Monthly Archives: February 2012

You know that shouty woman in the road, with the feral kids? That’s me, that is.


I had one of those amazingly organised mornings today. I was so proud. I should have known better really. It didn’t last.

The Littlest Chum had me up hourly last night (I think he has sore gums, he was certainly enjoying using me as a chew-toy) so I gave in and got up at 5.30am. This meant I’d put a load of washing on, emptied the dishwasher, had breakfast and a nice warm half hour bath, fed and dressed the Littlest Chum AND pottered on the pc for ages before the rest of them made a bleary eyed appearance.

By 8.30 (house-leaving time) The Chums were washed, dressed, breakfasted, homeworked, music practised, teeth brushed, bags packed, lunches made. This is about eight steps beyond our usual ham fisted efforts at being ready on time. I was about to tell the Chums how impressed I was with their help.

And then it all went to hell in a Chum sized handbasket.

Letting out a bloodcurdling shriek of rage, The Boy came thundering down the stairs. SHE’S GOT MY BAAAAAADGE! he wailed.

The badge in question is a 20p button from school to denote which house they are in. Both Chums are in the same house, both have a yellow badge. I have no jeffing idea whose is whose. BUT I do know I took The Boy’s off his jumper when I washed it the other day.

I told him his was probably in the kitchen. He screeched at me that she definitely had his. The Pie came down clutching her stomach where he’d punched her. He ran back off upstairs. She chased him. Punches were thrown, hair was pulled. Voices were raised.


I did that horrible shrieking rant thing, you know the one. The one where you can HEAR how awful you sound, and hate yourself for it, but the rage and the bile keep pumping. I told them I didn’t CARE whose badge it was, if he’d been that bothered about his he would have taken it off his jumper before throwing it in the wash, that this was NOT an argument for 8.30 in the morning, and FOR GOD’S SAKE, PIE, WHY ARE YOU STILL WEARING YESTERDAYS’ SOCKS?

She then started stamping and growling at me and hid under her bed. He was by now slamming doors and sulking in his room, railing at the injustice of his little sister STEALING his precious badge that he’d have lost in the washing machine anyway and doesnt’ actually care about, but hey, why let that get in the way of a good froth   and the fact I clearly DON’T CARE ABOUT HIM or I wouldn’t have told him off for punching his sister in the stomach because SHE STARTED IT.

We made it to school by 8.55.

I was shaking and sweating as I drove, but I forced myself to talk calmly to them about how we could have all dealt with that better. We all calmed down. The Pie showed me her swimming certificate from school. The Boy talked about his homework.

We got out of the car and I gave them a big kiss and a cuddle and told them I loved them.

I then asked for an apology for fighting.

The Pie was contrite. The Boy wasn’t. He decided that he wasn’t apologising until I did. ‘I wasn’t fighting’, I said.

‘You were mean to me and SHE STOLE MY BADGE!’


Only eleven hours until bedtime. I am no good at this, today.



Oh hello Ten Stone, it’s been a while.


Weight’s a funny old thing, isn’t it? So subjective, and such an emotive subject for a lot of women.

I’m just now down to 10st (well, and three pounds, but what’s a few lbs between friends, shh) after a strict regime of wine, chocolate and a week of takeaways. I think it can be mostly attributed to breastfeeding, really. Whatever the reason, I’m very happy. Ten stone is a good weight for me, I have curves but not rolls, I still have boobs, and I have a waist. According to BMI calculators it makes me overweight at five foot two. I think that’s a bit, er, rubbish.

When I was about 23, after the Boy but before the Pie, embarking on my disastrous first marriage, I was eight stone something. I looked ill. Well, with hindsight I WAS ill. Mostly getting by on a cocktail of super noodles and amphetamines, and dancing for six hours straight every Friday night. I had no breasts to speak of and my hip bones showed.

By the time I’d met the Lovely Rock God four years later, a year after my divorce, I’d smartened up my act. I was now a healthy eating, walking everywhere, nine hours of sleep a night Picture Of Health at nine and a half stone. Looking back at photos from then (god I looked young five years ago), I was bright eyed, clear skinned, full of energy. Things were really good for me, I’d had a year on my own with The Chums, working at Mothercare (I really loved that job) and studying Psychology. I didnt’ drive in those days and used to walk about five miles a day to nursery and work.

Over the next couple of years, living with RG (and it was GOOD living), I crept up to about ten and a half, sometimes eleven stone. Weirdly, a couple of years ago we walked 100k for charity and despite training for six months, I still stayed at ten and a half stone. Healthy, but not lean or trim. By now I was driving and eating a lot more as my appetite grew to match RGs. Well, nearly. He’s a metabolic anomaly who eats like a gannet and has a twenty eight inch waist. Gorgeous man.

Anyway. Five months ago when I had given birth I was twelve stone. Today I weigh two stone lighter. I think that’s pretty awesome.

When I told my eight stone, tiny, and lovely sister that I weigh ten stone, she did a headtilt and said, ‘erm ok. Is that good then?’.

Her baby is six weeks old. She’s a size ten. It’s a good thing I love her.

Catch you later xxx

Five o’clock in the morning. You suck as a concept.


Do you think if I changed all the clocks in the house to a more reasonable time, it would trick my brain into feeling okay with such early rising?

It really does go against every lazy arsed principle I possess, but the Littlest Chum thinks it’s the best time of day for funz and gigglez.

Luckily I went to bed at about half eight last night so it’s not too soul destroying. The only problem is I’m having to sneak around a bit as it really is far too early for the older Chums.


In other news, there is now a kitchen sized hole in my house, which is quite exciting. What’s less thrilling is the kitchen sized pile o’shite in the dining room. It’ll all be worth it when it’s done (I’m chanting that as a mantra while I climb over boxes and shake off dust).

Oooh it’s been AGES….


…sorry about that. I’ve been busy with all sorts of exciting stuff. I shall fill you in.


My MOSTEST EXCITING NEWS is that my kitchen is being ripped out tomorrow and replaced by a brand spanking shiny new one. The Lovely Rock God has already taken off the floor-to-ceiling 70s tiles, and we have spent this weekend packing all the kitchen STUFF (so much stuff) into boxes. Oh, the fridge freezer was delivered the other day and is now looming, TARDIS-like, in the dining room. It’s HUGE.

I’ll keep you posted with how the work’s going, shall I?



The littlest Chum has a cold this week. It’s very cute, if a bit distressing, because he has actually lost his little voice. So he’s squeaking rather than crying. He’s nonetheless a happy guy, all smiles and chuckles still, just interspersed with coughs and sneezes. He wakes himself up with sneezing every so often and gives me a look of utter bewilderment, completely adorable.

Oh, and he has nails like tiny daggers, I trim them every single day but he still manages to scratch his face at least once a night. Poor baby.



Erm, what else? Oh, I can tell you about the Chums’ bedrooms. They are TIDY. And have been for over a week. This is a massive achievement, mostly brought about by me binbagging the majority of the crap they hoarded, but also because they have been making a massive effort to pick up after themselves. Long may it last.


Oh, I must tell you about the newest addition, my sister’s brand new baby girl. She is absolutely, completely, totally perfect and gorgeous. I am so proud of my sister, she is amazing. She now has two beautiful girls who I love with everything I have. I adore being an Auntie, it’s like parenting but without the boring bits.

So that’s the news from us. I promise faithfully that I will be a good girl and not neglect you all for so long again.


Right, must dash, as I have to clear the kitchen and then take the chums out to play in the snow.

See you soon xx