The Babysitter

I should really be cleaning the kitchen, stacking the dishwasher, loading the food waste bin with our left over scraps from the Sunday Roast whilst other half is upstairs bathing the children, but I'm skiving. He knows I'm not doing my tidying as there is no clattering and banging going on, so I'd best be quick.

Last night we left our children with a babysitter for the first time. Sad, I know, considering they are 3 and 5. But usually we have only left them with family. We'd been asked out for a friends birthday meal, fed up of turning these invites down for fear of never being asked again, we agreed. I booked our next door neighbours 15-year-old daughter to babysit, dusted off an old French Connection dress, covered up the bags under the eyes, gave the eyebrows a quick trim and cleaned the house from top to bottom in preparation.

I made sure I gave the girls a stern talking to of do's and don'ts:
* you must not talk about bottoms,
* or wind,
* or burp loudly and laugh
* or ask her if her boobs have grown yet (my 5 year old daughter asked me this just before she arrived),
* or talk about daddies winky,
* or cry,
* or be naughty.

You must
* go to bed at 8pm
* do as you are told,
* be good.

I bought the baby sitter fondant fancies, crisps, squash, fruit, dips and left our number under the 'best' china 'A is for Apple' mug.

I resisted calling all night and she didn't call us. We got home ten minutes later than we said due to husband heading towards Oxford instead of London on the M40 on the way home. All because he was making a point about how big a litre of fluid was (our nights out are HILARIOUS, as you can tell). Infuriating.

We arrived home, paid her £25 (she charges £5 an hour) and asked how everything had been.
'Fine,' she replied. And off she went home with a cheery bye bye.

This morning the kids insisted they'd been OK. They had cried for mummy, and tried to go to sleep in our bed, but babysitter had shooed them out, and that was it.
Good - O. Result. Let's book her in for our next night out!

Husband then bumped into next door neighbours mum and she said,
'Well, my daughter certainly had to work hard for her money last night.'
Him being male, he smiled and didn't ask anything further. Then told me about it several hours later.
Infuriating x2.

Now, I am in a small state of panic.
Were the girls awful?
Did she go home and tell her mum how dreadful they are?
Were they naughty?
Spoilt? (both of which can sometimes be true).
They will think I am a terrible mother doing an awful job. They will be judging me. I am practically having to sit on my hands to stop me going round, knocking on their door and saying,
'What did you mean she had to earn her money? Are my kids dreadful? Worse than those at number 22?'
Who 15-year-old also babysits for, and obviously doesn't have to 'earn her money.' Of course, I find my children annoying, but I don't want anyone else to. It even bugs me if the husband complains about them or shouts at them.

Anyway, the kids are bathed, there's still mashed potato caked to the big pan, I'd best go give the horrendous kids a kiss goodnight.

Looks like I shan't be going out for some time...

Give Me Five...

I have been tagged by both Diney and Metropolitan Mum to do my highlights of 2009.
Now, to be honest 2009 has been a bit of a nothing year, no babies born, no getting married, no moving house, just basically getting on with breathing. In and out, in and out. That's right.
I am a bit of a freak in that I don't like odd numbers and most of the good things that happen to me in my life happen in even years (except getting married, which happened in 2003 - is this a sign??).
1998 got first job on a magazine,
2002 bought first house and got engaged,
2004 first baby,
2006 second baby born and moved house,
but anyway, let's move on from my fixation with even numbers before you concede that I am total and utter fruitcake.

So back to 2009. The highlights.(I would do so much better at the lowlights, I'm a glass half empty kinda gal)

* Hubs bought me a puppy.
Who has now turned big and craps four times a day. Regardless. He is cute and funny and he lets the children pull his tail and screech in his face without batting an eyelid. He has more patience than I...

* Big girl lost her two front teeth.
Mrs Gap, as she is now known, really thought she would find her new two front teeth in her Christmas stocking. Very disappointed when she didn't. I love her dearly. Even when bits of rice slip through the gap while she's eating and land on my plate.

* Me and Hubs went away for a very glamorous wedding in Morocco. Without the children.
Morbid lady that I am, I wrote a letter to the children telling them how honoured I was to have them and how much they were loved in case we died (in a plane crash/from too much alcohol/from being with each other all weekend). We made it back in one piece. It was actually nice to be adults, drink and eat when we wanted and to sunbathe and read books - all at the same time.

* We took the girls to Disneyland Paris for Little Girls 3rd birthday.
The look on her face when she saw Woody and Buzz, Scully from Monsters Inc. (who gave her a massive cuddle making the whole crowd go Awwwww), makes for some very special family memories.
Despite the fact we are still paying it off now.
And the girls enjoyed the bunkbeds in the hotel more than meeting Minnie...

* I started a writing course.
At last, I got around to enrolling on a writing course. I am shambolic when it comes to the homework, but I am one step closer to reaching my next big dream.

Now the soppy bit. I feel very lucky and very blessed to have such a wonderful family. Despite the husband being an arse, he is my world and so are my moody little madams (they get that from me).

So, as I wipe away a tear, I will tag....
Not Enough Mud because I want to see if Frenchman makes it on there
Mom/Mumbecause she is slacking in the blogging department
Working Mum On The Verge because I am not sure she's busy enough with the size of the snowman she made on Tuesday
and
Notes From My Days as I love going over to hers and looking at pretty picture of her house and hope she does a Pretty Things of 2009 list.

The Good, The Bad & The Ugly

Me and the husband sunning it in Barbados


Ok, so it's time for some post Christmas analysis. You ready? Let's go...

The Good
* Husband off for a whole week. Yeeeeeeeeeeehah! It was brilliant sharing childcare in our own home (rather than the usual, going on holiday, which brings with it all sorts of different stresses). We even had time to make whoppeee, in the afternoon. Like we did pre children! Whoooopeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!
* The husband actually liked his Christmas presents. There have been a few years of raised eyebrows due to my rubbish gifts. Ok, I admit the football shorts in children's size Medium that he couldn't get over his knees were not my finest moment, or the Rocky box set when he wanted Rambo, or a large print I had of our names written in sand on a beach in Ireland blown up massive only to reveal bits of old seaweed and scabby looking foam, making it look all manky and unromantic. Oh, or the football book that was a series of essays rather than a swanky coffee table picture book. This year, the Paul Smith gloves, Nigella Espresso cups in blue, Zara electric blue v neck jumper, Jason Manford DVD, chocolate orange, Clinique after shave balm and even the fake poo went down a treat! (Appealing to the inner child always works wonders, hence why I think toastie bags are the key to a happy marriage. Give a man a toasted sandwich, yours for life)
* Husband cooked a very impressive Christmas dinner. Yum. I thanken you hubby.
* Husband let me have lots of lie - ins....bliss! Who needs Christmas presents when you are allowed to sleep until 10am? (obviously I didn't do this on Christmas day itself, although it was tempting...)
* Because we now have a dog we went on lots of lovely walks. Fresh air. Children not squabbling. I like!

The Bad
* The dogs wind. Someone must have been feeding him under the table. I have not known a smell like it. It fills a room and stays at nose level for approximately ten minutes until you begin to wretch. Hiding the nose under the jumper is the only escape.
* The 5 year old being honest when receiving presents, 'Oh no, not more princess stuff!' or 'I already have this one' or 'This is babyish' or 'I hate blue.' She has been sent to her room daily for bad manners, sulking, a furrowed brow, answering back and the new one - stomping around like an angry teenager. Horrendous.
* The amount of chocolate in the house. Remove it immediately. I have skin like a teenagers and a muffin top that will roll over my new Zara skinny jeans in the most unattractive manner.
* Seeing all the celebs splashed over the paper holidaying in tiny bikinis in Barbados. (see pic above) Is it really necessary when it's freezing, you've eaten a whole box of Thorntons in one sitting and you're still wearing a Christmas cracker hat despite it being 9pm?

The Ugly
* The children arguing. One got given a blue barbie, one a pink. World War 3 nearly broke out. I ignored and carried on drinking hoping it would stop at some point. It did. There were tears. Mine. 'Why can't we just have a nice family Christmas!!' Mummy wailed, breath tinged with gin.
* The amount of pink plastic that I now have to find hiding places for in our already cramped house. Hmph.
* Everything I bought in the sales. Why do I buy it just because it's cheap? It doesn't fit, the colour is not right and I wouldn't have bought it full price. By the time I get around to taking it back, it'll be worth a lousy penny.
* My grandma in her late 80s discussing her sex life with my (now dead) Grandad. 'I used to sing the song, 'We're gonna make love tonight'' she confessed, whilst doing a little jiggle. At the dinner table. Wrong on every level.

So, how was it for you?

So This Is Christmas...

Jeez, it feels like I have only just packed away the summer tops and now the shops are playing Slade. The horrors of Christmas shopping awaits, the goose (me) is getting fat and my bank balance is getting so far into the red it's just not funny anymore.
My brother didn't incite the Christmas spirit in me either. I got an email saying

What shall we get dad for Christmas?

No hello, how are you? How are the girls? Not even a hint of pleasantries. Not that I'm bothered. I only saw him on Saturday, so he pretty much knows the answers to those questions anyway. The fact is, he is nearly 40 with a wife and child and I am heading too close to 40, with a (moody) husband, two children, oh, and let's not forget the dog. So, how come we are still sharing Christmas presents for our parents like we are 9 years old?

Ridiculous.

Other news. My husband is still an arse.
He has more work Christmas do's than, erm, gosh, I can't really think, but you know, someone who has lots of Christmas do's...Coleen Rooney perhaps (how come she has been out 3 times since having a baby two weeks ago and that's how many times I have been out since having my first baby 5 years ago? Bitter? Yes, that's me.) Meanwhile I have no Christmas booze ups. That's right, not one.

So, all of you who are off out for Christmas drinkages think of bitter old me sat at home sucking a lemon, just to make my face look that little bit more sour.

Puppy Love

I have been ultra slack in blog land. Huge apologies. Lots been going on. The lump was referred to a breast clinic so I have been in an out of mammograms and ultrasounds which has taken up a whole month of my life. But all seems fine (fingers crossed), yes, there is a lump, but it is not showing up on anything, they said it must just be part of me. Very technical explanation. Don't you think?

Also, I have started a writing course and I have homework. I was such a swot on my lesson one and got great feedback. Lesson two has been sat with me about three weeks, because....

WE HAVE A PUPPY!!

My, oh, my. I am in love. He is a boy. He is cute. He doesn't answer back. He doesn't whinge. He doesn't argue. He makes no demands of me. He gives me gorgeous cuddles. He makes cute little noises. He has big brown eyes. He has soft fur... *contented sigh*
Perhaps if anyone had told me all this I would never have had children? I jest. Kind of.
He is instead of a third child. I didn't even have to go through pregnancy. I didn't have to give up booze and soft cheese. I didn't get piles or have stitches. I didn't even have to have sex!

Ok, so now the downside. He sometimes poos in the night. Right in front of the tv. It's not good. Luckily, hubby gets up first and deals with it. He has chewed our stairs carpet, which will cost a couple of hundred to replace. His claw snapped off on his way out of the door. The vet visit cost £100. When I am out shopping, I am now not worrying if the children are OK at school, but what present (poo or wee) will be awaiting me on my return. (To date the tally is 3 poos inside and about 5 wees in two weeks.)

He is great company though. Last night, me and him stayed up to watch Jordan and her strange eyebrows on I'm A Celebrity. He sat quietly, didn't make any comments about the junk I was watching and kept me warm. The kids love him. We go for loads of walks in rain or shine (mainly rain at the moment). Lots of splashing in puddles and welly wearing. He makes me, us, really happy. I can see why dogs are used in therapy and to cheer up hospital patients. Having never had a dog before in my life I never really got it. How people could be so obsessed with their pets. I so get it now. As Donny Osmand (and S Club Juniors) once sang, 'and they called it puppy loooooooooove...'

Party Season

They have been back at school, what, 6 weeks, and we have had at least one party every weekend. It's official. My daughter has a better social life than I do.
If that wasn't bad enough, the cost of weekly presents for these parties is cutting into my 'new top' fund.
I have now limited it to a £5 per party present. Measly I know, but you should see the gift tables at these things! (Top tip - M&S do great make your own Jewellery Tinkerbell kits for £5 that are perfect for girls. Boys always get Lego and a big box of Maltesers).
The last party surpassed all other parties. It was like a small wedding reception. Held in a hotel, the whole of year 1 was invited. That's sixty children. The theme was pirates and princesses. I dropped eldest daughter off, had a peek around the door, and there was a top table (assume for birthday girl and best friends), with two tables off it, decorated with pirate and fairy sprinkles and table decorations. I half expected to see a menu,
Starter
Lightly Salted Chipsticks or Curly Quavers

Mains
Egg, Cheese or Ham sandwiches,
Sausages (not on sticks anymore due to sharpness)
Cucumber and Carrots

Dessert
Barbie Birthday cake
followed by Apple juice and Haribos

Even eldest daughter looked a bit in awe of it all. I left her to the entertainment, named Mr McDooDoo and disappeared for a couple of hours, slightly miffed that our whole Sunday revolved around this do. As it was 1.30pm 'til 3.30pm there wasn't much we could do before or after the party.
At pick up, I arrived 5 minutes early and headed back to the Carlton Suite, the lights were off, the music was pumping and it was hot and sticky. It felt like a club! Only with little boys running around holding two balloons to their chest and shouting, 'Look at my boobies!' (Just think, in a few years they'll be desperate to meet a girl who will say the same thing...)

So, off she goes yet again to another party. Another day revloving around a bunch of 5 year olds. The present's wrapped, another card written (badly) and already the conversation has begun about what to do for her party in 4 months time. Any ideas? I'm thinking of leaving the country...