A miracle happened today.
Due to a combination of party invites, I discovered myself to be hobbit free for a whole 120 minutes!
The thought of this impending freedom had me going dizzy from the excitement, and I set upon considering what I was going to do with my 'me time'.
The options were limitless; housework; sit in the toilet for an hour and actually have a pee in peace;
sew up the hole in the delicate place in Spiderman's school trousers or go for some retail therapy...hmmm.
Now as much as I would love to go to the toilet without being interrupted by tiny voices, retail therapy seemed to be the 'more me' option. The last time I brought anything clothing wise was back in 1862 when I bought some boots in the sale - so it's been a while.
Leaving excited hobbits with lots of other excited tiny people, (and two amazingly chilled parents,) I skipped back to the car happily - in fact there was so much bounce in my step, casual observers may have called it jogging.
Freedom and William Wallace came to mind as I started the engine and sped off into town.
Now I truly haven't bought anything for a long time, and I'm beginning to look like an old bag lady I'm ashamed to say. My wonderful step-mother has a walk in wardrobe to die for, and could give Imelda Marcos a run for her money in the clothing stakes, so it really is high time that I at least bought some new underwear.
So with the images of myself in long flowing maxi dresses and pinafores for the summer, I briskly walked into the nearest shop aiming high. I picked up dresses, tops, skirt and rushed into the changing room like a child at Christmas hoping to glance at the new me.
Seven minutes later I emerged - crushed and despondent. The dresses made me look like the Guy on the bonfire and don't even get me started on the top. My muffin top has spread...I have muffin arms, muffin waist and muffin legs. My future as Britain's Top Model is doomed.
I finally settled with a hoodie. Succumbing to the fact that I need to hide it not flaunt it.
"Did you find everything you wanted?" Squeaked the tiny thing behind the cash desk.
"Hmm, no not really. Unless you sell vouchers for liposuction here?" I enquired.
She smiled and looked at me pitifully, "Oh I know what you mean, the same thing happened to me the other day, you take 5 items in and nothing fits."
I looked at her - what the hell was she trying on? A condom? She alone was no bigger than my thigh.
Trudging out of the shop, realising that I have reached a point in my life that I no longer have an 18 year old's body...well not yet anyway...and in the vain hope that Tents R Us had a sale on skirts, I thought perhaps the best thing to do was consol myself in a coffee and a lemon muffin.
Well, you are what you eat they say...
Saturday 30 June 2012
Search for a boot...well two actually!
The search for the perfect purple boot - well in my tiny mind - is becoming harder.
Whatever happened to Dr Martens? I search for my 'purple, suede boots', and they give me a girly heel or Teddy shoes...
This is what I am looking for:
But these were made for children - hmph...
So if you ever find them in a size 8...scary I know...please feel free to let me know!
Whatever happened to Dr Martens? I search for my 'purple, suede boots', and they give me a girly heel or Teddy shoes...
This is what I am looking for:
So if you ever find them in a size 8...scary I know...please feel free to let me know!
Friday 29 June 2012
It's all my fault Officer, I'll go quietly...
I am currently seeking solace in a rather large glass of wine. It is all my own fault.
The hobbits have had what is medically described as an 'E-number overdose' today. In plain English terms it is simply, 'oh f*ck!'
Another mum at the school even warned me...she pleaded with me, begged me to see the error of my ways, but me, being the brave, idiot fool that I am ignored her advice.
Since half past four the hobbits have had an ice-cream, candy floss and some sweets, and just in case they hadn't had enough, (and wanting to test my stamina just that little bit more) I gave them a bowl of sugar to eat too.
Please be rest assured this is not a normal day - I don't
generally go round pumping skittles into my children
intravenously, it just happened that it worked out that
way. Ice-cream Friday at the school can't be ignored,
then there was some stall that was selling candy floss
to boost funds for the school, and there was a bag of
sweets in their bag from a child's birthday today -
so maybe it's the schools bloody fault?
However, since picking them up they have turned from their general chattering monkey like state into monkey's on speed - their speech is raised and squeaky, they are arguing, shouting and beating each other up like fat women after the last slice of pizza; (I recognise it cos I am one).
My head is pounding.
They have talked utter b**locks for the last two hours and I am completely worn out. E-numbers are like alcohol for kids. I have had to listen to conversations about who has the smelliest farts; who has the most superpowers; who could blow an ice-cube down their nose and who could bounce on the sofa continously for 5 minutes... It's like being witness to a frat party - they even had the munchies and raided the kitchen for sandwiches to soak up their drug filled binge.
Two out of three of them even had a punching contest - not each other, but themselves... They are now finally upstairs with Bolt - that would be the film not a device keeping their mouths shut, however tempting that would be.
So I am now alone with my wine, and personally - I blame the parent. Where are the police when you need them? A nice cosy night in a police cell would give me some peace and quiet...
The hobbits have had what is medically described as an 'E-number overdose' today. In plain English terms it is simply, 'oh f*ck!'
Another mum at the school even warned me...she pleaded with me, begged me to see the error of my ways, but me, being the brave, idiot fool that I am ignored her advice.
Since half past four the hobbits have had an ice-cream, candy floss and some sweets, and just in case they hadn't had enough, (and wanting to test my stamina just that little bit more) I gave them a bowl of sugar to eat too.
Please be rest assured this is not a normal day - I don't
generally go round pumping skittles into my children intravenously, it just happened that it worked out that
way. Ice-cream Friday at the school can't be ignored,
then there was some stall that was selling candy floss
to boost funds for the school, and there was a bag of
sweets in their bag from a child's birthday today -
so maybe it's the schools bloody fault?
However, since picking them up they have turned from their general chattering monkey like state into monkey's on speed - their speech is raised and squeaky, they are arguing, shouting and beating each other up like fat women after the last slice of pizza; (I recognise it cos I am one).
My head is pounding.
They have talked utter b**locks for the last two hours and I am completely worn out. E-numbers are like alcohol for kids. I have had to listen to conversations about who has the smelliest farts; who has the most superpowers; who could blow an ice-cube down their nose and who could bounce on the sofa continously for 5 minutes... It's like being witness to a frat party - they even had the munchies and raided the kitchen for sandwiches to soak up their drug filled binge.
Two out of three of them even had a punching contest - not each other, but themselves... They are now finally upstairs with Bolt - that would be the film not a device keeping their mouths shut, however tempting that would be.
So I am now alone with my wine, and personally - I blame the parent. Where are the police when you need them? A nice cosy night in a police cell would give me some peace and quiet...
Thursday 28 June 2012
A new Olympic Sport...
Ok, here it is 2012 - the Olympics are here in London!
The fever pitch here in the UK at the moment is reaching new levels as we try to contain our excitement of homeless people being booted out of London for fear of showing the place up or for overpriced tickets so that only the wealthy can go.
So, yeah you guessed it - I won't be going. I will probably in all seriousness watch and support from the comfort of my armchair - it will be an amazing experience and I actually am quite chuffed it's here - despite the political crap.
However, after a recent conversation with a fellow mum on the school run - I wondered whether it was too late to amend the sporting line up? Now bear with me, but I think I may be onto a sporting winner that parents all over the world don't realise they are already trained for!
So without further ado, and in honour of all parents - let me present to you;
The Morning School Run Heptathlon...
The athlete has to have strong stamina to compete in this event; it is entirely possible that they have to do this on lack of sleep, and the aim is to get all contestants into their correct clothing and at the school gates within a 90 minute window. They may also have other obstacles to encounter like showering or getting themselves ready for work in this time frame, but there are also unexpected factors like juice being spilt; finding a lost library book - or the vomit comet arriving at a moments notice.
The contestants initially gather for The Parade. After a full nights sleep that all athletes would recommend, the contestants are proud to show off their sporting colours this year; these can go from Christmas pyjama blue to naked bum pink; unfortunately it's the last change into red and grey that the hobbits seem reluctant to move into. The athlete must ensure that all contestants have pants and matching socks on.
The Toast Shot - formerly known as the disc shot, is a precision timed event. From bread to toaster, butter to toast and into the mouth must be completed in under 5 minutes. Contestants can and will complain if it's burnt or cold and the whole event may need to be re-completed. It can also be quite a messy event, but truly worth supporting to ensure that the contestants have energy supplies for the morning ahead.
The Relay - This is defintely a team event, and also once again, timing is of the essence; The start of this event is signalled by a break in the adverts and the aim is to get all contestants up the stairs, round the corner, teeth cleaned at breakneck speed, pass the towel to the next runner, and back in front of the television before Ben 10 comes back on. Many fine contestants have been seriously injured at this part of the event so caution is advised.
The Pat-Down - this is truly where the athlete needs to have their wits about them, eyes in the back of their head and ninja like reflexes. Pockets can be filled with toys, sweets or other paraphenalia, and it is the athlete's responsibility to ensure that pockets are emptied, checked and re-checked before leaving the house. The contestants are notoriously sly, and slight of hand can get a tiny yellow tractor back in a pocket in just under 3 seconds.
The Serenity Event - an event where the athlete really needs to reach down and find inner peace. Complete and utter patience is required while the contestants are rounded up and got in the car; only a true professional can face this challenge as contestants go in and out of the front door five times, get distressed because they haven't said goodbye to the hamster, run back upstairs to find their hat - and just when the athlete has all contestants strapped in the car one of them may need the toilet.
The Vocal Event - Rounding up the children to go through the school gate may sound like child's play for some, but this athlete really needs to have a good set of lungs on them. The contestants will scatter like coins upon arriving and the athlete needs to call them back, give them their corresponding lunchboxes, kiss them goodbye before rushing back out of the gate themselves.
The Final Finish - The event is nearly over and the athlete is now back in the car - They have 3 minutes to get to work, there are four sets of temporary traffic lights, a broken down lorry, and it's raining. They will get extra points for singing along to ABBA on the way, parking in a straight line and not having a boiled sweet stuck to their bum as they walk into the office.
The fever pitch here in the UK at the moment is reaching new levels as we try to contain our excitement of homeless people being booted out of London for fear of showing the place up or for overpriced tickets so that only the wealthy can go.
So, yeah you guessed it - I won't be going. I will probably in all seriousness watch and support from the comfort of my armchair - it will be an amazing experience and I actually am quite chuffed it's here - despite the political crap.
However, after a recent conversation with a fellow mum on the school run - I wondered whether it was too late to amend the sporting line up? Now bear with me, but I think I may be onto a sporting winner that parents all over the world don't realise they are already trained for!
So without further ado, and in honour of all parents - let me present to you;
The Morning School Run Heptathlon...
The athlete has to have strong stamina to compete in this event; it is entirely possible that they have to do this on lack of sleep, and the aim is to get all contestants into their correct clothing and at the school gates within a 90 minute window. They may also have other obstacles to encounter like showering or getting themselves ready for work in this time frame, but there are also unexpected factors like juice being spilt; finding a lost library book - or the vomit comet arriving at a moments notice.
The contestants initially gather for The Parade. After a full nights sleep that all athletes would recommend, the contestants are proud to show off their sporting colours this year; these can go from Christmas pyjama blue to naked bum pink; unfortunately it's the last change into red and grey that the hobbits seem reluctant to move into. The athlete must ensure that all contestants have pants and matching socks on.
The Toast Shot - formerly known as the disc shot, is a precision timed event. From bread to toaster, butter to toast and into the mouth must be completed in under 5 minutes. Contestants can and will complain if it's burnt or cold and the whole event may need to be re-completed. It can also be quite a messy event, but truly worth supporting to ensure that the contestants have energy supplies for the morning ahead.
The Relay - This is defintely a team event, and also once again, timing is of the essence; The start of this event is signalled by a break in the adverts and the aim is to get all contestants up the stairs, round the corner, teeth cleaned at breakneck speed, pass the towel to the next runner, and back in front of the television before Ben 10 comes back on. Many fine contestants have been seriously injured at this part of the event so caution is advised.
The Pat-Down - this is truly where the athlete needs to have their wits about them, eyes in the back of their head and ninja like reflexes. Pockets can be filled with toys, sweets or other paraphenalia, and it is the athlete's responsibility to ensure that pockets are emptied, checked and re-checked before leaving the house. The contestants are notoriously sly, and slight of hand can get a tiny yellow tractor back in a pocket in just under 3 seconds.
The Serenity Event - an event where the athlete really needs to reach down and find inner peace. Complete and utter patience is required while the contestants are rounded up and got in the car; only a true professional can face this challenge as contestants go in and out of the front door five times, get distressed because they haven't said goodbye to the hamster, run back upstairs to find their hat - and just when the athlete has all contestants strapped in the car one of them may need the toilet.
The Vocal Event - Rounding up the children to go through the school gate may sound like child's play for some, but this athlete really needs to have a good set of lungs on them. The contestants will scatter like coins upon arriving and the athlete needs to call them back, give them their corresponding lunchboxes, kiss them goodbye before rushing back out of the gate themselves.
The Final Finish - The event is nearly over and the athlete is now back in the car - They have 3 minutes to get to work, there are four sets of temporary traffic lights, a broken down lorry, and it's raining. They will get extra points for singing along to ABBA on the way, parking in a straight line and not having a boiled sweet stuck to their bum as they walk into the office.
The only Gay Pokémon in the village...
Working full time means that the hobbits need to go to after school classes every day.
This is not as drastic as it sounds, as actually they have days when they just play and days when they actually do something creative.
Superman and Spiderman attend a 'Junk to Funk' class once a week, where the idea is to take your junk and make it into something wonderfully creative - which I can then sell on ebay for fifty quid!!! Alas we have not quite attained that standard, but I had to admire Superman's latest addition to our family.
Some of you may know of a character called Pikachu in Pokémon.
The series is from Japan and the character is a yellow furry rodent...
like this...
He is quite a cute little character and is pretty much the main
Pokémon in the series...
(Bear with me - there is a reason behind my ramblings...)
Superman excitedly informed me that he had made a chicken in Junk to Funk - Spiderman followed the rest of the class and went with a black or pink pig...and his is really superb too... But Superman had other ideas...
Superman wanted flair, colour and and a chicken he could call Priscilla.
Isn't he just fab?
He is surrounded by black pigs and he really stands out...
Surely am I not the only one who thinks that Priscilla looks like the only Gay Pokémon in the village?
This is not as drastic as it sounds, as actually they have days when they just play and days when they actually do something creative.
Superman and Spiderman attend a 'Junk to Funk' class once a week, where the idea is to take your junk and make it into something wonderfully creative - which I can then sell on ebay for fifty quid!!! Alas we have not quite attained that standard, but I had to admire Superman's latest addition to our family.
Some of you may know of a character called Pikachu in Pokémon.
The series is from Japan and the character is a yellow furry rodent...
like this...
He is quite a cute little character and is pretty much the main
Pokémon in the series...
(Bear with me - there is a reason behind my ramblings...)
Superman excitedly informed me that he had made a chicken in Junk to Funk - Spiderman followed the rest of the class and went with a black or pink pig...and his is really superb too... But Superman had other ideas...
Superman wanted flair, colour and and a chicken he could call Priscilla.
He is surrounded by black pigs and he really stands out...
Surely am I not the only one who thinks that Priscilla looks like the only Gay Pokémon in the village?
Wednesday 27 June 2012
Girls and their toys...
It is has recently come to my attention that I may require a new friend.
I have, as millions of other women, been reading '50 Shades of Grey.' If you are one of the few, who have neither read it or heard of it - then I suggest you Google it before we proceed...
Enlightened? Ok...
Being a single girl and all, tis only fair that I look into the purchase of a 'new friend', however I have discovered that at a mere 40 years old...I may be behind the times a little bit.
For example; they are not made of wood.
I never really envisaged that they would be, and actually when you consider that further that could be shockingly difficult to explain to your GP. Yet, when I started to research a little more about this 'female friendly product' I was truly amazed at how many varieties, sizes...and colours (!?) there actually are.
I mentioned it to a colleague at work, and I must point out at this point that this is not the usual type of conversation that we have by the coffee machine, "Oh yeah, sex toys" one says while dunking a digestive, "All the rage now - hey Bill...your missus has one doesn't she?"
However my colleague is a single woman too...ish...and she comes across as someone who knows about these things. So I mention my intrigue, "Oh God yeah girl, get on blah blah blah website, sometimes they do two for one."
What?! Two for one? Buy one, get one free and all that? My mind thinks quickly, do they do it with Nectar points too? Wow, a cupboard full of sex toys could get me and the boys some vouchers to Legoland.
"What would be the point of that" I ask innocently, "One for you and a stocking filler?"
My colleague smiles at me, "No, have them both, I have two" She says gleefully going back to her desk.
Now this puzzles me. Why would you need two? Are they that good that you need one constantly on standby, charging away? Do you have one super size and one for for travel or do you use two at the same time? My innocent brain attempts to compute this information, and considers what position you would need to be in, in order to do that.
Looking at them later on that evening, under the cover of darkness you understand, I am curious about the shape. Some are just penis shaped while others look much like jewellery holders that you pick up at the market, slightly tacky in design and there is even a little place that you can put your rings on. Imagine explaining that to the hobbits...
There are also an abundance of colours; black, purple, red and my particular favourite - neon pink! There would be no danger of losing that slippery sucker under the covers with the lights turned down, passing pedestrians on their way home from the pub would see the neon glow through my very thin curtains... "hey up, number 42 is feeling randy again."
There is also the assumption that you will know what size you will require. There are tiny mini versions, to large super size me ones, how do you judge what is right for you? It's not like I measure myself. I have no idea. I mean after all, I wouldn't want anything too eye watering, but at the same time I would want something a little more productive than a stick in a windsock. Should I contact the help desk and ask them? "Well madam, after having three children, I would advise you to go for the size 3 cock for now, and work your way up."
What if I make a mistake? I can hardly return it. Can you imagine the returns voucher... REASON FOR RETURN: Too big, it appears I am still carrying around some holiday weight. Smaller size required.
Needless to say I haven't yet ordered one - partly because of the above issues, but mainly because I have no idea how it will show up on my bank statement. However, if I do I will be sure to let you all know...then again, my Dad reads this, perhaps I'll keep that little gem to myself.
I have, as millions of other women, been reading '50 Shades of Grey.' If you are one of the few, who have neither read it or heard of it - then I suggest you Google it before we proceed...
Enlightened? Ok...
Being a single girl and all, tis only fair that I look into the purchase of a 'new friend', however I have discovered that at a mere 40 years old...I may be behind the times a little bit.
For example; they are not made of wood.
I never really envisaged that they would be, and actually when you consider that further that could be shockingly difficult to explain to your GP. Yet, when I started to research a little more about this 'female friendly product' I was truly amazed at how many varieties, sizes...and colours (!?) there actually are.
I mentioned it to a colleague at work, and I must point out at this point that this is not the usual type of conversation that we have by the coffee machine, "Oh yeah, sex toys" one says while dunking a digestive, "All the rage now - hey Bill...your missus has one doesn't she?"
However my colleague is a single woman too...ish...and she comes across as someone who knows about these things. So I mention my intrigue, "Oh God yeah girl, get on blah blah blah website, sometimes they do two for one."
What?! Two for one? Buy one, get one free and all that? My mind thinks quickly, do they do it with Nectar points too? Wow, a cupboard full of sex toys could get me and the boys some vouchers to Legoland.
"What would be the point of that" I ask innocently, "One for you and a stocking filler?"
My colleague smiles at me, "No, have them both, I have two" She says gleefully going back to her desk.
Now this puzzles me. Why would you need two? Are they that good that you need one constantly on standby, charging away? Do you have one super size and one for for travel or do you use two at the same time? My innocent brain attempts to compute this information, and considers what position you would need to be in, in order to do that.
Looking at them later on that evening, under the cover of darkness you understand, I am curious about the shape. Some are just penis shaped while others look much like jewellery holders that you pick up at the market, slightly tacky in design and there is even a little place that you can put your rings on. Imagine explaining that to the hobbits...
There are also an abundance of colours; black, purple, red and my particular favourite - neon pink! There would be no danger of losing that slippery sucker under the covers with the lights turned down, passing pedestrians on their way home from the pub would see the neon glow through my very thin curtains... "hey up, number 42 is feeling randy again."
There is also the assumption that you will know what size you will require. There are tiny mini versions, to large super size me ones, how do you judge what is right for you? It's not like I measure myself. I have no idea. I mean after all, I wouldn't want anything too eye watering, but at the same time I would want something a little more productive than a stick in a windsock. Should I contact the help desk and ask them? "Well madam, after having three children, I would advise you to go for the size 3 cock for now, and work your way up."
What if I make a mistake? I can hardly return it. Can you imagine the returns voucher... REASON FOR RETURN: Too big, it appears I am still carrying around some holiday weight. Smaller size required.
Needless to say I haven't yet ordered one - partly because of the above issues, but mainly because I have no idea how it will show up on my bank statement. However, if I do I will be sure to let you all know...then again, my Dad reads this, perhaps I'll keep that little gem to myself.
Tuesday 26 June 2012
Shopping with hobbits...
Ok, brace yourselves - it's that time of the week again. Food shopping with three hobbits.
It should come with it's own hazard warning. I should have a police escort to Tesco's, and an armed officer loudly exhaling over the megaphone... "WARNING, Please stand back, hobbits entering the store...Please Sir step away, there is nothing to see here...keep moving people..."
Alas, no man in uniform for me...but hey we can do this - we've done it before and come out unscathed, haven't we?
However, this is commuter time. This is when the real adults come out to shop. All the mum's with children, who feel exactly the same way as I do, and always nod understandingly in my direction as they see one of my hobbits shove a grape up another ones nose, they shop in the early hours. They know when it's safe to do so.
I am doing this at the same time as people who are on their way home from work - single men and women looking for fresh broccoli and meals for one; young students getting reduced priced bargains as it's coming to the end of the day and would be millionaires getting their lottery tickets...I am doomed!!!
No, I breathe. It's ok, I only have a short list and I warned them on pain of death whilst seated in the car that they do not run in the aisle; help themselves to the pick and mix or, god forbid, as one expedition memory popped into my head, sneeze on the fruit.
As we enter I can feel the excitement building in them, and the tension building in me. What is it about supermarkets that send them delirious? The shiny bright lights? The bleep bleep of the till? The excitement is making them twitch with intent.
"Don't run off." I hiss through clenched teeth. Hands gripping the back of the trolley so that the whites of my knuckles shine through. "...and don't fight."
We make it past the newspapers and magazines without a hitch - thank crap - only the sweetie aisle and toys to get past now. It's like the bloody Crystal Maze for kids. Can you resist children? Can you?
I march through the aisles like a woman on speed, throwing in items into the trolley with no concern for bruised fruit or squashed bread.
"Hey look mum,' calls Superman, "A giant Lemon!" He holds it up proudly.
"Put it down, its a melon."
"No, it's a lemon" He says defiantly chucking it up in the air. Thankfully he catches it and puts it down, and I wistfully consider how great if it was - would go perfect with the large G&T I'm yearning for right now.
We move on quickly in my very own version of Supermarket Sweep, and other shoppers move away like Moses and the sea as we pass them. It's like having three chattering monkeys on helium, "Can we have this? Mum, we need Ketchup! Hey look mum, red pasta!"
Before I know it we are coming to the last hurdle...the sweet aisle, I have no option not to pass it. It's as the bottom of aisle 10 and I need apple juice in aisle 11. All three heads turn like the exorcist and sniff out sugar and E numbers... I sigh, "Ok, if you behave for 5 more minutes, you can have sweets. We just need to get the last bits." They are placated for just a few minutes more, but before long my trolley is filled with 7 other items that I distinctly remember were not on my list. Thankfully, one of them is pink coloured, chilled to touch and has the name of a vineyard emblazoned on the front.
Hobbits also like to help at the self serve till. The trouble is, as anyone knows you can only do one thing at a time at these things, pick up, scan, put in bag - the machine doesn't understand hobbits who each try to scan something at the same time.
But before long it's over, in record time too - just 22 minutes. We are out of the supermarket door. There is light, I pinch myself - I am still alive - we made it. A small amount of excitement bubbles up in me, elated that I didn't scream or melt down in an aisle; I didn't cry and all hobbits still have their own limbs...or maybe it's the thought that I have something chilled in my shopping bags?
Quick get in the car before anyone notices the packet of chewing gum Batman has slipped in his pocket...
It should come with it's own hazard warning. I should have a police escort to Tesco's, and an armed officer loudly exhaling over the megaphone... "WARNING, Please stand back, hobbits entering the store...Please Sir step away, there is nothing to see here...keep moving people..."
Alas, no man in uniform for me...but hey we can do this - we've done it before and come out unscathed, haven't we?
However, this is commuter time. This is when the real adults come out to shop. All the mum's with children, who feel exactly the same way as I do, and always nod understandingly in my direction as they see one of my hobbits shove a grape up another ones nose, they shop in the early hours. They know when it's safe to do so.
I am doing this at the same time as people who are on their way home from work - single men and women looking for fresh broccoli and meals for one; young students getting reduced priced bargains as it's coming to the end of the day and would be millionaires getting their lottery tickets...I am doomed!!!
No, I breathe. It's ok, I only have a short list and I warned them on pain of death whilst seated in the car that they do not run in the aisle; help themselves to the pick and mix or, god forbid, as one expedition memory popped into my head, sneeze on the fruit.
As we enter I can feel the excitement building in them, and the tension building in me. What is it about supermarkets that send them delirious? The shiny bright lights? The bleep bleep of the till? The excitement is making them twitch with intent.
"Don't run off." I hiss through clenched teeth. Hands gripping the back of the trolley so that the whites of my knuckles shine through. "...and don't fight."
We make it past the newspapers and magazines without a hitch - thank crap - only the sweetie aisle and toys to get past now. It's like the bloody Crystal Maze for kids. Can you resist children? Can you?
I march through the aisles like a woman on speed, throwing in items into the trolley with no concern for bruised fruit or squashed bread.
"Hey look mum,' calls Superman, "A giant Lemon!" He holds it up proudly.
"Put it down, its a melon."
"No, it's a lemon" He says defiantly chucking it up in the air. Thankfully he catches it and puts it down, and I wistfully consider how great if it was - would go perfect with the large G&T I'm yearning for right now.
We move on quickly in my very own version of Supermarket Sweep, and other shoppers move away like Moses and the sea as we pass them. It's like having three chattering monkeys on helium, "Can we have this? Mum, we need Ketchup! Hey look mum, red pasta!"
Before I know it we are coming to the last hurdle...the sweet aisle, I have no option not to pass it. It's as the bottom of aisle 10 and I need apple juice in aisle 11. All three heads turn like the exorcist and sniff out sugar and E numbers... I sigh, "Ok, if you behave for 5 more minutes, you can have sweets. We just need to get the last bits." They are placated for just a few minutes more, but before long my trolley is filled with 7 other items that I distinctly remember were not on my list. Thankfully, one of them is pink coloured, chilled to touch and has the name of a vineyard emblazoned on the front.
Hobbits also like to help at the self serve till. The trouble is, as anyone knows you can only do one thing at a time at these things, pick up, scan, put in bag - the machine doesn't understand hobbits who each try to scan something at the same time.
But before long it's over, in record time too - just 22 minutes. We are out of the supermarket door. There is light, I pinch myself - I am still alive - we made it. A small amount of excitement bubbles up in me, elated that I didn't scream or melt down in an aisle; I didn't cry and all hobbits still have their own limbs...or maybe it's the thought that I have something chilled in my shopping bags?
Quick get in the car before anyone notices the packet of chewing gum Batman has slipped in his pocket...
Monday 25 June 2012
Troll in the kitchen...
I think I may have a secret troll in my kitchen.
He must be very small, because I never hear him and I never see him but he always leaves a trail of destruction so I know where he's been. (This is also the same reason that I know my troll is a 'He'.)
I have even cleaned out my cupboards searching for my uninvited house guest, but alas no sign of him or his bedding.
The realisation dawned on me a few weeks ago.
The children had been well fed and watered, and as far as I was concerned all fast asleep in their beds. I was having a nice glass of wine - cough - I mean a nice cup of tea when I heard rustling from the kitchen. Now, knowing that the children are all asleep I believe my thoughts were - 'oh it's just the wind'; back door was open, it was a warm evening.
However on closer inspection, my now believed to be Troll had opened the bread and had left a small trail of crumbs across the kitchen worktop.
Not much in the way of evidence I hear you say, after all, a small mouse could have created the same trail, with the added essence of mouse droppings - alas there were no signs of mice poo therefore one can only assume that I had simply forgotten to put the bread away from earlier in the evening.
But now things are missing from my fridge.
Bits of cheese, ham, chorizo, yogurt's - he is very sneaky this troll and I never hear him open the fridge. I do sometimes hear him scampering around, or trip trip trapping up the stairs which is where I have found the yogurt pots under the children's beds! What a sneaky troll.
The children look at me innocently when I ask if they have seen him, they would tell me I am sure if they had seen him but no sooner have I stocked up my fridge then my food starts rapidly disappearing.
I am considering setting up a camera which would take a photo of my troll rummaging through my fresh fruit or opening up a pot of custard - think of the money I could sell a photo like that for on ebay I muse...
Thankfully he hasn't yet worked out how to put frozen chips in the oven, so my freezer is safe for now...and if I could just catch him and teach him how to make me a cup of tea then I'll be onto a winner.
He must be very small, because I never hear him and I never see him but he always leaves a trail of destruction so I know where he's been. (This is also the same reason that I know my troll is a 'He'.)
I have even cleaned out my cupboards searching for my uninvited house guest, but alas no sign of him or his bedding.
The realisation dawned on me a few weeks ago.
The children had been well fed and watered, and as far as I was concerned all fast asleep in their beds. I was having a nice glass of wine - cough - I mean a nice cup of tea when I heard rustling from the kitchen. Now, knowing that the children are all asleep I believe my thoughts were - 'oh it's just the wind'; back door was open, it was a warm evening.
However on closer inspection, my now believed to be Troll had opened the bread and had left a small trail of crumbs across the kitchen worktop.
Not much in the way of evidence I hear you say, after all, a small mouse could have created the same trail, with the added essence of mouse droppings - alas there were no signs of mice poo therefore one can only assume that I had simply forgotten to put the bread away from earlier in the evening.
But now things are missing from my fridge.
Bits of cheese, ham, chorizo, yogurt's - he is very sneaky this troll and I never hear him open the fridge. I do sometimes hear him scampering around, or trip trip trapping up the stairs which is where I have found the yogurt pots under the children's beds! What a sneaky troll.
The children look at me innocently when I ask if they have seen him, they would tell me I am sure if they had seen him but no sooner have I stocked up my fridge then my food starts rapidly disappearing.
I am considering setting up a camera which would take a photo of my troll rummaging through my fresh fruit or opening up a pot of custard - think of the money I could sell a photo like that for on ebay I muse...
Thankfully he hasn't yet worked out how to put frozen chips in the oven, so my freezer is safe for now...and if I could just catch him and teach him how to make me a cup of tea then I'll be onto a winner.
Sunday 24 June 2012
Taking a moment...
I raced for life today or rather, I joined over 1200 women who raced for lives...
It's not much in the great scheme of things - it wasnt a marathon, or even half a marathon, but it was 5km of us running, jogging and lots of speed walking, through boggy fields and long grass, to raise money for this very worthy cause.
It's also a time to reflect on how many people are affected by this disease. As you walk/jog/run round the course, it's inspiring to see why people choose to run for this charity. So many women with their handwritten signs on their backs, simply showing a name, a relative, people they have loved and lost or people still fighting. It's an honour to do this race for so many people and when you run you may just have one or two names written on your pink slip, but collectively we are racing for everyone who has or will be affected.
You can not help but feel the buzz of the day, and the emotion behind it - some people who can barely walk themselves, manage to complete it. Young children complete it, and there was one sign that couldn't fail to move anyone as a young girl of maybe 7 or 8 stated she was running for her little sister.
Cancer is vicious and cruel, it robs young and old, male and female - no-one is immune. My muscles ache this evening, but that is nothing to what people with cancer have to go through. The sooner we raise enough to eradicate this disease the better, and today I played a very small part in achieving this.
I will race every year for as long as I can, as no matter how small my part it's the least I can do.
It's not much in the great scheme of things - it wasnt a marathon, or even half a marathon, but it was 5km of us running, jogging and lots of speed walking, through boggy fields and long grass, to raise money for this very worthy cause.
It's also a time to reflect on how many people are affected by this disease. As you walk/jog/run round the course, it's inspiring to see why people choose to run for this charity. So many women with their handwritten signs on their backs, simply showing a name, a relative, people they have loved and lost or people still fighting. It's an honour to do this race for so many people and when you run you may just have one or two names written on your pink slip, but collectively we are racing for everyone who has or will be affected.
You can not help but feel the buzz of the day, and the emotion behind it - some people who can barely walk themselves, manage to complete it. Young children complete it, and there was one sign that couldn't fail to move anyone as a young girl of maybe 7 or 8 stated she was running for her little sister.
Cancer is vicious and cruel, it robs young and old, male and female - no-one is immune. My muscles ache this evening, but that is nothing to what people with cancer have to go through. The sooner we raise enough to eradicate this disease the better, and today I played a very small part in achieving this.
I will race every year for as long as I can, as no matter how small my part it's the least I can do.
Friday 22 June 2012
Even Superheroes have mums....
Being a mum to three Superheroes is no mean feat y'know...
There is the constant changing of outfits; the whirlwind slamming of doors as they fly off on a rescue mission; the double personalities... and don't even get me started on the arguments over who has the best super power!
It can be incredibly draining.
Competitiveness seems to be the order of the day before the sun is even up. They can compete over who has the biggest pool of ketchup on their plate; who won the most races with Mario; who's turn is it to sit next to Mummy....yes even mini superheroes like a cuddle...who got dressed/cleaned their teeth first - the list is endless.
Life is never ending, non stop - as soon as one ego has been stroked, another pops up soon after asking for pink milk.
Batman, aka The Green Lantern is incredibly strong. He can shoot across the monkey bars leaving others stuck on the first rung. He is incredibly articulate for a mini-superhero and very morally correct; will correct your English, your choice of words and if the memory of what you may have promised him doesn't quite add up to what you gave him - well sheesh. He has a laugh that comes from the bottom of his feet, and sonic booms across the house like Concorde.
Spider man is a complicated character. He has the Peter Parker sensitivity; unrequited love for a certain lady and a desire to fit in wherever he is. He is a little bit socially inept - just like his alter ego - but his excitement knows no bounds. He really could leap over any challenge if he just set his mind to it.
Superman has a little bit of Robin and The Joker thrown in the mix. He will be as happy as rushing to the defence of a damsel in distress to a small child that requires consoling, but he will do it with a wink and a smile and a sausage roll stuffed down his back pocket for a snack later on. He has the most infectious giggle, like The Jokers laughing gas, and you can't help thinking that being the sidekick to Batman on occasion may mean that he lives in his shadow - but one day he will truly shine.
Their bond is unbelievably strong - well, it has to be in a superhero world - they need to stick together and look after each other. It wouldn't do to always let others in on their secrets, but they always love their mum; she does after all still wash their pants.
Collectively they are known as The Hobbits - welcome to my world.
There is the constant changing of outfits; the whirlwind slamming of doors as they fly off on a rescue mission; the double personalities... and don't even get me started on the arguments over who has the best super power!
It can be incredibly draining.
Competitiveness seems to be the order of the day before the sun is even up. They can compete over who has the biggest pool of ketchup on their plate; who won the most races with Mario; who's turn is it to sit next to Mummy....yes even mini superheroes like a cuddle...who got dressed/cleaned their teeth first - the list is endless.
Life is never ending, non stop - as soon as one ego has been stroked, another pops up soon after asking for pink milk.
Batman, aka The Green Lantern is incredibly strong. He can shoot across the monkey bars leaving others stuck on the first rung. He is incredibly articulate for a mini-superhero and very morally correct; will correct your English, your choice of words and if the memory of what you may have promised him doesn't quite add up to what you gave him - well sheesh. He has a laugh that comes from the bottom of his feet, and sonic booms across the house like Concorde.
Spider man is a complicated character. He has the Peter Parker sensitivity; unrequited love for a certain lady and a desire to fit in wherever he is. He is a little bit socially inept - just like his alter ego - but his excitement knows no bounds. He really could leap over any challenge if he just set his mind to it.
Superman has a little bit of Robin and The Joker thrown in the mix. He will be as happy as rushing to the defence of a damsel in distress to a small child that requires consoling, but he will do it with a wink and a smile and a sausage roll stuffed down his back pocket for a snack later on. He has the most infectious giggle, like The Jokers laughing gas, and you can't help thinking that being the sidekick to Batman on occasion may mean that he lives in his shadow - but one day he will truly shine.
Their bond is unbelievably strong - well, it has to be in a superhero world - they need to stick together and look after each other. It wouldn't do to always let others in on their secrets, but they always love their mum; she does after all still wash their pants.
Collectively they are known as The Hobbits - welcome to my world.
Thursday 21 June 2012
Tipsy...and in charge of dating.com
My wonderful, supportive friend came round this evening - she likes to check up on occasion that I haven't done myself a mischief, or indeed that I am not planning any mischief without her prior knowledge...
Not only she is great at shooing my boys back up the stairs to bed, she is also very effective at pouring more wine into my glass when I'm not looking, and encouraging me to send random messages to men on dating sites that I have never met...
She is norty - and I love her to bits.
That is all...
Not only she is great at shooing my boys back up the stairs to bed, she is also very effective at pouring more wine into my glass when I'm not looking, and encouraging me to send random messages to men on dating sites that I have never met...
She is norty - and I love her to bits.
That is all...
Wednesday 20 June 2012
A sexual revelation...
Today is an amazing day - the sun is shining, and when it shines here in the UK we all go a bit giddy and start flirting randomly and turning the music up loudly in the car.
It's not our fault - we live in constant rain and windy days, so when the big yellow thing in the sky actually has a chance to show us some love, we respond in kind!
I do a great deal of driving for my job, but am often frustrated by the amount of digging and temporary traffic lights we have here. One road closes, another one is being dug up - normaly it's hell. But when the sun shines you just don't care - smile and the workmen smile back, sing along and they smile more - it's a fantastic reaction... Wolf whistle at them and they take down your number plate!
Being Norty Forty is just the coolest thing!! It doesn't matter, you are not upsetting anyone, it cheers people up - and now I know I can wolf whistle and get a nice smile back I may just do it more often.
I also managed to bravely offer my number up to a nice guy who was chatting to me today...selling paintball days and group sessions at knock down prices. I wasn't going to stop, I was running between appointments - but hey it's important for me to network with employers, so I stopped...
Lovely brochure I say, admiring off roaders, Karting and paintball, taking a very keen interest - funnily enough, I manage to slip in - I have just turned 40 at the weekend and some of these are on my list of things to do this year!!
"Really?" He says sitting up; "Happy Birthday." I blush - well you do don't you?
"Husband, boyfriend?" He enquires "...well no, actually" - "Don't fancy a toy boy then?"
I muse as if really taking time to consider it, "Never say Never" (wtaf - YES!!!)
"I cook as well" He adds...as if this may be on my criteria, hey I'm not skinny but...
"Well as long as that comes with exercise..." I laugh...sheesh get me, where did I come from???
We then have a brief conversation about what I do - he, it turns out runs the business and is based in Wimbledon...about an hour's drive from where I live. We have small talk for a wee while longer, and as I leave I sneakily manage to slip him my business card to remember me by - just in case I call for a work Team Day (which actually is distinctly possible.)
"Might call you for a drink then?"
I beam and shake his hand...and walk away, absolutely terrified that he is now looking at my large arse walking up the high street!!! Oh well, it may be large but it can do the right thing when it needs to!!!
You can tell I'm not used to this...I never said to him, yes please call, it could be fun - and he will never call of course - he is as likely as to call me as I am giving birth to a bread pudding, but hey it was fun and it made me feel good for the rest of the day. So have a flirt today, there is no harm in having fun...
And in the true spirit of networking this is the Paintball Business - if you're local, given them a whirl, they were nice guys... http://www.ipgvip.com/htmls/home.html
It's not our fault - we live in constant rain and windy days, so when the big yellow thing in the sky actually has a chance to show us some love, we respond in kind!
I do a great deal of driving for my job, but am often frustrated by the amount of digging and temporary traffic lights we have here. One road closes, another one is being dug up - normaly it's hell. But when the sun shines you just don't care - smile and the workmen smile back, sing along and they smile more - it's a fantastic reaction... Wolf whistle at them and they take down your number plate!
Being Norty Forty is just the coolest thing!! It doesn't matter, you are not upsetting anyone, it cheers people up - and now I know I can wolf whistle and get a nice smile back I may just do it more often.
I also managed to bravely offer my number up to a nice guy who was chatting to me today...selling paintball days and group sessions at knock down prices. I wasn't going to stop, I was running between appointments - but hey it's important for me to network with employers, so I stopped...
Lovely brochure I say, admiring off roaders, Karting and paintball, taking a very keen interest - funnily enough, I manage to slip in - I have just turned 40 at the weekend and some of these are on my list of things to do this year!!
"Really?" He says sitting up; "Happy Birthday." I blush - well you do don't you?
"Husband, boyfriend?" He enquires "...well no, actually" - "Don't fancy a toy boy then?"
I muse as if really taking time to consider it, "Never say Never" (wtaf - YES!!!)
"I cook as well" He adds...as if this may be on my criteria, hey I'm not skinny but...
"Well as long as that comes with exercise..." I laugh...sheesh get me, where did I come from???
We then have a brief conversation about what I do - he, it turns out runs the business and is based in Wimbledon...about an hour's drive from where I live. We have small talk for a wee while longer, and as I leave I sneakily manage to slip him my business card to remember me by - just in case I call for a work Team Day (which actually is distinctly possible.)
"Might call you for a drink then?"
I beam and shake his hand...and walk away, absolutely terrified that he is now looking at my large arse walking up the high street!!! Oh well, it may be large but it can do the right thing when it needs to!!!
You can tell I'm not used to this...I never said to him, yes please call, it could be fun - and he will never call of course - he is as likely as to call me as I am giving birth to a bread pudding, but hey it was fun and it made me feel good for the rest of the day. So have a flirt today, there is no harm in having fun...
And in the true spirit of networking this is the Paintball Business - if you're local, given them a whirl, they were nice guys... http://www.ipgvip.com/htmls/home.html
Tuesday 19 June 2012
A little black cloud in a dress...
Anyone who knows these immortal words will know it to be from a song by Billy Bragg...a British songwriter from
I wasn't only a black cloud in a dress; I could also be seen in several other outfits; black cloud in jeans, black cloud in leggings... Just change my outfit like a cardboard cut out, but the black cloud remained.
It hadn't always been this way, but over time my personality seemed to diminish, my old spark had been extinguished and the more I tried to get it back it seemed further away from me.
I'm not talking about any great depression, but a wearing away of who I was by the situation I was in.
When I first my husband he was fun to be with, an old romantic with romantic values and warmth in his heart. A Spanish man, he had Latino strength and demeanour and always wanted to care for me. I left old Blighty to live with him and we set up our life on a touristy
I can honestly say that I wouldn't change any of that. We had a good couple of years just being with each other and wherever he was felt like home. He is a kind man, and a good man so this isn't a tale of abuse or aggression, just simply a tale of how couples lose their way to the point that they can't find their way back.
We were very happy to see the arrival of our first son in 2005, and the following year we got married. I was never conventional. Keen to continue with our family we were scarily confronted after the delightful news that I was expecting again, to be told it was twins. I have never seen a man pale so quickly.
This is probably where things started to go wrong. The emotional and stressful time of having children is hard enough, but we as a team were on our own and with three children under 2 years I felt much of the time that I was on my own. Dealing with the problems of teething, late night crying, sickness; all with the added ingredient of lack of sleep. My husband worked most evenings and weekends, so the majority of the time I was alone, and very much isolated from my friends and family.
In hindsight I now realise that the strength in me, in reality, became my undoing in my relationship with him. I started to do things more and more on my own, reluctant to sit alone at home with three babies and perhaps this is where I left him behind. He in turn often didn't want to join me; he was reluctant to arrange a babysitter to surprise me with an evening out or support me with this mammoth task. Every night alone, feeding, bathing, burping - desperately looking for friends in forums.
When I did get the chance to go out with girlfriends he was indifferent, annoyed because he wasn't going with me even though he'd be working. I gave him chances and choices which he chose to ignore.
You never realise that these things are happening at the time, and hindsight is such an eye opener. I wasn't perfect - I too could have arranged a time when we had quality time together, but whenever I tired to invite him to see Santa with the children at Christmas, or to join in on some school activity he was always too busy. Not seeing the woods for the trees.
I was desperate for company and since our first child was born I had wanted to return to the
I also wanted us to have a better life. I felt that with friends and family around we would do more, see more, live more. I was looking forward to the changes that the future held for us as a family. I very quickly found a better job, and although initially he was out of work I helped him find two jobs that he did and in a climate that is currently under recession it was great that he was working.
Sadly, he didn't want to embrace the new life. He had no intention of learning and improving English and was still unhappy about just 'living'.
After two years of trying to tell him how unhappy I was, and how much we needed to work at our relationship together - I finally accepted that it was not to be just three months ago. I could no longer be with someone who constantly complained no matter what I did or was unhappy, no matter how much I tried to make him smile.
I needed the black cloud to go away, and change back into a blue sky.
It is the toughest, most heart wrenching decision I have made in my life. Even a last ditched 'we will fight' didn't seem to undo the damage that had been done. He couldn't see what was required to change it. He had changed into someone I no longer recognised or could share my life with, and it broke my heart to tell him that it was over.
The reason I write this, is because maybe there is someone feeling the same and my advice is this, as given to me by someone I care about; If there is a decision to be made, just make the one that feels right at the time of making it. You can always change it and you don't have to look too far into the future, or panic about what if I have made the wrong one.
My husband and I broke up - but he decided to completely leave me and the children and return to where his family lived in
He left two months ago and I encourage the children to talk to him regularly and they will be going to
The weekend he left I felt like someone had died. How could I feel like this when I had made this final decision? Well, because I was grieving for the loss of what was - I remembered him fondly and still do, what we had years previously was amazing, but what we had become was untenable.
So I took each day as it came as advised by my friend. I made the decision that seemed right and I had thoughts of, 'maybe we will get back together in the future' but I never had the thought that I had made the wrong decision. Just a little thread of hope that we would find a way again.
What I didn't realise then, was that I was still a black cloud - I didn't realise that life has a way of showing just what you are capable of when you least expect it.
I don't know when it happened, perhaps while I was opening a newly purchased bottle of wine; perhaps when I realised that financially I could just scrape through this month or maybe it was when he visited recently for our son's birthday. But I suddenly realised that I had been doing it better on my own, and with more laughter in my heart than I had done in a very long time.
I am happier every day. There will always be a part of me that feels guilt for his pain, but he had chances to turn things around on many occasions, and I know in my heart that I gave him those windows of opportunity. I genuinely wish him love and happiness for his future. We will always be his family.
But I feel like life IS for living, that I can say yes to things I previously said no to. My children see me happier and they are happier. I feel like all of the windows are open on a warm summer's day, with a breeze coming through just to keep the place fresh. I see yellow rooms and warmth; my favourite flowers are Sunflowers and large Daisy's; I am experiencing new things and meeting new people and I have no idea of what is round the corner but I want to try it...especially if it's chocolate flavoured!!
However cheesy this sounds; just live your life, we really do only get one (depending on who you believe), but even those who return in a different life, get just that - a different life. I will be warmer, kinder, and just a bit more cheekier. My strength that was my undoing in my relationship will be the making of my future. I intend to die an old lady with lots of memories and not regret one of them, and will encourage my children to do the same.
So my turning of age coincided with my new change of status, hence my blog - you don't have to subscribe, but it will be nice to know what your journey is too and have you tag along if you want to.
Sunday 17 June 2012
Why Blog?
Why Blog?
You know I am kinda staring at the screen thinking the same thing to be honest.
I don't have anything groundbreaking to say; no pearls of wisdom to advise anyone or buy one get one free offers...so why bother?
It's my friend's fault. She sat in a restaurant one afternoon and told me it would be a good idea, and I believed her. She is very believable; she'd make a good used car salesman.
So she inspired me. Not so much about the fact that I may have something that people might like to read about, but more about the fact that I could write a diary. I always enjoyed writing diary's when I was younger so why not make this year count.
The last few months have been somewhat difficult, (more about that later when you need something to snooze to) but it has made me realise very much that life is for living. Call it an epiphany, call it what the heck you like - but I want to embrace life. I really want to enjoy what is coming around the corner; good or bad.
So I rip open brown envelopes with gusto now - hey, if I don't have the money they can't have it anyway; I will say yes when I said 'oh good god no' before. I will embarrass myself and others with aplomb and I would like to think that I am able to try anything.
Before we get carried away this isn't about me dying or having an urge to swim with sharks. But about turning 40. Simply put, it feels as though my life has been under a little black cloud for so long, that the sun is finally shining through and I want to try and embrace life that little bit more.
We have one life. We could all be a bit nicer; a bit kinder; warmer and considerate; but we could also step out of the box with a tip toe and see what it's like on the other side of the cardboard. Hence my list; it may look rather sad to the one person reading this in Ottawa, but it's my list.
How many times have we made shopping lists; work lists; housework lists; let's make lists about things we want to achieve. Some of you may already have them, I know it's not a new idea...but I like my little list, it's given me things to think positively about for the next year.
So I thought I would document my year. See the changes that I make; the ideas that I try and perhaps some other general meanderings, and see if I can complete the list by June 16 2013.
Until next time...
You know I am kinda staring at the screen thinking the same thing to be honest.
I don't have anything groundbreaking to say; no pearls of wisdom to advise anyone or buy one get one free offers...so why bother?
It's my friend's fault. She sat in a restaurant one afternoon and told me it would be a good idea, and I believed her. She is very believable; she'd make a good used car salesman.
So she inspired me. Not so much about the fact that I may have something that people might like to read about, but more about the fact that I could write a diary. I always enjoyed writing diary's when I was younger so why not make this year count.
The last few months have been somewhat difficult, (more about that later when you need something to snooze to) but it has made me realise very much that life is for living. Call it an epiphany, call it what the heck you like - but I want to embrace life. I really want to enjoy what is coming around the corner; good or bad.
So I rip open brown envelopes with gusto now - hey, if I don't have the money they can't have it anyway; I will say yes when I said 'oh good god no' before. I will embarrass myself and others with aplomb and I would like to think that I am able to try anything.
Before we get carried away this isn't about me dying or having an urge to swim with sharks. But about turning 40. Simply put, it feels as though my life has been under a little black cloud for so long, that the sun is finally shining through and I want to try and embrace life that little bit more.
We have one life. We could all be a bit nicer; a bit kinder; warmer and considerate; but we could also step out of the box with a tip toe and see what it's like on the other side of the cardboard. Hence my list; it may look rather sad to the one person reading this in Ottawa, but it's my list.
How many times have we made shopping lists; work lists; housework lists; let's make lists about things we want to achieve. Some of you may already have them, I know it's not a new idea...but I like my little list, it's given me things to think positively about for the next year.
So I thought I would document my year. See the changes that I make; the ideas that I try and perhaps some other general meanderings, and see if I can complete the list by June 16 2013.
Until next time...
Saturday 16 June 2012
Day one; Happy Birthday to me!
PS I hope you enjoy seeing those lovely boys from Hollister's as much as I did - great sports making an old woman happy!!!
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