Bloated? What? Me!

So it seems there is something else I don’t quite understand. That perhaps a woman of my age should, something the media keeps telling me I must have. What could this be, what must I have since I am a busy woman of certain years who runs round trying to juggle everything at once?

Well let me set the scene..

Currently there is an ad on the TV here in NZ of a former NZ Miss Universe, (Yes really we did actually win one once in the early 80’s.. Coincidentally it was when NZ was starting to go Nuclear free and with the contest being held in the States.... well I am not one on conspiracies theories but....) who is wearing a lovely silk evening gown going on about how sometimes she has to wear this but would rather be wearing this... Next shot she is shown in comfy clothes and somehow by eating this “magic” yoghurt she feels so much better and confident to wear the dress and life is so much better for it!

So it seems, since I am being told daily, I too must have that “bloated, uncomfortable” feeling, where I want to go about all day wearing comfy clothes as heaven forbid you just can’t wear fitting clothes when feeling bloated! I too should be eating\drinking those little bottles of “magic yoghurt” that will fix everything and make my day so much better.

But here is the problem; CAN someone actually tell me what this “bloated” feeling is? What are these women on the telly and in the magazines all going on about?? As I really have no idea!!

Now don’t get me wrong, my diet is not always the best, I do feel bloated and at times do feel a bit uncomfortable wearing fitting clothing but that is generally just after I have eaten a rather large meal, followed by such goodies as dessert, coffee and wine. In my case it is always self inflicted and it always it resolves itself the next morning by the way nature intended. But a day to day feeling of being bloated, no I don’t understand that. Surely if you are feeling a bit uncomfortable doesn’t a wee fart or popping to the toilet normally resolve issues?  According to some “scientific” research conducted women apparently still have an issue admitting that they fart? So if an average person can or needs to fart up to 14 times a day and its not happening where is all that gas going? Yes people, shocking news isn’t it but everyone does it, even the Queen so I’ve been told!

Surely I cannot be the only woman out there that has no idea what they are going on about?

Of course I can’t help thinking, and as I said before I am not into conspiracy theories but.....

Think how prevalent these yoghurts\drinks are now, perhaps these big corporations have stumbled onto a money making machine caused by our busy lifestyles?  Perhaps instead of "needing" these yogurts\drinks all we need to do is to eat properly, listen to our bodies a bit more....... and have that occasional sneaky fart!

“You did WHAT with the Lego”

If you are a hardened Lego geek then this post comes with a warning.  As this post contains Lego and glue, yes that’s right Lego and glue!

So you may be thinking “What are you doing!!”  But as I sit surrounded by boxes of Lego, instructions and glue on my table it all makes perfect sense to me.   That I have had enough, no more will I have to hear cries of “Mummy Lightening McQueen is broken can you fix him” or “Mummy where is the rest of my (..Insert any name of a fiddly piece of Lego...)!!”   Now I don’t mean gluing together your general Lego blocks I am talking about the kits, Star Wars, Cars 2, Ninjago, Super Heroes, Lego City etc.  You know the expensive bits of Lego that you painfully put together only for them to be broken 10 minutes later.  Then the painful cycle begins... rebuild....play.....break....cry....rebuild...play.....break.......cry.....

I don’t care if the main reason that Lego is a favourite toy worldwide is because of the ability to reuse the bricks to build new things.  Quite simply I have had it!  There are only so many times one can rebuild a Star Wars fighter, helicopter etc before one completely loses the plot with the dam stuff. 

Now don’t get me wrong I do love Lego myself and can spend hours playing with it.  After all I am the designated Lego builder in our household and enjoy nothing better than getting a new kit and putting it together.  Perhaps that is why I get so anxious when the boys start playing with it knowing that they will eventually break it.

So over the last few months as the boys attentions have gone from one piece to another I have secretly hidden them away.  Plotting on how I am going to do this, waiting until the time is right when I can sit and glue the pieces together.    

So time for a gut check, do I still think it’s a good idea? Yes.  Do the boys think I am crazy? Yes.....   Does Mr P think I am bonkers? Yes... Do I want to back out? No....!  It just needs to be done for my sanity if nothing else....

So here goes.....

PS.  Here’s a tip just in case you think “wow what a great idea”.  Don’t glue the piece completely together, leave a few pieces unglued so if it drops it will break but not shatter...

Argh, Daylight bloody Savings.......!!!

So it's week two since out clocks went back and I think you can guess by the title of this post that I am less than impressed by it!  The reason being is a certain little person in our household who seems to be stuck on NZ summertime so he thinks its okay to wake at 5am!!

Yes the one who is almost 3 hasn't quite got his body clock sorted yet so we have the pleasure of him waking the household every morning at 5ish by turning on all the lights and asking “Why is it dark mummy?”  Needless to say it's taking its toll on both of us.  The other two males in the house seem to have that ability that all males have which is to sleep thru any noise created by a small person in the night.  You know the one, “Huh noise, oh crap, roll over, optional fart or itch, then back to sleep” You may think that this is a rather generic statement but I am sure it just doesn’t happen in our household?

So he is permanently cranky and I am a walking zombie (also cranky) who is craving a lie in to say, oh I don’t know, 6am perhaps...

It doesn’t help either that prior to the clocks going back he was managing to go a couple of days without his daytime nap so he is still trying to do that.  “I don’t need to sleep mummy as I am a big boy now” Oh those words are coming back to haunt me now...

So it goes without saying that he is a walking screaming tantrum throwing tyrant at the moment.  Bless his little cotton socks!

  

Of course in between the tantrums there are a few comic moments like when he falls asleep while eating his lunch or when he totally crashes where ever he was playing with his brother.

Oh I was so looking forward to the holidays and lying in until after 7.  Letting them sleep and to naturally wake up, to have a leisurely breakfast and morning together.  But no the tyrant seems to have other plans for me.

But really, 10 days in and we both need more sleep and he needs to get himself sorted or else I will be medicating both of us...

Crikey where has that year gone??

Well isn't it amazing how time flies when you are having fun?  Of course I am using the word “fun” rather loosely.  With moping around for a bit after being made redundant, then relocating the family back to NZ, finding somewhere to live and of course moving in, I missed the grand occasion of Frankie Parker turning 1.

 

So Happy Birthday to Frankie P or is it Happy Anniversary.......???

Yes it was back in March last year that I decided to give this blogging lark a go and in that time I think, no I am pretty much sure, I have seen it all.  The good, the bad and very ugly side of the blogging and twitter community.  Everything from the cliques, bitchiness and backstabbing, to the caring, well meaning and supportive comments and tweets.  It always makes me think whether I would see this sort of thing if I wasn’t in a “mummy” blogging network?   Really, if you don’t like what someone has written, let it go, move on, life is far too short to worry about the opinions or thoughts of someone you are never going to meet!

Like all new bloggers, there were times where I was continually obsessing about posting something, why I wasn’t getting comments, where I was in the monthly rankings,  but then real life would pop up and make me realise that blogging isn’t a competition or the be all and end all.  It’s what I do to keep the grey matter still ticking along.  I do it for myself and for no one else.  Of course it’s great to get comments and know that someone is actually reading my ramblings.  So a big thanks for taking the time to read my little corner of the blogosphere especially those that have been there from the start.  You know who you are....

In that time I have meet (not in person, but you know what I mean) some great bloggers and read some great posts, some have made me laugh, some have made me cry, some have made me think (yah!) and some that I can just relate to so well its quite scary.  More importantly I now know what I like to write about and what I like to read.

So is it “Chin-Chin” and here’s to another year?  Not sure, I would like to think so but the lack of desire to blog which I wrote about back in January is still lurking about.  But I am now picking up pen and paper to jot things down.  So that has to be a good thing, right?

But what I do know is that Frankie P needs some loving so a new blog profile and photo are top of the list for her me thinks.

It's Daylight Bloody Robbery....

I see you there sitting on the shelf, sitting with all the other “Imported” goods. Looking at me, imploring with me to pick you up, to roll you round in my hands, to take you home.

But I can’t... or rather I won't! It’s not that I can’t afford you; it’s just that I can’t bring myself to spend $4 on you knowing that in London you are a measly 68 pence!

So let’s do the maths, 68p converted at today’s rate would be only $1.30. So not only are you twice the price of the Kiwi equivalent you are 3 times are much as you are in England. So being the principled person that I am and more importantly of Scottish descent, that is simply why I will not be buying you. That is why I leave you sitting on the shelf every time I am in the supermarket.

Because its daylight BLOODY robbery!!

Oh, but you do taste so good. Funny thing is I never liked you until we met again in London. I remember trying you as a youngster, cooked in a billy over an open fire on a school camping trip and “Blech, disgusting, not eating that again!! But then my sister re-introduced us, one soggy Sunday morning along with Marks and Spencer Ultimate Mash..  Ah it was the perfect comfort food for a dodgy hangover.

Hmmm.....  Oh I do so miss having you for brunch on Sunday with my eggs... 

So perhaps you can be my little secret, hidden at the back of the pantry, hidden in amongst the other canned goods. Hidden, so Mr P and the boys don’t see you. They can have the less tasty Kiwi version; they would be none the wiser. I could wait until I am home alone to bring you out, cook you up and scoff you down. Mmmm, I know it’s not nice not to share, but too bad. I make the rules so I can break them...

But, No!!

But really, why not I ask myself? When we were in London I had no problem going to the NZ shop and spending £4 or £5 on a pack of biscuits or some chocolate. Surely this is the same?

No, no of course it isn’t!  Then I just wanted a slice of “home”, something tasty to remind me of what I was missing out on.  To remind me of my childhood.

No, you will not be coming home with me.  I simply cannot bring myself to spend $4 on a can of Baked Beans... 

But I may stop by next time I see you, just so we can have a moment together perhaps even a quick roll in my hands.....

Oh shit the boys.......!!

So I had a moment the other day, it was a true “save yourself” moment. Just for a split second or two, okay maybe five I was just concerned about myself.  A true moment where I actually forgot about my little treasures (aka the boys)!


So picture the scene....

There we were in a beautiful secluded bay on one of the islands about an hour out of Auckland. The water was so clear that you could see the sandy bottom beneath. Sounds almost perfect right?  Apart from the fact it was so bloody cold!  Typically we picked the worse day of a long weekend to have a family outing on the boat.  We had the day planned out, stopping along the way for a bit of fishing, then stopping at a bay for lunch and a swim.  Generally getting the boys used to being out and about on the water.

So anyway there we were playing in the water, trying to convince the boys that it was warm while covered in goose bumps and trying not to mutter too loudly about how frigging cold it was.  Then I spotted something out of the corner of my eye. 

"Hmmm that’s strange" I thought, "what’s that?"  

So I looked again and there swimming towards me (I am so sure it was after me) was a large black shape.  Did I mention how clear the water was?  Then the panic truly set in.  

“FUCK, there is something in the water” I screamed while running like a lunatic out of the water. 

Then I heard something that was a bit like hitting a brick wall, “mummy, mummy, MUMMY!”  Oh SHIT the boys, oh the shame, oh the bad mother guilt!

On turning round and looking back in the water, Son Number 1 looked close to tears with his arms stretched out and Son Number 2 was looking his usual confused self trying to get a closer look at what was now swimming around them.  As there were now not one but two black shapes enjoying the water with them! 

So after quickly recomposing myself, the brave and dignified person that I am, went back into the water to rescue the boys.  While trying to avoid what turned out to be two stingrays that had decided to spend their afternoon in the same secluded bay as us. 

So hit with the double whammy of freezing water and the stingrays the rest of the afternoon passed pretty much uneventful on the beach.  Where Son number 1 had to do his first poo in the bush in true Kiwi style and I had to wee behind a tree because there was no way either of us was going back into the water unless it was time to leave. 

Oh and before you think he was going to poo in the water, there is a loo on the boat.....

The Procrastinator within..... Part two..

Note to self..

You really need to do it!  You can only put it off for so long!  You know he is more than ready for it so why are you dragging it out as long as you can?

There are no more excuses you have used them all now:

“I can’t just yet as we are moving back to New Zealand”

“Wait a week or two until he is settled”

“After Christmas, after all we have a return 10 hour drive to deal with”

“Once the school holidays are over when there are no distractions”

No it has to be done, after all his brother was done much younger than he is now and it went okay. 

So what is stopping you?  The mess, the staying in, the running round after him, checking up on him, what?

“So what is stopping me?”

It’s kissing goodbye to his babyhood and recognising the little person he is becoming.  It’s like watching him ride off on his bike without me for the first time, watching him jump into the pool without me to catch him and loving it.   It’s realising that soon he will no longer need me as much as he does now. It’s another little step towards his independence.  Its all this and much, much more....  

Because he is no longer our little baby!

Of course I have many more excuses in my head why to put it off for another month or so.  Perhaps wait until we move at the end of this month?  

But no, I know it needs to be done.  So this is the weekend to do it....

Potty training here we come!!

It's a bit late I know..........

Happy New Year to you all...

It has been over a month since I have written a post.  I would like to say it’s because I have been too busy or that it’s because I have lost my blogging mojo.  But no, not really.  The main reason is simply that I haven’t been bothered with blogging or even Twitter for that matter.  I have managed (just) to check my Google Reader but that is only every now and then.  

So why no blogging? 

Well, because I have had absolutely no desire whatsoever to blog\write or tweet about anything. Not sure why really, it certainly isn’t because I haven’t got anything to say.  I still have those thoughts and little conversations swirling around in my head that I usually end up writing down.

I don’t know, perhaps it’s just all the change we have gone thru moving countries, I am as much out of my daily routine as the boys are.  Also, it is the summer holidays over here at the moment and lucky for us the schools got an extra week off due to the term times being changed last year to accommodate the Rugby World Cup.  Can you think of any other country in the world that would change their school year to accommodate a Rugby competition?  No, I didn’t think so!  Good news is that they are back at school this Thursday, and that’s a big collective Yah!!!! 

Of course there is also the possibly that once you are out of the habit of doing something everyday then you soon learn to live without it.  Living without blogging and twitter now that’s a thought isn’t it! 

But no, to be honest, it’s just me being extremely lazy and unmotivated.  At the moment I just can’t be arsed.

So this week I have promised myself that I will give myself a big kick up the backside and sort my shit out.  Do all the things I have been putting off and start writing down all the stuff that is in my head.

So watch this space... 

And if there is still nothing in a month’s time can someone please give me a great big cyber kick up the back side...

Okay, okay, I admit it...

It would be fair to say that the last 8 months or so I have been in denial to what or who I am.  But that all changed this week with the click of a mouse button when I was asked for my occupation at the bank.  I am not currently working was my reply, so with a CLICK I became a ‘housewife’.  Right before my eyes, CLICK, just like that.  Apparently there was no need to discuss this with me.  It seems that any woman who has children and isn’t in employment must be a housewife!  So the decision was made while I sat there quietly outraged (that’s my inner feminist) and Mr. P just smirked knowingly!

You see I haven’t really come to terms yet to say that I am a SAHM.  To all new people I meet and on any forms that I need to complete I am still an IT Manager.  Someone who works and has a life outside of children and the home, but who is currently having an unexpected extended break.  Why do I do this still?  No idea, but I have read some pretty good blogs recently about lost of identity and what life was like before children.  So I guess that pretty much sums up how I feel.  That with that little click the last 20 years of my life and experiences has somehow been wiped out.  That my role in life has now changed to that of a housewife because that is what society or the bank’s computer system thinks I am.  So what will this new role bring I ask?  Will I still be interesting to other people?  Will “Yes hello, I am currently at home with the kids” be met with blank stares or even worst that pitying smirk that some people like to give.  Will I lose whatever fashion sense I had while working and resort to anything that is comfy?  Will my ability to drink copious amounts of alcohol disappear since I no longer have work drinks or even worst am I am expected not to drink (copious amounts) since I am now a housewife? 

Now of course there is nothing wrong with being called a housewife, after all that is what many of my friends are.  But it does scream (well to me) images of a perfectly coiffure woman in an apron, holding babies and smiling sweetly at hubby.  Not the reality of a over tired woman trying to juggle housework, food shopping, school run, afterschool activities, cooking, bathing and story reading.

But the alternatives are not any better, Home Executive, Home maker, Soccer Mom, Lady of the house, Home Economist!  I mean really, am I the only one that thinks this? 

I think I will settle for what my mum used to say in her younger days when we were all still at home… “wife, mother, chief cook and bottle washer”. 

Just try fitting that into your little box Mr. Bank Manager!

"Walking thru an empty house, tears in my eyes...... This is where the story ends"

My dearest London,

The time has finally come to say goodbye. Our home is no more, all it's content packed up and ready to be shipped. Every room empty now, filled only with echoey silence, no sign that it used to be our home.

What can I say, its been a blast my old friend. From being a gateway to Europe for all our travels. To the dodgy pubs and clubs I have crawl out of at some ungodly hour. From fine dining to the old faithful local greasy spoon. To the great shopping on the High street, from cheap as chips, designer stuff, M&S food and underwear. I will miss all of this. To providing me with the excellent care to allow me to have our two gorgeous boys. To, of course, all the great people I have met and the good friends I have made, I will miss you all so much.

So thank you London for making the last decade, my thirties a truly memorable time.

Of course it hasn't always been good, there will be things that I will definitely not miss. From the snow, god how I hate the snow. How the whole city, no country, grounds to a halt is
beyond me! To the endless football coverage, dodgy summers, overcrowded tubes, tourist packed streets. No I won't miss them at all.

So yes I will miss you dear old London but as the song goes "this is where our story ends".

So now on to the next chapter and to whatever it may bring.


Yours truly



Frankie P xx

“Oh my dear, how I have been neglecting thee.....”

Crikey, I can’t believe that it has been over two weeks since I last posted something or even been on Twitter. There was a brief period of “oh no what I am missing out on” but that soon went and then I realised that I had so much stuff to sort out. So it has been a bit of a hectic and exhausting two week to say the least.

Hectic, as I have been trying to sort everything out for our move back to NZ before I leave for Bangkok tonight for my brother’s wedding! Oh yes nothing like having a holiday 4 weeks before you permanently leave a country but when I booked it back in August we had no idea that we would be moving back to NZ in November.

Exhausting, as we thought it would be a good time to move our little terror, that’s Son No 2 into his own bed. So for the last two weeks we have been getting a morning visitor at 5.30am who doesn’t believe in going back to bed. In fact he doesn’t believe in going to bed at anytime of the day now.. Oh, he used to be such a good little sleeper..

But it’s all coming together nicely and we will be sorted for our big move. It still feels very daunting and the excitement is yet to kick in but I am sure it will happen soon.

So thank you all for your comments, normal blogging service will resume shortly and apologises if I don’t get round to commenting over the next few weeks..

So now I just need to pack a bag and remember my passport...

The A - Z of me......

I have been tagged in the latest meme going round, by the rather funny Actually Mummy.  This is where I get to answer questions about myself in the form of A-Z questions.  Now as a pretty private person this is my idea of hell BUT as I am also not one to let the side down, here goes.. 

ANORAK…Do you have a sad side? 

I am a bit of a technical geek, blame it on 20 years working in IT.  Plus I have a great love of anything Sci-fi.  Does building Lego count as being a bit sad?  Also I do love a good documentary on the telly?    

BODY…What physical attribute would you most like to change? 

I am actually pretty happy with my lot; it has done me well and is still looking okay after all it has gone thru.  But I do wish I wasn’t so fair, pale, white or blue as my sister calls me.  Would be nice to not have to get a tan out of a bottle at times..

CELEBRITY…Which one would you most like to date and why? 

Move over Brad Pitt and Jonny Depp and hellooo David Tennant.  I am not sure how a pasty skinny Scotsman has become my object of affection but he has.  There is just something about him perhaps it’s his cheeky grin or his dulcet Scottish voice.  He can whisper in my ear anytime.. 

DEBUT …Tell us about your first ever blog post. What made you start blogging? 

Funny enough my first post was about me and why I started to blog.  Which basically was because I was made redundant and Mr P thought it would be a good thing to do to keep the grey matter ticking along..

ERROR …What’s been your biggest regret?

I don’t think I have any regrets really other than some blokes that I wish I hadn’t bothered with. 

FUNNY – who’s making you laugh? 
Well that would have to be my two boys of course.

GRAND…If we gave you one right now what would you spend it on?

If I was working and you gave it to me, I would spend it on either a new handbag or a family weekend away.  But as I am not I would put it away for a rainy day, boring but sensible..

HOLIDAY… What’s your favourite destination?  

Without a doubt it would be Africa.  Mr P and I have been fortunate enough to do a bit of travelling and this was the best place by far.  I can’t wait until the boys are old enough so we can take them back.

IRRITATE… What’s your most annoying habit? 

I tend to drink too much, I don’t have an “off switch” according to Mr P..

JOKER…Whats your favourite joke {the one that makes you laugh everytime you hear it}? 

“You can have a lie in, in the morning”.  Yeah right!

KENNEL… Do you have any pets?

No, but have promised the boys a dog when we eventually head back to NZ.

LOVE…Are you single, married, engaged, living with a long term partner? 

Married, together 17 married 10...  A lifetime...

MEAL… Whats your ultimate starter, main and dessert?
Easy, scallops to start, perfectly cooked Lamb for main and then some sort of sticky or chocolate desert, followed of coursed by a nice coffee.  Wine, of course served thru out.. 

NOW…If you could be anywhere right now where would you be and who with? 

We would be back in NZ with our families.

OFF DUTY…What do you do in your spare time? 

Spare time, what’s that? 

PROUD MOMENTS …What are you most proud of?

Has to be the birth of my two big bouncing boys...

QUEASY …What turns your stomach? 

The cruelty that the human race can afflict on each other, sometimes it makes be ashamed to think that we all come from the same gene pool..

RELAX…How do you relax?  

With a nice glass of wine, preferably a sauvignon or pinot noir..

SONG…Whats your favourite song of all time? 

Ziggy Stardust, I had the words written on my bedroom wall as a teenager.  My mum wasn’t too impressed with that..

TIME …If you could go back in time and relive it again, when would you choose?  

My early twenties, when I was young and single, and having a blast.  However I would like to go back with my 40 year head so I can stop myself from making stupid mistakes...  (See E above)

UNKNOWN…Tell us something about yourself that no one else knows?

Now that would be telling... Something’s are not for telling..

VOCAL…. Who is your favourite artist?  

David Bowie

WORK….. What is your dream job, and are you doing it now?  

I was doing my dream job, managing an IT team, working in the media industry, able to wear jeans everyday..  That all I wanted, eventually it happened and then I got made redundant from it..

XRAY…Any broken bones?

Nothing broken yet, touch wood..

YIKES…What’s been your most embarrassing moment? 

Being hit by a car outside a very busy bus stop after work..  There were people everywhere.  Truly embarrassing, the car wasn’t going that fast so I was able to pick myself up and limp away rather quickly...

ZOO…. If you were an animal, which one would you be? 

It would be a lioness, lying about in the sun all day, others around to help with childcare and not having to worry about what to eat as someone else was feeding you.  Sounds like bliss don’t you think?

So now I am going to tag the following lovely bloggers, apologises if you have already been tag or if you don’t want to do it...

Maris World

MishMashMum

Manana Mama

Reluctant Housedad

It was created by the Real Housewife of Suffolk County, so you can find the blank template here...

Our Strange little Habits......

Me “Did you put on the dishwasher?”

Mr P “Yes I did, its finished so I’ve emptied it”

Me “Cool, did you put it all away”

Mr P “Yeah”

Me “Did you rotate the plates and stuff around?”

Mr P “Did I what?”

Me “You know, change it all around so the clean stuff goes to the bottom and...”

So went the conversation on Sunday with Mr P.  The last sentence of me, explaining the crockery rotation to him was met with a blank stare, and the following “Are you fucking serious?  You really need to get out more or better yet get a job”.

Now I didn’t think my little “thing” was that bad, not OCD or anything, it’s just the way it is.  Just like the way the washing has to be hung out, if Mr P hangs it out wrong, which is inevitable, then I will go out afterwards and re-peg it.  Now, before you all go “what a control freak...”  Check this out; Mr P has a rotation system for the towels so once they have been washed, folded and put away he sneaks in and re-sorts the cupboard to ensure the right towels are used next time.  Now I think that is way more weird than my crockery thing!

We all have them, don't we, these little idiosyncrasies?  The little things we do or say that seems perfectly normal to us but to those around us it’s a bit strange or weird.  Things like not drinking out of cans (that’s me again), alphabetising your CDs, the way you fold your clothes or ironing your pants. Yes really, ironing pants! Just ask Keith at Chronicles of Reluctant Housedad about it.  To a friend of ours who has his pantry alphabetised with all labels facing out.  Oh yes all the cans and jars nicely lined up, all in order, heaven help you if you misplace something or move things around for a joke.  It’s not a laughing matter apparently!

I even see this behaviour in our boys, they way they play with certain cars or trains, how they line them all up, the order they do things in.  All part of their growing personalities, and their own little idiosyncrasies.

So dear readers, what about yourselves?  Do you have any strange little habits that make your loved ones think you have lost the plot?  

Who’s hiding in your wardrobe......??

So I think I may have either made a bit of a bad judgment call or did some character building on Sunday evening.  In that I let Son no 1 watch Dr Who with me.  Not that watching Dr Who was the bad call, he loves it, I love it. It was more the episode, as it featured a little dolls house with creepy moon faced dollies running round turning anyone unfortunate enough to be sucked into the house into more, creepy moon faced dollies.  While watching it his little face was looking more and more worried, maybe even a wee bit scared.  He finally told me he didn’t want to watch anymore and went off to his room to play.  When it was time for stories at bedtime I was asked a few questions about the dollies and would he have any in his room.  After much reassurance he went off to sleep.  We had similar conversations throughout today about the dollies and how he would fight them off. 

Hmmm, bad move perhaps?  Character building I say.  I love scary movies and books, I grew up on them.  I remember as a child watching the “Sunday Night horror” where, funny enough, every Sunday night a horror movie was showed on the telly.  Usually the old Hammer horror films with the odd Hitchcock film thrown into the mix.  My sister and I used to scare each other stupid, leaping out of wardrobes, hiding underneath the beds, tapping on the windows.  Many a night I went to bed utterly petrified that something was hiding in the wardrobe.  So you can see how my love for this genre of film and books just grew and grew. 

Mr P is amazed at the amount of “crap” as he calls it, that I know about werewolves, vampires, Freddy Krueger, or who Jason or Michael Myers are.  In fact it is one of the many bones of contention in our household when it comes to what movie to watch.  I inevitable go for the horror or Sci-fi, another great love of mine, while he wants the nicer movie.  We generally meet somewhere in the middle with a Thriller.

I draw the line at a bloody Rom Com, the only Rom Com I want to see is one where Jennifer Aniston plays a zombie bride and it’s actually funny!  

Scary looking for a 5 yo aren't they??

Pictures courtesy of the BBC

The Gym and I.......

It would be fair to say that I have a love hate relationship with the gym. I hate having to organise myself in the morning to go, hate having to exercise, but when I get there and once I start, I do enjoy it.  This on\off relationship has been going on more than 20 years now and I still can’t bring myself to walk away from it.  Before you think that I am a gym bunny, believe me I’m not.  If anything I would be the antithesis of a gym bunny.  I don’t have the latest hi-tech gear, I do like to get hot and sweaty and I don’t feel the necessity to wear makeup and have my hair looking good to work out.

But the strange thing is that since having kids it has become my place to escape to.  Sounds silly I admit, of all the places you can choose to escape from the kids (and Mr P and his bloody Sports Talk and Sky Sports) you wouldn’t think that the gym would come far up on the list... 

Why you may ask?  Well it is where every couple of days I get a full hour to switch off from everything else going on.  That’s a full hour where I don’t need to talk to anyone, I can listen to what I want to listen to, I can clear my head and “think”.  Think, do you remember doing that?  I don’t mean “think” as what should we have for dinner, the kids need new school clothes, what to get little Johnny for his birthday.  I mean “think”, that strange thing I used to do with my mind before it got cluttered with the daily grind of parenting. 

It’s an hour where in my mind I can think “how would I solve world peace”, “what shall I blog about” even daydream “do I really need those Christian Louboutin shoes”, “How would I spend my lotto millions”.  Okay perhaps those last two are fantasising a bit but that's the thing, my mind is free to wander and think all these weird and wonderful things while I plod along on the treadmill. 

An hour where I can people watch and try to slot them into one of 3 groups, the baggy t-shirters, the pretentious and serious gym goers.  Checking out whose boobs are real, wondering what possess the woman in front of me to wear a leopard print outfit and of course checking out the hot and sweaty men in the weights area.  All in that precious hour.  If I don’t feel like exercising then I can have a quiet coffee in the cafe all by myself.  The benefits of exercising can only come second to this me time.

Of course the fact that the gym also has a crèche where I can off load the kids for an hour or so a day has totally nothing to do with it!  Really it hasn’t.....

“Happy Campers”

Nine sleeps to go....Eight sleeps to go...  Go to what you might ask?  To go, until Son No 1 starts his summer holiday day camp.  3 days a week, Hooray!!!

Don’t get me wrong I love spending time with my first born but after 3 weeks of being almost housebound due to his operation and the weather we are both ready to have some quality time apart.  The problem, well if it is one, is that we are so similar it is scary.  He is my mini-me so to speak and we spark off each other all the time.  He knows the buttons to push, on purpose I suspect and with the endless negotiations to get things done, it is a wonder that I have any hair left.  He has even started giving me warnings and putting me on consequences when he doesn’t agree with something I have asked of him or said to him.

A typical daily exchange would be the following..

Me       F, can you go get your shoes and put them on as we need to go out.

F          I can’t mummy.

Me       Why can’t you?

F          Because I can’t!

Me       Why have your legs fallen off.. (okay so I admit sarcasm may not be best for a five year old)

Then a couple of hours later...

Me       F, can you go and tidy up your room before dinner.

F          But I didn’t make the mess, C was playing in there.

Me       I don’t care who was playing in there can you please just go and tidy it up for me.

F          Can’t mummy, my legs have fallen off...

Nothing like having your own sarcasm thrown back in your face by your five year old!

And why oh why does everything have to be a gun or turned into a gun with things exploding all over the place.  Whatever happened to the little boy who was quite content to sit and play with his wooden train set? 

I have read many blogs and tweets lately about other parents, happy that the school holidays are here and all the things they are looking forward to doing with their kids.  Really are you serious?  Yes it will be nice to spend a few extra days a week with them, taking them out and about or playing in the garden but every day for the next 6 weeks, really?

Perhaps it’s because this is my first summer off looking after kids, perhaps it’s because we have no family that we can send them off to for a few days, perhaps it is the expectation that you have to do something “fun” everyday with your kids.  All I know is that I am so glad that I had the foresight when I was working to book him into the day camp. 

We will both be “happy campers” next week.

Delusional in Middle Age....

So here’s the thing, I think I have to finally accept the fact that I am middle age. That I am 40 and not the 20 something person I see in my mind’s eye. I am sure we all have a different perception of ourselves, a younger more carefree version of ourselves. You know the one, before babies, partners, mortgages and all the other shit entered out lives.


All week I have been looking, rather sadly I have to admit, at a photo that was taken last Saturday night at a summer ball we were invited to. There we are all done up to the nines, Mr P even wore a dinner suit, which is a first in the 17 years we have been together. But the woman looking back at me is not me; it is a cross between my older sister (12 years older) and my dear old mum. A middle age woman who looks like she needs to sleep for a week!

Yip, think I have been deluding myself over the last 10 or so years that I am still that younger version of myself. Now there is nothing wrong with being 40, well apart from the fact that recovery time from a night out is a bit longer. In fact I have no issue telling people my age. Why hide the fact? It also helps that I actually look a few years longer than that. Which I put down to having good genes as it is certainly not by taking my makeup off before going to bed or clean living. Any way I digress...

So middle age, in fact you could almost question that 40 is no longer middle age due to what is portrayed in the media, you know the fabulous 40 something yummy mummies, think Elle Macpherson here. Of course we could all look like that if we had squillons of pounds, nannies, personal trainers, dieticians, stylists, and cosmetic surgeons on speed dial. But in the cold blue light of reality for the majority of us, looking that good is just an additional high expectation of motherhood in the 21st century. Really I can’t see her having to put two loads of washing on before the school run, look after a riotous 2 year old while try to clean the house, rushing home after a play date to cook a nutritious meal of fish fingers and baked beans! Can you?

But those two words, the connotations that it brings up, makes me shudder with dread...

“Middle age, that period of age beyond young adulthood, but before the onset of old age”.

I am just not ready to accept the fact that is what I am. Yes, I am a mother so I am responsible when I need to be. But I am not ready to stop being that 20 something girl, to throw away my wardrobe for a more mumsy sensible one, to stop having nights out with the girls (or boys for that matter), dancing on tables, okay haven’t done that in a while but I think you get the picture...

There is a saying “you are only as old as the person you feel” so I’m off out to find me a toy boy...

My little but not so dirty secret......

Dear Frankie

I have a little secret to tell you, it’s not a world changing secret.  Hell it’s not even a “dirty little secret.  It’s not even that I love listening to the Bee Gees on a hot summer’s day.  Frankie, my dear, my secret is you!

Yes you, Frankie Parker, my little blog.  I can count on one hand the people who know about you.

Why have I told no one?  I am not sure perhaps it is because I want to keep you to myself for a little while more.  To see where we can go together and how you develop.  Let’s not run before we can walk as they say.  What if we stop getting on or even have a falling out?  Or is it just that I am not ready to admit to the world yet that I am a blogger.   After all, the written word is so much more powerful than the spoken word.  What if I offend someone close to me by some opinions I may have that differ to theirs?  Hell there is no way you are going anywhere near my Facebook page until I am well and ready for it.  And as for LinkedIn, well that is never going to happen!

Or is it simply that I don’t want people to know about you as it’s a private thing between me and you?  Where I can put my thoughts, ponderings and opinions down without beginning judged as I know you will understand.

It has been hard, very hard at times keeping you quiet.  There has been times where I do so what to mention some of the great blogs I have read or talk about a twitter conservation I have had. 

But no Frankie, I am not ready for that yet, so honey it looks like it is just you and me for a little bit more..

Hope you don’t mind?

Love

Me xx

What if Motherhood was a sporting Competition..??

While sitting and watching Wimbledon over the last few days it got me thinking what if motherhood was a sporting competition? 

After all we all know of the super “competitive mums” who make the rest of us “mere mums” feel inadequate.  You know the sort I am talking about, the ones who have to have the best natural pain free birth around, found breastfeeding a breeze, what post baby fat?  As if at the end of their endless bragging and one-upmanship they get a bright shining medal that they can proudly display as “No 1 Mum”.  Yes I am sure we all know someone like that or perhaps you are one?

So, as I was saying, what if motherhood was a major sporting competition, and what events would there be?  Perhaps there would be….

….The mother of all “Marathons” would be the labour and birth.  Many will fall to the wayside due to sickness along the way; the hint of an epidural will see you disqualified as gas and air is the only accepted drug of choice!  The hotly contested Post Baby fat weigh in, where uber mums would be lining up to prove what great shape they are in after giving birth.  With the occasionally squeal of “I am smaller than I was before getting pregnant”.  Breastfeeding would have to be the hurdles where the mums in this event would be lining up either by choice or because they feel they have to.  Some will drop at the first hurdle, and will give up at this stage while others will pick themselves up and carry on to the next hurdle falling again and again but going until they reach the end.  The 100 meter Baby race, where mums are racing to compete with each other, over what milestones their baby has achieved in their short little lives.  This obviously will turn into the Toddler 1500 meters, where mums will be anxiously racing to tick off all their toddler milestones?  But the most competitive and derision event of mothering must surely be routine versus non-routine.  Like a boxing match this hotly debated topic will go rounds with each side debating which is best and why the other isn’t.

Sound ridiculous don’t you think?  But in some mum circles that I have come across this isn’t far from the truth.  When these situations arise, do I try and compete alongside them?  No bloody way, I stay on the sidelines. Chatting to anyone else who like me, prefers to watch the madness and competitiveness of these mothers without getting involved in it all.

You see there is a need for competition in various areas of life but not in being a mother.  Who cares or why should it bother anyone else on how you got pregnancy, your (or your lack of) morning sickness, what you did in pregnancy, your birthing decisions, if you followed a routine, breast or bottle fed, dummy or no dummy, single or married….?

The only thing that matters is that we are all mums and we should stop passing judgment on other mums especially if their choices were not your own.  Enough judgment on mothers is already being passed by the media with various "research and studies" that hit the papers almost weekly and then let’s not forget the various websites that exist to make us feel like bad mothers when our opinions my differ from theirs.

After all you just never know when you may need the help of the mum, that you have already judged!