Wednesday, 28 September 2011

Say Cheese!

Today is that wonderful yearly event that every parent dreads. The annual school photograph.  We are no exception.  Got the kids up early and threw L in the shower. When it came to H's turn he thought he was just getting his face and hands washed. No such luck! I started the shower running and he freaked out shouting, 'But I had a bath three weeks ago'. There I was trying to haul his skinny little butt into the shower for a hosing down. Just what you need at seven o'clock in the morning. (Incidentally he has baths more frequently than every three weeks!)   Got the school ties and shirts ready and was just straightening the kinks out of L's hair when J phoned to ask what the kids were wearing. It turns out the letters home informing us of the photo date had said the kids could wear uniform or ordinary clothes. I hadn't bothered to read that bit obviously.  I inwardly cringed, envisaging hoards of mini Rhiannas and Bieber lookalikes clad in trendy gear, heading to school for their photo, while my kids arrived like the school nerds.  I stood my ground and said it was a school photo so mine were wearing school uniform. J agreed but said B was in his room in the huff.  When we arrived at school 99% of the kids were in uniform with only a few knocking about in ordinary gear. Left after warning L to comb her hair before the photo, no darn point with H. He has short hair and wouldn't have given a monkeys anyway.....

It is 22 degrees today and I am hoovering bedrooms. What a numpty........

Tuesday, 27 September 2011

PP's and BB's

Would the person who invented kidney infections please own up? Something I have never been afflicted with in my life, and yet in the past four months I have now had two bouts, the worst one just now. It is not very pleasant, nope that's an understatement - it's bloody agony at its worst. Sometimes just plain annoying where you fidget about like a five year old bursting for a pee and other times like someone setting fire to your nether regions with a blow torch.  Finally took myself off to the doc's yesterday after a week of misery. I am terribly bad for thinking things will just get better of their own accord but got up with such bad pains in my back yesterday morning that I relented and phoned the surgery. Actually got an appointment, don't know if that was good luck or if the receptionist could detect the agony in my voice. J ran me down to the surgery clutching my little pot of pee for analysis. Yep,  a kidney infection.

Sunday saw us off to the local church for the Boys Brigade enrollment service which H has joined. He also had to pick up a prize for an art competition he had entered run by the church. I have never been in the local church as we are still members of the one in the next village. It's amazing how different two services can be. I immediately felt uncomfortable  A. because I needed to pee constantly and sitting on a cold church pew is not the best antidote for that and B. because they have that new type churchy music which I really don't like. I have no idea why, I can only assume it is because I am more of a dour Church of Scotland 'Onward Christian Soldiers' type and the guitar playing and flute blowing is not my cup of tea,  but to each their own, and the minister gave a very good service. To further add to my horror I realised on the way out that he likes to hug all his female parishioners, something that made me squirm with discomfort. I save my hugs for family and close friends and this was not my thing at all. I decided to sneak past as he was hugging someone else, thinking that he would not notice. He must have eyes in the back of his head as I heard a booming voice shout, 'Come back, I will be offended if I don't get a hug.' Behind me,  A and I and their other halves were falling about laughing as I allowed myself to be bear hugged by the minister. Next time I will sneak out of the back door.....

Thursday, 22 September 2011

Teabags and Tootsies....

Note to self : Never EVER leave the house again wearing Crocs without consulting the weather forecast.  Now Crocs are great for sore feet and dry weather,  no matter how much of a fashion atrocity you consider them to be.  However they are not good in the rain and definitely not good in rain of the torrential variety. It was dry when I left for the gym yesterday morning and chucking it by the time we exited Big Dunc's, two steps and my tootsies were drowning. Not helped by the fact that the slabs were slippy at the shopping centre and the footwear in question has been worn to such an extent that there are virtually no treads left on them. A death trap waiting to happen.

Have been  feeling unwell today. A splitting headache and feeling like someone could shove me flat on my back with little trouble. So much so I decided to give my Patchwork class a miss. The thought of trailing all the way there was more than I could suffer, not helped by the fact that I appear to be the class dunce who never gets all my homework done and usually is lagging behind. At this rate I will finish my beginners quilt sometime before I am due my old age pension. I really love it though and enjoy the company of like minded people. A complete turnaround from the embroidery class I used to attend when L was about two. It was my one night of the week when I got out to do something I liked in peace and quiet with no greetin' weans or aggro. Or so I thought. I was the youngest there by at least forty years and gave up in the end as it was an OAP bitch-fest for two hours which usually started with an indepth discussion on who would make the tea that night. I got to the stage that I always made the tea as I was sick of the sound of the old beggars going 'Is it your week Agnes? I did it last week and Jean definitely did it the week before'. And then a full scale debate would run about who was making the tea. God help us all.  I left as my recovering post natally depressed mind could take no more.....

Friday, 16 September 2011

Ice, Ice Baby.....

Why is it when we are in a hurry and faced with a situation that requires common sense we tend not to use it? Leaving the house yesterday morning for school, as usual it was disorganised chaos. During the running about L said 'Mum, there's something wrong with the freezer. The door is open.' Sure enough, when I inspected it I realised it had been left open and ice had built up overnight blocking the door from closing. Damn! Fortunately not enough to defrost the food. I blocked it closed with a dining room chair and made a note to 'fix' it when I returned.  Now the simplest thing to do would have been remove the food, defrost the freezer completely and presto all fixed! But no! After the removing the top basket, where an iceberg, big enough to take out the Titanic had formed, I stuck a basin in the shelf and set to it with the hairdryer and a chopstick. Everything was fine until the chopstick slipped and I nearly lodged it in my nostril as I hacked away with gay abandon. The hairdryer was working a treat and after ten minutes I had shrunk the iceberg to a small enough size to shut the door. It was then it dawned on me that I had melted some of the plastic on the door surround.......oh dear. Technical stuff was never my forte.

This week we have had a Police helicopter flying overhead daily. It would appear a pervert had went AWOL and as usual he chose our area to hide out. It was actually not very nice knowing that a sex offender was somewhere in the area. According to the Police he was dangerous. I immediately heard the Crimewatch music in my head and went to make sure all the doors were shut. It does that to you. Fortunately he was caught so it's only the ones we don't know about that we have to worry about now.

Friday is my favorite day -usually. It was today. I dragged H's new Ferrari down to school for Golden Time. At least he is getting his money's worth.  After he returned from BB's tonight , L decided that they would dance on the rug in the living room. She decided to put on 'Pink' after I warned her that only clean tracks were to be played. H with a poker straight face whispered to me 'I know what the F-word is Mum, someone told me, but I promise I wont use it.' I nearly laughed out loud.  Pink got cranked up and the two of them leaped about as I tried to retain my composure. L took the whole thing so seriously, stripped down to her gym shorts and vest she rehearsed her dance with great concentration. H on the other hand was a scream. A miniature version of David Brent dancing in 'The Office'. I nearly wet myself.

Off tomorrow with A to the Kid's AM at the cinema to see Cars 2. Ninety five pence each to endure two hours of kids screaming, greeting and throwing pop corn at each other for the sake of a cheap visit to the cinema. You can't beat it.....

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Wind, Rain and more Wind....

The tail end of Hurricane Katia finally hit yesterday afternoon. As I write this it is still blowing for all it is worth and another dirty great rain loaded cloud is hovering in a threatening manner on the horizon.

Of course it's never a proper dose of bad weather unless you have a school trip to add into the mix. Yesterday saw us off on a half day tour of our local farm/heritage centre. This involved wandering round with a group of six to eight year olds (H included) with clipboards trying to find the answers to questions on farming. Should have been easy you would think,  however add in the fact that the majority couldn't read words like 'combine harvester' let alone spell them, coupled with many having the attention span of a goldfish and you ended up with complete mayhem. I spent my time shepherding them back and forward shouting out how to spell things while my head whirled  about trying to keep an eye on them. It's really funny watching the class dynamics, the ones who try to answer every question (not necessarily the clever ones) and the ones who really couldn't have given a toss. Further mayhem ensued as there are many fun things in the heritage centre including trampolines, a massive sandpit and other distractions - none of which they were allowed on. It is a form of torture taking kids on an 'educational' visit to somewhere that could potentially be fun.

Highlight of the visit was a cow peeing an ocean on the barn floor and a sheep emptying it's bowels at close quarters much to the kids hilarity.
 
I arrived back glad that I had the good sense to take a dose of paracetamol before I left in the morning. If I hadn't my sore head would have been a million times worse than it already was.....

Sunday, 11 September 2011

The School Fayre... or how to lose your sanity in one week...

The run up to the school fayre started in earnest last Monday and by Friday it was beginning to feel like we were spending most of our time in school.  Having been expected to perform miracles by spreading fifteen volunteers around forty stalls, a major headache was forming. An impossible task. Tuesday saw the sorting out of donations  and we already had some crackers - mouldy mugs, crusty salt cellars and someones old specs. My personal favorites this time though were a dancing ostrich thing (marginally less annoying than that singing (Don't Worry, Be Happy)  fish from a few years ago) and a Saddam Hussein puppet, complete with boxing gloves. After having spent hours sticking numbers to tombola prizes, we arrived on Friday morning to find that someone had hopped off with four them! Really you would have to be desperate.  I could not wait for Sunday morning....no more fayre and a welcome rest.

The day of the fayre dawned dull and rainy. What else? After phoning to cancel the goalie for beat the goalie, I headed off to the school for 9.30am, kids, home baking and raffle prizes in tow, not holding out much hope for a dry day. Wonder of wonders, it was.  Everything was going swimmingly until the teachers decided to turn up and complicate matters by changing the stalls they had volunteered for. They also did not help matters by putting only their christian names on my list. I only know some of them by their surnames.  One in particular had dragged along her husband who wanted to help, that was until I asked him to assist with the hoopla stall. He looked at me like I was a complete eejit and said with a deadpan expression 'I don't really think that's my kind of thing'. For fecks sake. It was a school fayre. What the heck was he expecting to help with? He shuffled off to help his wife make a make a complete a**e of the raffle. I sneaked off to my hair braiding stall where I put my head down and got on with it.  Strangely enough, the tombola tantrummer was back again this year, but this time trying to take more than the four tickets for a pound. Honestly you can't trust some folk. Then L spotted some kid trying to nick the used tickets for the games so they could reuse them again. Worse still one of the dads caught an adult trying to do the same thing. What a bloody sad case. Imagine having to resort to cheating at a school fayre...

Finally got home at three o'clock, the fayre having raised over £1600, to find the kids fighting over a two foot long Ferrari H had purchased. He wanted it for his Stuart Little toy. L decided her Barbies should be cruising in it. The fight started again this morning as the Barbies had parked it in L's toy cupboard while Stuart was back on his mini motorbike.....

Decided to head off to Glasgow this morning for a look at the shops. H spotted some Dr Who stuff he fancied. However I said it would have to go on his Santa list. He said he had no paper to write it down on, so I told him that wasn't a problem as it was only two things and he would remember. His reply was, straightfaced as ever, 'Mum, it's not the two things I'm worried about. It's the other thirty four I've already got on there.....'

Friday, 2 September 2011

Busting a Gut...

On Tuesday I happened to be ironing and listening to the radio. My ears pricked up. Why? Because believe it or not,  three eight year olds had been charged with vandalising over fifty gravestones in our local cemetery. What is the world coming to?  They have been reported to the childrens' panel. No doubt they will taken for a holiday courtesy of the taxpayer and all sorts of excuses made because they are 'underprivileged' . Personally I would rather see their useless parents digging graves at the cemetery til they drop. That should cover the cost of the damage.

The school fayre chaos has started and although no longer a member of the PSC I am still involved.....(told you so!) I have the great job of allocating volunteers to stalls which is fine -  when you actually have a decent amount of volunteers.  We also have had the go ahead to have home baking. You could have knocked me over with a feather.  As a result I will now have to try and strap on my pinny and make some cakes. Betty Crocker I love you!  L has said she will make truffles and as she is quite good at them, I am going to let her. Left the house this morning for breakfast at 'A's and then took off with her to school,  to assist the P7's in manufacturing badges to sell at the fayre. They had to write funny slogans on coloured paper and then press them with the school badge making machine. Some of the slogans were funny however we binned the one that said 'Hitler was a bad man'........the mind boggles.  We left the school and took off to Batley's to pick up the fayre sweeties with kids in tow. £150 and enough sweets to keep every dentist in the county in business for the next 40 years later,  we arrived back home.  The hard graft starts next week. The school fayre is a real money earner,  but the Saturday night after we are all usually shattered. It honestly feels as if we have lived in the school the whole week.  The irony of it is not lost on us either. The money raised will go to pay for special educational visits for the kids, something we would normally have to pay for. The irony is that most of us who are involved in the fayre can afford to pay for these ourselves. Why we bust a gut so that others will benefit is beyond us all,  given the fact that we get so little help from the pupils parents.  I remember at one school disco walking along the queue of parents and kids waiting to go in. I was asking if anyone was helping,  and if so, could they go to the front of the queue. As I turned to walk back I heard a sneering voice say  'Aye that will be f*****g right! That's the sort of ungrateful eejit that we are exerting ourselves for.  But we still do it.....and in some perverse way the hard work is worth it........