Friday, 25 February 2011

Colonel Gaddafi - one of the few people who looks worse than his Spitting Image puppet. If you ever doubt your own sanity just have a look at him ranting and you will feel like the sanest person on earth....

Now that I am used to Zumba I have been considering trying another type of fitness class. Got the timetable out for a look. The first class said 'Extreme Spin'. That's out. Anything exercise related with the word 'Extreme' is obviously for masochists or the mentally insane. 'Military Circuits' Have set eyes on the instructor and he looked like he would enjoy inflicting misery. That's out too.  Body Pump, Body Attack and Body Combat. Mmmm. I think the best way to decide is to look at the demographic of the class. The fitter the folk look, the harder it's got to be. I really want a class where the folk look reasonably normal (i.e. have spare bits hanging), so I will have to do some on site investigation before I commit.

Life is perverse sometimes. After emailing the other food coop volunteers to say I was jumping ship after June (due to lack of customers) there was a rush of buying this morning. Double takings and old biddies asking where the tea and coffee was. Now am feeling guilty as I  had managed to drum up support for shutting the blooming thing last night......

As usual the weak part of me that can't say no has got me into trouble. Was approached today by a member of school staff who said she had heard I was 'a bit nifty with a sewing machine'. Now there is nothing like a bit of flattery, as they say it gets you everywhere, and today it did. She got someone to help with the school show costumes and I got a s**t load of work. Asked how many costumes we had to make and by the time she had got to forty I was thinking that's the bag making and Harry Potter cloaks on hold from now until eternity. They will find my dead remains behind the school stage sometime next year, buried under a pile of fabric........

Thursday, 24 February 2011

Who is reading this blog at seven in the morning on a regular basis?  Come on! Own up,  I know you are there!

 After my good friend A said she wanted to join the SAHM club, I decided today to think about the definition of a SAHM and after much thought this is it:

Stay at Home Mother (or Stayathomicus Mummicus) ; usually found in suburban areas, the SAHM is a rare breed normally identified by her clothes. Usually wearing joggies to cover her over sized backside and a stained t-shirt she lounges in front of daytime telly (usually presented by that other rare breed Jeremycus Kyleicus). It is not unusual for her to be adorned by war paint (made from the vomit of her offspring or coffee stains) and usually after preparing a dinner of bridie, chips and Irn Bru she will spend time watching repeats of the Trisha show, playing online bingo or hanging about the local park with aforementioned offspring. Normally considered to be brain dead from lack of neural stimulation.

AYE RIGHT!!!!!!!!!

Try this: Cook, cleaner, nurse, secretary, adminstrator, therapist, mind reader, teacher, seamstress, referee, child minder (for working pals, usually at short notice), accountant, banker, hostess (with the mostest), volunteer (for all things ridiculous), outrageous fancy dress manufacturer, present buyer, gardner and that doesn't include the nightshift or the Widow Twankey hat for doing the washing. (though I will admit to the oversized backside which is more to do with a serious chocolate addiction than sitting on it all day and I do wear Joggers but only to big Dunc's). And that's before you start with adding in exercise time. Brain dead? I have had to think quicker and be more flexible in the past nine years than in the previous fifteen........

Hoping for a lottery win for you A. Then we can be Ladies wot Lunch.......if we can find the time.

Wednesday, 23 February 2011

I have come to the conclusion that I am a right grumpy sod. And the older I get the less tolerant I get as well. At least when I was younger I seemed to manage to hide my contempt for things annoying me, now it is usually written all over my chops and sod whoever decides to challenge me. I get grumpy at queues (waiting even two minutes seems to be a chore), I take instant dislikes to people ( I used to a least give someone the benefit of the doubt) and I cannot resist having a go when there is a tetchy subject being discussed. One of my aunts once said  'just because she's old doesn't make her nice' about a wicked old biddy who had been nasty to her. Give it thirty years and that will be me. Mowing folk down with my mobility scooter and shouting insults like a demented old witch.

Leaving the hospital yesterday I saw a sight which makes me wonder. Outside the main door were people having a fag. Now if you want to smoke that's up to you. There are consequences and everybody knows them, but I will never understand how some people can get out of their hospital bed and stand there in sub zero temperatures to suck on a ciggie.  There they were, attached to drips, hanging from zimmers, on crutches, sitting in wheelchairs and the colour of putty.  I would be more likely to get my drip tangled up in the sweetie shop display.....

H came into my bed last night after having a bad dream. He never comes in as it has never been encouraged (cruel mother that I am) but I let him in last night as I was practically comatose. As a result I got out of my bed the shape of a bent coat hanger. It's hard to sleep for five hours in the one position and I had to literally pull my mangled body back into shape. Hope he doesn't try it tonight. He has already been out of bed once. It was bizarre as he was raving a lot of rubbish and stumbling about. We finally realised he was sleepwalking and put him back in bed. Will have to take the keys out of the front and back door now as I don't fancy having to chase him down the Avenue in my jammies......

Tuesday, 22 February 2011

H's pearl of wisdom as I show him his newly purchased pants. 'Why do they bother making pants with pictures Mummy? No one ever sees them anyway....'

A busy weekend. Went to Stirling castle yesterday. I am sure it is lovely in the summer but in sleet it is just a wee bit cold. I suppose it was a bit more authentic, as folk of old would have been freezing their bahookies off as well. Will go back in the scorching summer weather.....if we get any.

Off to see about my gallstone this morning. Arrived ten minutes early to be treated to Jeremy Kyle on the waiting room telly. Of all the things to put on. If you didn't feel to bad before, after ten minutes of that you would have been asking for the gas.  A rough looking older couple were my only companions, she had a mouth like a sewer and I could hardly contain myself from laughing as she said 'they folk are f***ing scum.' Anyway,  I am getting a reprieve as the very nice surgeon said that he felt I should let it be for now, as it is not inflamed and that it was marked in my records that should it flare up I would be dealt with as an emergency. His best question of the consultation was 'do you think you would like surgery just now?' WHAT!  Yes sure, the prospect of having my stomach cut in three places and metal rods inserted so they can remove a bit of me is really exciting.........I can hardly contain myself.

S did a cruel thing to the kids while I was at my appointment. As the hamsters have gone back home he very kindly took them to Pet City to look and then told them they weren't getting one........I despair. Got picked up to L greetin' buckets and H complaining that 'Daddy was a cruel man'. His excuse was he couldn't think of anywhere else to take them.

Not cruel me thinks......just a man.......

Friday, 18 February 2011

Woken up yesterday morning by H climbing into bed with us. Ever since he could walk he has got into bed with us at weekends and days off, usually dragging a book about as big as himself in too. There's nothing quite like getting the corner of a World Atlas in the ribs when you are comatose. Yesterday he appeared with a pile of little books and squeezed in.  I was only half awake but well aware that he was there. He starts a conversation immediately, oblivious. 'You know Mum, I am not happy at this book, it is about the earth and there is nothing about tornadoes in it.' I grunt back, 'Oh dear, what a disgrace, you are just going  to have to write and complain about that then, aren't you.'  He is no fool and must have detected the sarcastic undertones to my voice as he says ' I think I am going to have to go and get my lie detector Mum, because I don't think you were telling the truth there....'.

Have two visitors to the house this weekend. We are looking after J's boys dwarf hamsters. Poor little beasts. Hope they survive the weekend or I feel a 35 year friendship could be jeopardized. I have had a list of things to do and not to do. L is desperate to get one for herself though S has refused point black.

Went off on a pilgrimage to Primark today. 9 pairs of pants, 12 pairs of socks. 11 kids vests, 1 pair of jammies, 6 vests for myself,  a cheap sports watch (£1), 2 pairs of slippers and a pair of knock off knitted Uggy type boots (for L) later we hauled our stash  back to the car. That place is fab! Can't wait for it to open locally, it will save having to take off across the bridge so much. Mind you I hate to think of the stampede at the door on the first day.  The geological office will be able to pick the rumblings up on their Richter scale.

Booked to go to 'Dirty Dancing' last night. It is coming to Glasgow. Am going with another friend J and her daughter A who instructed me to get the 'cheap seats'. It must be a long time since I was last at the theatre as the so called 'cheap seats' were not exactly cheap.  £30 each and you have to take your own oxygen cylinder with you as the air is so thin up there you run the risk of passing out and falling off the balcony onto the folk in the UPPER circle. I think I will have to tie myself to the seat. I seem to remember going to the theatre in Edinburgh once with workmates and was so high up that I crawled on all fours (there was no drink involved) to my seat. High jacked S's credit card to do the dirty (if you'll excuse the pun) deed. He looked on unamused as we sang 'We're going to have the time of our lives and we owe it all to youoooooooooo..........'

Thursday, 17 February 2011

Got given a pile of those celebrity magazines the other night. What a load of complete tosh. I honestly cannot begin to imagine why anyone reads these things. All they seem to feature is a bunch of useless moronic nonentities who seem to think we are interested in what they are doing. Jordan's pain. Kerry's strife. Surely these people must realise that their problems are their own doing? Nobody asked them to marry the eejits they chose.  They are now languishing in the blue bin. H's Sky at Night mags are better reading and that's saying something. At least Patrick Moore doesn't rattle on about having married a plank and how they have taken him to the cleaners. Life is so much simpler being an ordinary nobody and not a famous one.

Did a bad thing tonight. Went to Slimming World. When there you are meant to put something healthy in the basket for the person who wins 'Slimmer of the Week'. So I did. ..a packet of Mars Planets.....ah well, it beats a sachet of Slim a Soup and decomposing banana.....I have probably sent someone on the rocky road to over indulgence again......

Wednesday, 16 February 2011

Off to the cinema today to see the new Disney film. Booked it yesterday and was delighted to see that it was a 25% off day. You just about need a mortgage to go to the pictures now. It used to considered a reasonably cheap night out, now it's half a days wages just to purchase the popcorn.

Went on the bus with the kids to get there. My favorite mode of transport. On the bus you get every type of halfwit available and today was no exception. Bloke gets on after us with two little boys. One runs up the aisle only to be called back thus. 'Jambo come here'.  Seriously hope that is a nick name.  If not that kid is in for a rough ride.  As we are getting off I see one of my favorite things. An OAP couple in matching coats.  It seems to be a disease of the over sixties. There they were, a vision in cream, with red and blue go faster stripes. What possesses couples to buy matching anoraks? Is that what we all have coming to us?  That and those ghastly trousers they sell in M&S. You know the ones, they have a stitched in crease up the front.  I wonder if you get a voucher for matching coats with your pension book?

Today's 'You Need a Good Hard Slap' award goes to...... Justin Bieber.  His parents should be sued for causing the world extreme aggravation. Never have I witnessed someone so full of himself.  The way he chats up older women makes me want to put my foot up his jacksie. When he did that 'call me' thing to Cheryl Cole on the X factor I wanted her to get out of her seat and stick a Jimmy Choo in his underdeveloped man bits .  Even the thought of teenage girls having the hots for him doesn't seem right. If he was chocolate he would quite literally lick himself to death......hope to goodness L never brings someone like that through the door.......

Tuesday, 15 February 2011

L comes down stairs. 'I only weigh 4 stone six Mum. What do you weigh?.....Twenty six?'

How to kick a woman when she is down. I should be pleased. After eighteen months of uncertainty about S's job he now has a new one to go to, but instead of swinging from the chandeliers I feel strangely morose. I have come to the conclusion that as adults we just seem to lurch from one worry to the next. First it was the job, now I am worrying about how he will get on at the new job, if he will like it etc. etc. Can't make up my mind if I am just morphing into a paranoid nutcase or if something is wrong with me. So I am worrying about myself as well. How I long to go back to the days of school bullies, slappings from your parents and rationed sweeties. Aye life was so much simpler as a kid.....

Have an appointment with a surgeon next week about my gallstones or should I say gallstone. There is only one.  Don't know how long I have been carting it about but it has been giving me gip on and off since H was born. They can occur after pregnancy so maybe he gave me it, along with the growth on the back of my neck which I had to get chopped off.  Normally terrified of hospitals, I virtually sprinted there to get it removed after S said that a woman in Next was trying to hang her coat on it. I got wheeled into theatre as it was a 'bleeder' and it couldn't be removed at the surgery. It is a strange experience to get wheeled into an operating theatre awake then wheeled out again completely compus mentis.  Sitting in recovery next to genuinely ill folk waking up from operations, I felt like a fraud as I observed folk snoring, crying, swearing and flailing about like mad things. Not very nice. Hope I don't need an op, have been terrified of anaesthetics since I had gas at the dentist when I was seven, and I bet you I will be a swearer as I come to. I am secretly hoping the gallstone weighs about four stone and my dieting worries are over...........

Monday, 14 February 2011

Why are some folk so interested in everybody else's business?   Happened to pick up hubby's phone to recharge it for him and it was open at an email from an ex colleague which I happened to read. A long one about everything going on in his life, enquiring about S's work blah, blah, blah. He signs off with a post script of 'has J found a job yet?' That would be me. Now I can't make up my mind whether it is because I am just plain crabbit but it really got my goat.  Or maybe it's because the nosey pig asks me every time I see him and it's beginning to grate. Why do others keep stressing about what I am doing? I am not remotely interested in what his wife does. That's up to her.  She can stick her kids in Colditz from now until they are sixteen and take a job on Mars- I really don't give a monkeys. It's her business.  I am happy at home. I am there for my kids if they are sick and at home time, I don't have the luxury of grandparents who are willing to help out at all but I do have the luxury of not having to worry about what to do with them during holidays.  In years to come I will go back to work but at my choosing not because of interfering know it alls.  My fingers itched to type something back from myself, however I know I would have went too far. I would have loved to sent 'no I haven't got a job yet, has your wife got a boob job yet? Because last time I saw her she had no t*ts and a face like a trout.'

Mmmm, mmmm, mmmm.....feel better already.

Apologies, rant over. I'm off to watch Jeremy Kyle and play Funky (because that's what I do all day, don't y'all know.....)

Saturday, 12 February 2011

Valentines Day. Who says romance is dead?  Trailed the shopping centre yesterday looking for something for S.  Usually I don't bother,  but for some reason this year I thought I had better make some sort of effort. It would appear that VD (oh that sounds bad!) is mainly for females. M and S had a display of roses, pot pourri, perfume, choccies and tarty underwear. Nothing for men. Watched an old man hovering at the red bras and wondered if he was contemplating buying. Maybe he was a sugar daddy? Then I saw his Poundland bag and decided he didn't really fit the bill and was probably just giving his mind a treat.  Looked about and then decided that S wouldn't look great in a red basque and hold ups and went and bought a shirt. This may seem extravagant to some, and tight to others, but there was method in my madness. He had liked the shirt a few weeks ago and I knew by the time he dithered it wouldn't be available and as he needed it, it would be practical . Bought a card that said 'Love is all about give and take'.  It had a wifey on the front saying 'Give me twenty quid' to a long faced bloke who was saying 'Take it'. Very apt. Can't stand those soppy cards at all. Yuk.

H was going to a birthday party today so got up to make cakes I had offered to bake. I love Betty Crocker she is definitely my baking mentor. You can shove your Nigellas and Delias. The 'open packet, pour in bowl and mix' school of cookery is more my thing.  Especially when you've fell out of bed late and are trying to avoid the stress of a culinary disaster. I know N, my fabulous baking friend, is going to be reading this and shaking her head in despair.......

Am really enjoying writing this blog now. I find it quite therapeutic to spout forth drivel and given the fact there appears to be a regular amount of readers on a daily basis, others must like reading it too. Either that or they just feel comforted by the fact that there is someone out there who is even less sane than they are.....

Friday, 11 February 2011

School holidays next week. Oh Joy of Joys! I love having the kids off but routine just goes straight down the toilet. I go from being up at 6.45am and organised and out the door for half eight, to falling out of bed and bumming about until 11 in my jammies with uncombed hair and a hoose like a midden. And then there's no Zumba. No baby sitters = no Zumba classes. I never thought I would say this but I absolutely love Zumba!  Amazingly the instructor told me this morning I am improving.  To be honest I couldn't have got any worse but now I know the routines and can build up quite a sweat and manage to keep up. Must be doing something right.

Took H to the hospital for his assessment with OT and the Physio dept. The school informed us he was struggling with PE and along with his dire handwriting I had become convinced he was lacking decent motor skills. An hour long meeting in which he threaded beads, traced snakes with a pencil, posted coins in slots and hopped and jumped happily about the rehab department. We were then told his gross motor skills are average and his hand to eye coordination and fine motor skills are above average. He sat beaming at us in front of his little desk having charmed the physios and OT specialist.  We sat mortified at the fact he made us look like a pair of planks. In all fairness they did believe me about his handwriting issues as assessment conditions are not the best judge for them. They will visit him at school for a look at his work and to see him in class, so I didn't feel too bad.

Went to Fat Fighters last night. I am not even going to divulge my lack of success this week which was a small irritation compared with seeing Vicky Pollard and Morticia the Slimming World oracle sitting at the main desk 'helping'.  We decided to 'weigh and go' as the alternative was sitting looking at their smug faces. That would have ended up more 'stay and slap'. Went back to J's for a cup of tea with her boys and ended up swapping Zumba moves in her living room. G rolled his eyes as we gyrated about the room shaking ourselves while B watched with a look on his face that screamed 'How soon can I get you two into a home?'

Today's big question - Why is it my other half who is an engineer and can build stuff, fix stuff and virtually turn his hand to anything CANNOT FILL THE RUDDY DISHWASHER PROPERLY?!

Wednesday, 9 February 2011

The school disco. Something I used to avoid like the plague as a kid. Now Karma has me running them as an adult.  These things do not 'run themselves' as some would believe. They involve planning and a lot of running about,  usually when you can think of better things to be doing with your time.  That is why last week saw me trailing tat shops for dancing prizes and A and myself battling the elements to pick up the booze. In this case - water.  Yes folks, Prohibition hasn't just reached the school party, the discos are included as well.  A and I trailed our respective offspring to Batleys on Friday afternoon after a visit to MacDonalds (call the Social Services!) to collect the water. Marginally daring in the fact that as well as plain water you are also allowed flavoured water and fruit juice. Flavoured water - more additives than you can count hidden in clear liquid so it must be okay.  Anyway arrived at 6 o'clock loaded up with dancing prizes and glow sticks. The hoards arrived by 6.30 and by 7 someone had squirted the contents of their glow stick in their eye. That'll be them banned now. It did say they were non toxic but the kid in question will probably end up with a luminous eyeball for a week. Imagine waking up in the dark and seeing a big florescent eyeball staring at you in the mirror. You would think you were being visited by Mike from Monsters Inc.  Anyway, a good time was had by all and the kids went home to their beds while we went home to paracetamol and a stiff drink.

While wrapping the dancing prizes this afternoon I watched 'Embarrassing Bodies' on Channel 4 on demand. It was either that or Vanessa Feltz.  Vanessa Feltz or some body's rectal prolapse. Mmmm..... hard choice. Morbid curiosity made me watch the docs. I will NEVER, EVER understand the compulsion for folk to keep their body horrors to themselves for years and then find it necessary to display them to the nation. A man with what looked like his twin growing out of his stomach, nope it was a giant hernia. A woman who had had surgery on her lady bits which had gone wrong. WHAT POSSESSES THEM?  She can't show her partner, she's just too embarrassed, but there she is in all her glory, ankles at her ears while the whole nation simultaneously recoils in horror then leans forward for a better look. It was enough to put me off my lunch.

Monday, 7 February 2011

Do you ever feel that things just get to a level of stupidity where the top off your head might just blow off in frustration? Yet again it has happened and as usual it involves my children's educational establishment. Landed with running the school disco and was sat with a pile of forms with parent volunteers details on.  I have to  phone them up, thank them and let them know what they will be doing on the night. Notice that two parents have omitted to give their phone details so phone school and ask if they can give me the numbers. No. Data protection blah blah blah. Okay fair enough. 'But we can get them to phone you.' Wait for it....'as long as you don't mind us giving out your number'  WHAT?! My reply  'are we likely to get anywhere if I don't.'  At this rate we will be going round in circles. Go off the phone and use language unbecoming of a Parent Council Member. Have had enough.

Decide I will dye my hair tonight as I can see the grey is starting to creep through. I am not a vain person but one thing I will not tolerate is grey. I am going to end up like my Gran's next door neighbour who had a face like a wrinkled prune and  jet black hair when she was kicking eighty.  Reminded me of the time I couldn't get the usual colour of dye I use, so opted for 'intense dark brown'. Seemed fine until I was drying my hair and a little voice piped up 'oh Mummy you look just like Snow White - your hair is as black as ebony wood.' (L was going through her Disney Princess phase). I can still see the horrified expression on my face as I stared in the mirror at my head. Not so much Snow White more Snow Fright.   Aye...... Nice and Easy does it every time......

Today's Random Irritation : School Secretaries and Data Protection (for obvious reasons).

Sunday, 6 February 2011

Shopping yesterday and it was a momentous day. Other half got out his wallet and bought himself a new coat. Now, that may seem like a completely ordinary thing to do, but he is such a tight wad when it comes to his clothes that I am considering giving the old coat to a museum of antique clothing. It has been in and out of fashion so many times. I have been trailed to M and S so frequently now that I had actually stopped even bothering to be enthusiastic about the fact he was looking - until today. He made the decision and I snatched the damn thing out of his hand  and ran off to pay before he could change his mind. That's that over for another decade.

Not a particularly good shopping trip. H was at his moaning best. He needed the loo, was hot, tired, had sore feet, was hungry, thirsty and then didn't like the juice. Ended up half marching, half poking him in the back the whole way round to get him to walk. That was after the novelty of a visit to a sweetie shop had worn off. At least we got the coat.

Fell out of bed this morning and before going to Zumba with A I had : tidied the fall out from last nights visitors, did all homework, hoovered, did the online shop and made the beds. S sat on his jacksie  and watched  'Something for the Weekend' while I simmered inwardly and ran over his toes with the hoover.  He was just firing up the PS3 as I left.  Got back and frantically showered and got ready for an Ikea pilgrimage. Two minutes before leaving H says 'mum, I'm hungry'. Find out that it had not occurred to their father that he should feed his children lunch when required. MEN!!!!!!!!!!!

Friday, 4 February 2011

The weather is abysmal. Rain and high winds and the walk home from school yesterday was extremely unpleasant. Make a note to remind myself that next time I buy a house it will not be perched at the top of a hill where it is buffeted by gale force winds in stormy weather. I am beginning to think it might be a mighty fine idea to brick up the windows and doors on the front as I am convinced that they are going to blow out and I am going to be left clinging to my bed frame in the middle of the night. Alternatively the house might be pulled up from the foundations  a la Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz and when I look out old vinegar t*ts (those on my Face book friend list will know who she is) will be riding by on her bike shouting 'I'll get you my pretties'......the stuff of nightmares. (I have to say that the crude nickname was not my doing but given it is hilarious I just had to use it!)

Actually this rotten weather is exciting H something terrible. He has been obsessed with tornadoes since he was about 3 and he is constantly hoping to see one appear over the village. That or a volcano. On the way to school  we can see a small hill which is actually the plug from an extinct volcano. I lived to regret telling him this as the other day there was a low cloud over the top of it and he was convinced it was going to start erupting. I didn't bother going into the story of Pompeii....

All joking apart living at the top of a hill does have it dangers. Once when H was little the front door blew open and as I rushed from the bedroom to shut it the draught brought down the loft hatch which hit me a crack right in nose. Not a pretty sight. However the economical way to get nose job!

Thursday, 3 February 2011

On the way back from the health club 'I' and myself were debating what some people do with their time.  There are folk who have their breakfast there, go to our class and when we are running off after it to get on with something else, they are hopping off to yet another fitness class. Came to the conclusion that they were either rich and could afford a cleaner,  had a hoose like a tip but were super fit or just had no mates.

Today's Random Irritations:

People who let their dogs lick their faces.  You wouldn't let a human lick their backside and then lick your face so why let a dog do it?

People who treat their animals like humans. You know the sort. You go into their house and the dog sits looking at you and they say 'Oh you're on his seat' and leave you wondering if they really expect you to move. - Then you wish you had just in case it's left something sticking to the chair.....