Not Quite SuperMom

Bored Games

2011-11-16T06:21:00.000-08:00

Every parent knows the importance of sitting down with your children and spending quality family time playing board games. Sometimes difficult because, lets face it, board games for children can be pretty BORING. And they mainly end in tears. In my case normally mine as my frustration level reaches maximum. Or i get beaten.

Its also quite difficult to find the time to sit down and play when there is sooo much to be doing.

Which is why I have cunningly devised a scheme whereby everyone is happy.

Its called "Real Life Supermarket Jenga"

Ideal for keeping the kids happy while out shopping.

Am sure it will take off.

Incidentally..during the same shopping trip I also happened to notice that the staff are clearly bored as well...

Brilliant!

Old Macdonald had a farm....

2011-07-26T09:18:00.000-07:00

Ah.

Joy.

The school holidays are finally upon us.

Cue lovely days out and happy contented children running around giggling. Or in my case..constant fights, messy house and children telling me they are boooooored.

In order to head off the boredom complaint i decided to plan an itinerary of "things to do, people to see, places to go." So hopefully when creating their path of devastation and chaos, my children do this at OTHER places..and not in my house. See. Thinking ahead.

So i gathered up a handful of leaflets for local attractions so we can have some fun days out..hopefully in Supermom style combining fun with education. I was quite excited to pick up a leaflet for Old Macdonalds farm park and started leafing through it to see exactly what was on offer for us on a grand day out. However...when i turned to the centre page of the leaflet I got a bit of a shock. I did wonder whether it is only me who notices this type of stuff. But SLAP BANG in the centre of the leaflet...pretty much a centrefold picture was this:

HOW did they not notice?

I have rechristened the farm "Pig Porn Park." And I wont be visiting. I dont think I could look the piggies in the eye having seen this. Its just a tad awkward.

I love flatpacks...

2011-07-19T12:52:00.000-07:00

i went to Ikea.

Lucky lucky me.

After the mandatory meatballs and counting of pregnant nesting women ordering their husbands about and measuring things i took myself down to the warehouse bit and purchased a few lovely flatpacks to spend the rest of this year assembling.

Having opened a carton and withdrawn the instructions from the little plastic bag containing twenty thousand small screws of which i will always have at least 10 left over and panic about the safety of the structure i have just built...i sat down to read said picture instructions.

I was immediately struck by just how ACCURATE they are....

THAT is EXACTLY what i looked like...except with more hair and a dress on.

Uncanny.

you learn something new everyday...

2011-03-09T10:10:00.001-08:00

My lovely adorable eldest son just had a school trip to learn more about life in Britain during the war. On his return he was asked to write a newspaper article. All very educational.

So educational in fact that even my jaw dropped in shock at what i learnt whilest reading the article in a room full of parents waiting to see the teacher. Then i had to do that tricky task of trying not to laugh uncontrollably at an inappropriate time. Here is the best bit...and the most educational...

A few thoughts ran through my brain.

1. No wonder the children "where amased what the money was like". i think i would have been too...
2. How did Miss Prince his teacher find out it takes 12 penis' to make a shilling. Maybe she needs a pay rise
3. Well done to my son for being able to spot fakes. He will be very useful to me when trying to purchase designer handbags on Ebay.
4. we need to work on his spelling as i cant have him going through life thinking thats correct..although it is tempting..

A+ for effort i think

election time

2010-05-19T12:08:00.000-07:00

You may NOT have heard about it but we here in the UK had an election recently..I know..probably passed you by bit like it did me..
However, I did decide to vote and took the children for a "family outing" to the polling station.
They were dead excited and got dressed in their very smartest clothes. Felt a bit bad building it up to them...when all you actually do is put a cross on a piece of paper and pop it in a box.
So...
on the way I decided to play a game.
Notquitesupermom: "I know kids...when we get to the polling station lets tell everyone we are voting for someone really funny..like the honey monster or Tony the Tiger...you know..lets just say someone really funny who hasent got a hope in hell of winning."
Ryan: "we could say we were voting for Gordon Brown. That would be funny"
Notquitesupermom: *first time in her life....speechless*

When did my 8 yr old become so politically savvy???
I feel old.

Gerry The Gerbil and The Curry Tsunami

2010-05-05T23:27:00.001-07:00

The evening of the Curry Tsunami started off innocently enough.

Gerry had obviously had a normal kind of Gerbil day...get up, drink a bit out his space bottle, have a spin on his wheel, little bit of food..maybe quick spin in space buggy...little sleepy wrapped in cotton wool....some more food...you know...the usual gerbil routine..

Although clearly Gerry had other ideas that evening..

He was sooo up for an adventure it wasn't even funny...

Hahaha...actually...I lie...it was sort of funny in an "all wells that ends well" way..

Anyway..

It was a Saturday night and I had cooked a lovely curry, left the pan in the sink filled with water to soak and went through to the lounge to watch a dvd and drink wine with Mr G.

You know. Normal stuff.

Bottle of wine later I decide to pop back into the kitchen to replenish supplies.

Am pottering round the kitchen when out the corner of my eye I spot something unusual lying by the sink..

It took a moment for my brain to catch up with my eyes.

It was Gerry the gerbil. Soaking wet. Gasping for breath.

I ran over to the sink...kind of like a slow mo Baywatch run. Clearly I didnt have a red swim suit on as was in pyjamas.

NotQuiteSupermom: *slow mo* "Nooooooooo...Geeeerrrryyyyy..."
Gerry: *gasp*

As I was doing my 2 metre slow mo Baywatch run across the kitchen I tried to establish the facts. Gerry had clearly escaped. He also obviously:
A. likes swimming in curry water
B. Likes curry
C. Needs glasses as he couldnt see where he was going and accidentally plopped off the kitchen side into the pan in the sink
or D. He is an adrenaline junkie and the space buggy just isnt enough excitement for him anymore.

I wrap his teeny weeny curry smelling body in a tea towel and start stroking him. He smelt really spicy.

Just then he took one long drawn out breath....and then..nothing....

NotquiteSupermom: *wailing* "Nooooo...Gerry...dont die, dont die, come on Gerry..fight"
NotquiteSupermom *in her head to herself* "Oh bugger..I dont want to do CPR on a gerbil. I wouldnt even know how and there is no time to Google it.."

I run through to the lounge, clutching his lifeless body in the tea towel.

Notquitesupermom: *crying hysterically* "Mr G, Mr G, its Gerry. Hes dead."
Mr G: *slowly peeling his eyes away fom the film..as he is used to dealing with a hysterical wife* "Sorry..what? Whats happenned?"
Notquitesupermom *gasping for breath as she had run oooohh all of 4 metres* "Gerry.... Curry.... Pan.... Sink.... Water... Dead."
Mr G: "Have you tried CPR?"
NotquiteSupermom: "Erm..... No.... You do it."
NotquiteSupermom: *sobbing relentlessly and starting a eulogy* "He was the nicest Gerbil anyone could ever have..look at his beautiful little nose..and his tiny curry smelling body..*stroking him*...remember the time he drove into the skirting board in his space buggy and nearly knocked himself out?..Oh..Gerry..always living on the edge...I suppose it was only a matter of time before his passion for excitement got the better of him..he was such a happy little gerbil..I only hope he didnt suffer too much and died doing what he loved best......."

Just then a miracle occured.

Gerry suddenly sprang back to life.

UNFORTUNATELY for Gerry..I wasn't quite expecting this turn of events.

I screamed and threw him up into the air.

He landed with a soggy "splat" on the carpet.

Mr G: "Well..if he wasn't dead before..I'd say he probably is now."
NotquiteSupermom: "OMG. I've killed Gerry. Im a murderer. It was an accident..I didnt mean to do it. What shall we tell the children?"

Luckily for me, just as I was contemplating:
A. a life spent behind bars
B. how to dispose of the body and cover my tracks
C. How on earth to explain to the children that Gerry was dead and it was ALL MY FAULT...
... another act of divine intervention occurred.

Gerry clamboured up onto his feet..gave me a really really dirty look (potentially he didnt rate my curry making skills as highly as I did)...and scurried off under the sofa.

It took a while after that incident for Gerry to find it in his heart to forgive me...but I think he knew I didnt mean it...just that sudden movements from dead gerbils can give you a bit of a shock..

Wascally Wittle Wodents...

2010-05-05T23:23:00.001-07:00

Have been thinking ALOT about hamsters recently.

Not in a weird "get yourself locked up" kind of way

But just generally...

Have been watching this programme too many times with kids

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MCrQ1KOos98

(Its not rude so you can watch it with the kids)

Incidentally I do all the voices for the characters..odd talent I have..discovered by accident)

Soooooooo...

Was thinking about our past array of animals...

Obviously..we have The Dogs. If you arent familiar please refer to Canine Capers story....

Then my thoughts turned to Gerry. The Gerbil.

He had a turbulent life...

Poor thing.

Gerry was purchased from 'Pets r Us.' Kind of like 'Toys r Us' except for the fact that they deal in Real Life things and not things that need triple A batteries to get them moving...

We spent a small fortune on the ideal crash pad for Gerry...unfortunately it wasent quite on this scale:-

(some facts for you...this is Jake Hamsters cage. It took a year to build..is over 5ft high...and provides 17.5 feet of running space....)

Yes I know...

Its a bloody hamster.

We did however purchase this item for Gerry:

You know..just incase he needs to make a moon landing or something. Best to be prepared.

Cost of Gerbil: £3.75
Cost of Gerbil Accessories: £94.72p

Hmmm.

We settled Gerry into his new pad and he seemed very happy...and content. He didnt seem to run around as much as I thought gerbils would but just liked to lie relaxing. By the next day I was getting a bit bored as he didnt seem to want to do anything.

I decided to take him to the vet. First in series of expensive trips. The vet diagnosed a broken leg (he did mini xray and everything). Gerry needed 3 nights at the vets. I decided to call Pets r us to complain.
Notquitesupermom: "hello..you sold me a gerbil yesterday that has a broken leg"
Helpful shop person: "Do you still have your receipt"
Notquitesupermom: "yes..why?"
Helpful shop person: "oooo..bring in the gerbil with the receipt and we will exchange your gerbil for one without a broken leg."
Notquitesupermom: (suspiciously) "But what will you do with Gerry the Gerbil?"
Helpful shop person: "Oh dont worry about that."
Notquitesupermom: "Well I am worried. He's like family now....I know he only cost £3.75 and £94.72 in accessories but I am slightly concerned about his welfare if I bring him back...my mind is thinking you might get out a shovel..."
Helpful shop person: (sighing) "well the other alternative is for you to pass the vets bills onto us."
Notquitesupermom: "very happy to do that..he has been receiving round the clock treatment at a very exclusive practice....will definately send you the bill."

Gerry led a very happy and productive life from that point on...until the day of Gerry the Gerbils curry Tsunami.

That day he cheated death.

Twice.

Death Star Canteen

2010-04-27T11:33:00.000-07:00

A Romantic Getaway....

2010-01-05T12:59:00.000-08:00

Recently Mr G and I have been experiencing a few small issues...

No details really required as we all know what its like to have loads of kids and have been married for QUITE A NUMBER OF YEARS.

I take great comfort from the fact that I dont think we are alone. I think it happens to the best of us.

3 kids, 2 dogs, puppies, students living in our house all year round..eventually something has to give. Right?

Yet its all been a bit of a suprise to me.... I always thought I could hold it together but actually 3 kids, 2 dogs, puppies, students living in our house all year round has taken its toll on me.

I have been pretty FED UP.

So has Mr G.

I couldnt even blog.

I KNOW!!!

The SHAME!

Many apologies.

Normal Service will be resumed shortly.

N.B. I dont think you guys will ever fully know quite how much it has meant to me that you have still checked in and looked at my blog despite my lack of enthusiasm. It has been really important to me...and I really appreciate it. Love you all XXXX

ANYHOOO.....

Mr G and I decided that we needed a BREAK.

You know:

From normal life.
The kids.
The dogs.
The students.
The house.
Work.
The world.

Just us.

Having a laugh.

Together.

Sooooo...

We book a night away.

About 1 mile from where we live. (incase the kids dont settle!)

I know.

There is no real escape!

Soooo..

We section off the children.

2 go to one close member of family.

1 to another.

We can check in from 3pm.

By 5.30pm we have finished packing for us all, have loaded the kids into the car and start to think...is it worth it?

I am slightly dubious.

Maybe we should just stay in and watch Britains Got Talent.

That normally keeps them quiet.

It feels a bit like going on holiday (see previous posts)

Mr G and I have 1 x v small handluggage.

Each child (x3) has: 1 x suitcase. 1 x special teddy bear. Bag full of snacks and special dietary requirements. Buggy x 2..the unfolding and folding of which I will have to demonstrate until said child "carer" understands the complex mechanisms within. I dont normally REALLY swear during my blog BUT:

FUCKING HELL!

Why oh Why do they make pushchairs so SODDING complicated?

But OK. Have left 3 sobbing children behind at their designated carers for the evening. Have fully explained and demonstrated the inner workings of the Macclaren pushchair (x2) and could possibly hold a powerpoint/ training workshop on how EXACTLY it folds up and down.

So if Macclaren just happen to be reading this.....I am sooo definately the right girl for the job.

We get to the hotel. Fairly quickly it must be said. It was only 1 mile away.

Its very Possshhh...

Am slightly concerned they might not let us in...

Except...

We made the booking very lastminute.com

We were planning on going somewhere else (ok...2 miles away) and then changed our minds as the hotel was in the middle of nowhere and there was nothing to do.

We thought we might be BORED...

(i mean...do you remember how lazy you were before children?)

Anyway...I had left the new arrangements to Mr G.

MISTAKE!

But what happened did have the "NotQuiteSupermom" ring to it. And actually kind of made the whole night away that bit more fun...

We get to reception. Lots of poooossshhh people having canapes and champagne in the bar AND lots of poooossshhh people checking in next to us.

Very pretty but a bit snooty receptionist: "Welcome to the Captains club."
NotQuiteSupermom and Mr G: "Ahoy there!" (no..not really..not that uncool..we just said Hi and handed over our credit card)
Very pretty but a bit snooty receptionist: "The Captains Club would like to extend a very warm welcome to you Mr and Mrs G." (I KNOW!!!..WHO talks like that!!!)
Very pretty but a bit snooty receptionist *tapping away at the computer* : "Ah. Oh. When you made the reservation for the room you were made aware that there were certain "limitations" on the room?"
Mr G: "Yes."
NotquiteSupermom: "No?"
Very pretty but a bit snooty receptionist: "Ah. I see. Well. *embarressed cough* It appears that when you booked the room there was only one room left available in the hotel."
NotquiteSupermom: "And?.."
Very pretty but a bit snooty receptionist: "Well..the only room available at that time was the disabled access suite."
NotquiteSupermom: *Hearing the word "SUITE" and thinking less stairs to climb having imbibed copious amounts of white wine* "Ok..no problem..am sure it is just perfect!"
Very pretty but a bit snooty receptionist: "Well..we gave you an able bodied discount on the suite when you booked."
NotquiteSupermom *throwing a small black look towards Mr G* "Did you? Thank you so much."

Cue Concierge:

*Opening door to room*

Concierge: "You were aware that you have booked our disabled access suite?"
NotquiteSupermom: "Well....I wasen't 100% aware...BUT I AM NOW!"

I take a small step back and survey the room and bathroom. Ok..Looks good.

Except for the fact that in the bathroom the sinks are the height of my knees. I'm not tall but its v difficult to spit out toothpaste accurately from that height. I know this as Mr G and I had a competition.

The flush for the toilet is at my ankle height and tucked in a corner.

Mr G and I did actually puzzle for hours over how a disabled bodied person would be able to flush it.

The shower has a seat in it. I made Mr G sit on it...and then nearly went off him for good.

The ABSOLUTE worst thing though:

Having surveyed the bathroom and having a good laugh we collapsed on the bed laughing at how notquitesupermommyish the whole thing was. Then I recalled something i saw in the bathroom.

NotQuiteSupermom: "ummm...Mr G"
Mr G: "yes baby" (he's starting to feel this whole weekend getaway thing)
NotQuiteSupermom: "Am I making this up or was there a chair in the bathroom?"
Mr G: "Hmmm...didnt notice but maybe?"
NotQuiteSupermom: "It wasent by any chance a commode, was it?"
Mr G: " Shall we look?..You go first."

Yes guys. It was.

Very offputting for a romantic weekend away.

But the very bestest thing about the room was the red pulley alarm cords.

They were everywhere!

You know how if you happen to sneak into the disabled toilet somewhere because you HAVE 3 CHILDREN AND YOU NEED A TOILET BIG ENOUGH TO CONTAIN YOU ALL...and you get a bit paranoid about pulling the wrong cord for the light?

Yep.

That was us.

All weekend.

And after 3 bottles of champagne..guess who wanted to pull the cords...all sodding 6 of them.

Just for a laugh?

I know!!

I didnt.

But damn. I was tempted.

Must tell you about Maitre' d next week.

We totally rocked his world.

Not.

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Something slightly concerning...

2009-12-17T02:01:00.000-08:00

Just a quickie.

Getting slightly concerned that my Google ads are now ALL ABOUT WHITE WINE.

Guessing that perhaps white wine is starting to feature quite heavily in my life.

Be Google ads for Alcoholics Anonymous soon...

Lets see huh!!

The Concept of the Advent Calendar....

2009-12-01T03:29:00.000-08:00

Clearly Gracie doesn't fully comprehend the concept...

....and has yet to discover patience.

So..who are you again?

2009-11-16T12:43:00.000-08:00

Recently I changed my hair style.

For a while no one even noticed.

Strange as it was quite dramatically different.

Nanny Nutty had babysat when I was at the hairdressers and even her hints to Mr G over the dinner table failed to generate a response.

But.

Yesterday Alfie noticed.

We had this little conversation:

ALfie: "You dont look like my Mommy."
NotQuiteSupermom: "What do you mean sweetie?" (kind of hoping that in his eyes I may have morphed into J-Lo)
Alfie: "Your hair. You dont look like Mommy anymore."
NotQuiteSupermom: "Why is that poppet?"
Alfie: "Your hair Mommy. Its so messy."

Ah. Possibly not the response I was after.

Then Ryan came home with this picture:

On first glance I thought the figure on the far right was one of the dogs.

Sadly NOT.

Its me.

But apart from that this picture is highly inaccurate on soooooooooo many levels.

For a start Gracie can't fly. As it appears she is.

Alfie is not as tall as Ryan and doesn't have big googly eyes.

Ryan doesnt have zombie eyes. Unless he is having a major tantrum.

Mr G is not that thin. And he doesnt have that much hair. AND his body does not resemble a carrot.

My legs are not that short. But I wish they were that thin.

And finally...

MY HAIR IS NOT THAT SODDING MESSY.

thanks kids x

My Mother In Law

2009-10-27T13:46:00.001-07:00

Ok.

I am going to blog about my Mother in Law.

Please dont flinch.

But please pray she NEVER EVER reads this.

BEFORE I go into details, however, I would like to make a teeny weeny disclaimer:

Everything I tell you is 100% true. My Mother in Law is 100% A One Off. A Total Rarity. They just don't seem to make them like her anymore (for better or worse..you decide?) However. I have never met anyone before in my life that I have NEVER EVER HEARD say a bad word about anyone or anything that she does. Period. And I definately know that I wouldn't smile nearly so much if she wasn't in my life. For better or worse having her in my life makes me happy. She is a character. And we all love a good character. Right?

So.

A bit of background history on Mrs G. (Yes. There are actually 3 Mrs G's. Can you imagine!!??)

Mrs G Snr is is also known by The Family as: Nanny Nutty. Nanny Birdies. Nanny Birdies with the funny hat. I will, from hereon in, refer to her as Nanny Nutty. That seems to pretty much summarize how she is... "in a nutshell."

Nanny Nutty has just turned 71 years old. And she drives a Moped. We hear her coming over for tea from 3 blocks away. She also has more of an active social life than I do. Which is not too difficult. But still...

In an average week she does Burlesque dancing on a Monday (..lets move along swiftly before your brain starts to absorb that info.) She does Belly Dancing on Tuesday. (Yet again..moving on...quickly...) She goes dancing with her OTHER MAN on wed, thurs and fri. Nanny Nutty also works. She doesn't have to. But she likes it. She works as the "Old Peoples activity organiser" at a residential home. I have lost count of the number of times I have had to dress up as Tinkerbell or Cinderella for the Christmas Panto. Very. Very. Exceptionally....uncool. Fortunately for me, most of the old dearies were asleep and missed it all anyway.

Nanny Nutty also babysits for us occasionally. And believe me there is nothing worse than coming home at 3am, slightly the worse for wear, to the sound of "Hi Mummy and Daddy!" from the top of the stairs. And: "We tried to tell Nanny it was bedtime. We EVEN showed her the room she was meant to be sleeping in...but we have been camping AND we had a disco!"

Nanny Nutty is asleep on the floor.

Obviously my kids think Nanny Nutty is the greatest grandmother that walked the planet. They even think her job is An Explorer (cue Indiana Jones theme tune) because she goes on holiday so much and then brings back "treasure" for them from around the globe. Clearly what an 8, 3 and 1 year old define as "treasure" is slightly different to my concept of the word. When Mr G and I go away anywhere we SCOUR the tourist shops for hours to find a gift to bring back for her that is even minutely as crap as the stuff she brings back for us.

Which brings me to last nights Proceedings.

Last night we had Christmas Day.(Just a little bit more condensed.)

Yes. I know its only October...but this is Nanny Nutty. Anything can happen....

Nanny Nutty is renouned for her slighly dubious gifts. Last Christmas she gave me a quacking duck alarm clock that cost £1 from the Sue Ryder Charity shop.

I knew exactly where it was from and how much it cost as it still had the label on it. To be fair to her...she probably forgot that I have 3 kids who are the best alarm clock that ever lived.
She has given my 14 year old nephew a carriage clock for Christmas. Not dissimilar to this one:

She gave my 11 year old nephew a packet of Y-Fronts one year:

But last night I won the prize for the worst present ever.

It is no secret that after having 3 kids I kind of live on a perpetual diet. Sadly I'm not a Heidi Klum (or Heidi Olusegun Olumide Adeola Samuel as she is now known.) Nanny Nutty has a particularly bad habit of asking about my diet just as we are sitting down to eat surrounded by loads of people:

Nanny Nutty: "So. Hows the diet?"
NotQuiteSupermom*with mouthful of chocolate cake*:"mumphhh..yep..going really good thanks."
Nanny Nutty: "So what do you weigh now?"
NotQuiteSupermom *having swallowed the cake and now looking guilty* "umm...too much?"

Am sure she is just concerned for my wellbeing. Definately.

So. My turn for a present.

Everyone watching.

The surprise was slightly ruined for me as the present had a yellow Post It note on it with my name and what was inside the gift wrap.

I open my present.

Wow!

A fabulous tan pair of Control Top Tights.

NotQuiteSupermom: "Gee! Thats the best present I ever had!. Thank you so much! These will be really useful."
Nanny Nutty: "Its a pleasure. I thought they might come in handy for you. Read the back of the packet."

Control Top Tights Main Features:

1. Control panty shapes tummy, hips and thighs. Excellent.
2. Wide "non-roll" waistband. Cool.
3. Enhanced toe. Obviously V. Important when selecting control tights
4. Cotton- lined crotch breathes, leaving you cool and dry. FREAKY!

NotQuiteSupermom *nearly pissing herself laughing but holding it in for fear of what she might be given next year..Tenalady anyone?*: "Thank you so much for thinking of me. It really was exceptionally kind of you."

For better or worse. Right?!

How I wish I was passing through security at the airport again....

The Life of a Singleton....

2009-10-21T03:30:00.001-07:00

I have a friend (well done me!) who has unexpectedly found herself back in the singles game. For the second time. Bless her.
Having that time away to myself in hospital has started me thinking about how life could be different and how much I quite fancy a Gap Year. People take time off from their careers all the time to go travelling, change in lifestyle etc etc. I had my children pretty young and have spent my ENTIRE twenties at home with kids. Even before that I never really dated. Was always a long term relationship kind of girl.

So am finding the idea of a Gap Year very tempting. The idea works like this...

You freeze the children in time at the age they are now. So you dont miss anything. Then you go get an apartment with your very best girlfriends, get a job, go out, date people, sleep in late at the weekends and go on girls holidays. Very simple.

Obviously though we have yet to discover the power to freeze people in time..so this idea is not really a goer..

And , if I'm honest, the idea of being on the singles market doesn't appeal that much. I can't think of anything worse than spending an evening with someone you think is a total moron. Or worse...you like them and they think YOU are a total moron. And then you wait for them to call. And they don't.

So.....

In the meantime I am living my life vicariously through my single friend who is having to contend with the dating minefield.

There is sooo much I have missed. Phone dating, online dating, instant messaging dating, speed dating, some sort of dating to do with bluetooth phones? That last one sounds a bit technical for me. Speed dating sounds kind of cool though. Am positive I could make myself seem interesting for..ooohh..all of 3 minutes.

I love sitting in with my friend, drinking wine and listening to her dating stories. It all sounds so interesting and exciting. She in turn despairs of my naivety but finds it vaguely amusing. She is very patient. Thats why she is my best friend.

During one of those evenings in, a few bottles of wine down, we decide to sign her up with an online dating site. And we begin to trawl...yes literally TRAWL through the thousands of guys in their 30's-40's. Who knew there were so many single men out there????

Obviously I was just being supportive of my friend. But there is no harm in looking right? Right?

Then I see HIM.

No. Not Mr G. Would bloody throttle him.

NotQuiteSupermom *breathing heavily*: Oh. My. God. Go back up the page!! BACK UP!!! QUICK!
VeryPatientbutDespairingFriend: "What? What is it?"
NotQuiteSupermom: "I think I have just fallen in love. If you dont send him a message I'm damn sure I will."
VeryPatientbutDespairingFriend: "Which one?"
NotQuiteSupermom *jumping up and down excitedly*: "THAT ONE! In the Tuxedo! He must be The Most Gorgeous man I have ever seen. I already want to marry him and have zillions of his babies"
VeryPatientbutDespairingFriend *shaking with uncontrollable laughter*: Oh sweetie. He is gorgeous. You are definately right there. It is a lovely profile picture. But honey...that would be because that is a picture of Billy Zane."

Shit.

Imagine the disappointment some poor woman is going to have.

O Woe is me!

2009-10-18T12:46:00.000-07:00

Oh girls.

I have had the most terrible week.

And I'm not being melodramatic...it REALLY was awful.

I ended up in hospital having emergency surgery.

SEE!

Told you it was bad!!

What is worse is that these things always seem to happen right when you AREN'T fully on top of everything. There is no food in the house, the beds arent made...well actually its kind of a normal day in NotQuiteSupermom land...but still...I wouldn't invite people IN to the house with it looking like that. Dont want to completely blow my cover..

When I was in hospital I had this phone call from my mother (who was very kindly helping Mr G with the kids and the f^*$ up of a house:
Mother: "Hello Darling. Everything is just fine at home. HOWEVER I am struggling somewhat to fully understand your washing system?
NotQuiteSupermom: "That would be because there isnt a system. There are just piles. Some piles are clean...some piles are dirty. Its very simple. Perhaps if you sniff the clothes it might help?
Mother: "Hmmm...maybe I will just wash everything again."
NotQuiteSupermom: "What a jolly good idea Mother. Perhaps you would care to iron them as well?????"

Am thinking this "being in hospital" malarky actually is quite good.

Maybe I should do it more often. Then the house would be cleaner, the kids would eat better and there would be a washing system.

Am lying in my hospital bed marvelling at just how great being in hospital is. Except for the old people and the really sick people...because that just sucks for them. Obviously since having the drip/ lots of drugs and extra blood I am feeling like a whole new reinvigorated NotquiteSupermom. Keep accidentally calling the hospital a HOTEL to the doctors and nurses.

Do you know...
1. In hospital/ hotel they bring round tea/ coffee on a trolley periodically? AND you dont have to get out of bed OR make it yourself?
2. They bring you breakfast, lunch AND dinner. In bed! How much does that rock! Dinner in bed! V. indulgent
3. You have your own personal TV. So you can watch WHATEVER you want!! No kids programmes!! AND you can eat dinner, in bed, infront of the TV!! I can live like this!
4. The TV also has your own personal computer!! For Facebook, emails, online clothes shopping. EVERYTHING! While you eat dinner/ lunch/ breakfast. IN BED!!
5. There are magazines EVERYWHERE. So when you get bored watching TV or online shopping you can catch up on the latest celebrity gossip. For free! While eating your breakfast/ lunch/ dinner. IN BED!
6. People come and see you and bring you stuff. Like chocolates and flowers. Even Mr G brought flowers. And I didnt have to ask for them. Feel like a superstar. Just for getting ill!

Am thinking of setting up a NotQuiteSupermom hotel. Kind of like Rehab for the stressed out moms. You check yourself in for a night, we send round cleaners and people to clean the children/ feed them good proper food and then we let you stay in bed, cook for you and let you eat it in bed, bring you drinks and let you watch TV, surf the net, read magazines, eat chocolate and go to sleep.

Anyone want to check in???

Up, Up and Away.....

2009-10-09T04:24:00.000-07:00

Now where was I?

Oh yes.

Going on holiday

After the little run in with security I felt rather blessed that I was going anywhere at all especially as I was beginning to worry that the first night of my holiday was going to be spent detained at Her Majesties Pleasure...

Our plane is subject to a delay..of course..

Luckily not one of those sleep on the floor all night in the departure lounge type delays but enough of a delay to strike fear into the heart of any seasoned parent.

Alfie (on a loop for about an hour): "When is the plane coming Mommy?" "How long until we get there Mommy?" "How far away is it Mommy?" "Has the plane left to come and get us Mommy?"
Ryan: "I'm booooored...."
NotQuiteSupermom: "I know..let's go and get a lovely snack from that nice restaurant over there.."

Cue Mistake No 1.

While purchasing the extortinately priced snacks for my weary travellers, out the corner of my eye I spot a nice bottle of wine.

Excellent.

Just what I need to survive this ordeal...

(N.B. When I say "bottle" of wine I mean a half bottle. Obviously. I have kids with me. AND it is against FAA regulations to be drunk on a plane. But I also DONT mean one of those miserable mini bar/ aeroplane little ones with only 1 glass in because that would be pointless...)

Mistake No 2.

I purchase the wine and have a nice plastic cup full.

Suddenly life is starting to look good again. Inside my head I am humming Madonna's "Holiday" and Wham's "Club Tropicana." I may even have started to chair dance ever so slightly..

I engage the children in a very fun game of "I-Spy" and "If the other passengers were an animal which one would they be." It's very funny. Bordering on hysterical. I'm starting to believe that I may actually have become a Supermom. Wine is a marvellous thing....

Then Mr G comes up and gives me The Look. Normally The Look is reserved for after we have been out to dinner with friends and I have had a few lovely drinks and am looking for somewhere to go dancing/ the nearest casino to gamble in. The Look = "maybe you have had enough dear and should go home."

Mr G: "The plane is here and they are boarding."
Slightly sozzled NotQuiteSupermom: "Ooohh. Jolly good..(sniggering) Do you know the kids think that man over there looks like an American BullFrog?"

I make my way out onto the tarmac where the plane is waiting. Pushing a pushchair, carrying 3 x handbaggages, 5 x boarding passes stuffed in the pocket of my jeans, 3 x paper bags with snacks in and 1 x very precious bag with the Nectar of the Gods in it. Wobbling ever so slightly.

Cue Mistake No 3.

I always like to have a glimpse at the pilot. I think its important to check just who you have handed control of your life to for the next ? hrs. If I had a choice of pilot I would opt for Captain Chesley Sullenberger. He's the guy from the Hudson River crash. He's the guy I want flying the plane I'm on. What a great pilot.

Unfortunately as I sneak a look at the pilot I begin to have a "Doogie Howser Moment."
This is happening to me rather a lot now I am getting older. Captain Doogie Howser is also reading what looks suspiciously like a MANUAL.

Jesus Christ.

I feel another glass of wine coming on.

At the steps I have to eject the kids from the buggies, stop the buggies tipping over with the weight of stuff I have hung on the back, stop the kids crying from the noise of the plane, fold down the pushchairs and then climb a near vertical set of stairs up to the plane carrying 2 kids, 3 x handbaggages, 5 x boarding passes stuffed in the pocket of my jeans, 3 x paper bags with snacks in and 1 x very precious bag with the Nectar of the Gods in it.

You try that a bit pissed.

At the top of the stairs a heavily made up and not welcoming Air Stewardess greets us. Sullenly. Air travel ain't what it used to be.

We struggle to find anywhere to sit. There is no reserved seating on the plane so it's a free for all..

I manage to get a row with 3 seats for me, Ryan and Alfie. I have the baby on my knee. Mr G manages to find a seat about 10 rows ahead of us.

Crafty Bastard.

Now I know why he didnt want to pay extra to reserve seats.

Mr G gets out his book and reclines his seat. He turns around to give me the thumbs up.

I want to thump him. Or trade places.

But I smile sweetly and store this up for future use.

I get out 10 thousand Power Rangers, some comics, Top trumps, a painting set, colouring books, dolls, snacks, Connect 4 and pretty much the majority of our handluggage. I also get out my bottle of wine and have a sneaky small glass.

Ok. I can do this.

A zillion games of Connect 4 later...(no Ryan..4 in a ROW... ANY WAY you bloody want..oh..OK..you win....)
and I have started to scrutinize the bottle of wine on the little table infront of me. "Drink me" said the small bottle of wine. "No..because you might not be able to walk when you get off the plane" said the very persistent conscience of NotQuiteSupermom.

Luckily fate intervened..in the form of: Heavily made up and not welcoming Air Stewardess.

Thank Christ.

Heavily made up and not welcoming Air Stewardess: "Vot esss theess" (she isnt from around my neck of the woods...clearly.)

I look at her in a very bemused way. I know intelligence probably isn't super high on the job description (ouch!)..but really? Is she shittin' me? Surely she knows a bottle of wine when she sees one?
NotQuiteSupermom; "That is a bottle. Of white wine." (brief nod towards the kids) "For Medicinal purposes."
Heavily made up and not welcoming Air Stewardess: "I vill take theess." *snatches bottle* "You must only take the wine that vee sell on de plane."
NotQuiteSupermom: *spluttering* "But those miserable mini bar/ airplane little ones with only 1 glass in aren't enough for me to cope with 3 kids by myself on a plane? And they cost £7 a bottle!"
Heavily made up and not welcoming Air Stewardess: "Vell. Thats is the price you vill have to pay."

And off she stomps with my bottle.

Later in the flight she comes round with the drinks trolley. Just as she passes me she says this:
Heavily made up and not welcoming Air Stewardess: "Tea? Coffee? Vhite Viiiiine?"
And she smiles (for the first time in the duration of the flight.)
A very smug smile.

At least she has a sense of humour behind that Heavily made up and not welcoming face. Either that or she is a complete and total bitch.

What really screwed me was getting off the plane.

I had to wake up our sleeping princes and princessa. Such a shame because they looked so lovely. AND they were quiet.

Mr G just legged it. With one hand luggage.

I was left with 3 kids. 2 of which cant walk as they are asleep. One is half asleep. I was also left with collecting from underneath our seats: 10 thousand Power Rangers, some comics, Top trumps, a painting set, colouring books, dolls, snacks, Connect 4 and pretty much the majority of our handluggage.

Shit.

Having loaded up the hand luggage and strapped it across my body, donkey styleee, I realise I no longer fit down the aisle of the plane. I havent even added the kids yet.

At this point the "helpful cabin crew" decide to switch off the lights on the plane.

Thinking everyone had gone.

I am struggling.

Heavily made up and not welcoming Air Stewardess: "The last bus is leaving now. They are all waiting."

NotquiteSupermom: *to herself* "Oh..are they really....? well they are going to have to SODDING wait then. OR I will have to BLOODY WALK TO THE TERMINAL. Do you want THAT on your insurance. Do You? Do YOU?"

Obviously what I REALLY said was: "Can I have my bottle of white wine now please? I think I might need it later......."

My Nemesis

2009-10-06T14:14:00.000-07:00

Obviously if you are going to attempt to become a SuperMom you are going to need to get yourself a Nemesis. EVERY Superhero and Wannabe Supermom has one.

Buzz Lightyear had the evil Emperor Zurg. Superman had Lex Luther. Spiderman had The Green Goblin (whose head I discovered yesterday placed under my pillow by my "mini mafia" in a way highly reminiscent of The Godfather.) Batman had...shit..hundreds of archenemies. That Gotham City is sooo not a place to raise kids.

And NotQuiteSupermom has.... LOLA.

Not her real name.

For obvious reasons.

Unfortunately for me my Nemesis lives right over the street. Even Superman didnt have to put up with seeing Lex every single time he looked out the window.

Lola is perfect.

EVEN HER HUSBAND IS PERFECT.

What I find amazing is that not only do we live opposite each other...we are the EXACT opposite of each other. Its like finding your opposite twin...if that makes sense. I am short, dark haired and, dare I say it...possibly NOT a contestant for America's Next Top Model. Lola is tall, glamourous and waif-like with amazingly well behaved blonde hair. We do have one or two things in common..which just makes the whole thing much much worse.

1.We both live opposite on the same street.
2.We both moved in within months of each other.
3.We both spent the best part of a year demolishing half our houses and rebuilding them.
4.Our eldest children are the same age. (I have a boy and she has a girl.)
5.We were both pregnant with our 2nd child and due at the same time. (I had a boy, she had a girl. ) It goes without saying that Lola had the smallest baby bump ever..whereas I had to stop driving at about 7 months as I could no longer reach the wheel or the pedals. Obviously I HAD to go one better and have ANOTHER baby. Presumably just so I have a good reason why I can never be as perfect as her.
6.We both have the same type of cars. Except hers is clean.
7. We both have the same cream carpets..chosen by an interior designer in her house. Chosen by me in mine. Which can only be A Good Thing. Except mine aren't cream anymore....

.......

Let's take a brief trip together into "Lola's World".....

Household

Lola's home is like a never ending merry-go-round of people there to help.

From gardeners to car valeters...to curtain makers and interior designers...nannies to dog walkers..it appears there is NOTHING this woman can do by herself..

On Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays she has a cleaner who works all day long.

On Mondays, Tuesdays, Wednesdays and Fridays I too have a cleaner who works all day.

Me.

I give myself Thursdays off.

On Wednesdays, while Lola is out playing tennis at the local posh tennis club, a dog groomer comes round to her house to pamper her dogs.

Her dog is about the size of a rat.

Occasionally, on Wednesdays, I attempt to hoick 35kilos (x2) of pure dog into a lovely warm soapy bath.

By Friday I may have finished cleaning up the mess.

If I'm lucky.

Children

It goes without saying that Lolas house doesnt even look like children live there. There are NO fingerprints on the cream walls...NO squashed strawberries on the stairs and, even more shockingly, NO mini soldiers ready to gorge out a piece of your foot when you tread on them accidentally...

Lolas children look like they have stepped out of a catalogue. My children look like they haven't seen a bath in months (even if they just had one) or that they totally missed their mouths when they had lunch (which they did) or that they have been digging up the garden all day (which they have.)

Once when we were all invited over to lunch my children enticed her children out into her garden to make mud pies. All over the new decking. Lola was not best impressed.

However I found the whole experience rather uplifting.

Romance

Remember that Perfect Husband that Lola has?

Be prepared to be VERY jealous...

On cold mornings I go out and scrape the ice from Mr Gs car in my pyjamas, teeth chattering, hands turning blue JUST SO he wont be late to work.

LOLAs husband comes out and starts her car so its nice and warm for her when she leaves.

For tennis..

Life is such a bitch sometimes...

Occasionally our husbands mow the lawn at the same time. I catch myself looking out the front window of my house at her husband (mental picture: Tanned, toned, top off, youthful boyish looks..ok..I know..ENOUGH!) And then turning to look out the back window at mine (mental picture: red faced, swearing, kicking the sodding lawn mower...in his gardening clothes...) *Sigh*

The worst happened on Valentines Day....

Mr G is not known for his love of anything romantic. That morning I had a Valentines card from him with a picture of a dog on it (what is he trying to say...DONT overanalyze) and a little note from the dogs:

"Roses are red
Violets are blue
we would like a walk today
How about you?"

I took the point.

About as soon I got back a Florist delivery man turned up at my door. With the BIGGEST and most AMAZING bunch of flowers you have ever seen. They even had a "I love you" balloon attached to them.
NotquiteSupermom (opening door): "Oh. MY. God. They are the most beautiful flowers. Ever."
Florist delivery man: "Yes they are really stunning aren't they."
NotquiteSupermom: "Yes. And they have a Balloon!"
Florist delivery man: "I dont suppose you would mind taking them in . The lady over the road isn't in right now...*(Wednesday=tennis)*...would you be so kind as to pop them over for her when she gets back?"
NotquiteSupermom: ".....oooooooo...k..."

Cue the following conversation when Mr G got back from work:

Notquitesupermom: "why dont you ever get me flowers?"
Mr G: "why? Do you want some?"
Notquitesupermom: "Well....not hugely..but sometimes it would be nice?"
Mr G; "Its funny you should mention flowers as I was out at lunch today and I walked past a florists."
Notquitesupermom: (holding breath).."And?"
Mr G: "And I thought about buying you some."
Notquitesupermom: "And....???"
Mr G: "well..I nearly did..but I was in a bit of a hurry to get my sandwich for lunch. So I didnt bother. But, hey, I Thought about it.."

Hmmm...

I am suspecting that A MAN may have made up the phrase "Its the Thought that counts."

Bitter?

Moi?

Dont be silly!! xxx

Bit of a Science Question for you....

2009-09-29T12:18:00.000-07:00

Ok. Science time Ladies...

If you reverse THIS car slooooowly...

...into this fence....

Which one will come off worse??

I KNOW!!! Who'd have thought it!!

Girl Guide rule No1: Be Prepared.

2009-09-24T04:37:00.000-07:00

So we arrive at the airport. On time and thankfully sans the small piece of excess baggage Alfie had stowed away up his left nostril. (Thank you Jesus)

That's when the fun really started.

1 x large suitcase for the hold? Check.
4 x handbaggages? Check.
2 x single pushchairs each with child in? Check.
1 other child? Check.
Husband? Check.
5 x passports? Check.
1 billion x checking in tickets and other printouts from online booking? Check.
1 x slightly frazzled NotQuiteSupermom? Check.

Ok. All going well.

Until they weigh the suitcase.

I forgot to check the weight allowance.

Bugger.

We are 7 kilos over.

Nice Airport Lady to Mr G: "that will be £340 for the extra 7 kilos please."
Mr G: (barely audible whisper) "pardon?"
Nice Airport Lady: "Unless you can redistribute the extra 7 kilos in your hand luggage?"
Mr G: "Oooo...difficult decision."

Cue frantic unpacking and repacking scenes and NotQuiteSupermom cursing the fact that she allowed her eldest to bring his BIBLE...possibly the heaviest thing on the planet..despite her efforts to convince him that his Star Wars comic book would have been a far less weighty option (and possibly slightly more normal for an 8 yr old.)

Now our carefully packed handluggages are like carrying bags of bricks around.

Still. Onwards and Upwards as they say.

Oh goodie.

Security next.

My personal favourite.

To get there we had to navigate a 10 mile maze of snaking barriers to travel (if you took the direct route) about 3 feet.

It looked as though the airport might have been expecting a stadium full of people to start queuing.

Except there were no people about.

Just us and a lone security man who could barely hide his mirth at watching us go round..and round...and round...and round...and round..(yep..you get the picture)and round the barriers.

I have to admit that had it not actually been happening to me I probably would have found watching it vaguely amusing.

Bored security man: "Pushchairs folded down..empty your pockets..children through one at a time."

Gulp.

Does he have any idea how long that is going to take?

2 folded pushchairs, 2 crying children after being forcibly removed from said pushchairs, 10 tonnes of fluff, 27p in 1 and 2 pence pieces, 4 hairbands, 2 fluff covered emergency dummies and 3 old smarties later....and his instructions have been followed pretty much to a T.

Unfortunately the stadium full of people the airport thoughtfully provided the snaking queue barriers for have turned up behind us and are waiting rather unpatiently. Some are even tutting. Obviously none have children.

I put my hand baggage on the x-ray machine.

Suddenly security alarms start ringing all over the place and two fairly burly (and not overly friendly looking) security guards pull me to one side.

Not overly friendly looking security guard #1: "Is that your bag Madam?"
NotQuiteSupermom (quivering slightly): "Yes officer..I believe it is."
Not overly friendly looking security guard #2: "Did you pack this bag yourself Madam?"
NotQuiteSupermom: "AH HA HA HA HA HA. Oh. Sorry. You are serious. Yes..I packed every bloody bag 2 weeks ago and then repacked them about a zillion times...and not ONE bugger helped me."
Not overly friendly looking security guard #1: "We need to search the bag as we have reason to believe you are carrying an offensive weapon in your hand luggage."
NotQuiteSupermom: "huh..??"
Mr G (hissing): "what did you pack?"

In delves the security guard, past the nappies, wipes, pirate figures, snacks etc etc. Into the little back pocket..wherein lies...actually...I dont bloody know. I NEVER look in that pocket.

Out comes his arm brandishing my hot pink Swiss Army Knife type gadget.

Oh. Shit. I vaguely remember putting that in the bag about 2 years ago incase I ever needed it. Ironically I have NEVER needed it. Hence the reason I forgot about it.

NotquiteSupermom: "Thats not an offensive weapon. Mr G's mother gave me that for Christmas..and its pink?"

Not overly friendly looking security guard #1...flicks open the knife part of it (in a very macho way it has to be said)

NotQuiteSupermom: "Ah. yes. see your point (literally)."
Not overly friendly looking security guard #2: "we will have to confiscate this from you Madam."
NotquiteSupermom: "Ooohhh. Really? Can I bring in some other things the Mother in Law got me for Christmas?"
Not overly friendly looking security guard #1: *sigh* "No Madam, you can't."

So off we all skip, breathing in the freedom of the departure lounge all happy and jolly after the small run in with security.

Until I suddenly remember how terrified I am of flying.

AND how "low budget" and "airline" really should not be mixed.

What also should not be mixed is a stressed out, scared stupid of flying mom and white wine.

Oh God.

Almost Wordless Wednesday....

2009-09-22T23:39:00.001-07:00

Gracie: " Alf..what are you doing?"

Alf: "I'm not Alf...I'm Scuba Steve."

Gracie: "No..you are an idiot."

Gracie: "See...? That proves it."

Final word to Gracie on the airline we travelled with.....

Yep. Bunch of Cowboys.

Anyone fancy a Staycation?

2009-09-12T13:09:00.000-07:00

Firstly I would like to apologise for my lack of blogging.

I went on HOLIDAY.

Abroad.

On a plane.

With 3 kids and Mr G.

I have yet to fully recover from The Experience.

The preparations went well. I was very very excited. I booked the holiday in January in a flush of Post Christmas Cheer to "give us something to look forward to."

I know.

I am stupid.

Six months later, nearly time for The Holiday and I am a bundle of excitement.

As a Supermom in training I packed our bags a week before the holiday so I was well prepared and organised.

Unfortunately I had to keep unpacking them as none of us had anything to wear and it was becoming a bit of an issue.

We flew on a "low budget no frills airline."

They charge for baggage. I thought ONE hold baggage and 4 hand baggages would suffice.

I know.

Stoooopid.

ANYWAY: I had arranged for my mother to drive us to the airport. V. organised and efficient.

It was roughly 20 minutes before she was due to pick us up that things started to go horribly wrong.

That day had so far been spent fielding the MILLIONS of phone calls because we were going away for TWO WEEKS.

I was on the phone when Alfie came up to me crying and pulling at my leg.

Alfie: " Me put something up nose."
NotQuiteSupermom: "Hold on darling, Mommy's on the phone right now..just give me a minute."
Alfie: "Nose. Plasticine. Me."
NotQuiteSupermom: (to caller)..."I'll have to call you back after the holiday." *hang up* (To Alfie) "WHAAAAATTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT?? You know you should never put anything up your nose, or in your ears...or up your bottom? You havent? Have you? Truth?

I laid him down on the bed and got out the torch.

Yep.

Big lump of plasticine. Right up there.

Shit.

Sadly my "First Aid for Parents" book DOES NOT HAVE A CHAPTER ABOUT OBJECTS BEING STUFFED IN NASAL CAVITIES.

So, without the help from my bible, I look for the tweezers. Very calmly. Reiterating the point to Alfie that under NO CIRCUMSTANCES he should sniff. (Note: have you ever tried to teach a small child the difference between sniff and blow??) Sniff= easy. Blow= Very Very Difficult.

Cant find the sodding tweezers. Anywhere.

Less than 1 Hr before we NEED to check in.

Vaguely recall reading that POTENTIALLY it might not be great for a child to travel ON A PLANE with plasticine up his nose.

Bugger.

Thinking about using the scissors. Its the only "pinch grip" type thing I have...unless I raid Mr G's tool box in the garage. But I'm not entirely sure that a monkey wrench will fit up Alfies very small nasal passage.

Oh God.

Flash of inspiration.

Either this will work or it will go HORRIBLY WRONG and a trip to A&E will be required.

NotQuiteSupermom: "Alfie sweetie. Bend down and touch your toes."
Alfie: "Huh?"
NotQuiteSupermom: " Lets pretend that you have to...ooohh..I dont know. (NOT GO ON HOLIDAY BECAUSE YOU HAVE SOMETHING STUCK UP YOUR NOSE)....blow something really hard OUT your nose AND not sniff it back?? Do you think if you bend over you can do that for Mommy? Superman does that all the time."
Alfie: "Ok."

We all held our breath.

To blow..or to sniff? That is the question.

I held my breath.

Alfie (fortunately) didnt hold his.

He gave a HUGE Superman styleee blow.

With a quite astounding "POP" the plasticine pinged out his nose and onto the carpet.

Our silent worship of the blue plasticne ball was rudely interrupted by the doorbell.

Mother: (v. cheerful) "Already to go?"
NotQuiteSupermom: "Yes. Absolutely. Let's go."

Although...with hindsight..had I known what was to come..I think my answer would have been very different.

Yep.

It gets worse.

x

Walking the Dogs

2009-05-06T09:36:00.000-07:00

I walked the dogs at the park today.

I know...well done me!!

And..for my effort I got rewarded with one of the funniest things said to me for ages....

A man came over with his little dog and said:
"I know those dogs..they are mother and son right?"

"Yes" I replied.

"Your Dad normally walks them doesnt he?" said the dog walking man.

"No," I replied.."my husband does. Always."

"Oh," said the dog walking man. "Sorry."

AH HA HA HA HA HA

Poor Mr G.

But Yeaaaay me!!!

Love the ever youthful,

YEEHAH!

2009-04-27T05:27:00.000-07:00

Alfie had his 3rd birthday on Easter Sunday and we had a cowboy party.

Check out the cake! No rudie bits at all! (ignore the odd shaped cactus on the left)

It was the most successful party I have ever done! The adults had chilli, rice, garlic bread and drumsticks and the kids had hotdogs, beans and corn on the cob and an ice cream each.

The best part was the games after, we played tin can alley..throwing a ball at the cans as the water pistol didnt have enough strength to knock down any cans. Then we played hobby horse races..check out the Dads race!!

Then we played "Round 'em up" with the hobby horses and balloons, throw the cowboy boot the furthest competition and had a pinata. Not only was it the best and most fun party we have done..it was also the cheapest. For prizes I gave out sheriff badges, the party favors were paper cowboy cups filled with popcorn and covered in cellophane and the games (except the pinata) were all free (we had the hobby horses already)

I think that maybe..for that afternoon only..i may even have been a SUPERMOM!

YEEEEEEEEHAAAAAAAAAH!

(nearly) wordless Wednesday

2009-04-22T05:24:00.000-07:00

This is what happens when you let a 2 year old dress themselves

Could there BE any more stripes?

Highly inappropriate for a 1 yr olds birthday

2009-03-12T02:11:00.000-07:00

Gracie turned 1 last week!! It has gone so fast I can hardly believe it. As a tribute to my Princess I decided to make her a Rapunzel fairytale castle cake. And here it is in all its glory.

Just one or two points to mention.

While the children all said "Wow..a castle cake" my girlfriends came in giggling and saying: "wow..a cake shaped like lots of man bits with some lady bits on the top."
I wont put the words on here or lord knows who might get to my blog via google.

As I was making the cake I started to realise that the castle does resemble a certain part of a mans body...on closer inspection it actually looks quite realistic as the weight of the icing meant it looked a bit wrinkly. It really made me giggle making it (or maybe that was the glass of wine I had while doing it)

I also bought the wrong sized marshmallows so had to just work with what I had. Even though the turrets looked a bit like certain lady bits.

Anyway..its a shining example of how to make a cake NotQuiteSuperMom style.

Anyone for a Peanut Butter sandwich?

2009-02-19T14:07:00.001-08:00

Much to my husband "chagrin" (yes..I had to google it)..I am not only not SuperMom, but I also fail to make the grade when it comes to being a SuperWife.
There are many reasons for this..kids, dogs, house, me, him. But my most shining example was exacted approximately 9 months ago and takes the form of a peanut butter sandwich.

Mr G came home from work one evening. This in itself was not a surprise as it is a regular fixture on our daily calendar.

What did surprise me was that on that particular occasion our normal daily banter of "How was your day dear?" was replaced by a mini diatribe by Mr G involving the lunches taken into work by his fellow workmates.

Apparently their wives make them very lovely lunches.

I don't make him any lunch at all.

There are reasons why I dont make him lunch. I am busy doing breakfast. I have to make the kids their school lunch. I never know what he might be doing at lunch. Maybe he would like to get out the office for lunch? Maybe I dont have enough room in my brain to plan another meal?

Anyway I took it that he meant business as by 11.30pm that night he was still going on about their sandwiches.

To say I was quite annoyed would be an understatement.

I had a small baby, 2 other kids, 2 dogs and 5 students living in my house. And I was still feeding my baby myself.

Mr G was not having any of it...and went on...and on...and on..and on about it.

I went to bed very unhappy with Mr G.

But once in bed (very tired and quite close to crying) I had a flash of inspiration.

The next morning I got up very cheerful. I didnt mention last nights little "discussion" and just got on with things in a bright and breezy manner. I also quickly put together a peanut butter sandwich and wrapped it in lovely clear cellophane for Mr G.

When Mr G came downstairs to go to work I presented him with his lunch.

He was really surprised. And actually quite grateful.

I felt a bit bad about what I was about to do.

This is what happened:

Me: "Here. I made you some peanut butter sandwiches to take to work today." *fake grin*
Mr G: "Thank you" *slight look of bewilderment*
Me: "Oops. Just forgot one small thing...."

At that point I took the sandwiches back from Mr G.

Then I dropped the pack of sandwiches on the floor, jumped up and down on them until they were flatter than a pancake, picked them up and handed them back to him.

Me: "Have a lovely lunch dear."
Mr G: " ummm..yes..thanks."

I am happy to say that Mr G took his peanut butter sandwiches into work as a shining example of what happens to your lovely packed lunch when you have a baby.

I did it for you girls...

Birth stories

2009-02-07T12:41:00.000-08:00

I dont know what it is about me but I am fascinated by hearing other peoples birth stories. Some are funny, some horrific and some amazing..the most fabulous part is that they are all different. Having a baby is such an ice breaker.

The difference between what you think will happen and what actually does always leaves me marvelling at the funny ways life works.

With my first baby I recall stressing out pre labour about letting the student midwife who had followed me throughout my pregnancy deliver the baby. My sister in law who has had 4 babies told me very gently: "stop being silly because when you finally get round to delivery you wont care if the lady with the drinks trolley delivers the baby...just as long as SOMEONE gets it out."

And never has a truer word been spoken.

At that point I was begging for a C-section or the ConeHead Maker (TM) aka the Ventouse. I had even packed a special ConeHead hat for our baby to wear.

By the time I had my 3rd baby I had totally given up on any specific birth plan.
In fact when the midwife asked me what my plan was I told her this:
"Get it out. As quickly and painlessly as possible.
Give me any and all drugs you have.
Dont let my husband see and DEFINATELY dont give him any important jobs like pushing buttons (i had been traumatised by this in my 2nd labour.)
Do not let him hold the gas and air..he uses too much.
Dont let me go to the toilet on my own as Im worried I might just have it while Im there.
Dont leave me on my own with my husband as I dont think he could deliver the baby if required and I really dont want him to.
And please..give the baby a good wipe before you put it on me as all that blood and gooey stuff will really ruin the moment for me."

She gave me a funny look at the last request..and maybe this sounds a bit harsh but it really was quite important to me. In fact I gave birth in the water and as the cord was so tightly wrapped round the baby there wasent much of it available so the midwives gave me the biggest cord wedgie EVER. Maybe it was revenge for the baby wipe comment but that wedgie took my poor piled bottom months to recover from.

In fact it was possibly the most painful part of the entire thing.

You see why the Anusol is such a hugely important part of my hospital kit.

In the end once they had the baby out the midwives asked me if I wanted to hold her. I shook my head. Then they asked if I wanted to see her. Again I shook my head but had a small peek and looked away. My response shocked me because for months I had been crying at all the birth stories on the Discovery channel and thinking about how I was going to react when I finally gave birth. But when it came to it, I just wasent ready for it. It had nothing to do with her, or not loving her or not feeling a "bond." My bottom was sore from the wedgie, I was shaky and I was naked in a bath that was getting distinctly colder by the second.

That is not how it happens on the Discovery channel.

Anyway, the purpose of this post is really to say that everyones story is different, how everyone reacts is different and thats the really great part about having babies. So..if you are abit like me and didnt go for the SuperMom whale music, candles, yoga, acupuncture, water birth, no pain relief SuperHero effort at birth..who cares?? As long as everyone is OK thats whats important.

There will be plenty of opportunities to try and become a SuperMom later on.

When your bits/ stitches/ C-section scar dont hurt so bad.

10 reasons I find 7 year old boys annoying

2009-01-31T13:11:00.000-08:00

<..and I have one.

1. They think they know everything. If you try to correct them they say "yeah..I know that" or "lets not talk about that anymore"
2. Most of the things they say involve shooting or star wars...ie "Die...Darth Vader...Pheeeenouoww...mmmmmmmm (thats a light sabre)....pssssshhhhhtttttttt..powwwww."
3. Most of these things are accompanied by a fountain of spit. Due to:
4. The fact they have no front teeth. It is so not their fault but nevertheless so not a good look.
5. They like to choose their own clothes. Meaning they choose to wear horrid spiderman tops or checks and stripes together.
6. They like to do their own hair and wont let you restyle it. Even if it looks stupid.
7. When they brush their teeth a fair amount dribbles onto whatever top they are wearing. Not a problem if they are doing the checks/ stripes thing as you get to change them but really a problem if it is the only clean school shirt available.
8. They start to get into really unattractive TV characters. Like Spongebob Square Pants.
9. They beat you at Wii play, Mario Karts and anything on the Playstation. But you still have to play.
10. You have no idea of the things they can fix/ break. They also point out the obvious on a regular basis.

this is funny!!

2009-01-29T05:12:00.000-08:00

I hadn't seen this before but I think its fab!

Not quite Supermom from the start

2009-01-26T03:10:00.000-08:00

Looking back on my parenting life I think it was abundantly obvious that I probably wasn't cut out to be a Supermom right from the first morning in hospital after I had my first son.

I had spent the night lying looking at him...on a huge high after the birth. By the time it was morning I was exhausted from staying awake for the last 30 something hours.

In an optimistic mood I decided to go and have a good wash and get dressed.

I wheeled my baby in his cot to the bathroom with me and looked in the mirror.

Not a very good idea.

My mouth was really dry so I decided to brush my teeth.

Without looking I reached down into my washbag, got my toothpaste and brush, put the toothpaste on the brush and started to brush my teeth.

I had just got really into brushing my teeth when I noticed the toothpaste wasn't quite the same taste as I was used to. It was pepperminty but also had a strange type of chalky texture that I couldnt quite place.

As I looked down in horror I saw that I had mistakenly picked up the wrong tube.

What I was looking at was not a tube of toothpaste it was a tube of Anusol.

This is a tube of Anusol...

This is a tube of toothpaste...

Don't make the same mistake I did.

What goes Around comes Around...

2009-01-23T04:26:00.001-08:00

Something happened to me this morning that has left me feeling really gleeful.

There is justice in the world after all.

Let me explain....

I went shopping this morning.

Shopping with kids is like a military operation. First you have to check your intelligence is correct, identify the potential targets and your drop zone.You must work out the logistics..double buggy or single in my case. Then you must ensure you have your kit ready (nappies, rations, drinks, wipes, coats, scarves, hats, mittens, blankets..it goes on and on.)

Once you have reached the drop zone you have to practice your mobility training, paying particular attention to vehicle insertion techniques in the car park, ensuring all doors can be opened in order to move troops in and out the vehicle swiftly.

Finally you can implement a SAS style operation to retrieve said targets from their locations while keeping troops motivated and return them safely to base.

Nothing to it.

Anyway..it is what happened while I was shopping that has made me so cheerful.

Our local shopping centre is outside and on 2 levels. I needed to go from basement to upper level. It was raining, I had the double buggy (except Alfie wanted to walk and hold an umbrella) so I was steering the buggy one handed towards the glass elevator. Not an easy feat.

Its a really nice elevator and you can very clearly see the people in it as they travel up and down.

Alfie was getting very excited about pressing the button.

We were about 10 paces away from the elevator when I started to hear the "click click" of high heels getting louder and faster behind me. It definately wasn't me as my trainers were going "squelch squelch" as I had accidentally trodden in a big puddle getting out the car.

Just as we were nearly at the elevator the high heeled lady cut infront of us..pressed the button, got in and pressed the up button.

She didnt even hold the doors for us. Alfie and I were left with our noses up against the glass while she waited for the lift to go up. I was a bit gobsmacked.

I pushed the button to try and get the doors to open and let us in.

The lady just looked at us. She didnt even look sorry she hadn't held the doors. I would go so far as to say she even looked a bit smug.

Just then an act of divine intervention occurred.

The elevator went up about a foot and stopped.

This left the lady about face to face with me (she did have heels on and I'm not very tall.)

We both waited for the elevator to start again.

It didn't.

"The lift has stopped working" the lady mouthed to me through the glass.

"Yes..I can see that" I mouthed back.

"Help" she mouthed at me.

"Hmmm.." said my brain.

I was just about to help (really I was) when the man that runs the cafe by the lift came over and said "the lift isn't working again then," and proceeded to give the doors a bit of a bang and off the lift went. (Its a bit like that where I live.)

I can imagine it is very scary to get stuck in a lift so I am not poking fun at that by any means. But the incident has restored my faith in the motto "what goes around comes around" and indeed shows that it can sometimes go up and sometimes go down. Or not!

Have a lovely day x

2009-01-22T04:06:00.000-08:00

Someone emailed me this today and I thought it was funny...

A First year primary school pupil handed in this picture for her homework assignment:

After it was marked and the child brought it home, she returned to school the next day with the following note:

Dear Ms. Davis,

I want to be very clear on my child's illustration. It is NOT of me on a dance pole on a stage in a strip bar. I work at Homebase (Diy store) and had commented to my daughter how much money we made in the recent cold weather. This photo is of me selling a shovel.

Mrs. Harrington

More Reasons I am Not Quite Supermom

2009-01-21T12:33:00.000-08:00

1. Sometimes when my two boys are fighting over something I hide or pretend not to have noticed.
2. When the boys had been fighting for ages and I couldn't take it anymore I (once) put them in the garden, locked the door and told them I wasn't going to let them in until they stopped fighting.
3. When my kids shout Mommy it sometimes takes me a while to realise they mean me.
4. I use the TV as a babysitter so I can get on with jobs around the house.
5. I give them all raisins as they take a long time to eat so I can check my emails.
6. I told the kids that all cameras (ie speed cameras, CCTV etc) are actualy Father Christmas watching them and all the feeds go straight to his office at the North Pole.
7. I have told my eldest son that if he doesnt get dressed in the morning for school I will send him to school in his pyjamas..and then put him in the car and started to drive off while he was still in them.
8. Sometimes after putting them all in the car I go back to the hall to get my bag and lock the door and it is so lovely and peaceful I wish I could just leave them in the car and get on with some jobs.
9. I really can't watch Toy Story again. Ever. For the rest of my life.
10. My kids really really like to put on plays and shows for me. Nearly everyday. Most of the time I am thinking about what to cook for the next week and not really paying attention.

Canine Capers

2009-01-21T05:54:00.000-08:00

At some point in your parenting career the children start wanting a pet. You start off small..a hamster, some fish..maybe even a rabbit. Then they ask for a puppy.

In my case it wasn't the little children asking for a puppy. It was my big kid, Mr G, the perpetual Peter Pan. And he didn't just want a puppy. He wanted LOTS of puppies. We already had Maisy Moo and he wanted to breed her. I was 5 months pregnant when she got pregnant, 8 months when the puppies were born.

I know...they are so cute!

This is what happens.

They go from this:

To this:

Then they do this to your parcels....

And this to your windows:

And this to each other...

Start compiling your list of reasons why you can't have a dog. Right now. Then you will never be caught with your guard down and accidentally say yes.

My Nemesis

2009-01-20T12:52:00.000-08:00

10 reasons I am not a SuperMom

2009-01-19T02:54:00.000-08:00

1. My children call me Mean Mommy. Or sometimes just Meanie. Maybe this shows I am doing my parenting job correctly? I'm not convinced.
2. I dont allow glitter in my house. Never. Not since the Great Glitter Incident of 2003
3. I didn't notice Ryan went to school with his trousers on back to front until 7pm that night. Ditto Alfies shoes being on the wrong feet until he fell over.
4. I'm really really really pleased when the kids go to bed. I mean REALLY pleased. Bordering on ecstatic.
5. Sometimes I find playing Star Wars, pirates, teachers, or whatever the current game is really really boring.
6. Im always saying "in a minute" or "just give me 5 minutes."
7. I have on a few occasions not noticed my toddlers nappy needs changing until it is so saggy it falls down and pops out the bottom of his trouser leg.
8. I forgot it was my friends little boys party last Sunday. They had to call me halfway through the party to find out where I was.
9. I find it hard to remember my kids birthday dates. For some reason I get a bit confused.
10. I quite often call my children by each others names or by the dogs names.

A huge Thank you!!

2009-01-19T02:48:00.000-08:00

I wanted to say a huge thank you to Lindsey from Lindseyjoydesign.com for her help and patience with a beginner blogger from Britain! Im sure there are many times she wanted to hit the delete button on me especially when I ask some really silly questions. Lindsey really embodies a true definition of a Supermom..not only is she a mum, she is a missionary AND designs the most beautiful and modern blogs that I have ever seen. How she does it all is a mystery to me. Thanks Lindsey for all your kindness and patience.

Super Powers

2009-01-17T01:57:00.001-08:00

Despite falling far short of being a SuperMom even I possess a few little tricks up my sleeve in my quest to become a SuperMom! And in this odd world of parenthood quite often you suddenly discover you had hidden powers you never even knew about!

One of the things I never knew I could do before having kids was making cakes! Well..not actually making them...I'm still abit rubbish at that, but boy can I decorate! As I am Not quite a SuperMom I use a book called "Decorating kids cakes in 30 minutes or less." Its amazing and quite happily encourages you to buy shop bought cakes that you then decorate to make them look like you made the whole thing! Fantastic. My kids love choosing the cakes they will have for their birthday or the family cake for Christmas. Here are some pictures of a few cakes I made.

When I find more pictures I'll post them!
Did anyone notice our pirates look more like Cowboys?? They would be right!

My Krptonite

2009-01-17T01:46:00.000-08:00

...what stands in my way of being a Supermom

1. People who send cards with confetti pieces in them saying "happy birthday" or "congratulations" etc that exploded all over the floor when you open the card. Do these people not know:
A. What a choking hazard confetti represents to an inquistive crawling baby?
B. How long the mess will take to clean up?
C. For how many months I will be finding the bits of confetti? I found a Happy Easter one under the sofa at Christmas.

2. That man in Asda who told me that I shouldnt be allowed to drive a %^&*£!" trolley. He kind of had a point in that I was a bit distracted by a crying baby, Alfie crying because he wanted another Sonic Screwdriver and the fact that Asda had moved the dairy aisle so I was looking behind me...but still! Love thy neighbour and all that...

3. Asda. For:
A. moving the dairy aisle and leading to the incident above and
B. For having such long queues at the checkout that my eldest always needs a wee just as I have unloaded the last of the shopping onto the conveyor. What do you do? Whip out a bottle?

4. While on the subject of love thy neighbour... my over the road neighbour. More about her to come in My Nemesis. Every potential Superhero has one. Apparently.

5. My Hair. For being a perpetual nightmare, never doing what it's told and generally looking like a flock of birds have taken nest there.

6. The Dogs. Just as I mop the floors..they want to go out and dig up the garden. So when they come in my floors look the same as they did before I mopped them. They also:
A. Poo everywhere...mostly in the garden..but sometimes in the house. Mr G gags when he has to clean it up so poo duty is up to me. Somedays all I do is deal with poo (children + dogs)
B. Bring me pirates, socks, shoes and various random items at 3am. They want to play.
C. Pretend to shag all the time...even at 3am... ON MY BED!
D. Eat shoes..I only have 2 pairs left.
E. Take the knickers I had left on the floor after a night out to my Mother in Law in bed (she babysat that night and stayed over). Mother in Law came down to breakfast the next morning brandishing said knickers.
F. Lick their private parts and then try and lick the children. YUCK!

7. The Kumon lady. This is a direct quote from her email to me after I said Ryan was no longer going to be attending her after school classes (at £50 a month):

"It is such a shame that you did not grasp the concept of the Kumon programme. I always do warn people that Kumon will only fail you if it is run incorrectly at home and by what you have described it has been. You have a very bright little boy but I think your other family commitments have perhaps overshadowed this.

I wish you every success in the future and hope you will have time to nurture Ryan's potential."

Horrid lady. If I ever hate anyone in the world...it would be her.

Thats all for now..I'm sure I'll think of some more!

Don't talk to me about Winnie The Pooh

2009-01-15T13:43:00.000-08:00

I am taking great comfort in the fact that it isn't just me in this parenting partnership who is falling slightly short of expectations. As a New Years resolution BOTH Mr G and myself have decreed that we will take our children swimming EVERY Sunday to spend some quality time with the little ones. On our first ever "family swim" venture (normally its just me) Mr G declared (rather confidently I thought) that he would take our two boys and get them changed, leaving me with just the baby and the hope of a hairwash afterwards.

As he started opening the door to the changing room, I started issuing instructions: "Ryan needs his goggles in his swim bag and he likes to take his towel with him to the pool.. and Alfie's winnie the pooh swim nappy is in his swim bag."

Mr G gave me a look that was MEANT to tell me he was in full control. I wasn't so confident but I gave him the benefit of the doubt...

Nearly 35 minutes later Mr G and the boys joined me and Gracie in the pool. No kidding..it really was this long. Personally I was all for getting out the pool and having that hairwash I've been dreaming about. But seeing as this was a "family venture" Gracie and I stayed in to play in the water.

It was an amazing success! The boys were having a fantastic time showing Daddy how well they could swim and having rides on his back through the pool. Gracie was trying to drink the water and then getting suprised when it made her cough. Mr G and I even took turns to go in the hot-tub. It was actually going rather well!

Until Alfie got out the pool to jump in.

It was then that I noticed the horrendous error made by Mr G.

Alfie appeared to be struggling somewhat to walk along the side of the pool. Which was not suprising really...seeing as his nappy appeared to have soaked up about half of the pool water and the bottom part seemed to be languishing way beyond his knees and nearly way beyond the bounds of decency for a public pool. The nappy also had a picture of Lightening McQueen from the Disneys Cars film, although he was looking less sporty race car..more stretched limo.

It became painfully obvious that Mr G had got his Disney characters terribly confused.

On a day to day basis Alfie wears pullups featuring the Disney Cars characters.

The swim nappies had Winnie the Pooh on them.

Mr G stated in his defense that he thought I was so well organised (..does the man even know me at all??) that I had ALREADY put Alfies swim nappy on before we left the house. I countered with the fact that due to our recent trip to Disney he should therefore be far more up on his Disney knowledge than the average Joe...and why on earth did he think I mentioned winnie the pooh? Did he think I just go around mentioning winnie the pooh for no apparent reason?

At this point Alfies nappy fell off..with a rather large "pop" and burst a million little bits of sodden crystals (what is that stuff?) all across the poolside.

The moral of the tale?

Ensure that your husband takes regular quizzes on identifying the Disney characters.

Take great lengths to ensure he has no inflated opinion of your organisational powers.

Endeavour to make him think that you aren't such a "mummy" that you drop Winnie the Poohs name into every sentence (ie..."Gracie just loves Winnie the Pooh," or "I saw this really cute Winnie the Pooh toy today," or "the kids watched another episode of Winnie the Pooh this afternoon," or "tonight I read the kids a Winnie the Pooh story.") Otherwise I'm pretty sure he won't be listening when it matters.

Failing that..get the kids ready yourself and wash your hair when you get home.

And the winner is....?

2008-10-22T04:47:00.000-07:00

Do you think that for some of us winning just comes easy? Or is it a result of hard work, how we were parented as children or just a combination of good genes, luck and social situation? Or is it to do with how well we manipulate the system?

I'm trying really hard to install in my children the importance of playing fairly and the attitude that "it's not the winning that counts it's the taking part." Although I do sometimes pretend not to see when my children re roll the dice in snakes and ladders because they didnt get a six.

I have heard stories about the behaviour of some "soccer parents" at local junior club matches (and we are talking 5-7 year olds) shouting obscene abuse at their own and other childen during the game which is quite unacceptable. I've always sworn that I would never, ever, ever develop that type of unhealthy competitive streak.

That is until our annual Town in Bloom competition ran a miniature garden contest for 4-7 year olds.

My 6 year old was desperate to enter.

For some reason unbeknown to me...I was desperate for him to win.

I have no explanation of my need to win this competition...perhaps it was because neither myself or my son are "born winners" and I just wanted him to feel good.

I feel bad about the following story.
Really, I do.
It is not my finest hour.

We called our garden (note: our garden...not his!) Grandads Garden...mainly because I knew that the competition would be judged by the older generation and this was guaranteed to score some points. After raiding our farm set and a not so cheap trip to the local dolls house emporium we were ready to make the garden. On a beautiful sunny summers day we sat outside clutching our plastic shovels, filling our seed tray with sand and laying our expensive fake turf. It was bliss. My 2 year old was in heaven emptying the sand from the sandpit and putting it all over the patio. The baby was just enjoying the sunshine and the breeze. It was all going well until we reached the garden design stage. Having spent many weeks thinking about the optimial design for the garden I was very taken aback when my eldest son decided to scrap our original plan and go with something "off the cuff."

"But Darling", I said, "Should we not put the water feature next to the patio so that when grandad is relaxing in his (very expensive) deckchair on the ( also very pricey terracotta tiled) patio, he has something interesting to look at?"
"No." said my 6 year old. "I want it to go in the corner over there."

No matter how much I tried to persuade him that the water feature...and the garden bench would look much better elsewhere, it was to no avail. It was at this point that..(CAUTION...shameful moment coming up)...that I threw my plastic shovel on the floor and told him: "Well...just do it your way then if you dont want to win."

I know.
I am so embarressed.
I dont know what came over me.

When I had calmed down a bit I agreed through gritted teeth that maybe the water feature would look better over in the corner. Hidden by the Acer. Obscured from view. And there it stayed.

Needless to say..we won. My son was overjoyed. I was racked with guilt as it was a bit of a dead cert. I felt bad for all the other children (and really bad for the mums) who had spent hours and hours putting tonnes of glitter on things to make their fairy gardens. My hubbie laughs everytime about how well I (a 30 year old woman) did in the 4-7 minature garden category. And my son polishes his trophy every night.

I'm not proud of my behaviour. But I am already planning our next years entry.

a cinderella story

2008-10-20T04:51:00.000-07:00

By 10am this morning I felt like I was living my very own Cinderella story, sadly minus the handsome prince (he's busy at work), the beautiful dress and shoes (I'm in my tracksuit and trainers) and the fairy godmother (she's on vacation....I have no idea when she will be back.)

All the other important elements were there though: the carriage (my MPV on the school run), the mopping and cleaning caused by the three ugly stepsisters (actually my children who are not technically ugly or sisters...there are 2 boys and a girl.) But there are three of them with very high demands so for the purpose of this blog the analogy will have to do.

And let us not forget the mice.

Thankfully we dont have a mouse infestation..but mice did feature heavily in the weekly Jo Jingles class I dragged my 2 year old and 8 month old to at 9 this morning. As usual it was tipping down with rain as I arrived with no parking space available within a 10 mile radius (well..not quite that far but it felt like it carrying two children with a combined weight of nearly 4 stone.)

We have been attending this "music appreciation" class for a few years now and I have yet to appreciate the music made by 16 under 3's together. Dont get me wrong..I dont have high expectations as far as music goes and my taste in music is questionable at best. But the noise created by allowing all those children access to drums and beaters is enough to make you want to quit parenthood altogether and go work in a library.

About halfway through the class the very enthusiastic teacher declared that we all needed to get up and for the next song we were going to pretend to run quickly like little mice and then slowly like a garden snail. I was up for the slowly part..but running? Like a mouse? At 9am? Really?

I tried to stay sat down.

Unfortunately I was the only one.

To my surprise all the other mums seemed fairly up for it. Some of them even made little squeaky noises. I kept an eye out for the hidden cameras as I was slightly concerned this was some kind of trick and that the footage will appear on YouTube later.

This mouse incident is only the latest in a series of embarressing incidents the teacher has made us do recently. Thankfully the last one happened to my husband the one and only time he has ever attended the class. That time he had to demonstrate Morris Dancing, complete with little bells on his knees and scarves. I got disco dancing and ballet the weeks I went and needless to say my husband was pretty devastated about his lot.

When he came back...in a slight state of shock...he asked if this kind of public humiliation happened to me alot. I wanted to deny that my life was one big humiliation and paint a picture of a glamourous Yummy Mummy effortlessly gliding through the day while looking fantastic in designer outfits. But I just couldn't. My tracksuit still had the remains of the babys lunch on it.