Risk it for a biscuit

There goes my botty.
Pass the potty.

Bless'em Twee Nursery
2-3 years handover slip: Smudger, 2nd Sept 2009

Meals: Fruit Loaf snack (Tried). Shepards [sic] Pie, Peas + Gravy (Ate all).

'Smudge has had a great first day at nursery! He has been building towers with the bricks in the sand and playing with the popoids. Smudge has drawn a lovely picture with the chalks and has had great fun playing with the cars.'

Now I just need to find out what popoids are!

Six [absentmindedly]: What's 108 minus 67, Smudge?

Smudge: Donkey!

The answer, incidentally, is the number of pounds I will be overdrawn by in 3 days' time

My turn to get up with the bairn this morning, so I tried to keep Smudger quiet as we made our way downstairs at 6.56am, but he kept shouting random things (like "sore willy" and "marmalade").

Had to forcibly strap him into his high chair with some Oatibix at 7.40am so I could run upstairs and have an urgent poo (before I was responsible for children I never knew what a luxury it is to be able to poo whenever you choose).

However, my flushing (sorry for any unnecessary detail but it was a 'three flusher') woke up ParsleySage anyway and he joined me on the sofa while Smudger finished his breakfast and I made unsuccessful advances to Parsley in his dressing gown (advice note to partners of 40 something men: apparently they need a coffee first, and the presence of a banana-smeared toddler can be detrimental).

Ushered Smudger upstairs, where I wished I'd done a 'sniff test' on his bottom region instead of the 'pull the back of the nappy and have a quick peek test', since the contents had gone quite a long way (I have now washed my thumb).

Washed, nappychanged and dressed Smudge, packed his bag and Parsley took him to the childminder while I took a shower, missing two phone calls to let me know I've got some more work in September (£700 for two days' work: back of the net!)

Today had been officially designated a 'Parsley & Six' day. Periodically we make time for these days since we never got much chance to be a couple (long story for those who don't know it but basically after 12 years of infertility, I left my husband for ParsleySage, who I'd been seeing for all of about 6 weeks, and got pregnant about 5 minutes later - a bit of a 'surprise' for us both).

On Parsley's return we, er, enjoyed the quiet surroundings (nice cup of coffee and a sandwich, that sort of thing ) before heading off to the Cow & Plough which is a real ale pub in the countryside that serves massive doorstep sandwiches (I just about managed my smoked salmon but certainly could not have got my mouth around Parsley's Club!!!)

Drank too much rosy wine (I dunno how to do an accent so we'll pretend that's a cute affectation) and tried to walk it off at the Botanic Gardens afterwards but failed (so pissed, I bought a lilac bicycle in Asda later).

Came home and am now sprawled on sofa (I was on the floor, but Parsley threatened to draw a chalk outline around me) while the Sage goes to collect his three sons and attempts to find out his daughter's GCSE results, which no one has so far deigned to impart to us. Can't be bothered to take off my Converse so my feet are on a newspaper.

Later when all the boys get here I'm gonna cook a big fry up.

I like Parsley & Six days

Child gets into bed with Mummy and Daddy.

Smudge: Move!
Mummy: No, we don't say 'Move', do we?
Smudge: Bouncing!
Mummy: No, you can't bounce on the bed because we are still in it.

*child pauses for thought*

Smudge: Actually - Move!

ACTUALLY????!!!!!

This time last week you were still ONE!!!!

For the past few months I've been doing some co-ordination work on a scheme that enables young people to develop their arts skills.

I'm just analysing all the feedback forms and the following really made me laugh:

Please describe any new skills you have learned, or things you have got better at doing...

"I have learnt how to draw a gerbil."

Now that's vocational.

Baby woke crying at 2am and I've been awake ever since, usual story... and I'm sooooo tired.

I can't quite believe my baby will be 2 tomorrow. Exactly 2 years ago I was awake as well... having contractions every 3 mins and turning up the TENS machine

I know that Smudger's half-sister (she doesn't deserve to be called his sister) will not bother sending so much as a text saying Happy Birthday let alone a card or present. That gets me down. She probably won't bother coming to his party on Sunday either. That might not be a bad thing however, since I have not forgiven her for the last incident (when she told me to 'fuck off' on Facebook because I dared to post some pictures of Taf looking happy at our house) and I don't particularly want to look at her or speak to her. I'm done with trying to see things from her perspective. I need to stop caring so much. I know people mean well when they try to tell me how much she is hurting inside. I don't want anyone to be hurting but there's NO excuse for hurting other people and I have had enough. I really sincerely hope that she and Smudge will develop some form of sibling relationship in the future but a door has closed in my head now.

I was in the chemist's yesterday picking up a chemist prescription (more sleeping tablets - mwhahahaha. The doctor has now given up trying to talk me in to counselling or relaxation skills and just hands over the drugs).

Behind the counter a box of 'versatile sling material' could not help but catch my eye.

The brand name?

Collar 'n' Cuff

I was recently obliged to purchase some new socks. This is partly because all my socks are old, and partly because Mr ParsleySage, aka size 12 foot freak, aka colour blind freak, keeps wearing mine by accident and stretching them beyond all recognition.

Happening to be in Asda on a rainy afternoon recently, I went to peruse the ladies' socks section only to find it full of pink socks with little polka dots and scottie dogs and other frickin' nonsense. I'm a woman, not a MORON. Why would I want to wear that twee crap on my feet? So I hot-footed it (please pardon pun - it was unintentional) to the young boys' section, where not only could I select a nice young boy a five pack of nice bright stripey socks that even a colour blind freak couldn't mix up with his own, but I could buy them in a size that actually fits, instead of the ubiquitous 'one size', aka not my frickin' size.

The essence of the thing being that I have ridiculously small feet (size 3, or 36 if you want me to come over all continental). I don't know why this is but I suspect it might have something to do with ballet dancing on my toes (or 'en pointe' as they say in the business). I believe it may have stunted my foot growth. I am quite petite on the whole but when I was a child my feet were actually very long in relation to my body. I once got onto the front page of the local paper after winning a dance trophy two years running, and they printed the wrong surname, randomly giving me the name Driver, alongside a terrible photo in which my elongated clown feet caused my brother to enquire whether my feet had grown so big as a result of "all that driving". That's brothers for you.

Anyway, my feet never grew again and now that I am actually a driver if not a Driver, I find it quite difficult to reach the pedals with flat shoes on, which is a sad predicament for a 38 year old with a dodgy leg who only wears flat shoes because I risk falling off anything with heels owing to having feet so small (little better than hooves and let's face it animals with hooves have four of the buggers to balance on) that my balance is crap.

That was a long sentence, wasn't it?

My second toe is also longer than my big toe, which I know is weird, and my toes are all tucked under one another in funny directions. I also have an instep so outrageously high that my mother used to have to take me from East Anglia to London on the train to buy me shoes, because my feet were 'A' width which is only stocked by specialist suppliers to people with weird feet.

Anyway. I have new socks, and ParsleySage has been mocking me because I insist on washing new socks before I wear them. ParsleySage says that I am denying myself one of life's greatest pleasures - the putting on of brand new socks. However, my mother, purveyor of infinite wisdom, always told me (along with other pearls like "older men usually father girls") that if you wash new socks before you wear them, they keep their shape better. This is probably some 1950s old [house]wives tale but I am an old fashioned girl at heart and into the washing machine my stripey boys' socks went.

They have now been washed and I wore the green stripey pair today to match my green top and they were VERY VERY COMFY. I just wanted you to know that.

On the down side, little Smudge woke up at half past five this morning with a temperature and for a while there it looked like my birthday was cancelled.

On the up side, he perked up after some Nurofen for Children, so we thrust him at the childminder and ran.

On the down side, I missed some of the crucial plot twists in Harry Potter and the Half-Baked Pringles owing to being asleep.

On the upside, I very much enjoyed sitting in the 'Director's Hall' at Cinema De Lux in a fat leather(ette) chair with a sliding table for our drinkypoos and a little box of snackettes brought to our seats by charming staff.

On the downside, I now have a splitting headache having got a bit drunk on mojito cocktails that were brought to me while sitting in the fat leather chair in the Director's Hall, and have had to cancel the babysitter and my birthday evening out.

On the upside... I still look pretty hot for 38