No, this is not a review of the Julia Donaldson book, although it is one that we love, I have simply stolen her title. That is allowed right? You see we are lucky enough to live in a decent sized terrace, three bedrooms, one bathroom, and do not have to accommodate a pig and a cow and a hen. It is just me, Mr B, The Boy and Little Miss. And we fit just fine, most of the time, although sometimes another bathroom would be extremely helpful. But what if we WERE to add one more. I am not saying we WILL, just hypothetically. Things look a bit more...well...squashed. And squeezed. ...
Toddling Through Autumn
Mummy... Why have the trees turned brown? Why are the leaves on the ground? Can I kick them? Mummy… Why are the mornings so dark? Has the sun gone to bed? Can I go too? Mummy… Where have the flowers gone? Are they hiding? Can I hide? Mummy… Is that a squirrel in the wood? Where is he going? Can I chase him? Mummy… Has the summer gone now? Is it on holiday? Can I go? Mummy… What’s a conker? Can I have one? Ouch. Mummy… Where does rain come from? Can I jump in that puddle? I like puddles. Mummy… Can I wear my wellies to the park? Can I wear them to bed? I like ...
Patience
"Patience, n. A minor form of despair, disguised as a virtue." Ambrose Bierce Patience is something I currently possess in very limited quantities. Quite unreasonably really. Baby number two is not even due until 4th July but somehow I had figured it would be here already. And I feel a bit cheated. I have hit that end-stage of pregnancy where I have had enough. I am sick...a lot. I am mahoosive. I am ridiculously hormonal and daren't watch anything remotely serious for fear of the floods of tears that will follow. I bawled my eyes out at Question Time last week. ...
Thirty-four weeks and counting
Thirty-four weeks into pregnancy number one I was so ready for W's arrival. Match-ready you might say. The nursery was freshly painted, cot assembled, drawers filled with clean and neatly ironed baby-grows and blankets. I had bottles and breast-pumps at the ready, hospital bag packed and the delivery suite number on speed-dial. Thirty-four weeks into pregnancy number two is an entirely different story. The 'nursery' is currently a wasteland of old and new mattresses piled in a massive mattress mountain atop a partly dis-assembled bed. A mountain randomly strewn with leaflets issued ...
This Old House…
"What was that?" Mr B enquires. "Mmm." "No really Jen what was that noise?" "Just next door I expect." I reply whilst unable to tear myself away from a fabulous new discovery on Pinterest. "I'll go and look." Now I feel bad as, to be fair, he has been at work all day while W and I have had a great time making cakes and rolling about on the lounge floor playing trains and laughing at with Mr Maker. I follow. We look about the kitchen as if it is an alien landscape. He reaches for the cupboard door, looking nervously back over his shoulder at me first. I nod in what I ...
Reader Appreciation Award
I have been tagged in this extremely delightful award by one of my most favourite bloggers Bibsey Mama. I heart her verily, though will from now on aim to stay up-wind of her since her flatulently-honest-truths-of-late, which I love her all the more for. Apparently she has come to regard the nonsense I clog up her comment boxes with as charming and has thus bestowed on me this award. *Curtseys* That's not enough? No? Ok, if you insist... the RULES, PEOPLE THE RULES state I MUST answer the following. Strap yourselves in and do remember some of my answers might just be a lie...or ...
Bear-hugs and bed-bumps
Five. Seventeen. A. M. This is the time I was rudely awoken this morning by the boy's cries. Actually, this is not strictly true, it was probably 5:14 as I definitely spent three minutes with my eyes clamped tightly shut, willing myself and him back to sleep, not looking at the clock, and wishing, not for the first time, that he had come with a mute button installed. You would think I would have learnt by now that this approach is utterly futile. He wasn't giving up. So at 5:17 I drag my sorry arse across the landing to see what is up. Nappy check-fine. Comforter-all present ...
Lost Voice
Today I lost my voice. Not entirely. I know where it is. It just doesn't want to come out easily, not without a great deal of croaking coaxing. It may have something to do with spending most of Saturday standing outside in the rain awaiting the arrival of Mr Bruce Springsteen in Hyde Park. So yes it was definitely worth it. Anyway, since losing said voice it made me realise something. I talk A LOT. Really I talk LOADS and LOADS. And it is really frustrating that now I can't do it very well. Or without it hurting. It was suggested by one of my favourite fellow bloggers that ...
Off the Grid
The day is nearly upon us. The day I had hoped would never happen. I am going off the grid folks. My faithful, *read knackered* laptop has just about given up the ghost. Along with a few sticky keys I now have a disc drive that tries to swallow everything whole and refuses to regurgitate, a very dodgy space-bar, and occasionally the poor thing gets really heated and it sounds like the whole machine wants to take-off. My nursing skills, *read minor dusting, stroking, and switching off and on again ad infinitum* are, alas, not enough to heal this poor creature. I have had to call in ...
U is for Underground
As some of you will know the 2012 Cybher conference is fast approaching, and I will be attending, YAY. Although very excited at the prospect of meeting all you lovely bloggers I am also quite scared. Not just about meeting you all. But about getting there. I have a ridiculous fear of the London underground. Mainly because EVERYONE knows ALL the thieves, robbers and pickpockets live there. Don't they? I have always had this crazy fear of the underground as am totally convinced some, if not all, of the following will occur. 1. I will be thieved-from/robbed/pick-pocketed. 2. ...