Dear Landlord

Dear Landlord

May I start by thanking you for allowing us to live in your magnificent house, especially when so many other landlords had said absolutely not to 4 young kids.  And thank you for having such an efficient smoke alarm, as we discovered in January when my middle son nearly burnt the house down.

I am most impressed at your laid back attitude to us having to break the bathroom door down to release my trapped youngest son just 3 days into our tenancy agreement;  and the glass chandelier that fell from the dining room ceiling when batted with a hurling stick by my eldest son.

I would just like you to know that the brown stains on the soap dispenser and in the grout of the tiles in the downstairs loo are not poo stains.  They are from chocolaty hands at Easter.  And I promise to try and remember to buy some cillit bang next week.

Please do not worry about the split water pipe in the back garden that leads to the tap.  I have put loads of duct tape around it and a jubilee clip, just in case!
I have fixed the ice dispenser in your expensive American style fridge freezer after one of the twins "did something to it" and steam cleaned the strawberry stain that was artistically and lovingly created by my daughter on the cream carpet in the sitting room.

I am not entirely sure which child pulled the sealant out from around the window frame in the end bedroom or broke the drain pipe outside.  I have quite a good idea which one blocked the drain at the side of the house and didn't tell me for 5 weeks.   I do, however, have to admit that it was totally my fault and purely by accident that I washed a disposable nappy in your washing machine.

I would also just like to reassure you that I am not stalking you or your wife.  It is purely by chance that when I am doing something, like weeding the pavement, which could gain me 'The Most Conscientious Tenant' award, that you drive past.

Although I cannot promise that my children will always be fully clothed (or even partially clothed) in the garden when you or the neighbours walk past, or that I won't let out a roar at them that will disturb this lovely, quiet neighbourhood; I will pay the rent on time and replace anything we break.  We look forward to renewing our tenancy agreement in 8 months time.

Yours sincerely

Uh oh... here come the Chav Family (if your English) or the Knacker Famiy (if your Irish)!

Welcome back, long time no write!  Well it has been Easter hols and we have had Irish visitors so I have had a busy time.  But it really has been a great time.  We went out every day to somewhere exciting but with 2 adults and 6 kids in tow, we did get some looks.

I tend to have a bit of a rule for myself with my kids which is - Choose your battles wisely.  Based on this rule I hope that it means I won't constantly be at them (and they get a bit of freedom to be kids).  However, they are young and adventurous (or should I say mischievous!).  I let them run ahead, climb on things, be loud in open spaces and have been confident that is acceptable.

BUT, this Easter has made me realise something...... when you live in an area that is so posh there isn't and Aldi for 20 miles, behaviour like theirs does not go down so well!  No longer can I stand on a pavement like in Ireland and screech at my kids for running too far ahead; Now, with a slightly raised voice, I have to say "Darlings, that's far enough, come back to Mummy now" in my best Queen's English voice!

I have suddenly become aware that maybe to other people it looks like my kids are out of control and I don't care.  Then, if I do have to shout I just sound like a right knacker!!  Also, maybe I am bias, but I don't think my children are badly behaved; I just think there are a lot of them of a similar age.  If, as many passers-by think, I was a child minder, I would probably get reported. 

And what does "Oh you have your hands full" really mean?  I am not coping?  I am not in control? or maybe "God I wouldn't swap places with you for any amount of money"! 

So is there a solution?  I'm not sure yet.  I am toying with the idea of hanging a sign around my neck that simply says "if you could do better, you are welcome to try!"

Dear Husband

Dear Husband

May I start this letter by simply saying "I love you". 

When you are working away I miss you.  In fact I miss you so much that I could not help but wear your new, only worn 3 times (once by you and twice by me) grey hoodie just to feel close to you; to smell you; to feel you are near me. 

I think that your daughter felt the same as when I put on your nearly new hoodie this morning she kept saying "dadda dadda".  Normally, if you were home I would be shhushing her quiet in hope that you would not notice I was wearing one of your jumpers.  But today I said "Yes honey, it's Daddy's jumper" and carried on my day.

And I am truly convinced that she also wanted to feel close to you when she threw her arms around me and left spaghetti bolognese hand prints on the sleeves and back of your hoodie.  I am also convinced that when she rubbed her gorgeous but somewhat orange face into the front of your now not so new looking hoodie, she just wanted to smell you.

Anyway, I hope work is going well.

Lots of love
XXXXX

Addict or Opportunist?

Ok, it is time to come clean and be honest with myself.  I am a TOTAL addict.  I would vaguely class myself as addicted (but more of an opportunist) to some things in my life, like the odd cigarette, but I would literally do ANYTHING for a jam donut.

I have recently found myself going to extreme measures to have one (or maybe 2 or 3).  These measures have included trampling small children to get to the last bag on the shelf and even, I'm sad to admit, eating a stale one.  Last night I found myself counting the remaining donuts in the bag - 3; only 3 of my 4 children eat donuts but then where is mine?  So I hid them!! How awful is that?

And to top that, if I'm trying to be good, I will eat into the donut until I get to the jam, eat the jam and then leave a tiny bit of jamless donut remaining.  Who am I kidding?

Note to self....... JUST DON'T BUY THEM!

It's all a load of c**p

To what lengths will I go to lose the flab for summer?  Well to give you an idea, if you have read my previous posts, I go to the gym (occasionally but not often enough to get trim), own an exercise hula hoop (used and failed at once) and now I have to shamefully admit to being scammed online!

It's bloody ridiculous!  I fell for a wonder product advertised as a free trial and just £2.49 p+p only to get a call from my wonderful bank(thank goodness) telling me they had not authorised payment..... payment of TWO amounts of £127.59!!  When I got the call two things happened in my head.

1. Why hadn't payment been authorised? Was I over drawn? Shit! I couldn't have spent that much recently, surely?
2. The man on the phone was foreign, the line was bad and he knew an awful lot about my spending habits (thank goodness I had decided against buying those sex toys!).  I am very embarrassed to admit that it crossed my mind that I hadn't actually been scammed but I was about to be!

No, payment wasn't authorised due to lack of funds but due to 'suspicion' on the banks part (again, thank goodness) and as soon as I got off the phone to 'the bank' I rang them back to check the call was above board.

This has led to me having to cancel my card and await a new one in the post.

So, exhausted from the last 2 hours of ringing the fat loss pill company and the bank several times and all in the aid of the perfect body, all I want now is a big, fat triple gin and loads of chocolate.

Maybe the universe is trying to tell me something!

The She Devil Hour

Today is going to be one of those days..... you know the ones; you had a really bad night's sleep; the kids have all woken early and are moaning and arguing already and every time they open their mouths it is to demand I get off my bum and get them something. 

I have heard about 'the witching hour' for children; in fact I was interviewed by a national paper about how to deal with that time of the day when the kids are all cranky.  But I am yet to find advice on how to handle a mummy's witching hour. 

At 7am I am already preparing myself for that time this evening when, in a blink I go from caring, loving mummy to a towering 10ft, clothes ripping over my bulging muscles, foaming at the mouth SHE DEVIL.

It is like someone has flicked a switch and nothing can talk me out of it.  I stomp around the house throwing things into the sink / laundry basket counting the minutes till bed time.   I do more than I usually would at this time of night, just to make a point of how busy / tired / at the end of my tether I am.  Of course, I am trying to make a point which totally washes of the heads of my children.  I would throw myself on the floor and flail my hands and legs around if I thought I could get up again without assistance. 

And then I hear them talking to each other in my She Devil language.  They throw things like "I'm not listening to you in that whingey voice" and "When I say NOW, I mean NOW" at each other.  Bearing in mind that not one of them is over the age of 6, it is obvious where they are getting from.

So what can I do to survive and tame the beast that is brewing inside?  I think I will prep the dinner early, have the pyjamas on them by 6pm and set sky to record their favourite programs.

Today is going to be a long, long day where the thought of going out is exhausting but the thought of staying in with bored kids is .... well.... more exhausting (and could raise the devil earlier than expected).  So whilst I prepare my antichrist make up and sew up my clothes from last night, I make a mental note to go and buy some rescue remedy, a couple of mini bottles of gin and lots of chocolate!

A Wee Letter For You. X

Dear Future Wife / Partner of my Boys

I want to send you my sincerest apologies for the apparent lack of training your husbands / partners have.  It has been with best intentions and perseverance that I have tried to teach them to put down the toilet seat when finished, wash their hands and turn the bathroom light off.  I have reiterated time and time again about toilet etiquette but I fear, at this stage, they will be flying the coop with only the basics in toilet manners (in that they will use the toilet instead of a bush outside).

I also need to give you a serious warning and a bit of advice.  I have tried every method found on the internet and a few homemade solutions to try and get them to aim into the bowl but without success.  At some point during the relieving themselves process, they have been known to miss to bowl quite spectacularly.  I have tried using ping pong balls in the bowl to aim at; I have tried reward based training; I have resorted to punishment training (no sweets for a week type thing) but it is still literally hit and miss with them. So my advice for when you are designing your bathroom in your first house, or looking at your first rental property, is make sure behind the toilet is tiled from floor to ceiling and sealed with the best sealant money can buy.

I want to further wish you luck and thank you for 'relieving' me of all house training responsibility.

With lots of love
Your most grateful
Mother in Law

Say it like it is why don't you!

I have just been given a hula hoop!  Not your average hula hoop but one with no less than 48 'soft massage balls' on the inside which 'press on the abdominal, back, hip and buttock muscles'.  This is obviously supposed to be an exercise tool with added massage bonus.  I have just had a go (if you can call it that). 

Expecting to be transported from fat to thin and toned in a few easy hulas with the light touch of a persnaully trained masseuse, I was sorely (literally) disappointed!  The massage balls bloody hurt and I think I achieved one and half rotations before it fell to the floor scraping the skin from my ankles.  I was also surprised it didn't get caught on my huge behind and just hang there like it had found its forever home.  I don't like to fail so thinking of my options, I might try to tuck the hoop in between my two spare tyres and give it another try.

But what I do like about this hoop is the packaging!  it reads -
"Hoop also consumed more calories than conventional hoops. (fat people : 4.62kca per minute)"

Immediately I wondered if they had met me as it is safe to say they have not beaten about the bush in their description of the user!  However it also depicts a slender, big busted cartoon character donning a sweat band on her forehead, spinning the hoop with weights in her hand.  Maybe one day, but for now I am going to work on finding a way to rig it up to the light fitting so it stays up whilst I shake my bits at it.  Wonder if this is going to be a night time activity for when no one is around and the curtains are closed?

Fit in or F*** Off

As I stroll around one of the trendy high street stores looking to update my wardrobe, I supress the urge to stand at the shop entrance shouting "DO NOT ENTER UNLESS YOU ARE A SIZE 12 OR LESS" or something on the lines of "ENTER AT THE RISK OF LEAVING WITH AN ITEM THAT WILL NEVER FIT YOU BY THE SUMMER".

My favourite pair of jeans, bought for one Euro from a charity shop, has now got a large hole in the knee and the start of a rip in the bum.  I have been told this is trendy but at my age and size I can just see the unfortunately embarrassing scene unfolding in front of me.  It goes something like this.... I am out in a very busy public place, say - Tesco; I have all of the children with me and one of them sticks their hand out of the trolley whilst I am speeding down an isle and knocks a whole row of packaged pasta on the floor.  In a flurry of embarrassment and annoyance I bend down to pick them up and ..... you guessed it.... the bottom of my jeans give way to reveal the pants I have owned for 9 years, elastic trailing out of them and a hole in the gusset! (Of course I haven't tackled the forest for a while either).  In shock I quickly try to work out what to do next... Do I carry on picking up the pasta, or try and find the children that have done a bunk, or sod the trolley, sod the children and make a run for the nearest shelter?  I can't answer this question but I do know one thing..... from now on I'm doing online shopping!

Anyway, back to clothes shopping, I would like nothing more than a comfy pair of jeans but I just don't fit in to the normal shape.  I'm not pear shaped, wine glass or even an upside down triangle.  To give you an idea, I have huge eyes, small nose, huge mouth, small boobs, large waist and tiny toes!  You can get jeans for ladies with long legs, short legs, big hips, large bums, petite, flared, bootcut to hide big ankles, but nowhere have I seen jeans that go in at the hip and out at the waist.  And what is with making hipsters to fit women over a size 12?  All that happens is the folds of flab droop unattractively over the waistband... and they are bloody uncomfortable.

So as I abandon the trendy shops, I head to the M&S, Debenhams type shops that cater for young and OLDER and seek out some jeans that have such a high waist band I can tuck my tits into it.

Wish me luck.

How often do you 'do it'?

Be honest ladies, on a day like today (Mother's Day) when in theory we are supposed to do NOTHING, let me ask you, how often do you do it?  Change beds and wash bath towels I am talking about.
I was pondering this question whilst making tea for the kids (seems no one has told them it's Mother's Day) and thinking of all the housework I should do today.  I think the beds are ready for a change of linen but I usually have to plan this a week in advance to get the pile of clothes washing as small as possible.  I think two loads a day is quite enough washing for any normal woman to tolerate so why add to it?

I have never really known what is 'good practice' when it comes to changing bedding.  Weekly?  Monthly?  With the children's beds (as it such a tedious job that takes me at least half an hour) I tend to change them when either, all of the poppers have opened or the duvet inside has got so dislodged I can no longer shake it out flat without taking the cover off.  AND I think any of these bunk beds / high sleepers, even mid sleeps should come with a health warning for adults that reads - "WARNING damage to yourself is highly possible when trying to change a fitted sheet to this bed."  And you would think changing the single beds would be the easiest.  It then comes to our bed, it's only a double but we have a king sized duvet.  I'm amazed that we can put a man on the moon yet no one has invented a machine for putting covers on duvets.  There is a knack to it, and honestly?  I think I'm quite good at it.  But really, it's a workout of its own.

So with all of the excuses in hand, how often should I be changing the beds?  I will NEVER iron bed linen!

Are there people out there that wash their bath towels after every use?  This is maybe a slightly more personal subject than bed linen.  Should they be changed, daily, weekly or when they start smelling of feet?

I go on further in my thoughts wondering if today, I will be able to do NOTHING or will housework get the better of me?

Happy Mother's Day. X

Dear 'my' Mum

Dear Mum
Welcome to my blog spot.  I hope it doesn't embarrass you!
Just to let you know, I aint spell checkin or gramma checkin or nuffink like dat!  Hope you enjoy.
Lots of love
X

Spot the Difference

Now I don't want to have a rant this early in the morning but I'm sure I went through my teens secure in the knowledge that teenage acne was exactly that ...TEENAGE acne.  So why do I find myself, at my age, waking up to a really sore, massive, under the skin (so can't yet be seen, but you know it's going to big hugely obvious in a couple of days) bump on my chin?  This is all whilst there is a formation of some complicated star constellation exploding on my forehead. 

And at a time in my life when I am turning to anti-wrinkle creams that moisturise and make your skin 'spring back' into place and 'plump up' (which just makes the blackheads look bigger), I am using facial washes that dry out all the pores.

And whilst Olay, like many other manufacturers, have a cream that fights the seven signs of aging, could they not add a little zit zapping in to the mix?  Or maybe women of my age are not supposed have an acne problem.  And - are the 7 signs of aging supposed to be like the 7 wonders of the world?  Embrace them as spectacularly beautiful, a true natural wonder and another reason why women are so amazingly special.  Well if this is the case then why are we spending loads of money on creams that claim to fix our 7 wonders?

If I could buy one cream that would fix the seven wonders of ageing of my choosing it would tackle -
1. Facial hair (in fact I would consider including big toe hair in that)
2. Varicos eveins
3. Sagging boobs
4. Bingo wings
5. Weak bladder
6. Not being able to think quickly enough to shout the right name at my misbehaving child, and then have to go quickly through all of the names in the household until I get the right one (and out loud just to make me look even more incompetent in front of them).
7. Aging acne

Whilst writing this I have decided to view my aging wonders with the same appreciation I have for my stretch marks.  I worked hard to get them, suffered long to grow them and now with pride, I look at my children and think 'You did that'!

Say what?

I woke up this morning wondering about sayings that people use.  Although I have not quite woken up and haven't had my first coffee, I am trying to work out if maybe everyone else is right and I am seriously in need of a mental health assessment.

For example, one I hear regularly is "Cloud cuckoo land"........  Is that not a mix up of two sayings?  And if it is don't the two sayings mean totally different things?  Being "in cuckoo land" means going a little la la yes? and being "on cloud nine" means being deliriously happy?  So does "cloud cuckoo land" mean being deliriously happily mad?..... hummm think I might quite like to visit that land.

Then the saying "that went down like a lead balloon", I believe is an expression used when maybe something does not go down well?  But wouldn't a lead balloon go down really well?  And of course I understand the concept behind this one; a lead balloon wouldn't work.  But, hypothetically, if a balloon went up and then turned into lead at a certain altitude it would come back down really efficiently.

"Over the hill", "it's all downhill from here"......... are these used to express the current situation is only going to get worse?  But surely going downhill is much easier than up so things can only get better, no?  Maybe that is wishful thinking on my part as I see my 40th on the horizon.

But then a population of people using these expressions can't be wrong so maybe I must accept that I am "thinking too much about it" and sit gazing out of the window daydreaming about cloud cuckoo land and the best way to get there.