At last, finding 10 min to write on the blog... so no change really - life is as hectic as ever, and priorities list get longer and longer and the blog never makes it to the list...!
So what happens since the garden was changed into an episode of 'christmas at the Kumar'?
Well - i won't go through the details of cooking for 40, for 2 parties 5 days apart; the worst mothers day ever (I am going to have to think what we do next year to ensure we are not scared again! the outlaws launched at us on the day, in a move to make themselves REAL outlaws); managed not to miss any planes, trains or anything else, due to rain, volcanoes and so on (and it's an achievement given the previous track record). Spent a week in the US when it was 1) our wedding anniversary 2) Fille Ainee's production of Alice in Wonderland 3) Petite Cherie's sports day. and Fille Ainee managed to break her thumb (while sitting on the grass - please don't ask we don't yet have a better story than that) 48 hours before taking off to the US. Thank God we have our LovelyWonderfulNanny to keep us sain!
Other drama in the family? CheezyHubby got one of his vans nicked a day before our family holiday in Portugal. 'they' chose not to take the second van, according to CCTV as it was full of cheese. Still wonder whether we were saved thanks to the smell!! (Van was found a month later, gutted of all its inside, including the fridge. nice job guys - thanks NOT).
Anyway - enough of all this - girls are going back to school on Tuesday. Can't wait (well - both them and me!!) let's hope for a bit of normality... the ever increasing long list of stuff to do before Tuesday is now crossed.
All that is left now is the nightmares the girls will have on Monday evening (the teacher has turned into a witch and made us eat slugs in biology lesson; the head decided to support Chelsea; Could not find the classroom; had forgotten the uniform). While I'll be having nightmare that although the list is crossed (3 pages of), i'll wake up on Tuesday morning, and either the car will break down, flat tyre or similar (as if i know how to fix it!) or a uniform will be stained / torn/missing.. you wait - mummy were are my shoes? i can't find my dress? what do I wear? oh well, i think we should all go on Prozac!
Anyway - hopefully more news soon!!
Saturday, 4 September 2010
Friday, 5 February 2010
from post Christmas blues to a French Frog cake...
Time has again been flying by since Christmas...
Highlights from Christmas following the plans disasters? let me try and remember... the usual Christmas 'stuff'. Received presents that people gave me but actually wanted to received, had to eat Brussels Sprouts (why on Earth were they invented), had to wait until 5.00pm before we could open presents (the theory being that if you can wait a whole year, then you can wait another few hours.... aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!! when did I say I could wait a whole year?!!)
Kept busy on the holiday with ice skating (getting there with the Dorvill and Dean style - not), cinema and all the rest.
And then we thought it would all go back to normal. Well, it did For one day. And then it decided to snow. Great - girls had another week holiday! They decided to build a sledging slope in the garden. Problem: no sledge. So... the best thing after a sledge was a..... tray!! I never got them back! but apparently they were fastest than anything. Girls were out all day - only came in to change clothes, put them on the radiator and change back a couple of hours later. Lovely, managed to get loads of work done during that time!!
So - after a few failed attempts, we have managed to go back to normal, work, school, baking, washing, cooking, ironing. And trying not to get all this mixed up!
TinkerBell just turned 7. Asked for a 'special cake'. That means, not a bought one, but 'please please pretty please Mummy, can you make one. Maybe a cat, or a snowman, no you did it before, a.. I don't know! please pretty please!!'. What's wrong with Tesco's ready made 'the Princess and the Frog', £12.99???? no, it's not yours... So have literally just finished "making" a frog. Please spare me the jokes about a French mum baking a Frog..... I said I did not need to 'make' a princess - as Tink is my princess (isn't that cheezier than CheezyHubby).
And as usualy baking did not go without any 'gitches'. ChhezyHubby came back (late) to be greeted by a 'Have you seen the blue food colouring?'.
"How on earth do you know, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?"
"What??? do you know where is the blue colouring I can't find it"
"what on earth have you done to your hair???"
Turned out that I had inadvertently got some green colouring in my hair.. well after all, I had just mixed and finished the green icing... but yes, from looking in the mirror, I was closer to a new version of Cruella DeVille....
So - let's move onto that one swiftly... Obviously Cheezy Hubby did not have a clue about the blue colouring and NO, he was not going to Tesco after 9.00pm on a Friday night, when all he wanted was his Spags Bols (have I told you - a Friday without Spaghtti Bolonese is not a Friday... so tonight was no exception...). And the Frog ended up with grey eyes. ALternative was pink but it was more likely to transform the frog into a drug addict prince. Probably not so good for a 7 year old party...
Ended up adding / designing eyebrows to the frog. Which now looks like if has never seen a beautician and could do with one!!
Oh well....
Anyway - while the frog is getting ready for tomorrow, I think I'd better get some sort of beauty sleep and.... go to bed!!!
Highlights from Christmas following the plans disasters? let me try and remember... the usual Christmas 'stuff'. Received presents that people gave me but actually wanted to received, had to eat Brussels Sprouts (why on Earth were they invented), had to wait until 5.00pm before we could open presents (the theory being that if you can wait a whole year, then you can wait another few hours.... aaaaaaaaaaaaargh!! when did I say I could wait a whole year?!!)
Kept busy on the holiday with ice skating (getting there with the Dorvill and Dean style - not), cinema and all the rest.
And then we thought it would all go back to normal. Well, it did For one day. And then it decided to snow. Great - girls had another week holiday! They decided to build a sledging slope in the garden. Problem: no sledge. So... the best thing after a sledge was a..... tray!! I never got them back! but apparently they were fastest than anything. Girls were out all day - only came in to change clothes, put them on the radiator and change back a couple of hours later. Lovely, managed to get loads of work done during that time!!
So - after a few failed attempts, we have managed to go back to normal, work, school, baking, washing, cooking, ironing. And trying not to get all this mixed up!
TinkerBell just turned 7. Asked for a 'special cake'. That means, not a bought one, but 'please please pretty please Mummy, can you make one. Maybe a cat, or a snowman, no you did it before, a.. I don't know! please pretty please!!'. What's wrong with Tesco's ready made 'the Princess and the Frog', £12.99???? no, it's not yours... So have literally just finished "making" a frog. Please spare me the jokes about a French mum baking a Frog..... I said I did not need to 'make' a princess - as Tink is my princess (isn't that cheezier than CheezyHubby).
And as usualy baking did not go without any 'gitches'. ChhezyHubby came back (late) to be greeted by a 'Have you seen the blue food colouring?'.
"How on earth do you know, Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah?"
"What??? do you know where is the blue colouring I can't find it"
"what on earth have you done to your hair???"
Turned out that I had inadvertently got some green colouring in my hair.. well after all, I had just mixed and finished the green icing... but yes, from looking in the mirror, I was closer to a new version of Cruella DeVille....
So - let's move onto that one swiftly... Obviously Cheezy Hubby did not have a clue about the blue colouring and NO, he was not going to Tesco after 9.00pm on a Friday night, when all he wanted was his Spags Bols (have I told you - a Friday without Spaghtti Bolonese is not a Friday... so tonight was no exception...). And the Frog ended up with grey eyes. ALternative was pink but it was more likely to transform the frog into a drug addict prince. Probably not so good for a 7 year old party...
Ended up adding / designing eyebrows to the frog. Which now looks like if has never seen a beautician and could do with one!!
Oh well....
Anyway - while the frog is getting ready for tomorrow, I think I'd better get some sort of beauty sleep and.... go to bed!!!
Tuesday, 22 December 2009
Note to self: remember to plan not to plan...
Well, last Friday, the 18th, already feels a long time ago.... at the time, I was saying - goodbye work, see you next year (ok that's only 2 weeks, but a year feels like a proper break!), bring on Fille Ainee's birthday party and Christmas...
and everything was planned - to the minute. To the list of what to bring and what not to bring where, to who, and why. To each of our movement (go and see so and so, then come back and have dinner with x,y,z); family coming for sleep over, menus, ice skating session with the children, trip to Hamleys (and yes, which trains and at what time we would travel.). All planned to the minute.
But what a working mum should know is that planning was invented by a man (who the hell was it, I'll make a Voodoo Doll in his name...) and therefore is doomed to fail...
It all started on Saturday morning, when a long list of things to do awaited me, to ensure Fille Ainee 10th Birthday Party would be a success in the evening (Thank God for Chocolate Fondues and Pantomime!). So the day started with the "item-non-expected-not-included-in-the-list-of-mega-urgent-things-to-do" (and that did not include - finish the 'winter in wonderland cake which was nicely requested "please, pretty please"). "Why do you keep on scratching your head?". Answer from hell: I don't know, it's itchy. No point looking into it - off to Boots and bought the entire stock of nits shampoo, to then take 2 hours, going through Tink's and FilleA's head. They were not hosting just a nit's family. They had invited their extended family, best friends and everyone they could think of. Never thought there could be so many of the b**** thing....
Then off to the pantomime for the birthday party. Brilliant, can't fault it. Especially as the 'crew' came out during the break and after the presentation, so it felt like the panto carried on in the evening! Watch out for 'Friday' (called Friday cause that's the day he washes!!) who decided to call me Saturday, and to the horror of Tink, decided I was his girlfriend. "You can't marry my mum, she said, my dad is already married to her". Fair enough. http://www.the-theatre.org/content.php?TSID=22724
A very good evening though.
Then discussions started about Christmas - although everything was planned. But FamilyOutLaw decided not to go to Devon anymore, but to spend sensibly Christmas in Surrey, given the warm weather we have had. So CheezyHubby offered our house to Brother-In-Law and his family. "all we have to do is making sure we leave them the keys", said (not so sensibly) CheezyHubby. Answer from WorkingMum: "No problems. That's absolutely fine. Honest" and went one to operate massive deep cleaning of the house (down to the curtains, I know it's mad).... And then decided to watch the news.
Oh Hell. A very rude French word rymes with Eurostar. Wonder why.... the quality of the snow was not good enough for the poor trains and therefore they can't run. You are b*** joking. That's how we were going to France for Christmas. So- Travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel (you get the picture). I won't bore you with the number of calls from France and the UK - about whether we should (France) or should not (UK) travel... and I am sitting in the middle - the arse between 2 chairs as we say in France (ie - 2 countries in this case, but without trains linking those chairs...)
Closed on Won't travel. Too much risk that we (the girls) could make it and CheezyHubby who would be travelling on Christmas Eve, would not be able to make it on time and would be stuck in lovely Lille. Cause MrBloodyEurostarIcan'tConfirmAnything cannot garantee that CheezyHubby (MY CheezyHubby) would be on the Eurostar that was planned, and therefore might not be able to get a train on time from Lille.
So let's replan everything for Christmas. We will now be 8 in the house (still not a problem, honest), but blimey, let me tackle that pile of ironing (how on earth can have it become so big??!), do more cleaning, (a bit of work too - but don't say anything!!), go to the cinema (Planet 51 - a good laugh to the expense of our Oversea's Friends), let's think about what we will eat and when, and let me go back to the shops (given that one of the things I do when we go away, is make sure nothing is left to turn mouldy in the fridge...!!).
So - thought I was on holiday. I guess I am. With a lot of imagination - we are on a warm tropical island. Shame about the lack of tropical and warm....
Forgot to mention the snow and ice. Well, we have all seen the snow. About the ice: our pathway to the frontdoor was so icy that you could only slide down. You'd actually need a ski lift to take you to the front door. So decided to tackle the 10cm deep of ice with boiling water (I know - it's the one thing not to do, but in the absence of gritting...). Added salt to it, so that the water won't freeze straight away, and swept it. Which worked. To the point where there is no salt left in the house. So decided to use that mix of 'salt and spice' bought in France a few years ago, but never used it. Spread it on the ground. Did not work so well. Reaction from CheezyHubby on his way back from work: "is this the new version of Christmas at the Kumar?". Opened the door. The spices I used smelt of curry. And yes, it smelt like CheezyHubby had diversed his business in curry houses.... But that was not planning for the girls reaction the next day, when we went out (guess - we needed some salt...). "Mum - someone was sick on our path, how disgusting, why people do that". How do you then explain that yes, the ice has changed to a sick colour and the smell is... but no, no-one has been sick, it's just the latest de-icing technique.... let's just move on....
So, bring on Christmas. French parents will be on their own, while I'll try and cheer up here, hoping Father Christmas brings a Voodoo Doll with Eurostar written all over it. B**** b****. They are now all happy that they are clearing the back log. No wonder, if noone turns up at the station that they will clear it before Christmas, claim that they cleared it so quickly and so well - and no compensation for people's ruined Christmas, who are helping their brand. Mr Brown (not Gordon, the one from Eurostar - actually, that makes me think there might be something in the name!!) is not going to like the letter he will get (ok - i know, he'll never see it - his comms dolly will... oh well - if it's good enough, he might get a climpse of a scan of it. But that would assume that he cares...).
So, bring on Christmas, and now the family in law is coming for Christmas Eve. Father-OutLaw is obviously controlling who will cook what and when; so I had great pleasure in changing plans (why on earth would I get my sister in law, who is staying with us, to bring a curry and cook it here, while I am reading the paper (or clearing that curry smell outside!!!)).... So all that batch cooking is not wasted. Bring on Jamie's pies (Who hate all the pies?!) and pudds!
Merry Christmas to you all - and let's hope 2010 brings better news....
and if any further disaster strike in the household before the end of 2009, well, I am sure they'll feature on this blog in due course!
and everything was planned - to the minute. To the list of what to bring and what not to bring where, to who, and why. To each of our movement (go and see so and so, then come back and have dinner with x,y,z); family coming for sleep over, menus, ice skating session with the children, trip to Hamleys (and yes, which trains and at what time we would travel.). All planned to the minute.
But what a working mum should know is that planning was invented by a man (who the hell was it, I'll make a Voodoo Doll in his name...) and therefore is doomed to fail...
It all started on Saturday morning, when a long list of things to do awaited me, to ensure Fille Ainee 10th Birthday Party would be a success in the evening (Thank God for Chocolate Fondues and Pantomime!). So the day started with the "item-non-expected-not-included-in-the-list-of-mega-urgent-things-to-do" (and that did not include - finish the 'winter in wonderland cake which was nicely requested "please, pretty please"). "Why do you keep on scratching your head?". Answer from hell: I don't know, it's itchy. No point looking into it - off to Boots and bought the entire stock of nits shampoo, to then take 2 hours, going through Tink's and FilleA's head. They were not hosting just a nit's family. They had invited their extended family, best friends and everyone they could think of. Never thought there could be so many of the b**** thing....
Then off to the pantomime for the birthday party. Brilliant, can't fault it. Especially as the 'crew' came out during the break and after the presentation, so it felt like the panto carried on in the evening! Watch out for 'Friday' (called Friday cause that's the day he washes!!) who decided to call me Saturday, and to the horror of Tink, decided I was his girlfriend. "You can't marry my mum, she said, my dad is already married to her". Fair enough. http://www.the-theatre.org/content.php?TSID=22724
A very good evening though.
Then discussions started about Christmas - although everything was planned. But FamilyOutLaw decided not to go to Devon anymore, but to spend sensibly Christmas in Surrey, given the warm weather we have had. So CheezyHubby offered our house to Brother-In-Law and his family. "all we have to do is making sure we leave them the keys", said (not so sensibly) CheezyHubby. Answer from WorkingMum: "No problems. That's absolutely fine. Honest" and went one to operate massive deep cleaning of the house (down to the curtains, I know it's mad).... And then decided to watch the news.
Oh Hell. A very rude French word rymes with Eurostar. Wonder why.... the quality of the snow was not good enough for the poor trains and therefore they can't run. You are b*** joking. That's how we were going to France for Christmas. So- Travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel, travel, won't travel (you get the picture). I won't bore you with the number of calls from France and the UK - about whether we should (France) or should not (UK) travel... and I am sitting in the middle - the arse between 2 chairs as we say in France (ie - 2 countries in this case, but without trains linking those chairs...)
Closed on Won't travel. Too much risk that we (the girls) could make it and CheezyHubby who would be travelling on Christmas Eve, would not be able to make it on time and would be stuck in lovely Lille. Cause MrBloodyEurostarIcan'tConfirmAnything cannot garantee that CheezyHubby (MY CheezyHubby) would be on the Eurostar that was planned, and therefore might not be able to get a train on time from Lille.
So let's replan everything for Christmas. We will now be 8 in the house (still not a problem, honest), but blimey, let me tackle that pile of ironing (how on earth can have it become so big??!), do more cleaning, (a bit of work too - but don't say anything!!), go to the cinema (Planet 51 - a good laugh to the expense of our Oversea's Friends), let's think about what we will eat and when, and let me go back to the shops (given that one of the things I do when we go away, is make sure nothing is left to turn mouldy in the fridge...!!).
So - thought I was on holiday. I guess I am. With a lot of imagination - we are on a warm tropical island. Shame about the lack of tropical and warm....
Forgot to mention the snow and ice. Well, we have all seen the snow. About the ice: our pathway to the frontdoor was so icy that you could only slide down. You'd actually need a ski lift to take you to the front door. So decided to tackle the 10cm deep of ice with boiling water (I know - it's the one thing not to do, but in the absence of gritting...). Added salt to it, so that the water won't freeze straight away, and swept it. Which worked. To the point where there is no salt left in the house. So decided to use that mix of 'salt and spice' bought in France a few years ago, but never used it. Spread it on the ground. Did not work so well. Reaction from CheezyHubby on his way back from work: "is this the new version of Christmas at the Kumar?". Opened the door. The spices I used smelt of curry. And yes, it smelt like CheezyHubby had diversed his business in curry houses.... But that was not planning for the girls reaction the next day, when we went out (guess - we needed some salt...). "Mum - someone was sick on our path, how disgusting, why people do that". How do you then explain that yes, the ice has changed to a sick colour and the smell is... but no, no-one has been sick, it's just the latest de-icing technique.... let's just move on....
So, bring on Christmas. French parents will be on their own, while I'll try and cheer up here, hoping Father Christmas brings a Voodoo Doll with Eurostar written all over it. B**** b****. They are now all happy that they are clearing the back log. No wonder, if noone turns up at the station that they will clear it before Christmas, claim that they cleared it so quickly and so well - and no compensation for people's ruined Christmas, who are helping their brand. Mr Brown (not Gordon, the one from Eurostar - actually, that makes me think there might be something in the name!!) is not going to like the letter he will get (ok - i know, he'll never see it - his comms dolly will... oh well - if it's good enough, he might get a climpse of a scan of it. But that would assume that he cares...).
So, bring on Christmas, and now the family in law is coming for Christmas Eve. Father-OutLaw is obviously controlling who will cook what and when; so I had great pleasure in changing plans (why on earth would I get my sister in law, who is staying with us, to bring a curry and cook it here, while I am reading the paper (or clearing that curry smell outside!!!)).... So all that batch cooking is not wasted. Bring on Jamie's pies (Who hate all the pies?!) and pudds!
Merry Christmas to you all - and let's hope 2010 brings better news....
and if any further disaster strike in the household before the end of 2009, well, I am sure they'll feature on this blog in due course!
Friday, 27 November 2009
Don't we just love.....
Don't we (working mums, and mums in general) just love teachers, who make sure they look after mum's times, and ensure that they are never bored... so, FilleAinee is the main part (that is Mowglie not Baloo) in Jungle Book, end of next week. So the outfit required? a white t-shirt (so that will be the one at the very bottom of the bottomless Summer clothes bag, which has disappeared in the depth of loft, somewhere, probably hosting a few spiders already) (And no - before you say, she can't use her PE top, although I am sure that at last minute that will be fine). School logo on Mowglie won't look tooooooooooo weird. Will it??? and for the bottom part of the outfit: a red or orange short. Where on earth do you find this, during first week of December. I so love those people who come up with such great ideas. And my daughter for wanting to be Mowglie. Cause let's face it - if she Bagheera (but there were not many words! so not worth the part by her standards) or Baloo (he is fat - no way, Mummy - you really really don't understand. Of course not. I am your mother. Not here to understand you - just to try and nring a bit of sanity here - fat chance with me though). Anyway - back to the Bear Necessity. Being Baloo or Bagheera would have made sense - and wearing fur at this time of the year to. And less stressful. But don't we just love challenges.
And the next challenge - TinkerBell needs to be in a Victorian outfit for her Christmas play. And she will then wear it for the rest of the day - for 2 days.
Absolutely brilliant idea, I thought. Until the next thought - where do I find that? and confortable enough that she wants to wear it for 2 days?!!!
So back to the drawing board, and the sewing skills will have to (magically) transform some piece of poor material, which probably hopes to be transformed in something nice, into a Victorian maid. Yes - the hat will be the easiest thing. Or is it the socks?!!
So another challenge ahead... but that's what we like after a week at work, and the prospect of a whole week end of Christmas shopping... actually- all I want for Christmas (to be read with the tune, please!) is someone to do my Christmas shopping. Or is that the Internet? oh, oh, oh!
anyway - enough rambling on stuff - back to design this Victorian outfit...
And the next challenge - TinkerBell needs to be in a Victorian outfit for her Christmas play. And she will then wear it for the rest of the day - for 2 days.
Absolutely brilliant idea, I thought. Until the next thought - where do I find that? and confortable enough that she wants to wear it for 2 days?!!!
So back to the drawing board, and the sewing skills will have to (magically) transform some piece of poor material, which probably hopes to be transformed in something nice, into a Victorian maid. Yes - the hat will be the easiest thing. Or is it the socks?!!
So another challenge ahead... but that's what we like after a week at work, and the prospect of a whole week end of Christmas shopping... actually- all I want for Christmas (to be read with the tune, please!) is someone to do my Christmas shopping. Or is that the Internet? oh, oh, oh!
anyway - enough rambling on stuff - back to design this Victorian outfit...
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
No more disasters....
That's true, I have tried to limit on disasters. The box of hundreds and thousands is still in the same place, but at least, I have not baked anything (burnt anything?!) so no risk is lands in the roast chicken....
Last few weeks have been busy (crazy?) for a change... TinkerBell just spent a day in her future new school (I love it Mummy, it's great). Yes, darling, I was sure you would. And as the deputy head (not so) tactfully put it to me - don't worry, she will have a great day today; and a brilliant time when she joins next year, the difference is that you'll pay for it.
Thanks for the reminder... I had nearly forgotten about that nice little letter, addressed to Mrs only (why do they assume that Mr does not pay?!), at the beginning of every term. Can't wait they finish their studies. Wonder what they will do. Anything. As long as they don't decide to go in a convent (mind you TinkerBell won't last 2 min!!)
FilleAinee has been worried about everything - as usual - from friendship in the classroom to hunger in Africa, where the polar bears will live if there is no ice left for them, why the wind is blowing so madly at the mo (that's an easy one - how on earth would the ground be swept otherwise?).... a great book by the way for worried children: the Huge Bag of Worries. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Huge-Bag-Worries-Virginia-Ironside/dp/0340903171/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1259095906&sr=8-1
Even if your children don't worry about anything - it's worth reading and then next time you get worried, think about the bag! (I do)
Also had a brilliant birthday in Barcelona - best cake ever, followed by best paella ever (and yes, it was at work, it's not like CheezyHubby took me on a mistery trip!). Found a recipe that might match the cake (that's obviously not taking into account the cook - a bit of improvement in baking skills might be required!). It's in French though, so will try it, translate it and post it if it ever comes to anything edible!
More about work? Went to an evening at Westminster, dinners with MPs:
- Mummy, what are MPs?
- People who work at Big Ben, well close to it, it's called Westminster, and they work with Gordon Brown
- Do you know Gordon Brown, have you spoken to him?
Followed a discussion on who I should not behave (thanks girls for the confidence): don't do a Bridget Jones, mummy, like when she said - and I would like to introduce you to Mr, ..., Mr,... Titspatrick - Fitzpatrick, because that's his name. Great. I managed not to do that. Brilliant references for a 6 and 9 year olds. Note to self: review what DVD they watch (thought they were still on Finding Nemo. They clearly found Bridget...).
Anyway - enough for now! Need to go and trial that recipe and make a Victorian Maid outfit for TinkerBell's Christmas play... what was wrong with a Father Christmas outfit or a little Lamb outfit? or a Present outfit??? simply, they would not keep mummies busy for long enough...
Last few weeks have been busy (crazy?) for a change... TinkerBell just spent a day in her future new school (I love it Mummy, it's great). Yes, darling, I was sure you would. And as the deputy head (not so) tactfully put it to me - don't worry, she will have a great day today; and a brilliant time when she joins next year, the difference is that you'll pay for it.
Thanks for the reminder... I had nearly forgotten about that nice little letter, addressed to Mrs only (why do they assume that Mr does not pay?!), at the beginning of every term. Can't wait they finish their studies. Wonder what they will do. Anything. As long as they don't decide to go in a convent (mind you TinkerBell won't last 2 min!!)
FilleAinee has been worried about everything - as usual - from friendship in the classroom to hunger in Africa, where the polar bears will live if there is no ice left for them, why the wind is blowing so madly at the mo (that's an easy one - how on earth would the ground be swept otherwise?).... a great book by the way for worried children: the Huge Bag of Worries. http://www.amazon.co.uk/Huge-Bag-Worries-Virginia-Ironside/dp/0340903171/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1259095906&sr=8-1
Even if your children don't worry about anything - it's worth reading and then next time you get worried, think about the bag! (I do)
Also had a brilliant birthday in Barcelona - best cake ever, followed by best paella ever (and yes, it was at work, it's not like CheezyHubby took me on a mistery trip!). Found a recipe that might match the cake (that's obviously not taking into account the cook - a bit of improvement in baking skills might be required!). It's in French though, so will try it, translate it and post it if it ever comes to anything edible!
More about work? Went to an evening at Westminster, dinners with MPs:
- Mummy, what are MPs?
- People who work at Big Ben, well close to it, it's called Westminster, and they work with Gordon Brown
- Do you know Gordon Brown, have you spoken to him?
Followed a discussion on who I should not behave (thanks girls for the confidence): don't do a Bridget Jones, mummy, like when she said - and I would like to introduce you to Mr, ..., Mr,... Titspatrick - Fitzpatrick, because that's his name. Great. I managed not to do that. Brilliant references for a 6 and 9 year olds. Note to self: review what DVD they watch (thought they were still on Finding Nemo. They clearly found Bridget...).
Anyway - enough for now! Need to go and trial that recipe and make a Victorian Maid outfit for TinkerBell's Christmas play... what was wrong with a Father Christmas outfit or a little Lamb outfit? or a Present outfit??? simply, they would not keep mummies busy for long enough...
Monday, 19 October 2009
Cows, Bridget Jones, hundred and thousands....
Oh. My. God. 3 months. Without writing on this blog. Imagine the poor girls at work - had to listen to all the mayhem that happened over the last 3 months... Rather than reading it.
So what happened? well, slightly busy. But managed to find time to go on holiday, back to French 'roots' . Went for walks, ate the local cheeses (how to please CheezyHubby...), drunk the local plonk (how to please CheezyHubby even more, who at that point also started to talk the local language...). Next day - walked up the mountain, lovely. Except ended up with my left hand the size of a boxing glove. How very sexy. Not. Why on earth do we need Horsefly...
And on the way down, 5 cows decided that they shoudl also go to the top of the mountain and decided they should stop there, right in the middle of the path, and nowhere else to go. What was it I heard on Radio 4 before the hols?? Cows can start charging you??? Oh great... so we decided to take the British approach. Wait and see who gets bored first. We did. We finally decided to pluck up some courage and bravely walk (no run!!) passed them. But they were massive, certainly not the small, fit variety. They also wear bells, and big ones. So as soon as they start moving, all you hear in Gling, Gling. And it gets louder the faster they go (or is that because they are getting closer???). Suddenly, FilleAinee, in a tembling voice: "Mummyyyyyyyy, mummyyyyyyyyyy." "Darling, don't panic, we will be fine." "No, Mummyyyyyyyy, look!!!" I turned around, while trying still to eye the cows (or was it a bull) to....... No, not the cow, but FilleAinee's 2 feet deep in the biggest smelliest puddle of cow pow. Great... that will be nice in the car!! By the way, the jury is still out about that youngest one: if they don't look too happy and have a ring in their nose, aren't they a bull?? Did not really have time to check....
Following day, all tourists (that's us!!) were invited by the village to try the local food. Brilliant marketing. Especially when at the end they passed glasses. TinkerBell, who had been dancing furiously all evening to the local Robbie Williams turned really thirsty, grabbed a glass and bottomed up before we could say 'cheers'. She thought it was water. And it was not. It was the local 75degres liquor. Best way to ensure your children will never be alcoholics.
I have been behaving at home too... Remember the time when the baking powder spread itself all over the kitchen? well... I managed to repeat that. Except this time with a brand new pot of 'hundreds and thousands' - and I now know why they are called like that, although I think I sould have called it 'millions and trillions'. Bloody thing - 3 weeks later, I still find some in corners (I suspect the local mouse to get some out every now and again, just to drive me nuts). But they not just went in the whole kitchen. Also in the lovely, just perfectly cooked, roast chicken. I guess I could claim I have invented a new recipe. But can't claim it's edible... (although CheezyHubby and the girls still have not found an explanation of why the chicken had funny colours... told them it was a special breed, which only eat rainbows. or LSD.
Been to M&S today - to get slimming underwear. The Bridget Jones types. I know, too much information... Sorry...So got to the till, and here we go, quickly, hoping that noone wil notice. Until GrannyDoreen (it's her name, that's what it said on the label) puts them through and shouts: 'I've got those too, love, they are great - although they don't get rid of the problem in the first place.' Great, carry on love... Got home, fought trying to put it on, broke 2 nails (actually wondered how on earth anyone can breathe in that) to hear - are those cycling shorts? not really sexy. No they are not, and no they are not meant to be. So why buying them? I wonder. They go back to tomorrow. Hoping that GrannyDoreen won't be on the exchange till...
Also had a trip to A&E (the biannual one, thanks girls. I am sure there are other ways of meeting all the docs on call...). FilleAinee bumped her head and split it open (or it looked like it had done). Anyway - was not that bad in the end. Question in the waiting room: Can you see my brain? Do you think I will die? (do I faint at that point? no - I'll wait when the doc is there. Probably safer. We never know, it could be MrSexy who turns up?!!) Behave...
Anyway - until the next post, hopefully before another 3 months - I'd better go and get a speech written. And it can't involve Hundreds and Thousands, cows or Bridget Jones (nor her underwear). It's for Dad......
So what happened? well, slightly busy. But managed to find time to go on holiday, back to French 'roots' . Went for walks, ate the local cheeses (how to please CheezyHubby...), drunk the local plonk (how to please CheezyHubby even more, who at that point also started to talk the local language...). Next day - walked up the mountain, lovely. Except ended up with my left hand the size of a boxing glove. How very sexy. Not. Why on earth do we need Horsefly...
And on the way down, 5 cows decided that they shoudl also go to the top of the mountain and decided they should stop there, right in the middle of the path, and nowhere else to go. What was it I heard on Radio 4 before the hols?? Cows can start charging you??? Oh great... so we decided to take the British approach. Wait and see who gets bored first. We did. We finally decided to pluck up some courage and bravely walk (no run!!) passed them. But they were massive, certainly not the small, fit variety. They also wear bells, and big ones. So as soon as they start moving, all you hear in Gling, Gling. And it gets louder the faster they go (or is that because they are getting closer???). Suddenly, FilleAinee, in a tembling voice: "Mummyyyyyyyy, mummyyyyyyyyyy." "Darling, don't panic, we will be fine." "No, Mummyyyyyyyy, look!!!" I turned around, while trying still to eye the cows (or was it a bull) to....... No, not the cow, but FilleAinee's 2 feet deep in the biggest smelliest puddle of cow pow. Great... that will be nice in the car!! By the way, the jury is still out about that youngest one: if they don't look too happy and have a ring in their nose, aren't they a bull?? Did not really have time to check....
Following day, all tourists (that's us!!) were invited by the village to try the local food. Brilliant marketing. Especially when at the end they passed glasses. TinkerBell, who had been dancing furiously all evening to the local Robbie Williams turned really thirsty, grabbed a glass and bottomed up before we could say 'cheers'. She thought it was water. And it was not. It was the local 75degres liquor. Best way to ensure your children will never be alcoholics.
I have been behaving at home too... Remember the time when the baking powder spread itself all over the kitchen? well... I managed to repeat that. Except this time with a brand new pot of 'hundreds and thousands' - and I now know why they are called like that, although I think I sould have called it 'millions and trillions'. Bloody thing - 3 weeks later, I still find some in corners (I suspect the local mouse to get some out every now and again, just to drive me nuts). But they not just went in the whole kitchen. Also in the lovely, just perfectly cooked, roast chicken. I guess I could claim I have invented a new recipe. But can't claim it's edible... (although CheezyHubby and the girls still have not found an explanation of why the chicken had funny colours... told them it was a special breed, which only eat rainbows. or LSD.
Been to M&S today - to get slimming underwear. The Bridget Jones types. I know, too much information... Sorry...So got to the till, and here we go, quickly, hoping that noone wil notice. Until GrannyDoreen (it's her name, that's what it said on the label) puts them through and shouts: 'I've got those too, love, they are great - although they don't get rid of the problem in the first place.' Great, carry on love... Got home, fought trying to put it on, broke 2 nails (actually wondered how on earth anyone can breathe in that) to hear - are those cycling shorts? not really sexy. No they are not, and no they are not meant to be. So why buying them? I wonder. They go back to tomorrow. Hoping that GrannyDoreen won't be on the exchange till...
Also had a trip to A&E (the biannual one, thanks girls. I am sure there are other ways of meeting all the docs on call...). FilleAinee bumped her head and split it open (or it looked like it had done). Anyway - was not that bad in the end. Question in the waiting room: Can you see my brain? Do you think I will die? (do I faint at that point? no - I'll wait when the doc is there. Probably safer. We never know, it could be MrSexy who turns up?!!) Behave...
Anyway - until the next post, hopefully before another 3 months - I'd better go and get a speech written. And it can't involve Hundreds and Thousands, cows or Bridget Jones (nor her underwear). It's for Dad......
Monday, 6 July 2009
Catching up....
oh dear... quite a long time since the last post... but frankly, that's the issue with working and the end of year at school. Multiply all this by 2 when the girls go to different schools and when there is work at work and work at home...!
After being the most unpopular and uncool mum in the universe (at least), I managed to lose even more points when I announced that my forthcoming trip to the US was cancelled- bribery (Ok, I know, in a previous life, I had said that bribery would never know my address... well only stupid people don't change their minds..!) anyway- bribery for no tears and keeping bedroom tidy was to bring back any Hannah Montana stuff I could find. How cool. So how not cool that the trip is cancelled. Cruel, unreliable mother, what's the point of you going to work, we wonder...
Tried to regain some ground during the week end. Took Fille Ainee shopping - actually, emptying the bank account at the school uniform shop. Wasted nearly 1 hour, to then find out - supreme humiliation - that my cheque book was empty. Back home to swap cheque book, and write a phenomenally far too high cheque... And Fille Ainee was not even impressed. It's school stuff. Ok, I never said we'd go trendy!! And later on, found out that all this was a real waste of time, given that the whole shop is going online in September. Don't bother telling (working) parents. Rant over.
Later on, took Fille Ainee to a sleep over. Where she was with another 7 or 8 girls. My idea of a pure nightmare. Until, it turned into a nightmare. I got a phone call at midnight (you'll notice that I got the phone call, not Cheezy Sleepy Hubby). Fille Ainee was panicking as she could not sleep and got scared with the intensity of the fireworks. Well, after all, she was in Surrey's American Corner, on the evening of 4th July. And they like to do things in a grand way, the Americains. So here we go, they shook the hell out of her and she could not sleep (by the way -they being the fireworks, just in case you are not following...) So I jumped in the car, to find out that the road to get to the sleepover was closed, about 500 meters from the house, as works were being done on a railway cross over... Damn. No Tom Tom in the car, and obviously, did not have a clue about any other way. And for God's sake, it's was midnight. So got out of the car, forgetting that I was wearing shorts and the top of a nightie (thank God it was dark!!) and told the blokes on the road: "Look, I need to come and pick my daughter, she is 9, and ill, and on the other side of the cross over. Any chance I can get through?' (Now, read that again, as fast as you can, and try again in a panic voice - you get the picture. Or rather the sound. I'll spare you the picture). Blokey number 1 goes:"Course you can love, we are not closing the road until half twelve, so you have 25 min." As if it was obvious from all the signs, not. Blokey number 2 goes: "and don't worry, if you come back through later than half twelve, we'll go and talk to big boss and am sure it'll be fine." Ok, thanks Mate, and I'd rather avoid talking to all the blokey mates in the road right now. Half in short, half in nightie. Crossed over the railway, picturing a train crushing the car at high speed, as I guessed the works were to maintain the cross over- imagine the titles the next day "Mother committed suicide over cost of uniform" (Daily Mail) or "Broke Froggies desperate suicide" (Sun?).
Got to the house (sorry - mansion. It's a place that makes Windsor looks like a gardner's house...) to take Fille Ainee home. Crossed over the railway again, picturing new titles such as 'Mother and daughter in suicide pack' (News of the world) or "Mother's desperation at sleepless daughter' (mail again?). Anyway managed to take Fille Ainee home safely. Who by the way, fell asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow.... as for me, could not go back to sleep before the early hours... I guess that's just a preview of what's waiting for us in a few years time... nice hindsight.
As for Sunday, decided to start cutting more trees (as part of the marsh transforming project...) while Lovely Cheezy Hubby was cheering for tennis, and Tinker Bell decided to give directions on how to cut trees (from the other far end of the garden. Wise). A couple of trees down later, a few scratches, bites and several near misses (I now have mastered on jumping of ladders to avoid trees. A skill, believe me!). Ended the afternoon with cooking Sunday lunch (or whatever it should be called at this point) to be told that it might as well burn, given that tennis is so not quite nearly finished. I don't care who wins, but please, save my chicken. I can now claim a new recipe - Charcoal Chicken. By the way, talking of tennis - so is Andy Murray a Scot, a Brit, a what?? all this geography a mystery to the French. Radio 4 gave it a good answer... (see the following link, scroll down to 8.22: http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8114000/8114111.stm)
And another one that made me laugh this morning: http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8135000/8135515.stm
scroll down to 8.30 for that one. It's not at all about Murray, or tennis. But it's an interview of Tony Blair, and if you listen to the first word he says in response to the first question: "Look..."Sorry am on the radio, can't look. And listen to the last set of questions about whether he should have given budget to green energies development (or whatever) when he was prime minister. The answer is straight out of Bremner, Bird and Fortune. Brilliant. A masterpiece of spin.
And last but not least - the latest from Tinker Bell: could not sleep, did not want to sleep last night (probably not warm enough as she seemed to fall asleep dead easy when we went through the heatwave...). So was (obviously) doing rolly pollies on her bed. Until we heard a massive noise through the house. She had fallen from her bed. Rolly pollies going wrong at their best. Once the tears had finally stopped and the question of 'why on earth was she doing rolly pollies at 9.30 at night?' was asked, the obvious answer came through. Well, I can't do them on the tarmak, it hurts; I can't do them on the carpet, it hurts too; and I can't do them on the grass as it's nightime (why on earth that did not come up about the tarmak will remain unanswered); so I can only do them on the bed". So when I explained that it is obviously dangerous as she can hurt herself falling off from the bed, we open a new gate of tears / flash floodings, as 'it's not fair, I'll never be able to do rolly pollies ever again'. Harsh mother. But the question was really about the time, not about the rolly pollies anyway. That remains unanswered too, as clearly, Tinker Bell has a bit of Tony Blair in her and is the master of spin when it comes to it... anyway - she finally went to bed, with a bruised bottom...
Last but not least - today was our 13th anniversary. Or as TinkerBell put it - does that mean you have been married 13 times?? Blimey, I know a grand father who would stopped footing the bill!! Managed not to burn supper (and it was not all precooked), not to shout at the girls (they went to bed) and not to argue with CheezyHubby (amazingly enough, he decided to agree with everything I said. Daaaaaaaaaaaaarling, could it be like that every day:?!). Happy Anniversary!
After being the most unpopular and uncool mum in the universe (at least), I managed to lose even more points when I announced that my forthcoming trip to the US was cancelled- bribery (Ok, I know, in a previous life, I had said that bribery would never know my address... well only stupid people don't change their minds..!) anyway- bribery for no tears and keeping bedroom tidy was to bring back any Hannah Montana stuff I could find. How cool. So how not cool that the trip is cancelled. Cruel, unreliable mother, what's the point of you going to work, we wonder...
Tried to regain some ground during the week end. Took Fille Ainee shopping - actually, emptying the bank account at the school uniform shop. Wasted nearly 1 hour, to then find out - supreme humiliation - that my cheque book was empty. Back home to swap cheque book, and write a phenomenally far too high cheque... And Fille Ainee was not even impressed. It's school stuff. Ok, I never said we'd go trendy!! And later on, found out that all this was a real waste of time, given that the whole shop is going online in September. Don't bother telling (working) parents. Rant over.
Later on, took Fille Ainee to a sleep over. Where she was with another 7 or 8 girls. My idea of a pure nightmare. Until, it turned into a nightmare. I got a phone call at midnight (you'll notice that I got the phone call, not Cheezy Sleepy Hubby). Fille Ainee was panicking as she could not sleep and got scared with the intensity of the fireworks. Well, after all, she was in Surrey's American Corner, on the evening of 4th July. And they like to do things in a grand way, the Americains. So here we go, they shook the hell out of her and she could not sleep (by the way -they being the fireworks, just in case you are not following...) So I jumped in the car, to find out that the road to get to the sleepover was closed, about 500 meters from the house, as works were being done on a railway cross over... Damn. No Tom Tom in the car, and obviously, did not have a clue about any other way. And for God's sake, it's was midnight. So got out of the car, forgetting that I was wearing shorts and the top of a nightie (thank God it was dark!!) and told the blokes on the road: "Look, I need to come and pick my daughter, she is 9, and ill, and on the other side of the cross over. Any chance I can get through?' (Now, read that again, as fast as you can, and try again in a panic voice - you get the picture. Or rather the sound. I'll spare you the picture). Blokey number 1 goes:"Course you can love, we are not closing the road until half twelve, so you have 25 min." As if it was obvious from all the signs, not. Blokey number 2 goes: "and don't worry, if you come back through later than half twelve, we'll go and talk to big boss and am sure it'll be fine." Ok, thanks Mate, and I'd rather avoid talking to all the blokey mates in the road right now. Half in short, half in nightie. Crossed over the railway, picturing a train crushing the car at high speed, as I guessed the works were to maintain the cross over- imagine the titles the next day "Mother committed suicide over cost of uniform" (Daily Mail) or "Broke Froggies desperate suicide" (Sun?).
Got to the house (sorry - mansion. It's a place that makes Windsor looks like a gardner's house...) to take Fille Ainee home. Crossed over the railway again, picturing new titles such as 'Mother and daughter in suicide pack' (News of the world) or "Mother's desperation at sleepless daughter' (mail again?). Anyway managed to take Fille Ainee home safely. Who by the way, fell asleep as soon as her head hit her pillow.... as for me, could not go back to sleep before the early hours... I guess that's just a preview of what's waiting for us in a few years time... nice hindsight.
As for Sunday, decided to start cutting more trees (as part of the marsh transforming project...) while Lovely Cheezy Hubby was cheering for tennis, and Tinker Bell decided to give directions on how to cut trees (from the other far end of the garden. Wise). A couple of trees down later, a few scratches, bites and several near misses (I now have mastered on jumping of ladders to avoid trees. A skill, believe me!). Ended the afternoon with cooking Sunday lunch (or whatever it should be called at this point) to be told that it might as well burn, given that tennis is so not quite nearly finished. I don't care who wins, but please, save my chicken. I can now claim a new recipe - Charcoal Chicken. By the way, talking of tennis - so is Andy Murray a Scot, a Brit, a what?? all this geography a mystery to the French. Radio 4 gave it a good answer... (see the following link, scroll down to 8.22: http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8114000/8114111.stm)
And another one that made me laugh this morning: http://news.bbc.co.uk/today/hi/today/newsid_8135000/8135515.stm
scroll down to 8.30 for that one. It's not at all about Murray, or tennis. But it's an interview of Tony Blair, and if you listen to the first word he says in response to the first question: "Look..."Sorry am on the radio, can't look. And listen to the last set of questions about whether he should have given budget to green energies development (or whatever) when he was prime minister. The answer is straight out of Bremner, Bird and Fortune. Brilliant. A masterpiece of spin.
And last but not least - the latest from Tinker Bell: could not sleep, did not want to sleep last night (probably not warm enough as she seemed to fall asleep dead easy when we went through the heatwave...). So was (obviously) doing rolly pollies on her bed. Until we heard a massive noise through the house. She had fallen from her bed. Rolly pollies going wrong at their best. Once the tears had finally stopped and the question of 'why on earth was she doing rolly pollies at 9.30 at night?' was asked, the obvious answer came through. Well, I can't do them on the tarmak, it hurts; I can't do them on the carpet, it hurts too; and I can't do them on the grass as it's nightime (why on earth that did not come up about the tarmak will remain unanswered); so I can only do them on the bed". So when I explained that it is obviously dangerous as she can hurt herself falling off from the bed, we open a new gate of tears / flash floodings, as 'it's not fair, I'll never be able to do rolly pollies ever again'. Harsh mother. But the question was really about the time, not about the rolly pollies anyway. That remains unanswered too, as clearly, Tinker Bell has a bit of Tony Blair in her and is the master of spin when it comes to it... anyway - she finally went to bed, with a bruised bottom...
Last but not least - today was our 13th anniversary. Or as TinkerBell put it - does that mean you have been married 13 times?? Blimey, I know a grand father who would stopped footing the bill!! Managed not to burn supper (and it was not all precooked), not to shout at the girls (they went to bed) and not to argue with CheezyHubby (amazingly enough, he decided to agree with everything I said. Daaaaaaaaaaaaarling, could it be like that every day:?!). Happy Anniversary!
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