The Oncoming Storm

Easter Saturday tomorrow and the clouds come rolling in.

My bastard b-i-l is coming to stay for a couple of nights.

Some of us may have reacted with poor grace to this news.

In the past month...

I have ...

* finalised plans for new kitchen/living room building (Yippee! Woohoo! And Yay!) .

* nearly left my husband during IKEA trip to id potential kitchens (not that he even realised but I felt better for considering it).

* transported four highly excited under 9s through the wilds of Wiltshire to their first chess tournament. They only came 8/12 bc of a mahoosive amount of adult-sanctioned cheating by other schools. Seriously a headmaster who calls his under 9 pupils 'stupid' bc they lost a chess match??

* realised not every family plays maths and history and word games during 'long' car trips'! Who knew?

* mortified my son by banning the use of all the blurry DS consoles those children had for an hour during the six we spent at said tournament.

* been reminded of all the fabulous and exciting history there is on our doortsep here in Engerland.

* not been asked for interview to a job I would have loved.

* bought my daughter a new school bag following on from the saga last term.

* met old friend and children (inc god daughter) for lunch in beautiful Cathedral surrounds.

* had verbal smackdown with Mr. HeadTeacher twice. Once about the crazy-arse parking that goes on down there and the other about having held the door for the ENTIRE school (inc one teacher) and only one child said thank you. (And it wasn't my son, about which we have since had words ;-)

* had a meeting about teaching capability of destructoBoy's teacher because he is bored in class, every day.
* been called scarey by a parent at school.
* dobbed in stupid Yr. 8 students clever enough to hide out of sight from staff when smoking at playtime but sufficiently stupid to stand next to railing fence right beside road.

* praised highly to teacher the one child who did thank me for holding open school door.

* extremely lately handed over handmade birthday present to good friend and I think she liked it.

* had double success over at Posh Yarns Sunday night sellout. I foresee perhaps a hat for Princess C-W for Christmas with the pink sparkly one and the kicking-off off a garter stitch scarf kal this Friday with the chunky cashmere.

* nursed destructoboy through a whole month of ear infection. This entailed four visits to the doctors, three lots of antibiotics and one fight with the rottweilerXdoctors' receptionist. TG it has cleared up now and he is playing at top speed again.

* received a phonecall from YOT telling me my phone was being kept in their safe overnight if I would like to come and collect it the following morning. Oops!!
* recognised it is still six months away but have made a decision on d/Boy's birthday present.
* identified OMD's episodes as being epilepsy not a stroke.
* watched freezing on the sidelines as my son captained the under 9s to a distinct non-victory at the local schools football tournament. I was the screeching woman on the sidelines but offset my mania by cheering for the other teams too.

* purchased outfit for 80th birthday party this Saturday.

* attended Princess C-W's first ever secondary parent/teacher evening. Unlike most of her peers she didn't attend and so didn't hear how well-regarded she is by her teachers and how well she is doing in her classes. There was a little glow about us as parents by the end of it all. And I didn't even start-up on her History teacher. Perhaps it was bc she looked so knackered after dealing w grown-ups all evening. Perhaps it was bc she was our last stop and we could go home afterwards. I don't know why but remain impressed that I maintained my silence when she referred to 'our written conversation earlier in the year' and how she 'always encourages parents to help with the homework'. HA!

* taken the big black dog to the vet with a sore eye. Am hoping to stave off need to do this again.

* had The Bat Lady around to visit and am sending off her report today. This in turn means we apply for planning permission by the end of the week. If you want to voice an objection you have two months to lodge it with the relevant authority!

It would be wrong, wouldn't it?

If I went and had verbally scared the crap out of a handful of Yr. 7 girls.

Yeah, that's what I thought.

Shame.

I am an embarrasment as a mother.

destructoBoy has been attending an Arsenal Training Club for the last couple of Friday nights. This is an invite only programme and undoubtedly means that one day my boy will be Captain of the England Team and lead them to the country's first Wold Cup victory since 1966.

That is if he doesn't drown first.

His first session last week took place during an the tail end of an all day downpour of very heavy, very cold, extremely wet rain. I lasted five minutes before heading back to read for an hour in the dry of the car.

This week it was cold but fortunately dry so I stood and watched. There was another mother and she and I chatted. She pointed out her sons, detailing the afterschool and Saturday clubs they attend. I commented on our lack of football knowledge and the fact that d/Boy has spent most of the Autumn choosing which Premier League club to support as neither CK nor myself have any allegiance. Or it must be said, interest.

We watched in silence for some more minutes stamping our feet and shivering politely side by side.

"So is that your younger son? The one wearing the Yeovil Town strip?" I asked knowledgeably, taking comfort in my recognition of the local football team.

"Actually, it's the Chelsea keeper's away strip."


"Oh."

We continued watching in deepening silence.

Based on past experience I knew it was coming one day.

"I don't get it." Said d/Boy while watching the lastest Bodyform ads.



"Don't get what?" I asked (thinking please let him be referring to the rapidly changing styles of undies being flashed up on screen.)


"What those things they are advertising are actually for?"


(Bugger! Wasn't expecting to have to answer this at 4:30 on a Monday afternoon.)

So explained the whole thing to him.

"And this happens to you?"

"Yes."

"Hmmm .... 'K."

The burden of a middle-class childhood.

Princess C-W came home with another bit of homoework. This time for religion. The requirement was to storyboard a scenario happening in whichever soap opera they watch and then suggest a conclusion.

Following is the reported conversation she had with her teacher.

"Excuse me Sir?"

"Yes?"

"I don't watch any soap operas."

Silence as Sir considers options.

"Probably the closest I get to a soap opera is listening to The Archers on Radio Four."

The literal mind of the nine year old boy

This morning as I turned off the television I went into Saturday morning 'Sgt Majr Mama mode'.

"Both of you go and strip your beds please." issued forth alongside a whole load of instructions. You know the kind - brush your hair, get dressed, brush your teeth, have breakfast, tidy up, etc, etc. While they finished following orders I started the wash of the bed linen.

Later that morning I turned to d/Boy and said "Boyer, when you take that stack of folded undies and socks (that have been festering for several days on the end of the couch) up to your room will you take your sheet up and put it on your bed please."

I have just been up to his room. There on his bed amid the detritus of a stripped bed is his sheet, all freshly laundered and still folded. *le sigh*

My kids went to the Isle of Wight and all I got was ...

... this black eye.

Do you like it?

Do you wanna see a close-up?

Rotten blurry kid.

Sunday afternoon as everyone was lolling around recovering from the week of holiday I pushed open the door into the living room just as Princess C-W turned suddenly.

BAM!

Next thing I know I am on the floor with a black eye starting to form.

Wanna see?

I think my girl has a career in make-up artistry beckoning.

They are so realistic looking and fabulous fun to do.

This is destructoBoy's self-inflicted knee 'injury' or 'bruisescar' as it is also known he tells me.

All done with judicious application of eyeshadow and some gentle blending.

Hours of fun for the whole family. Except CK who is a grump and did not find it either funny or smart.

Open letter to BT

Dear BT Customer Services and Billing Departments,

I hate you. I hate your faux friendliness. I hate the computer voice you have on the hideous automated service when I phone up to pay my bill. I accept that you are unable to provide me with my account number for security reasons as mine is not the name on the bill, but I hate that I have to explain this to three different people during a ten minute conversation to try and get someone to help me give you my money.

Have you deliberately set out to stress, annoy and irritate your customer base? I acknowledge that your response in anwering phone calls is speedy but this quickness is offset by me being channelled directly into the aforementioned naseauating automated system.

By making it so difficult to share a conversation with a real live person you have forced me to compromise my moral wellbeing. You see, when the computer voice so clearly enunciates my options I bypass the ones that would take me further into the maze of 'press 1 for payment, press two for cow-prodding, press 3 for small green spaceship spotting and press 4 to return to the original menu' and head straight for the ones that I know will end up with a real live person at the other end eventually. So thank you for your concern but no I really don't have a problem with a fault on my line or nuisance calls I just want to pay my bloody bill!

Standing ironing trousers to ensure non-naked school attendance this morning when passing comment was made by CK about what people look like when they are angry (I don't know why this was the topic on his mind, it is a place I have never been able to fathom).

Airily I said to Princess C-W

'You wouldn't know what I look like when I am angry.'

Smart-arse kid she is said

'Yeah I do. You go all green and grrrrrrrrr.' then bulldogged her arms and contorted her face.

Am not convinced both of us are going to make it through her teenage years .

Judicious retreat

Princess Curly Wurly and CK are in discussion over where to place the new box shelves in her bedroom.

There are power tools, hammers and pointy screws lying within easy reach of both.

I have taken myself back downstairs and am going off to the dining room to hide behind the sewing machine.

Fingers crossed there will be peace by dinner.

Things we have learned in the last little bit.

Lesson.
There is a reason your mother said not to put pieces of Lego in your mouth.
Result.
Gratitude it was a stormtrooper's helmet rather than a sharp-edged brick.



Lesson.
Snipping threads on the inside of a pair of dotty, spotty tights is a bad idea.
Result.
Your mother spends the early part of Christmas morning painting said cut threads with clear nail polish.



Lesson.
Ensure Christmas parcels for posting are left higher than any assistant can reach.
Result.
International phonecall to golden s-i-l requesting clinical knowledge. Sharp eye kept on puppy for some hours to avert death. Remnants of attcked box of posh chocs tasted and enjoyed by household.



Lesson.
Baked ham glazed with maple syrup doesn't require that extra layer of sugar during that last 10 minutes of cooking.
Result.
Christmas head chef standing in smoke-filled kitchen doing his best to scrape molten burnt sugar from the base of a roasting dish 30 minutes before Christmas meal.

Right before schadenfreude* turns around and bites me in the arse.

On reflection I am beginning to think perhaps I have this Christmas thing sussed.

Don't get me wrong. Presents still need to be found (and identified for CK - aaak!) and cards written and actually sent. But this weekend we have hung lights, advent calender, shiny dangly accordion stylee decorations and tinsel.

I am not a particularly fussy type person, I think this is an accepted given, but I always decorate the Christmas tree.

For years the reason has been the kids were too young and some of the ornaments made when they were really little, these are just too fragile for all but the most tender touch. Truth? I claimed it as my own and defended my position valiantly. However this year the reins were passed across and now our Christmas tree and hallway look like an elf has bomited Christmas at high velocity.

For some reason they focussed on a single quadrant of the tree but it was done with discussion and suggestion rather than argument so I let them get on with it. The most heat came when trying to figure out whose angel was due to go on top this year. Next time I looked destructoBoy's 'staff of power' from last week's school play was firmly ensconced. Somewhat disconcerting as I type I must say.

It has been a real adventure opening the boxes of decorations, two years since we last had the opportunity. Obviously there was no point making the house all festive last year for my bastard b-i-l.

In all it was a (mostly) pleasant way of spending a weekend; once the house had been restored to some semblance of order it ended with all of us sitting together laughing our way through 'Elf'.







*schadenfreude ISN'T the word I want but the one I am after is rolling around on the edges of my consciousness. Anyone???

Questions you never want to be asked. (Day 16)

I went up to tuck destructoBoy in the other night. As is our wont I lay down on his bed and we chatted for a bit before lights out.

We discussed his day - the homework handed in, the upcoming school swimming lesson, whether he would ever actually get to the next level in Wii Lego Star Wars, eventually conversation quieted into companionable silence. Suddenly he sat forward and said "Do you think I will be a good kisser when I grow up?"

"My darling boy," I replied as I got up to leave the room "I will never know."

Why do I like hanging out with little kids?

Because they don't roll their eyes at my fabulously funny, homemade jokes.

Ready?



Sure?



OK. Here goes........



What do you call red and white string when it coughs?

Twine flu!!!!!!!!!!


A bottle of fermented grape juice when it coughs?

Wine flu!!!!!!!!!


How about -

Your back is sore and achey and starts to cough?

Spine flu!!!!!!!!


I got more, stay with me.


You know Alf from 'Home and Away'. Strewth! Poor Alf is sick, all his joints are sore and he has a high temperature. Strike* me! Poor old Alf has ......

...... Strine flu!!!!!!!!!!!!!


Once she stopped rolling her soooooooooo grown-up 10 y.o. girl eyes there was even an offering from Princess C-W.


If your tree has a BARKing cough?


Obviously it is suffering from Pine flu!!!!!!!!!














*scroll down to Number Four.

OMG! I really am turning into my mother.*

Friday afternoon's run to the post office took a slightly unexpected turn when an opportunity to instill civic pride and good manners into five hilltop teenagers saw me stride forth to their school and discuss the situation with a teacher.

Watch the news for stories of a mid-Victorian house under siege from surly Yr. 10 boys.


I'm just saying is all.






* this sort of act is just the kind of thing which punctuated my childhood. My mother stopping the car and demanding an account of the behaviour exhibited by a group of teenage boys. At least once this involved getting out of her car at the traffic lights, putting her head in through the window of a yob mobile and taking them to task. It is a wonder she lived to see her 'ahemtieth' birthday last December!

Ooops! more pictures.

This weekend we are off to the birthday party of one of my ex-children.

I got all inspired and made this cushion cover. I am quite pleased as

a) I made the pattern up as I went along
and
b) I made it from store cupboard staples (except for the cushion pad - there is no room in my lil' cupboard for that. Ask Maria ;-).

You may have heard Maria suggests I laughed because she invented a whole new way of knitting socks. It was more a guffaw of admiration really. But I feel her pain as over a period of several weeks I sent many texts to her, Locket and Lesley bemoaning my inability to count, the general confusion of sock patterns and the weird way I seemed unable to keep track of simple numbers. On more than one occasion the blurry sock and all its octopus needles went flying across the room, through the red fog I heard CK ask if I was really doing this for fun.

It was only last weekend it all began to make sense. You see, I was using the Regia sock pattern-in-a-pamphlet. What you may not know about this is the leaflet contains not just one but TWO sock patterns. Locket's comment when I told her? "Oh? Did I not tell you that?"

This sock is now finished and waiting patiently for its mate AND for me to find it again because I have put it somewhere reeeeeaaaallly safe.


I love that this is how Pr.C-W and destructoBoy spent their holidays :)

However..... are mine the only ones who, despite having been up by 7:00am every single day of the holidays, had to be dragged out of bed at 8:00am first day back at school????