Tuesday, 25 February 2014

Snaps from a 2nd birthday party

There was birthday cake.

Lots of cards and presents.

The birthday boy dressed as Tigger.

Daddy and Tommy watching Winnie the pooh.

Holding hands.

Wednesday, 19 February 2014

Ladies who lunch

I've joined the ladies who lunch club.
Okay, it's not really a club as such. It's not as if I pay £19.99 per year membership fee, receive a fortnightly newsletter, and wear my name badge with pride. Oh no, it's nothing as formal as that.
I am fortunate to know people who are fortunate not to have to work. And although I love Tommy to the moon and back, adult conversation during the day is rather nice.
Therefore, I have been dishing out lunch invites as if they are going out of fashion. Might as well make the most of all this 'free' time. Plus, other hands can hold Tommy whilst I sterilise bottles etc (no, it's not a cunning plan so I can organise my life, but I might as well make use of friendly hands).
Alas, the food is not as fancy as I would like. Finances and time put a stop to that, but guests haven't come to sample michelin star menus, right? I was not put on this earth to show off culinary skills, was I? It's all about the chat, whilst also stuffing faces with cake.
Sometimes I even receive an invite back, which is always well received. As long as the invitation is not too far away. I can just about drive five minutes without having a meltdown about Tommy in the car seat in the back. He's fine if he's asleep (this is a good journey) but not fine if he's awake and his dummy has come out or he can't shove his hands in his mouth (this is a bad journey, believe me).
I've even set up a little routine to make life easier for myself. It goes something like this: Rolls are made the night before, when hubby is home from work, then rolls are stored in fridge with tin foil wrapped around. Plates, cups and serviettes are placed on table when Tommy is in bed, and things which go in oven are plonked in oven when guests arrive and say, "Arr, can I have a cuddle with Tommy?"
After guests leave, it takes me the rest of the day to gradually clear up. This is the hardest part, because I have slight OCD about tidiness and it is considered rude to ask my ladies-who-lunch-with-me to clear crockery away. I wouldn't dream of asking, even though I am always a little nervous when I see discarded coffee cups and carelessly strewn side plates.
Still, my slight OCD regarding tidiness is not their fault, and it's not something I like to mention often.
Besides, that's a whole different post coming to the blog soon. Once I have actually finished tidying and can actually find the time.
So I must dash, the house is sleeping but I can't go to bed until I have straightened cushions, folded away towels, picked toys up off the floor, and the house is ready for another day.
At least there are no rolls to make as it's ladies who don't lunch tomorrow.
I shall leave you with pics from the last one.

Cakes to stuff in mouth.

Things which are plonked in oven.

More oven stuff.

Tuesday, 11 February 2014

Biceps, chicken korma and fire engines

There are certain things in this life I have vowed never to do.
I mean apart from the obvious, such as thou shall not kill, no matter how much a person has peed you off. Or thou shall not run off with best friend's husband, no matter how much he makes you laugh.
If you have a conscience and you're a nice person, there are probably quite a few things you would never contemplate. But putting aside all the glaringly obvious stuff, I am referring to the little every day things you see and hear, and mentally note to yourself, "I'm never doing that!"
I have a 'forbidden list' in my head, it's a substantial list, and a couple of the items are as follows:
If and when I am lucky enough to be a mother, I will never discuss the contents of my babies nappies, because I have heard this conversation before and quite frankly it's gross, and why would you want to dwell on it and make someone feel sick by elaborating on something which should go in a dustbin and stay in a dustbin.
Also, if I do become a mother one day, I shall never sit in a public bar and show complete strangers pictures of my child/children and not notice their eyes glaze over and mistakenly think they are interested in every moment of my child's life, when they have never met my offspring and are highly unlikely to.
Dear readers, it is with deep regret that I must inform you, I have failed fantastically to achieve the above. One could say I have let my standards slip. Or I've merely become caught up in the moment and forgot about my 'forbidden list'.
You see, it was my friend Sophie's hen night at the weekend. I left daddy in charge of Tommy, and feeling like my right arm had been chopped off, I boarded, without my three and a half month's old son, two trains to a bar in London.
We'd purchased tickets to see The Dreamboys, with a hot buffet and a complimentary cocktail. That's right, The Dreamboys, the ones with the bulging biceps and risky dance routines. Not really my thing but I put on my polka dot dress and brown boots and joined my friend never the less.
But I couldn't help worrying about/thinking of Tommy. He's only three and a half month's old and time apart from him is very, very limited.
To put my mind at rest, hubby promised to text regular updates and I assured him I would check in as often as possible.
So, and regrettably not the first time, nappy contents were discussed over text. I know, I know, it aint pleasant, yet it's become common practice. It's easy to mock when you don't have a little 'un and you don't realise how important normal bladder and bowel functions are. I know I used to mock anyway, BT (before Tommy). And in case you were curious, chicken korma was my favourite Indian meal. Not any more.
It does not end there. I'm afraid, dearest readers, that I broke another one of my rules from the 'forbidden list'.
Last Saturday, whilst we were perched in our booth, after dancing on chairs and laughing at the men in the ridiculously tight shorts, I showed lots of pictures of Tommy, from my mobile, to a girl I have never met before.
"That's him in his fire engine pyjamas, isn't he cute!"
I then looked up to check the reaction from the girl I was over indulging with Tommy pics. She was desperately looking around the room, probably wondering who could rescue her or what was a polite reason to run.
Oh dear. What has happened to me? I have become the person I never thought I would become. I am doing things I vowed never to do.
I need to stop breaking my own rules. I must remind myself of the 'forbidden list'. If I fail to comply with any other items, there could be carnage. It could be an unsafe world, for everyone.
I need to find a quiet, dark, room and re-evaluate my life.
Believe me, it's in your best interest.

I dare you.

Mine'a a white wine please.


Would you like a beer?

Friday, 7 February 2014

Mother's fruit cake

Dig out ingredients from recipe box.

Measure 12oz of mixed fruit.

Plonk 4oz of granulated sugar into bowl.

Add 4oz of margarine.

You'll need 1/4 of a pint of water.

Then simmer all together for 20 minutes.

Allow to cool before folding in 8oz of self raising flour and 1 beaten egg.

Stick into oven for 1 hour 1/4 or 1 hour 1/2 on gas mark 2/150 degrees.

Then pop onto pretty plate and scoff.

Sunday, 2 February 2014

Beside the seaside

Flashing neon lights decorate the windswept pier. Peter Pan's playground stands proudly against the sky.

Freshly caught fish, fat chips and mugs of steaming hot coffee. And smiles and kisses with daddy.