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Archive for April, 2006

Oh God.

I’ve been signed off work for two weeks.  Not that I’m really complaining, you understand, but I feel a bit of a fraud.  Apparently I’m suffering from stress – not the usual head churning, panic stricken, tearful stress that I end up taking large chunks of work off sick with, but according to my doctor my irritated bowels are probably largely psychosomatic and I need to slow down and give them a chance to lighten up a bit.

Slow down?  How?  I have a full time job (can’t really afford to go part time), a toddler and a house to look after (admittedly with Kev’s help), a life which means that every now and again I like to visit my family and friends and a couple of hobbies that don’t take up all that much time which I need to keep me sane.

Any ideas?

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The Yorkshireman is away this week on a course, so ’tis just Little’un and I.  And her nursery, thank god, as my bowels are once more irritated and I’ve had ANOTHER day off work today.  FFFmmmmppppphhhhh. Not impressed.  AT ALL.  There could have been no way I could have coped with a toddler with seemingly 6 ten foot arms and a sudden urge to rearrange furniture so that she can climb up onto the windowsill whilst sat on the bog all day.

The Yorkshireman rang tonight while Little’un was still up, so she got to have a chat with him on the phone.  Normally, she’ll natter away when there’s no-one at the other end of the line (apart from the BT Lady, “The number you have called is not recognised…”) but she would clam up completely if anyone actually talked to her.  Tonight though she seemed to have a sudden realisation that REAL PEOPLE talk on phones as she sussed out straight away that her Daddy was talking to her and started chatting back to him. 

All of a sudden her bottom lip started quivering and she handed the phone back to me looking genuinely confused and said, “Daddy!  Stuck!”.  Daddy’s incarceration in the handset didn’t bother her for too long though.  Within 10 seconds she was back to posting biscuits into the DVD player or bashing the cat with her dolly or whatever it was she was doing when she was so rudely interrupted by the phone ringing.

You will all be pleased to hear that The Yorkshireman has recovered nicely from being minced up finely enough to fit in a 5″x2″x1″ telephone handet and will be attending his course tomorrow morning as planned.

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  1. Rip the border off the wall in their bedrooms next to their cot.
  2. Steal your icecream cone off you when offered a lick and then refuse to give it back.
  3. Do a great big curly turd on the living room carpet when left nappiless for an hour due to horrendous teething-induced nappy rash.
  4. Understand the concept of, “Playing on the swing in the garden NOW Mummy” but failing to understand, “It’s raining rather hard and the garden is like a swamp”.
  5. Read the same book over and over and over AND OVER again.
  6. Wake up ridiculously early, especially at the weekend.  I’m talking pre-6am on more than one occasion.
  7. Stop having their two hour midday nap, the one that Mummy liked so much, so that she could have a shower/do the ironing/watch crap daytime telly and eat chocolate in peace (I’m sure that 21 months is a bit early to be losing the nap, but it appears to have happened anyway).

I’m sure there are more.  This may turn into a regular feature.

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It’s been a very busy week here at Tangerine Towers. 

Little’un and I went to Sheffield on Tuesday to see BabiesEverywhere’s ever increasing bump.  We went to a soft play centre in Hillsborough in the afternoon, which was loads better than the Wacky Warehouse coz the adults can play too.  Of course, in her delicate condition, BE couldn’t play with Little’un and I which meant that we had someone to look after the bags while we played and ran round.  Great fun, but only one minor problem – these places aren’t built for people 5′6″ tall so I killed a few brain cells on overhead bars.  I also got stuck on a slide coz it was slightly narrower than my arse.  Oh the shame.

I drank wine.  I stayed up late.  Little’un woke up early.  I felt like death for the next 24 hours.  I’d say never again, but I think that we all know that there’s a fairly good chance that my good intentions won’t last.

Of course I can vouch for the fact that my indisposition, which wasn’t so much a headache as hordes of evil heavy footed demons smashing their way out though my skull, was not in fact caused by an excess of wine.  I clearly just need to watch my head next time I play on sprog sized play equipment.

I had to pull myself together and drive back to Boston on Wednesday afternoon as Mum and Sibling came to stay and had to be collected from the train station.  Their visit provided us all with the perfect excuse to eat chocolate (Easter Eggs were once again exchanged) and we also had a yummy Chinese takeaway.  No wonder I get stuck on play equipment.  Gah.

The poor Yorkshireman is incredibly busy at work at the moment so he can’t have any time off just now, which meant that we had a girls’ trip out on Thursday.  I took everyone to Stickney Farm Park thinking that we’d all enjoy it, but Sibling 3 wasn’t keen at all.  She’s definitely not the type to commune with nature!  Little’un loved it, unless the animals got too close or too noisy.  She was particularly keen on the geese although she does insist that they’re ducks.  The child is duck obsessed.  Better not give her the Crispy Duck from the Chinese then.

There are some photos here.  I particularly like the one of the llama.

Mum and Sibling 3 went home today, so normality has once more been achieved at Tangerine Towers.  Please please please Litttle’un, please sleep past 6am tomorrow morning.  Mummy will buy you a duck.

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Sick and tyred (fnar)

On the way back from Stickney Farm Park yesterday, my car was misbehaving – when I steered round a corner, the car didn’t go where it was supposed to.  Slightly disconcerting at 60mph.  Although I’m no mechanic I diagnosed a flattish tyre – I will admit to being a bit lax on the old routine maintenance and have had this problem before.  “No problem,” I thought, “I’ll stop at Asda, do a bit of shopping, and blow up the tyre at the garage on the way out.”  A fine plan, which was going well until my car registration came over the tannoy while we were browsing the coleslaw selection.

It’s unlikely that anyone would break into my car.  The state it is generally found in isn’t laziness, it’s a robber deterrant, especially if I park it next to a lovely shiny Audi, Beamer or Merc.  So my first thought was that some idiot had scraped off some of my cunning mud disguse with their shopping trolley and had possibly even exposed paint.

When I got to the front of the store there was a car park attendant waiting for me – he’d been collecting trolleys and had noticed that one of my tyres was completely flat.  The next piece of good news I got was that the tyre-inflaty-machine at the garage wasn’t working.  He was a lovely man though and got one of his car park attendant mates to bring a portable air compressor and re-inflate my tyre.  It must have been a slow day collecting-trolleys-wise though as it took three of them to get me going!  Needless to say I was eternally grateful to all of them, they went out of their way to help me out and got me back on the road in about 5 minutes. 

This morning, the car and I went to the appropriately named Mr Tyre to have the puncture investigated.  There was a dirty great nail in the side wall.  £30 for a new tyre.  It’ll take me ages to get it as dirty as the rest of the car.

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…not much catching up to do then!

…not much catching up to do then! 

22 years after her family moved away when we were best friends at primary school, a couple of years after we got back in touch via  Friends Reunited, after many exchanged emails, MSN conversations and blog comments, Pewari and I finally met up today .

We had our families in tow so we took over a corner of the Beefeater in Leicester and had a lovely meal. All the kids, and the adults too, were very well behaved and we had a lovely afternoon. Little’un really took a shine to Pewari’s older son, she followed him adoringly round even to the point of braving the horrors of the Wacky Warehouse so that she could play with him. She got very brave and climbed everywhere and even slid down the slide. She really enjoyed herself and was tired out, she got a bit stroppy toward the end of the afternoon but it was a very busy day for such a little girl!

Pewari and I have found that we have loads in common and our lives have pretty much run in parallell.  We seem to have a lot of similar ideas and experiences.  I’m so glad to have her as a friend now as much as I was when we were 10.

I have more chins than her though.

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We went to Ikea today to get a bookcase and a couple of rugs for our newly refurbished  bedroom.  I love going to Ikea.  I can’t really put my finger on why, perhaps it’s just my love of browsing that draws me there – all those wonderful displays laid out as rooms, the endless variety of cheap stuff in the Market Place, all those cushions… *contented sigh*. 

Today being Good Friday and a bank holiday, we thought it would be stuffed full of screaming kids and couples having domestics, but it was surprisingly quiet.  We even got a parent and toddler parking space near the door.

There was some poor unfortunate student on stilts in a silly suit just inside the door handing out balloon sculptures to all the kids as they went in.  Little’un wasn’t keen, she was a bit frightened of him, but I wanted a balloon thing so I waited in line with my wriggling child.  We were rewarded with a balloon flower which Little’un loved, she sat in her trolley contentedly playing with it for a good 15 minutes.  This is something of a record for her, she’s not keen on sitting in trolleys normally, she’d rather be running around wreaking havoc.  She waved it around screaming “FLOWER!” happily until it started to burst.  Unfortunately she didn’t quite grasp that if you chew a balloon, eventually you’ll pop it.  I thought that she would hate the popping noise but all that happened was that the word happily screamed changed from “Flower!” to “BANG!”.  The look of wonder on her face as it finally deflated was just so cute.

Back at home this evening, she was running round nappyless just before bathtime when she dragged her potty out and parked herself on it in front of the telly.  I bought the potty a couple of weeks ago so that she can get used to it being around with a view to potty training later this summer.  She seemed happy enough so I left her to it for a few minutes while I caught up with a bit of internetting.  Next thing I know, an unpleasant smell wafts across the room… she’d used her potty for its original purpose (number twos only though). 

God it was HORRIBLE. 

I have no problem whatsoever with dirty nappies.  Two quick wipes and she’s clean, fresh and ready to go.  It would appear, however, that I have a huge problem with potties.  I was very nearly sick emptying it out in the toilet.  The Yorkshireman could hear me wretching from downstairs.

Potty training will have to wait until I get a stronger stomach.  Some time in 2009 ought to be about right.

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