend (not as glam as it sounds, it was raining and we had to have some reason to get out of the house) and saw Bob Geldof (gosh, what a cheerful chap) mooching round the Farmers Market in Chelsea. Honestly, that name should not be allowed, it completely goes against the trade descriptions act; not a farmer in sight unless you count the landed gentry.

Boy #2 wowed the waitress at the restaurant with his big brown eyes and spinach covered face, whilst Boy #1 distinguished himself with a tantrum over not being allowed more ketchup on his chips. Obviously we congratulated ourselves on what good parents we are…

Afterwards Husband took both Boys to the playground whilst I went and felt all domestic-goddess-like with a visit to Jane Asher’s cake shop. They didn’t have what I wanted (Thomas the Tank Engine decorations for a rainy day), but made some panic sugar-low induced purchases anyway and later Boy #1 and I bonded over a Bob cake making session (they are called Bob cakes instead of fairy cakes in honour of the Bob decorations we used the first time we made some, obviously). We decorated them this time with some cool dinosaur sprinkles I picked up at Ms Ashers’s shop. Felt all warm and 1950’s cuddly until:

a) I realised that my older son was punctuating his cake decorating with ‘God! God! God!’ when he dropped any of his sprinkles. It was rather like listening to myself. As a result, I have decided that even ‘God!’ is off the swearing menu. In times of stress I now sound increasingly like an Angela Brazil novel, or even worse, The Twins at St Claires, with all the gosh’s, golly’s and blast’s I utter…

b) I looked down and saw Boy #2 participating by decorating the floor with regurgitated lunch in a tribute to Pollock.

Husband is off….somewhere or other… until Friday. Is it bad that I don’t know where? Must remember to ask before he flies. In the meantime, I am sitting here tuned into Radio Boys. When, oh when, will I be able to bring myself to turn off the baby phones?

This evening I have already been treated to a rendition of Boy #1’s current favourite book (The Ravenous Beast). It’s amazing how he can remember the key words – and yet if asked, can’t remember where he put his shoes 5 minutes ago. Is this the male gene kicking in? Was recently watching the Grumpy Old Women complaining about how they are the only people to take keeping the house tidy seriously. Husband laughed uproariously – whilst I sat there tight-lipped and tried not to yell ‘Yes! God yes!’, and hit him with a poker.


  1. I always imagined myself baking avec enfants in a Nigella way, but I just find it too stressful. The cat ends up covered in mix, and the flour and sugar gets sifted onto the floor, I get a nervous twitch in my bottom slapping hand and we all end up on the naughty step!

  2. Baking avec enfants is definitely over-rated. Especially when it means you have to share what's left of the icing with said enfants...

  3. Golly I haven't been round for AGES - you had me rollicking in the ailses there PM! Almost crying with laughter thank you SO much...
    The Littlest is a smoothy boy at the mo any lumps and it's out of there usually with his fingers and straight to the dogs; while eldest is having a real go and driving me in sane either through selective forgetfullnes - i.e. school books but not with promises of treats! We won't go into the drama of his fringe and the introduction of scissors at school - I feel another blog coming on!!!!

  4. so many themes to which I can relate...cake baking, children repeating my bad language, a husband who is going...oh where is it now? Is it in the same time zone? Does it really matter if he's not here to help?

  5. Dear Tattie, glad you liked it and am looking forward to hearing about the fringe and scissors (just don't give a folding pair to your son as present and expect your curtains to survive unscathed. 'Nuff said?)

    Hi Pig, yes it matters if they're there. Otherwise who will do the heavy lifting and fret that the to-do list still hasn't been touched?

  6. You are a VERY funny woman. I love that '1950's cuddly' line!

  7. Getting spinach in the vicinity of a face counts as good parenting. It's some years since I even got it onto the plate.

    You could try my mother's old non-rude-word option, which was "botheration and constipation". You can put a lot of expression into it.

  8. Hi PM, loved this post. I too have to be careful what I say now as I heard Mac tell Senior Dog "do you want me to come over there and smack you?"

  9. Hi Rebecca, thanks for the kind words; not sure why - in my mind - the 1950's = cuddly, as once you factor in the starch, heated rollers, and over-cooked veg it was probably anything but... Ah well, am still going to permit myself an Enid Blyton view of that time.

    Hi Iota, 'botheration and constipation!' 'Botheration and constatipation!!' BOTHERATION AND CONSTIPATION! You're right, it works. Should give the nursery school teachers something to laugh about as well when Boy#1 repeats it.

    NH Mum, thanks for the visit, and yes I know that feeling. My oldest comes out with stuff all the time that I attribute to other kids at nursery. I mean, he couldn't possibly have heard that at home, could he?

  10. Casdok - thanks for the visit (and the compliment!)


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