WATCH OUT, THERE`S A NEW PARTY ABOUT

IMG_0185

If the boys had their own political party it would most definitely be called the “It´s mine, not yours” party. (IMNY to its followers)
Their manifesto would be something along the lines of this ;

TIRED OF RULES, ROUTINES, BEDTIMES AND PERSONAL HYGIENE? VOTE IMNY!

WHAT WE STAND FOR:
It´s time we showed those rulemakers that it’s time to play (literally) our way;

EDUCATION: No need for school, we can learn all we need from Star Wars, Cbeebies, Frozen and Lego

WORK: No need to go to work, we will grow money trees next to the lego and chocolate and ham trees.

CLOTHES: Who needs them? Run free!

BEDTIME: What is the point of that? You snooze when you choose. Fancy a nap between 5pm and 9pm? Nap on!

TIDYING UP: We are aiming to abolish tidy bedrooms by 2016, much easier to find things if they are all over the floor and under the sofa than hidden away.

PARENTS: We have thought a long time about how to deal with this major problem that blights our daily fun, but we aim to teach them to know their limits. By Christmas 2015, each citizen will be handed a buzzer, linked directly to their parent, when drinks or food are needed press the buzzer and your parent will come running, we will also issue full skivvy work uniforms for them as well as a direct link to other parents in the circumstance that you can’t get hold of your parent, or they can’t get to you quick enough

HOLIDAYS: by June 2015, we hope to implement a 365 day holiday a year.

SHARING: the main principle of IMNY is that there will be no need to share ever again, everybody will have what they want on tap, this will eradicate the risk of fighting and jealousy, leading to a harmonious kingdom run by me, not you.

WHO´S IN?
You! Step away from the barren reward chart and worn naughty step. The IMNIES are waiting!

WHO´S OUT?
Anybody who thinks routines are the way forward and uses the word No, more than once a day. (You know who they are)

DON’T WASTE YOUR VOTE, IMNY IS WAITING FOR YOU!

 

 

Kids corner 4_zpsttj55osm

Share This:

SEEING AS YOU ASKED…..

At the moment, I seem to have a lot of friends who are pregnant, about to pop or have just given birth. Every now and again somebody asks me for parenting tips. Although flattering, this makes me laugh a lot as I have spent the last five years, fifty three days, nine hours and thirty five minutes blagging, making it up as I go along. hoping for the best and that nobody cottons on to the fact that I am the equivalent of a lorry driver without a licence.

Nervous laughter pretending we both know what to do .......

Nervous laughter, pretending I know what to do …….

Eight things that might be of some use are;

1. If you are in the shower and your vision suddenly goes super blurry and a bit streaky, before panicking check you’re not still wearing your glasses.

2. If you want your baby who won`t poo to do so, put on your most favourite clothes, place baby naked on your lap and hey presto, they will poo to their bottom´s content.

3. Random strangers know best. They know more than you do and ever will about your child, be prepared for helpful comments whilst you try to calm your screaming purple faced offspring. The classics are “He`s too hot” “He`s too cold” “He`s hungry” “His coat is too tight” “He doesn’t like your singing” There is always the option of breaking out some kung fu moves, but the reality is you’re probably too shattered to even lift your leg and arm at the same time and if you do resort to violence, you will not only have to sort out childcare while you are behind bars, but also deal with separation anxiety early on. At the time of writing, there is unfortunately still no known cure for randomstrangerknowsmorethanyou-itis , so you just have to grin and bear it, sing really loudly, or before leaving the safe confines of your house go crazy with the facepaints to create the I`ve come out in some mysterious highly contagious rash look; it works wonders.

4. You bottle feed? Great! You breastfeed? Great! What matters is that your baby is getting fed, not how. Just because you do one or the other, or both doesn’t make you an any better or worse a mum. It makes you equally as awesome and probably zonked as the next mum. Besides, both bottles and boobs have the tendency to leak in inappropriate situations.

5. If you have a dog, it will spend the rest of its life with this facial expression.
DSCF1611

6. Your child is not my child. It is a sad fact that people tend to compare their parenting skills to others. Just because their three and a half week old can count to 99 in Russian, French and Swahili, it doesn’t mean you are an inadequate parent. It’s pretty impressive that yours can puke, poo and scratch you all at the same time.

7. Postnatal depression is incredibly common and doesn’t mean you are failing in any way, it means you need to talk to somebody and you mustn`t be afraid to ask for help. The sooner it can be diagnosed, the sooner you can be helped. Here are some signs and symptoms to watch out for (taken from http://www.pandasfoundation.org.uk)

• Low mood for a long period of time
• Irritable
• Emotional
• Panic attacks
• Lack of concentration and motivation
• Lack of interest in your new baby and yourself
• Feeling alone
• Difficulty sleeping or feeling constantly tired
• Tension – headaches, stomach pains or blurred vision
• Decrease in appetite or increased appetite
• Reduced sex drive
• Feeling useless, worthless and guilty
• Feeling overwhelmed with situations
• Unrealistic expectations of motherhood

It is NOTHING to be ashamed or embarrassed of and as the late Bob Hoskins said “It’s good to talk” and I most certainly wish I had.

8. This is possibly the best discovery I have ever made, your child(ren) has no clue that you have no clue. It`s perfect. Until they get their own opinions and realise the power they possess in their squooshy cheeks, you are technically their leader. Enjoy it while it lasts! (approx the time it takes to come round from giving birth.)
DSCF5697

 

wineandboobs

Share This:

TOPPLE LIKE A TODDLER

I never thought I would utter these words, but Madonna and me have something in common. We both had a topple in public. Granted, Madonna’s crowd was about a zillion deep and all eyes were on her, my crowd comprised of hundreds of freezing parents clapping at their offspring´s graduation. Also, mine was in a cathedral , not a swanky venue and I don’t think anybody noticed mine, not even my Mum who had been kindly seated behind a pillar.

I had been terrified about falling off the rickety stage , but I needn’t have worried about that as what actually happened was that in my relief at receiving my scroll (is that what it’s even called?) and not crashing to the ground , I leant forward , tripped over my feet and watched in stilted slow motion horror as my cap flew off my head and kept going as if it had accidentally lost its way from Hogwarts.

Cue, me stretching out like a drunk octopus and somehow managing with a bit of a mix between a run and a star jump catching it before it fell with a thud. I was ever so slightly mortified. My “friends” were highly amused and still are to this day.

Madonna, however, handled it with grace and managed to carry on unscathed. If that had been a toddler who had toppled down the stairs, they would have;

a: thrown the world`s largest most vocal tantrum, pointing fingers at everybody and screeching until everything , everywhere came to a standstill.

b: laughed uncontrollably and pulled everybody else down too.

c: hopped back on stage and done it over and over and over again.

d: probably found something to eat whilst on the ground and discovered a secret tunnel.

e: managed to locate you in the crowd and blame you for letting them wear the cape. After all, it is always your fault, remember?

 

IMG_3203

Share This:

SEVEN THINGS I ALWAYS FORGET TO REMEMBER……

IMG_7617

1. When your (any) child says “I don’t want any more of this lasagna/ biscuit/ squashed banana” Do not under any circumstances finish it off. Leave it out on the side for at least three and a half days, as the second it hits your belly or the dark depths of the bin, there will be a loud wail and a monumental tantrum as you fail to produce said biscuit or congealed banana.

2. Nosebleeds; I am actually considering getting a tattoo of the correct procedure. Every time there is a nosebleed (where does ALL that blood come from?!), I go blank, trying to remember if it’s head up or down, blow or squeeze, flip child upside down or sideways or take a photo for a future blog post.

3. Nappies; Never ever check whether your child has done a poo or a wee by putting your finger in their nappy. Believe me.

4. Don´t ever talk about how well your child gets on with other children to anybody, don’t even accommodate the thought. The moment this smugness leaves your mouth, your child will be pummeling all the other ones to the ground, followed by a star jump on their bellies for good measure.

5. In the same vein, never say out loud “No, they haven’t wet the bed for ages” (Cue; a night of changing sheets and beds and you all end up sleeping in the kitchen) or “No, they haven’t been ill this term”; Congratulations! You have just invited the plague to visit your house.

6. Don’t entrust your child with a secret of any size, unless you live on a desert island only populated by banana trees or want all and sundry and their dog´s dog to know it.

7. There is absolutely NO point in cleaning your house, ever. Not even the most hidden corner of it, not until your children are at least 37 years old.

 

Badge-150-x-150

Share This:

Literally….

IMG_6922

The boys are tri-lingual, I speak to them in English, S in Catalan and at school the majority of their classmates are Spanish speaking. Sometimes they get muddled and come out with literal translations like I’m really hungry to see my friend or I have no poo, when asked if they need the loo. This gave me a flashback to a boy I sat opposite on a train once, who had obviously just learnt the word literally. It was brilliant. His conversations went pretty much like this “ Literally, here’s a cheese crisp” “Today is literally Friday.”

I am pretty sure all children take idioms literally but I’m not sure that all children react in quite the overly dramatic way mine do ….

SIX THINGS MY CHILDREN TAKE LITERALLY / JUST DON`T GET

1. “We need to get our skates on, we´re late for school”

Response: “NOOOOO! My teacher said no skating at school, No skates, she`ll take them off me and I’ll get cold feet.”

2. Rhyming sentences such as “Let’s go Jo!” or “Don’t worry Murray!”

Response: A whole day of saying ” I’m not Jo or Murray, Why are you calling me that? Who’s Jo? Why don’t you know my name?”

3. “It’s raining cats and dogs”

Response: “ What?! Quick hide, they will squash our house!” “I don’t like dogs, where are they?” (said a bit tearfully)

4. “Stop pulling your willy, it will fall off!”

Response: Cunnning smile spreads across face as he saunters off to convince little brother to pull his willy.

5. “Have you got ants in your pants?”

Response: Half naked children in supermarket queue.

6. “I`m your Mum and you´re my son”

Response: Silence as bottom lip starts to quiver, “I want to be the moon, not the suuuuun.”

Share This:

IT’S O.K TO BE DIFFERENT

IMG_2670

I am not a violent person. However, if ONE more random stranger dares to point out that the boys “are very different, aren`t they?” with negative connotations mostly aimed at the non-show off of the two. I shall have to take action with whatever I have about my person (Most likely a stray lego brick , a snotty wetwipe or a soggy banana)

I am fully aware my children are different, and eternally grateful for it! If they were exactly the same I wouldn’t have needed to think of a name for the second , I could have just called them O and O, also quite honestly I actually don’t know if I would be able to cope if they had exactly the same personality traits. Variety is the spice of life and all that jazz. If they wrote their own personal ads F´s would read like this:

      3 year old male; slapstick hilarious, not frightened of anything,except for vegetables. Very good at getting out of tricky situations by putting on the charm. Interests: showing off to the max, making an almighty mess, kissing and dressing up.

and O’s:

                    4 year old male; dry sense of humour, very caring, very good at hiding when in trouble. Interests: Lego, crumpets and Lego. In fact, everything EXCEPT for School. 

  I think that I am particularly adverse to people comparing the boys negatively because when we were younger I was “the chatty one” and my sister was the “quiet one”. Nothing wrong with that, but when my sister went to the primary school I had just left, a teacher constantly compared her to me so much so that my Mum promptly whisked her out of that school and into one which I had never been to and she blossomed and was quite the queen bee.

It is natural to compare, we all do it. It’s how we gauge normality, development and tastes. I just think that when it comes to characters, it pays to be respectful and accepting. Yes, the boys are different  and I know I am nauseatingly biased, but for me they are as hilarious, as manic, as wonderful, as annoying, as loud, as quiet, as brilliant, as grumpy and as cuddly as each other. It just manifests itself in different ways. There are days when F is quiet and O shows off to new heights and when they are in  cahoots it can be flipping exhausting. Good exhausting but this is where a clone, a magic wand or a troop of staff would come in handy.

They may be different but I love them exactly, head over heels , not a lego brick in it, completely the same.

Share This:

THE SALT OF LIFE

In general, I don´t have many helpful pearls of wisdom to share but i have discovered something that I feel the need to holler about, very loudly. Apologies if I am the only person on this planet who didn’t know this potentially lifesaving nugget of information.

Yesterday, I decided to cook sausages on the electric grilling machine which S is always raving about. The sausages were sizzling happily while two hungry children took it in turns to ask why lunch was taking 100 years. All of a sudden, there was a rocket type “WHOOOOOSH” actually more of a “WHOOOOMPH” as the whole grill-side of the kitchen became engulfed in rapidly growing flames. Panic stricken, I looked around for something to smother the fire with but all I could spy through my frightened eyes was a sock.

IMG_6475

As tempting as it was to fight the rising flames with a tiny sock, I ran across the landing, (plus side of living in a flat) and in the style of a 999 reconstruction, hammered on the neighbour’s door , only to run back inside followed by my neighbour who valiantly stretched around the flames and unplugged the grill, then plonked a plate on top of the flames and yelled for um………….. SALT.

IMG_6467

I flung it at him and he calmly doused the flaming sausages with the salt (I thought twice about writing flame-grilled) and put out the fire!  A quick google search confirms that yes indeed, salt is a fabulous weapon when faced with a grease fire (it also went on to say that you could put out a camp fire with wee, but to do it privately…)

I was in awe and wanted to hug my neighbour and the now empty salt pot. We were both a bit stunned and he broke the news to me that we wouldn’t be able to eat the sausages, which made me laugh a lot, relieved that the only casualties were the sausages and the grill, rather than the boys or the building.

How is it possible that they are still a bit pink?!

How is it possible that they are still a bit pink?!

Boy 1 and Boy 2, who had been watching in excited trepidation from a safe viewing point, whooped and cheered for our quick thinking superhero neighbour and of course the salt, before remembering that they were still ravenously hungry.

That afternoon, I spent a good fews hours trembling while one zillion “What ifs” zoomed round my mind. Luckily the boys had found the whole thing massively and weirdly exciting.  “We´re super brave, like Luke Skywalker” they exclaimed  tucking into their long awaited lunch of potatoes and chocolate snowmen.

The thing that was most terrifying was the speed of it, how in one split second everything could have changed. At bedtime, Boy 1 turned to me and said  “You need to be friends with Fireman Sam, he knows what to do.” I make a note to put Sam on speed dial and to stock up on salt then I kiss the boys goodnight, eternally grateful that somebody or something had most definitely been looking out for us all and vow never to cook sausages ever again.

Me, not doing a very good job of staying calm by Boy 1.

Me, not doing a very good job of staying calm, while the neighbour smoothly extinguishes the flames. @Otis.

Share This:

And the walls came tumbling down

The other day a friend gave us a gingerbread house kit. Flattered that she obviously thought I was some kind of domestic Blue Peter presenter type goddess, we ripped open the box with gusto and washed our hands with wetwipes, ready for our first foray into self builds.

On discovering that all there was in the box was the biscuit and a diagram of a duchess potato bag, I phoned my cake making friend just to confirm that we stuck it together with mashed potato? No, apparently icing sugar, which we didn’t have. But we did have melted chocolate, which doesn’t do the same thing. Neighbour to the rescue and a ton of icing sugar is thrown(literally) into the mix, so it now resembles  “pooey toothpaste”

One helper down (“This is taking 100 years”), our journey to our very own  Hansel and Gretel paradise went like this….

IMG_5595

After an infinity of snapped doors ( “so Father Christmas doesn’t get stuck in the chimney”) We got the roof on ! Get us! Grand Designs, here we come!

IMG_5596

Then the roof caves in and all hopes of meeting Kevin himself are dashed. Until, we have a brainwave and we build a  guest wing complete with heating and lights.  Smug.

Unfortunately, our pride is somewhat quashed by screams of ” You didn´t listen to Fireman Sam, did you? ” followed by pointy fingers ” No fire in small houses! ”  he bellows, frantically blowing out the candles and tucking into the guest wing.

IMG_5597

Share This:

THE LOVELIEST LIE THAT EVER WAS TOLD?

I can’t remember if I read or heard (or completely made it up for the sake of this blog) somebody saying that the most barbaric lie you can tell your or anybody’s offspring is the Father Christmas one. I beg to differ and if I could keep living the lie until the boys are at least 46, that would be amazing.

A quick Google search shows that nobody has suffered long term effects from finding out the truth, (whispers, you know that he doesn’t really travel by sleigh) except maybe me. One lie leads to another? I disagree, everybody knows that the aeroplane that just went over our house contains Secret Service elves, checking how many times you have walloped your brother and making sure you declare that Kinder Egg you ate in the supermarket at the check – out . Oh yes and the same goes for the huge Big Brother style screens at FC’s headquarters. He’s on the ball. It’s also a brilliant source of bribery negotiating that comes into play at 12:01am on December 26th.

As I write this, THEY (whoever THEY are) are tutting loudly, yes yes yes of course lying is not on ever. Unless of course you are being interrogated by two grumpy boys demanding to know what`s happened to their chocolate button supply. “Daddy ate it” you say sadly, hugging them as you wipe your chocolate face in their hair. But I try to imagine Christmas in our house without the magic giddiness of Father Christmas’ imminent crash down the chimney (O has asked if we can have a chimney for Christmas) and I shudder to think.

For a year after I was told the “truth”, I remember pretending I didn’t recognise my Mum’s wavy Sherry induced handwriting and I think in my coming to terms with it, I kindly passed the information on to my sister, who was 4 years younger. BAH HUMBUG to me.

IMG_4179

In fact, just this morning O remembered that he had seen Father Christmas twice. Then there was a moment’s silence as some thoughts travelled across his Christmas list filled mind before he announced “ Once he had glasses and a ginormous belly and the other time he was really short and not very fat , remember Mummy?” I try and hide in my coffee cup, but am saved by random four year old reasoning “ Oh , it’s ok!” he says relieved, “ I just remembered it must have been his brother….”

 

fJzNWoE

Share This:

THE SMILEY FACE POLICE

IMG_3902

Today I sat down on the sofa with a cheese sandwich, only to be met by (rather smug) cries of  “UH-OH, no smiley face for you today!” Cue, much tutting and finger wagging. “You know the rules!” they boomed. “No eating on the sofa!”

 WHY I HAVE NEVER HAD A SMILEY FACE STICKER, EVER.

1. I declared it morning.

2. I dared serve a vegetable for lunch.

3. I didn’t know where the teeny tiny sparkly never seen before yellow brick was or is.

4. I was on the loo when I was “needed urgently, right now” to reach the biscuits.

5. I didn’t have the right biscuits.

6. I can`t do a cartwheel. (Star jumps aren’t cool, apparently)

7. I made them go to school.

8. We don’t live in or near Legoland.

9.  I sat down, when I should have been protecting the castle from the bad fairy pirate.

10. I mentioned teeth and brushing all in the same sentence.

11. Only one child got a smiley face. (Try explaining to a tired 3 year old, why hitting your brother really hard with a bucket full of lego, doesn’t warrant a smiley face.)

12. I declared it bedtime, when there were still “100 years left” of the day.

 

 Badge-150-x-150

Linking up with #MMWBH #sharewithme at letstalkmommy.com

Share This: