Friday, 16 September 2011

This is what September brings...

Another Goodbye 

Moneybags (my brother) came back from Australia, with his Future Wife, for a flying a visit. It was a wonderful week, just having him part of everyday life again, but it ended all too quickly and we found ourselves, stood on the front step, once more, holding back the tears.
"It's just nine months this time"  he reassured us. "Then I'm back for good"
"Oh that's nothing" I teased, rubbing my bump, "Just a pregnancy then - that flies by."
I held it together till the car's engine erupted into the street, then turned by back on the scene and let the tears roll out.

A new homophone

We were driving in the car, me and the boys, and happened to pass a factory...
Little O: What’s that building Mamma?
Me: A factory.
Little O:  That's not a fattree
Me: Yes it is, it's a Fact - tory.
Little O:  No, a fattree is a tree, like in the wood, which has a big round tummy, bigger than mine or... (looking at the bump)  yours. That's a fat- tree.

A 'Who's Who?' page on my blog.

I forget, a lot, that it is not just me and my family who read this... Therefore, I take for granted that everyone understands the blog pseudonyms. And with new followers (a warm welcome, by the way), who missed earlier introductory posts, I understand how 'Fearless' may be mistaken for a dog and 'The FH' as some mystical god, so I thought this may help with any confusion, or maybe not. It's gushing with compliments, to keep them all on my side - all true though. It can be found in the top right hand corner.

Another bollock of day

During this day, I often felt like I was reliving Michael Douglas' emotions in Falling Down, but as I now put it into print, it doesn't seem at all that bad and I am suddenly aware of what a drama queen I am. Hormones must have been raging on this day.

The day started with a tooth ache, which whenever things started to go wrong throbbed and ached a little bit more. Then, I spent too long in  the shower as I was pleading with my tooth to stop hurting, when I came downstairs I discovered Fearless had removed over half my laptop keys and had squeezed as many as he could  into his mouth. FEARLESS!

Any spare moment I had in the following, torturous nine hours were spent either a) looking for microscopically small clips on the floor or b) at the laptop with tweezers in one hand, the other acting as a guard between the keys and Fearless, whilst my one armed pair of glasses continuously slipped down my nose and I frustratingly jerked my head to hold them in place.. This was tedious, stressful, mostly fruitless and generally resulting in me screaming child-friendly expletives at the lap top and making deep throated growls at the Fearless.

The tooth ache continued to gnaw at my nerves and I attempted the first school run of the year, by foot. Fearless screamed all the way there, baby no.3 jiggled and wriggled against my bladder, and Little O cried all the way home because he was tired and thirsty. It was joy.

The final hours before The FH returned home included: the underwire pinging out of my favourite bra and carving its name into my left breast, Fearless smashing a glass, me dropping a plate, a neatly folded pile of laundry been thrown around the house, a bin bag splitting open  as I tried to carry it outside and, finally, discovering too late I had stood in  a piece of regurgitated banana and a soggy pool of Coco Pops.

Consequently, the Ctrl and Shift buttons still remain empty, their skeletal holes forever reminding of that bollock of a day.

The Return of Strictly

Yay for glitter balls and over-the-hill celebrities dropping two dress sizes! When will their celebrity intake list include part time bloggers too? I am a woman of extremes - I either watch excellent TV (e.g. Luther) or terrible (e.g. 90210) there is no middle ground. I'll let you decide which one Strictly enters, then I'm pleasing you all. It has been a whole year since there has been anything to watch on a Saturday Night - and now, as a little blessing from ITV and the BBC I have Strictly and X Factor to count me down through the last 3 months of pregnancy - oh it's going to fly!

A new school year

Little O starts reception. *Gulp*. He's ready. I'm ready. But it isstill is such a massive step and the end of such a wonderful time. However,  I am determined to have some quality time with Fearless, if the bump will allow; it's ever-growing presence seems to have other ideas.  Elsewhere, The FH is still sulking that the holidays are over.

Another embarrassing moment

Sunday is swimming day. As a family we half a 45 minute swim before Little O's lesson, Then O patiently drips dry on the edge of the pool, waiting for his lesson to start. We make a dash for the changing rooms so we can watch him and 9 other 4 year olds, drift around the pool, crashing into one another for half an hour. I take my time getting changed with Fearless whilst The FH makes a swift transformation, superhero style, to watch Little O start his lesson.

Normally, I stick to a strict routine, quick shower, game of hide and seek amongst the lockers (Fearless when stood upright, fits perfectly inside the family sized lockers), then he has a drink and snack wearing  hooded towel in the secure play pen whilst I get dressed, finally,  I get him dressed. Simple. However, today the changing room was empty, so I decided I would enjoy the freedom of space, I thought I would use the communal changing space and let Fearless roam free, exploring the cubicles, playing in the mirror, rolling around the soggy floor etc. Whilst I was, just fastening my bra, I noticed Fearless, had made it through the first set of exit doors. "Surely the second set is too heavy for him" I thought, grabbing my towel and heading that way, just in case. When I got there, the hooded crusader had already gone. I dashed through the doors, only in underwear and a towel, which was wrapped around me barely meeting due to bump and suddenly realised I was exposed to various, fully dressed, members of the public and Fearless, looking like a little gnome, his hooded towel open to reveal all his delights, had already made it to the extremely busy canteen. I just had time to think "fuck it!" and put by best foot forward when I heard the reassuring voice of The FH behind me. “I've got him Fran, you just get back in there” .I still don't know if I was pleased or mortified that he had found me there.

Back inside, Fearless was passed through the door by a giggling FH, as I carried him to the play pen, the look of mischief still glittered in his beautiful eyes, I told him in my teacher voice: "Next week we will NOT be deviating from the routine."

Long discussions, with no resolution, about baby names

So, naming a third boy. That's hard. The first was quite easy, we thought we had picked something original, and like most things, it becomes trendy and now is in the top 20 boys name for 2012. Originality score: Zero. So, with the second, determined to be original, we only considered names that were ridiculous - and when he was born did not name him till hours later - a name that is very original, so original some people question whether it is a name and ask if we made it up,  "There is a sportsman and a semi-famous antique specialist called it" I reply defensively.

So this time if feels like with have already discounted every other boy's name at least twice. Finding a third one we agree on feels like a bigger task than picking the winning lottery numbers.

His list: Leon, Cameron, Ralph (girl's remember Forever, Judy Blume)

My list: Hugo, Roddy, Jude,

You can see why we're getting nowhere. Any suggestions will be greatly received, but we've probably already vetoed them, but you know it's worth a shot.

The Jack Duckworth look... Still!

 The one armed glasses mention earlier, were stood on two weeks back by The FH. The consistently unreliable Specsavers mean I have resulted in sellotape to keep my glasses on my face. By this I mean sellotaping the arm to my frame, not sellotaping the glasses to my face. That would be ridiculous. It's a great look; I think it adds to my charm. Especially, as in public, I take great care to cover said sellotape with hair and then when talking to someone I barely know, like a shopkeeper, nursery teacher, parent of tutee, the arm drops, glasses fall from face and the whole sellotape debacle is publically revealed. *sighs loudly*

No comments:

Post a Comment