1. At dinner time...
Me: "Boy #2, please come back down and sit at the table. Otherwise you will have to go straight to bed."
Boy #2. "That's. Not. Fair! Reeeeeeeeeally?"
Me (that's got him): "Yes, really."
Boy #2, big grin on face: "OK then." And bustles into his bedroom, climbs under the duvet, and shuts his eyes...
2. At bath time...
Me: "Come on, Boy #1, for the third time. Please get out of the bath."
Boy #1: "Why?"
Me: "Because it's a school night, you're tired, I'm tired, and.... if you don't get out now your skin will go all wrinkly, and you'll turn into a raisin."
Boy #1: "Really?"
Me: "Oh, yes."
Boy #1: "Actually then, I think I will stay here and see how long it takes..."
At Bedtime
Me (thinking, gosh, doesn't my oldest son look angelic. What can he be thinking about...? World Peace? How to save the polar ice caps? Some new mathematical equation to turn water into fuel?): "Boy #1, what are you thinking about?"
Boy #1: "Chocolate."
Well, of course. And I'll say it for you; like mother, like son.
Thursday, 29 January 2009
Do as I say, not as I do #2
Now, I know this is the height of lazy blogging. But yesterday's post yielded some really brilliant further examples of hypocritical parenting, and just in case you didn't get the chance to check out the comments box, I thought I would share them with you. (I hope this is OK with everyone who I name check below).
Laura: Ever systematically worked your way through your children's Easter eggs over a period of days and only given them the smallest chocolate button one?
Nicola: I am absolutely 100% a hypocrytical parent. Do as I say, not as I do is my motto (thanks mum). Now, where are the remainder of the chocolate buttons...I have an episode of Dr Who to watch before I tackle the dish washer/go for a run/do something remotely useful.
Bush Mummy: How about "don't say 'hate' it's not nice".. and promptly say it yourself five minutes later. Ditto - 'oh my god'. Ditto - 'shit'. Ditto - 'don't shout'
Nappy Valley Girl: Oh yes, know that one. Always making the boys eat fruit (all that 5 a day stuff) and yet hardly ever bother with it myself any more. Getting them to switch the TV off and go to bed, then sitting down to watch Eastenders. I could go on.
Guinea Pig Mum: I've never done ANY of those things. Not one. And I've certainly NEVER told the boys they've spent far too long on the computer and then jumped on there and and spent the next few hours on GoogleReader and blogs. Oh no. Not me.
Tawny: I too have done all the people above me have done, I have also uttered the dreaded phrase 'Because I say so, thats why!'
More than a Mother: I never let mine eat junk, but sometimes I take the toddler to the park just so I can eat a mars bar unseen while I push him (from behind) on the swing...
Iota: I've never done those things.And I never fib either. That is something I wouldn't tolerate in my children, so I'd never do it myself.
Home Office Mum: I can honestly say that I tend to tell them not to pee in their pants and it's not often that I find myself wetting my knickers (trampolines do fabulous things for pelvic floors). So on THAT issue, I can hold my head high.
Tasha: R told me off the other day for slamming the door. I had stomped out of the room because she wouldn't stand still to have her buttons done up. Amazingly, she didn't tell me off for stomping and throwing a tantrum. Fortunately, she doesn't see me eat the four biscuits to her one. And she didn't see me when I pushed her round the park eating chocolate and drinking cans of coke. And she doesn't yet know that fizzy pop isn't actually only for grown-ups, like beer and wine, and nor are the sweeties that line the post office.
And it goes on...
Check out yesterday's comment box for more. (And I know I said this was a lazy post but really, putting all those links in - with my rubbish computer has just knackered me out...)
Laura: Ever systematically worked your way through your children's Easter eggs over a period of days and only given them the smallest chocolate button one?
Nicola: I am absolutely 100% a hypocrytical parent. Do as I say, not as I do is my motto (thanks mum). Now, where are the remainder of the chocolate buttons...I have an episode of Dr Who to watch before I tackle the dish washer/go for a run/do something remotely useful.
Bush Mummy: How about "don't say 'hate' it's not nice".. and promptly say it yourself five minutes later. Ditto - 'oh my god'. Ditto - 'shit'. Ditto - 'don't shout'
Nappy Valley Girl: Oh yes, know that one. Always making the boys eat fruit (all that 5 a day stuff) and yet hardly ever bother with it myself any more. Getting them to switch the TV off and go to bed, then sitting down to watch Eastenders. I could go on.
Guinea Pig Mum: I've never done ANY of those things. Not one. And I've certainly NEVER told the boys they've spent far too long on the computer and then jumped on there and and spent the next few hours on GoogleReader and blogs. Oh no. Not me.
Tawny: I too have done all the people above me have done, I have also uttered the dreaded phrase 'Because I say so, thats why!'
More than a Mother: I never let mine eat junk, but sometimes I take the toddler to the park just so I can eat a mars bar unseen while I push him (from behind) on the swing...
Iota: I've never done those things.And I never fib either. That is something I wouldn't tolerate in my children, so I'd never do it myself.
Home Office Mum: I can honestly say that I tend to tell them not to pee in their pants and it's not often that I find myself wetting my knickers (trampolines do fabulous things for pelvic floors). So on THAT issue, I can hold my head high.
Tasha: R told me off the other day for slamming the door. I had stomped out of the room because she wouldn't stand still to have her buttons done up. Amazingly, she didn't tell me off for stomping and throwing a tantrum. Fortunately, she doesn't see me eat the four biscuits to her one. And she didn't see me when I pushed her round the park eating chocolate and drinking cans of coke. And she doesn't yet know that fizzy pop isn't actually only for grown-ups, like beer and wine, and nor are the sweeties that line the post office.
And it goes on...
Check out yesterday's comment box for more. (And I know I said this was a lazy post but really, putting all those links in - with my rubbish computer has just knackered me out...)
Wednesday, 28 January 2009
Do as I say, not as I do
Are you a hypocritical parent? No? Are you sure?
Are you absolutely positive?
Ever said to your child "No, you can't have any more crisps, they're full of salt and fat and very bad for you" and then finished the packet when they've left room?
Ever doled out a measly handful of chocolate buttons, and then wolfed the rest down yourself when no-one is looking?
Have you ever said "Right, that's enough television for now. Let's get outside into the garden, it's a lovely day." and then spent the evening watching mindless drivel and repeats of 'Friends'?
Have you ever commented on the fact that your child's bedroom is a tip and insisted everything is tidied away before the fun stuff happens, whilst stoically ignoring the fact that your own bed looks as if it's a stall at the local Bring and Buy fair?
Have you ever insisted your children finish their dinner because it's full of vitamins which they need to grow big and strong, and then eaten a frozen pizza (with a salad, of course) after they're in bed?
No?
Me neither.
Are you absolutely positive?
Ever said to your child "No, you can't have any more crisps, they're full of salt and fat and very bad for you" and then finished the packet when they've left room?
Ever doled out a measly handful of chocolate buttons, and then wolfed the rest down yourself when no-one is looking?
Have you ever said "Right, that's enough television for now. Let's get outside into the garden, it's a lovely day." and then spent the evening watching mindless drivel and repeats of 'Friends'?
Have you ever commented on the fact that your child's bedroom is a tip and insisted everything is tidied away before the fun stuff happens, whilst stoically ignoring the fact that your own bed looks as if it's a stall at the local Bring and Buy fair?
Have you ever insisted your children finish their dinner because it's full of vitamins which they need to grow big and strong, and then eaten a frozen pizza (with a salad, of course) after they're in bed?
No?
Me neither.
Tuesday, 27 January 2009
Chocolate and Competition (in that order)
Right, mood over, onwards and upwards. (It isn't of course, but I'm boring myself writing about it so heaven knows what it's doing to anyone else reading this...)
Onto far more important matters. No, not chocolate - though now you mention it, I was amazed at the supermarket today to see the shelves of offerings from premium brands not decreasing in the current straitened economic atmosphere, but increasing in size. A quick check on Ocado (not even I was not sad enough to stand in front of the chocolate fixture and write this list down. Not today, anyway...), shows that Waitrose stock the following in luxury chocolate bars: Green & Blacks, Lindt, Montezuma, Rococco, Divine, Choxi, Cote d'Or, Bendicks, Organica, Rosemarie, and Malagasy. And I'm sure there were a couple more I saw in-store that didn't make it onto the internet. The interesting thing though is that not one of them cost less than £1.50 for 100g, and some more than twice that.
It's good to know that the residents of South Kensington have their priorites straight on one thing, at least...
No, what I meant to write about, before drifting off into a lovely cocoa-scented world there for a moment was this;
Before you had children, did you see yourself as the competitive parenting type? I didn't. Sure, I knew I had that potential in myself (though perhaps less highly developed than it might be; stubborn-ness is my thing, rather than competition), but I always thought I would be much more relaxed around my children. I assumed that I would be accepting of who they were, with their own capabilities and potentials, and not turn into the type of pushy parent who make you cringe with their constant chatter about how little Jasper has been studying Kumon Maths in the holidays (what the hell is that, by the way?) and can't wait to begin advanced Latin when they start pre-school.
So far I think I've managed very well. Managed very well, that is, to fool myself. The judo? Oh, that's for co-ordination and physical activity. And besides, he enjoys it - or did after that first term of complaining. Skating? Well, it's with his friends, and why not? He'll learn to stand up sometime... The drama class for a week in the summer? Frankly darling, he would have been bored stupid with nothing to do all summer long...
You get the picture?
I've been brought up short though. Last week, I dropped Boy #1 at school and whilst fussing around with him in the classroom before making a bid for freedom, I became aware of one of his classmates sitting in the corner, reading himself a book.
Now, my son has been making OK progress with his sightwords and letter sounds (for those not based in the UK, welcome to the incomprehensible world - for anyone older than 25 - of phonic learning). He's not rushing home from school every Friday (the only day they get homework) and ripping his folder out of his bag in his eagerness to get on with it, but neither is he complaining when I suggest a short session of looking through them. And frankly, one of the reasons we chose the school he's now at is that they have no truck with hot-housing the kids, preferring instead to spend the first year or so concentrating on building social skills and doing lots of sport to increase confidence.
But one look at Boy #1's classmate reading unaccompanied and Mrs Competition jumped up, grabbed me by the throat, and started whispering in my ear. "Look at that! W is READING! Why isn't Boy #1 reading? Why is that, do you think? You need to do more with him. Remember, they get streamed next year... What, you didn't know that? You do now... Time for some extra effort, I think. Forget the skating, you should spend the next few evenings working on his sightwords..."
This is not who I want to be. It's interesting though, how wanting the best for your child and wanting your child to be the best can so easily get confused with each other. It's also interesting how, when the chips are down, you revert to the parenting style you know best; that which your parents used on you. And doing well at school - that is, being top of your class, or near it - was always something my brother, sister and I were encouraged in. Why not? It's not such a bad thing for an older child.
But Boy #1 is 5. So, with a great deal of effort, I snubbed Mrs Competitive, trod on her toes, turned around, left the school, and left her standing on the pavement as I drove off.
I know she'll be back, though. Probably when I spy Boy #1's friend trotting out of school clutching a copy of 'Lord of the Rings' later today.
Onto far more important matters. No, not chocolate - though now you mention it, I was amazed at the supermarket today to see the shelves of offerings from premium brands not decreasing in the current straitened economic atmosphere, but increasing in size. A quick check on Ocado (not even I was not sad enough to stand in front of the chocolate fixture and write this list down. Not today, anyway...), shows that Waitrose stock the following in luxury chocolate bars: Green & Blacks, Lindt, Montezuma, Rococco, Divine, Choxi, Cote d'Or, Bendicks, Organica, Rosemarie, and Malagasy. And I'm sure there were a couple more I saw in-store that didn't make it onto the internet. The interesting thing though is that not one of them cost less than £1.50 for 100g, and some more than twice that.
It's good to know that the residents of South Kensington have their priorites straight on one thing, at least...
No, what I meant to write about, before drifting off into a lovely cocoa-scented world there for a moment was this;
Before you had children, did you see yourself as the competitive parenting type? I didn't. Sure, I knew I had that potential in myself (though perhaps less highly developed than it might be; stubborn-ness is my thing, rather than competition), but I always thought I would be much more relaxed around my children. I assumed that I would be accepting of who they were, with their own capabilities and potentials, and not turn into the type of pushy parent who make you cringe with their constant chatter about how little Jasper has been studying Kumon Maths in the holidays (what the hell is that, by the way?) and can't wait to begin advanced Latin when they start pre-school.
So far I think I've managed very well. Managed very well, that is, to fool myself. The judo? Oh, that's for co-ordination and physical activity. And besides, he enjoys it - or did after that first term of complaining. Skating? Well, it's with his friends, and why not? He'll learn to stand up sometime... The drama class for a week in the summer? Frankly darling, he would have been bored stupid with nothing to do all summer long...
You get the picture?
I've been brought up short though. Last week, I dropped Boy #1 at school and whilst fussing around with him in the classroom before making a bid for freedom, I became aware of one of his classmates sitting in the corner, reading himself a book.
Now, my son has been making OK progress with his sightwords and letter sounds (for those not based in the UK, welcome to the incomprehensible world - for anyone older than 25 - of phonic learning). He's not rushing home from school every Friday (the only day they get homework) and ripping his folder out of his bag in his eagerness to get on with it, but neither is he complaining when I suggest a short session of looking through them. And frankly, one of the reasons we chose the school he's now at is that they have no truck with hot-housing the kids, preferring instead to spend the first year or so concentrating on building social skills and doing lots of sport to increase confidence.
But one look at Boy #1's classmate reading unaccompanied and Mrs Competition jumped up, grabbed me by the throat, and started whispering in my ear. "Look at that! W is READING! Why isn't Boy #1 reading? Why is that, do you think? You need to do more with him. Remember, they get streamed next year... What, you didn't know that? You do now... Time for some extra effort, I think. Forget the skating, you should spend the next few evenings working on his sightwords..."
This is not who I want to be. It's interesting though, how wanting the best for your child and wanting your child to be the best can so easily get confused with each other. It's also interesting how, when the chips are down, you revert to the parenting style you know best; that which your parents used on you. And doing well at school - that is, being top of your class, or near it - was always something my brother, sister and I were encouraged in. Why not? It's not such a bad thing for an older child.
But Boy #1 is 5. So, with a great deal of effort, I snubbed Mrs Competitive, trod on her toes, turned around, left the school, and left her standing on the pavement as I drove off.
I know she'll be back, though. Probably when I spy Boy #1's friend trotting out of school clutching a copy of 'Lord of the Rings' later today.
Monday, 26 January 2009
The final straw
God, the tedious same-ness of January. I don't know what it is about today - maybe it's because it's Monday, maybe it's because it's still January after what feels like 6 weeks of the dreariest month of the year - but the fact that outside London is putting on a happy face with singing birds, blue skies and sunshine is having no impact upon my mood whatsoever.
It's on days like these that the thought of cooking one more meal to be examined distastefully by my older son, of planning yet another week's meals before dragging myself to the supermarket to buy the same old list (it isn’t, but today it feels like it), or the prospect of hanging up one more load of laundry is enough to make me want to find a brick wall and bang my head against it repeatedly.
I can't even blame PMT because that was my excuse for last week's bad mood...
Though, thinking about it, I know what might have been the final straw this afternoon. The final straw, that is, after a weekend of dealing with man-colds, a working week of solo parenting, and the cumulative effect of almost a year with no economic day-break in sight. Boy #2 is threatening to stop napping. I persuaded him to go with it today with the help of some warm milk and a story, but the writing's on the wall, and once he stops, that's it. My daily moment of calm will be gone for ever - and the thought is very, very VERY depressing.
It's not that he is hard work. Like most children, he's generally good company. Sometimes demanding, sometimes entrancing, and - almost always - completely loveable. But I'm able to appreciate that a great deal better when he lies down for a little snooze in the middle of the day and gives me a few minutes to collect my thoughts...
In the meantime though, right now he is sleeping, so it's time to drag myself out of the poor-me doldrums and thank Iota at Not Wrong, Just Different for this award.
The blurb (that Iota has abbreviated so nicely that I'm not going to change it) says: 'This award focuses not on the glory and fanfare of blogging, but in the PROXIMITY to one another through this online-world. This blog invests and believes in the PROXIMITY--nearness in space, time and relationships. These blogs are exceedingly charming. These kind bloggers aim to find and be friends. They are not interested in prizes or self-aggrandizement! '
Well. If you know me at all, you'll know that I am excessively interested in prizes, but I will still grab the 'charming' compliment with both hands thankyou very much. In fact, I don't think I've been referred to as such since a Turkish taxi driver with an interesting turn of phrase tried to chat me up on the streets of Istanbul around 10 years ago - but that's another story...
So, in the interests of spreading the luurve, I'm going to pass this award on to a couple of other bloggers. One of them - Frog in the Field - left me my first ever comment, so I guess you can blame her for my still being here. And the other, A Modern Mother, has to be one of the most helpful - and also the hardest-working - bloggers I know, so here you are Modern - something else to do in your spare time; add the logo to your side bar...
And if you're interested, when she recently found herself with 4 minutes to spare, A Modern Mother set up a British Mummy Bloggers Community on Ning. Come and join the party!
Saturday, 24 January 2009
Interview with a Potty....
How do I get into these situations, I wondered as I read the list of questions the lovely Jo Beaufoix sent over to cyber-interview me. Why on earth would I put myself through having to come up with entertaining answers that match the comedy value of the questions? What did I do to Jo in a past life that she might wreak this revenge on me? Oh yes. I do remember, now I come to think about it. I got myself into this particular situation when I asked her to include me on her interview list...
Well, here goes. I suggest you just read the questions - they are bound to be much funnier than my answers...
1. You are a very intelligent, articulate and witty woman. Is there any time in your life when this has got you into trouble?
Well, of course not. I'm far too tactful, 'intelligent', 'articulate' and diplomatic a person to do anything as silly as that.
Althoooooooooough...
There was that time when I lost my job over a smart comment made at a company meeting. And that other time when I damned near lost my subsequent job for the same reason. No, really Jo, I'ld rather not say what happened.
What, I have to? It was in the contract? The one that I signed in blood? Except I didn't, I used the inside of a black pudding, so, ha! (Sorry, in-joke). Anyway, I'll tell you about the first one otherwise I'll need to come up with my own post...
But not the second because it still makes my toes curl in shame, so that stays locked away in the box marked 'just about the stupidest mistake you ever made in an office and how the hell did you think you were going to get away with upsetting the office-manager in front of 150 people over his choice of a cowboy theme for the company Christmas Party.' Ooops.
Moving swiftly on - or back - to a company meeting maaaaaany maaaaany years ago. My then MD was wittering on about how, if we all worked just that little bit harder and made just that little bit more money, rewards would follow. What rewards? someone else wondered. "Well," he replied, "then I make more money." Silence, whilst we all took that in. I'm sorry? He makes more money? So I, being young(er) and foolish(er) opened my big mouth and asked "What about the rest of us?"
If ever there was a tumble-weed moment, that was it. And when redundancies were made a few weeks later, guess who's name was top of the list? Muggins here... As it turned out it really was for the best. But at the time I felt like wearing a t-shirt saying 'kick me' with an arrow pointing at my bum.
2. Who was your embarrassing teenage crush, and have they made a comeback (yet)?
The Beatles. And The Stones. Sorry - bit of a classic Brit pop girl. (And haven't I embarrassed myself enough with the answer to Question 1? If you want me to tell you about the Aha! poster on the wall, forget it. That's between me and Morten...)
3. If a cow could climb a tree, would it?
Well, I guess that would depend on whether it had it's hobnailed boots, Peter Storm cagoule and crampons to-hand. Obviously.
4. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live and why?
London - because it rocks. Seriously. I've visited some pretty fantastic places, but this town will always feel like home. We have rubbish weather, rubbish congestion charge (not for much longer), and, well, rubbish, but it's cosmopolitan population and ability to renew and regenerate always thrill me. I still get a buzz from just walking around it and just from setting foot on the tube, even after being here 22 years. I don't think our short-term plans necessarily include it, but long term, I'm a Londoner.
5. When the boys are both at full time school, have you any plans to return to your career or begin a new one?
Would love to return my career but, but, but... For me, it was always as much about the people as the job itself. And working in a London agency as I did, there's a huge turn-over of staff, so out of around 120 people in the building, 3 years on I now know around 5. Plus, I had to travel, which whilst it sounds glamorous (and occasionally was), was also a big pain in the backside. Missing a flight that would get me home in time for school pick-up whilst Husband was in Moscow / Madrid / Amsterdam / Important-ville is not a good way to live your life. So no. I don't think it will happen. It would have to be a new one.
If so, would you be:
a. a ballet dancer
b. a winkle seller
c. the pope
d. other
Well, the Pope, obviously. All that free red wine (admittedly, not great quality at the moment, but I would just get a better sommelier)... the snack food (have you ever tried a communion wafer?)... the great clothes (red and gold would definitely suit me. Though I might go for a more fitted version than the current incumbent)... plus, I'm a Catholic born and bred so I even know how to mumble the responses to the prayers convincingly... then there's the totty, of course... and actually, whilst we're on this, my great-grandmother's maiden name was Pope, so really, I'm surprised they haven't asked me already. Yep. Definitely the Pope.
That's your lot. If you would like to join in with this one then:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond to the first couple of replies - if I get that many - by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions - they won't be the same as above, more's the pity).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions
Well, here goes. I suggest you just read the questions - they are bound to be much funnier than my answers...
1. You are a very intelligent, articulate and witty woman. Is there any time in your life when this has got you into trouble?
Well, of course not. I'm far too tactful, 'intelligent', 'articulate' and diplomatic a person to do anything as silly as that.
Althoooooooooough...
There was that time when I lost my job over a smart comment made at a company meeting. And that other time when I damned near lost my subsequent job for the same reason. No, really Jo, I'ld rather not say what happened.
What, I have to? It was in the contract? The one that I signed in blood? Except I didn't, I used the inside of a black pudding, so, ha! (Sorry, in-joke). Anyway, I'll tell you about the first one otherwise I'll need to come up with my own post...
But not the second because it still makes my toes curl in shame, so that stays locked away in the box marked 'just about the stupidest mistake you ever made in an office and how the hell did you think you were going to get away with upsetting the office-manager in front of 150 people over his choice of a cowboy theme for the company Christmas Party.' Ooops.
Moving swiftly on - or back - to a company meeting maaaaaany maaaaany years ago. My then MD was wittering on about how, if we all worked just that little bit harder and made just that little bit more money, rewards would follow. What rewards? someone else wondered. "Well," he replied, "then I make more money." Silence, whilst we all took that in. I'm sorry? He makes more money? So I, being young(er) and foolish(er) opened my big mouth and asked "What about the rest of us?"
If ever there was a tumble-weed moment, that was it. And when redundancies were made a few weeks later, guess who's name was top of the list? Muggins here... As it turned out it really was for the best. But at the time I felt like wearing a t-shirt saying 'kick me' with an arrow pointing at my bum.
2. Who was your embarrassing teenage crush, and have they made a comeback (yet)?
The Beatles. And The Stones. Sorry - bit of a classic Brit pop girl. (And haven't I embarrassed myself enough with the answer to Question 1? If you want me to tell you about the Aha! poster on the wall, forget it. That's between me and Morten...)
3. If a cow could climb a tree, would it?
Well, I guess that would depend on whether it had it's hobnailed boots, Peter Storm cagoule and crampons to-hand. Obviously.
4. If you could live anywhere in the world, where would you live and why?
London - because it rocks. Seriously. I've visited some pretty fantastic places, but this town will always feel like home. We have rubbish weather, rubbish congestion charge (not for much longer), and, well, rubbish, but it's cosmopolitan population and ability to renew and regenerate always thrill me. I still get a buzz from just walking around it and just from setting foot on the tube, even after being here 22 years. I don't think our short-term plans necessarily include it, but long term, I'm a Londoner.
5. When the boys are both at full time school, have you any plans to return to your career or begin a new one?
Would love to return my career but, but, but... For me, it was always as much about the people as the job itself. And working in a London agency as I did, there's a huge turn-over of staff, so out of around 120 people in the building, 3 years on I now know around 5. Plus, I had to travel, which whilst it sounds glamorous (and occasionally was), was also a big pain in the backside. Missing a flight that would get me home in time for school pick-up whilst Husband was in Moscow / Madrid / Amsterdam / Important-ville is not a good way to live your life. So no. I don't think it will happen. It would have to be a new one.
If so, would you be:
a. a ballet dancer
b. a winkle seller
c. the pope
d. other
Well, the Pope, obviously. All that free red wine (admittedly, not great quality at the moment, but I would just get a better sommelier)... the snack food (have you ever tried a communion wafer?)... the great clothes (red and gold would definitely suit me. Though I might go for a more fitted version than the current incumbent)... plus, I'm a Catholic born and bred so I even know how to mumble the responses to the prayers convincingly... then there's the totty, of course... and actually, whilst we're on this, my great-grandmother's maiden name was Pope, so really, I'm surprised they haven't asked me already. Yep. Definitely the Pope.
That's your lot. If you would like to join in with this one then:
1. Leave me a comment saying, “Interview me.”
2. I will respond to the first couple of replies - if I get that many - by emailing you five questions. (I get to pick the questions - they won't be the same as above, more's the pity).
3. You will update your blog with the answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions
Stop Press Saturday
It's Saturday so, rush rush rush. Whoever said the weekend was for relaxing either had help, or no children... This is just a quick post to share a couple of pearls of wisdom with you whilst the troops are on manouvre in Holland Park with their father;
1. Should you develop diziness and have difficulty seeing, do not automatically assume you have developed sinusitis leading to orbital cellutis * like your father did last week. Before hitting the panic button take the following steps;
a. Go to the bathroom
b. Remove contact lenses
c. Switch them over to opposite eyes
d. Resume every day life
e. Feel slightly embarrassed over drama-queen tendancies
2. If, having spent 2 fruitless weeks trying to potty train your son, you decide to put the whole sorry business on hold for a while, be sure to advise the relevant child. Otherwise he will come bustling into the kitchen, plump little buttocks flashing for all the world to see, and proudly hand you his easily-removed pull-up nappy which is now full of pooh. He may not have got the point about delivering the pooh into the potty rather than his pants, but he certainly understands that it's not particularly comfortable to wander around 'fully-loaded'. As you gingerly dispose of the evidence in the loo whilst trying not to tip it all over your shoes, he will then ask for a chocolate button for being so helpful.
3. It doesn't matter how tired you are, how distracted you are by arguments over which Power Ranger is best - the Blue or the Red one - or that you are racing to get your children into their pyjamas before 'A Farm Life' starts on Discovery so they can have their daily slice of muck, bullets and orphaned lambs. Forgetting to put your un-potty trained younger son into a nappy before bedtime is never a good idea.
Although Febreze does help with the clean-up process the next morning.
* Note; Orbital Cellulitis is actually a very serious condition - click on the term to check it out. I had never heard of it before and yet it kills 20% of those develop it, with a further 20% of survivors losing part of their sight. If you ever develop double vision (non-alcohol related, clearly!), go straight to hospital.
1. Should you develop diziness and have difficulty seeing, do not automatically assume you have developed sinusitis leading to orbital cellutis * like your father did last week. Before hitting the panic button take the following steps;
a. Go to the bathroom
b. Remove contact lenses
c. Switch them over to opposite eyes
d. Resume every day life
e. Feel slightly embarrassed over drama-queen tendancies
2. If, having spent 2 fruitless weeks trying to potty train your son, you decide to put the whole sorry business on hold for a while, be sure to advise the relevant child. Otherwise he will come bustling into the kitchen, plump little buttocks flashing for all the world to see, and proudly hand you his easily-removed pull-up nappy which is now full of pooh. He may not have got the point about delivering the pooh into the potty rather than his pants, but he certainly understands that it's not particularly comfortable to wander around 'fully-loaded'. As you gingerly dispose of the evidence in the loo whilst trying not to tip it all over your shoes, he will then ask for a chocolate button for being so helpful.
3. It doesn't matter how tired you are, how distracted you are by arguments over which Power Ranger is best - the Blue or the Red one - or that you are racing to get your children into their pyjamas before 'A Farm Life' starts on Discovery so they can have their daily slice of muck, bullets and orphaned lambs. Forgetting to put your un-potty trained younger son into a nappy before bedtime is never a good idea.
Although Febreze does help with the clean-up process the next morning.
* Note; Orbital Cellulitis is actually a very serious condition - click on the term to check it out. I had never heard of it before and yet it kills 20% of those develop it, with a further 20% of survivors losing part of their sight. If you ever develop double vision (non-alcohol related, clearly!), go straight to hospital.
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