Her majesty has just had another growth spurt. The gazzillion-th this year alone. If it's not the monthly purchase of shoes it's the sudden shrinking of the leggings I bought 3 months ago. I have been able to handle, whilst hemlines may have got shorter over summer, unless the armholes or crotch are death-defyingly tight I have chosen to ignore this.
We were blessed last winter when Beloved Cousin Rachel passed along some second hand windbreakers/windcheaters/pufferjackets or whatever you want to call them. But within the last month these have navigated up past madam's waistband are are pretty much useless in cold weather. So I have been prowling the shops for a few weeks now looking out for something in my realm of acceptable. I don't bow to fashion in any way myself and also since having a sprog I err on the side of practicality versus cuteness. Until she's old enough to buy her own stuff this is what she's getting.
So this a.m. I drag ourselves to XYZ store to look for a new coat. There they have it. Pink. Melton. Long-ish. In madam's size. It's a third of the price of the more labell-y type stores and a pittance in comparison to the kiddie boutiques (yes, they do exist!).
I would like to add that we live in Cape Town. Winters here have been known to last 7months. They are cold. Wet. Mouldy. Long. People start to smell like mushrooms. And yet, I wander into another clothes store this week and all the winter woolies have been usurped by string tops and hot-pants!?!?!? Erm, did I miss something. The last thing in my mind is choosing some new shorts when it's raining buckets outside and the mercury is barely managing to claw past 10C.
Anyhoo, XYZ store have marked most of their kiddies clothes down to half.....fine by me. R40 for a pufferjacket now. It's going to be trashed before October anyway so I'm not going to fall to pieces if it does.
What a mish just getting the sproglet to stand still and try anything on. Our sproglet is an odd shape right now. She is long and leggy, I'd like to say like her Mama, and her feet are rapidly becoming enormous, hmmmm, also like her Mama's?!? And she's only 2. So I am insistant that we try everything on before we buy. Of late the mass-produced clothing industry deems you cannot be tall and skinny at the same time. So we have ended up with everything being 4-5yrs. Shocker!
Madam is also going through a phase of defiance. I was not prepared for it to start so early! "I don't like it!" seems to punctuate her dialogues. From "I don't like jelly (her fave!) " to "I don;t like my feet, take them off!". Whatever. So I left XYZ store today with 1 coat and 2 windbreakers, none of which her majesty "likes". I hope she wakes up in a more agreeable mood on the morrow.
She is making me mental. Thankfully the welfare weren't at XYZ store as I may have been arrested.
26 June 2012
15 May 2012
Brain (click-shuffle)
Time. I have none (I have loads for pasta). It's not for the lack of planning. I am an OCD sufferer. Every aspect of my life is planned and plotted, albeit in my mind. Everything in my head is broken down into little pixel-sized nuggets that I move around my brain as things happen. Wake up (click-shuffle), make breakfast (click-shuffle), get everyone dressed (clikc-shuffle), and so on and so on, all day long.
This system works very well for me, however since his majesty is not clairvoyant and I don't verbalise my mental algorithms, there is often some tension. Since I'm the one with the grand fantastic plan in my head I always know what's going on. It's his majesty who quite literally misses the memo.
All this is just riff-raff as judging by the date, my darling little blog, I have neglected you. Sorry. I have been making mental posts in the traffic each day. I just haven't had a nano-second to put carpels to keyboard. I have however eaten my way through at least 8 good books since my last post, so I'v not exactly been picking my navel.
I hereby solemnly swear to be a good girl and try to write to you daily. Or maybe three times a week. Or let's just see how it goes.
For the love of gooseberries, I'm the mother of a toddler, just summoning a pulse most days consumes too much time.
But dear blog, I will be better.
Starting tomorrow .....
Toodles
This system works very well for me, however since his majesty is not clairvoyant and I don't verbalise my mental algorithms, there is often some tension. Since I'm the one with the grand fantastic plan in my head I always know what's going on. It's his majesty who quite literally misses the memo.
All this is just riff-raff as judging by the date, my darling little blog, I have neglected you. Sorry. I have been making mental posts in the traffic each day. I just haven't had a nano-second to put carpels to keyboard. I have however eaten my way through at least 8 good books since my last post, so I'v not exactly been picking my navel.
I hereby solemnly swear to be a good girl and try to write to you daily. Or maybe three times a week. Or let's just see how it goes.
For the love of gooseberries, I'm the mother of a toddler, just summoning a pulse most days consumes too much time.
But dear blog, I will be better.
Starting tomorrow .....
Toodles
25 March 2012
Books for worms
I am a word-slut. I covet, covet with covety covetness words, books, leather (down boy!), libraries. I am actually so bad that I asked for a dictionary for my 21st birthday! Yes, I am not a well puppy most of the time and the rest of the time I'm just plain mental.
I am currently reading my 30th book of 2012. I know this for fact, I am keeping a list just to be sure. Now, you may ponder how I manage seeing as I am a professional mother as well as being chief bean-counter in our business. But...I have a secret. I speed read. It's fabulous. I can remember vividly our Std.6 English teacher herding us in to the library projection room and taking us thru entire passages of text at increasing speeds and teaching us to focus our minds on filtering out the gobble-die-gook and gleaning an overview of the story in very little time. This is an amazing party trick if you can master it. It blew the lid of my library subscription. Where I was allowed to loan 7 books for 2 weeks, I found myself chomping at the bit after only 5 days!
And I am not at all label conscious. I will read anything once. And I have run my retinas over some humdingers! There are only so many heaving bosoms and throbbing members a girl can stomach!
All this reading has also stood me in very good stead. Whilst I cannot brag of a university degree, I know pretty much a little something about everything. Sure I am not going to revolutionise cancer research but I've read enough about to know it's a tough nut to crack! I can hold my own in conversations about pretty my anything, shockingly except rugby, considering I grew up in the Free State (but it was Orange back then when colour mattered as much as it didn't). Yes, the Sharks are bitterly disappointed.
And joy of all joys I have now been blessed with an amazing young somebody who obviously reads as much as I do. Oh my word, it's like having conversations with myself, insert John Malkovich here. How awesome to drop the label of a really obscure work and her eyes light up and she says yes, she's read it too! My heart is happy.
That being said let me add some celebrity glitter and honorary mention. My darling heart friend, Greta. Who so casually handed me her copy of The World According To Garp 12yrs ago and started my love affair with John Irving, amongst. Together we read something stupid like 120 (?) books that year, just because we could! We would sit for hours reading the encyclopedia to see who know more than the other and it was always even Stevens!
So now the moon is tipping and my latest page-turner beckons.
Bon nuit bibliophiles
I am currently reading my 30th book of 2012. I know this for fact, I am keeping a list just to be sure. Now, you may ponder how I manage seeing as I am a professional mother as well as being chief bean-counter in our business. But...I have a secret. I speed read. It's fabulous. I can remember vividly our Std.6 English teacher herding us in to the library projection room and taking us thru entire passages of text at increasing speeds and teaching us to focus our minds on filtering out the gobble-die-gook and gleaning an overview of the story in very little time. This is an amazing party trick if you can master it. It blew the lid of my library subscription. Where I was allowed to loan 7 books for 2 weeks, I found myself chomping at the bit after only 5 days!
And I am not at all label conscious. I will read anything once. And I have run my retinas over some humdingers! There are only so many heaving bosoms and throbbing members a girl can stomach!
All this reading has also stood me in very good stead. Whilst I cannot brag of a university degree, I know pretty much a little something about everything. Sure I am not going to revolutionise cancer research but I've read enough about to know it's a tough nut to crack! I can hold my own in conversations about pretty my anything, shockingly except rugby, considering I grew up in the Free State (but it was Orange back then when colour mattered as much as it didn't). Yes, the Sharks are bitterly disappointed.
And joy of all joys I have now been blessed with an amazing young somebody who obviously reads as much as I do. Oh my word, it's like having conversations with myself, insert John Malkovich here. How awesome to drop the label of a really obscure work and her eyes light up and she says yes, she's read it too! My heart is happy.
That being said let me add some celebrity glitter and honorary mention. My darling heart friend, Greta. Who so casually handed me her copy of The World According To Garp 12yrs ago and started my love affair with John Irving, amongst. Together we read something stupid like 120 (?) books that year, just because we could! We would sit for hours reading the encyclopedia to see who know more than the other and it was always even Stevens!
So now the moon is tipping and my latest page-turner beckons.
Bon nuit bibliophiles
5 March 2012
Can I get an Appleberry and two Apads to go please?
I suffer from terrible gadget envy. No sooner than I've signed away my life for a new doohickey with silver flaps on, then the manufacturer releases their latest and greatest doohickeys with even shinier bells and whistles, leaving me with a terrible case of buyers remorse.
I must say my recent acquisition is my nokiaberry, super ceding my limping LG. I was ashamed of it I refused to take it out in public. I was even loathe to answer phone calls in the presence of another human being and heaven help me, I never, ever, under any circumstances left it on the table at the coffee shop! I was scared the greenery on the table might just decay by being in it's orbit and I might be asked to leave.
So Papa Bear (my dad) was inevitably going to acquire the Une Pomme Du Jour. It was only a matter of him deciding how many giga-gerbils he was going to invest in. And I jokingly add, if it came in a shade to match the paint colour of his car or his shoelaces. So he got a PommePad - in a lovely shade of silver to match his temples. But on a recent visit he was trotting around the place snapping pics of grandkiddies and so on and blah blah blah. But Mama Bear not to be outdone whips out her PommePad! And we're all like "Oi, what's going on here?". Insert head snap.
Allow me to put you in the picture. My mother is brilliant. She can get blood stains out of a cashmere cardie without so much as a furrow in her brow and whip up an entire 3 course meal with nothing but a few funny onions and a can of lentils. But electrified (as she calls them) objects are not her strong point. She only learnt to send an sms about 2 years ago, the earth paused on it's axis that day, I joke ye not! And she still keeps her phone switched off unless she has to make a call, whereby all the outstanding messages are delivered, her phones starts beeping like a mad thing and she promptly switches it off again out of pure fright! So you see why we were all so shocked.
Papa Bear also recently got one of those vowel phones. It starts with an ae(i)ou.......you know the one of which I speak? So now all his gizmo's can synchronise and he can now be tracked down anywhere on the planet to within a wombats armpit hair of the GPS co-ords. Yes, because he lives in fear of being lost. Well, I gather he must do because he's owned a GPS for as long as they've made them and he has a telescope bigger than his carboot just in case he's ever tricky to find. In fact you can now officially track him on other planets! If you ever wanted to of course. I think Papa Bear may be preparing for the Apocalypse but if that happens then we're all going to be vapourised anyway and nothing but the gadgets will remain I know this for fact. I've seen Wall-e! Disney can't be wrong!
To add insult to injury Mama Bear also had the latest up to date, fresh off the assembly line cellphone. The perks of Papa Bear getting an upgrade. How humbling to find out that your parents chat via Whatsapp and you can't be bothered to send an sms any longer cos your phone seldom has a pulse! Who are these people?
I too now have whatsapp and chat with both Mama and Papa bear on a regular basis. Mama Bear and I spell like dyslexic children (sodding teeny weeny QWERTY keypad thingy) whilst Papa Bear (being an Aquarius) spells like the Longman. But then again we all know he's hooked it up to his PommePad via blueteeth and the giga-gerbils are doing the typing anyway. Cheat!
Must also add that I noticed that everyone at church is no longer taking a bible. It seems the humble Word has been usurped by the PommePad. Must've seen about 10 people doing this?!?!? Is it going to become the norm? Hey, I don't have to explain myself to the Maker one day.
Moving on. Traded in my beloved green machine........Oh. My favourite colour is green. In 2008 I set about colour-matching all my gizmos. Phone, calculators, laptop, knickers, I tried for a green car but his majesty was thankful that our flavour of vehicle wasn't being made in green that year. Alas the blessed green machine took a tumble off the desk last year when in a moment I lost focus and was beguiled by a toddler. The green machine's brain was salvageable (now in a pretty black case that looks a little like the paint colour on my dream car, the Porsche 911 Carrera) but the heartbeat flat lined and resuscitation was going to be very expensive. So I wrapped her in her case and left her alone for a few months. I felt such guilt at handing her over at the pc shop. But the green machine is destined to become green waste and the salesman assured me that she was going to a better place. And now I have a new green machine that isn't green. Does the same job but I am taking longer to fall in love with this model. I do like the numeric keypad. Also helps that I no longer have to lug around my keyboard like a real spas. I hate the carpel exercises when you have to use the numbers on laptops. It always leaves me with a fit of Tourettes syndrome. Actually everything leaves me with a fit of Tourettes of late.
So I come to you tonight compliments of the A-Dell whilst my Nokiaberry snuggles next to my teacup making me feel human again. Also got a wireless printer. Where has that doohickey been all my life?
Now my giga-gerbils need a rest and I have a real book to nuzzle so Bon Nui.
I must say my recent acquisition is my nokiaberry, super ceding my limping LG. I was ashamed of it I refused to take it out in public. I was even loathe to answer phone calls in the presence of another human being and heaven help me, I never, ever, under any circumstances left it on the table at the coffee shop! I was scared the greenery on the table might just decay by being in it's orbit and I might be asked to leave.
So Papa Bear (my dad) was inevitably going to acquire the Une Pomme Du Jour. It was only a matter of him deciding how many giga-gerbils he was going to invest in. And I jokingly add, if it came in a shade to match the paint colour of his car or his shoelaces. So he got a PommePad - in a lovely shade of silver to match his temples. But on a recent visit he was trotting around the place snapping pics of grandkiddies and so on and blah blah blah. But Mama Bear not to be outdone whips out her PommePad! And we're all like "Oi, what's going on here?". Insert head snap.
Allow me to put you in the picture. My mother is brilliant. She can get blood stains out of a cashmere cardie without so much as a furrow in her brow and whip up an entire 3 course meal with nothing but a few funny onions and a can of lentils. But electrified (as she calls them) objects are not her strong point. She only learnt to send an sms about 2 years ago, the earth paused on it's axis that day, I joke ye not! And she still keeps her phone switched off unless she has to make a call, whereby all the outstanding messages are delivered, her phones starts beeping like a mad thing and she promptly switches it off again out of pure fright! So you see why we were all so shocked.
Papa Bear also recently got one of those vowel phones. It starts with an ae(i)ou.......you know the one of which I speak? So now all his gizmo's can synchronise and he can now be tracked down anywhere on the planet to within a wombats armpit hair of the GPS co-ords. Yes, because he lives in fear of being lost. Well, I gather he must do because he's owned a GPS for as long as they've made them and he has a telescope bigger than his carboot just in case he's ever tricky to find. In fact you can now officially track him on other planets! If you ever wanted to of course. I think Papa Bear may be preparing for the Apocalypse but if that happens then we're all going to be vapourised anyway and nothing but the gadgets will remain I know this for fact. I've seen Wall-e! Disney can't be wrong!
To add insult to injury Mama Bear also had the latest up to date, fresh off the assembly line cellphone. The perks of Papa Bear getting an upgrade. How humbling to find out that your parents chat via Whatsapp and you can't be bothered to send an sms any longer cos your phone seldom has a pulse! Who are these people?
I too now have whatsapp and chat with both Mama and Papa bear on a regular basis. Mama Bear and I spell like dyslexic children (sodding teeny weeny QWERTY keypad thingy) whilst Papa Bear (being an Aquarius) spells like the Longman. But then again we all know he's hooked it up to his PommePad via blueteeth and the giga-gerbils are doing the typing anyway. Cheat!
Must also add that I noticed that everyone at church is no longer taking a bible. It seems the humble Word has been usurped by the PommePad. Must've seen about 10 people doing this?!?!? Is it going to become the norm? Hey, I don't have to explain myself to the Maker one day.
Moving on. Traded in my beloved green machine........Oh. My favourite colour is green. In 2008 I set about colour-matching all my gizmos. Phone, calculators, laptop, knickers, I tried for a green car but his majesty was thankful that our flavour of vehicle wasn't being made in green that year. Alas the blessed green machine took a tumble off the desk last year when in a moment I lost focus and was beguiled by a toddler. The green machine's brain was salvageable (now in a pretty black case that looks a little like the paint colour on my dream car, the Porsche 911 Carrera) but the heartbeat flat lined and resuscitation was going to be very expensive. So I wrapped her in her case and left her alone for a few months. I felt such guilt at handing her over at the pc shop. But the green machine is destined to become green waste and the salesman assured me that she was going to a better place. And now I have a new green machine that isn't green. Does the same job but I am taking longer to fall in love with this model. I do like the numeric keypad. Also helps that I no longer have to lug around my keyboard like a real spas. I hate the carpel exercises when you have to use the numbers on laptops. It always leaves me with a fit of Tourettes syndrome. Actually everything leaves me with a fit of Tourettes of late.
So I come to you tonight compliments of the A-Dell whilst my Nokiaberry snuggles next to my teacup making me feel human again. Also got a wireless printer. Where has that doohickey been all my life?
Now my giga-gerbils need a rest and I have a real book to nuzzle so Bon Nui.
20 February 2012
A particular kind of heaviness
I think its terribly unfair. His majesty's body remains the same whilst mine has been driven to the brink ,both large and small. One of my argements with life (and there are many!) is that boy's just seem to have got the better deal. Let me list some motivating factors - no make-up, hair straighteners, tampons, bra's, hair-removal, plucking, bleaching, tweezing, fluffing etcerta etectera etcetera. Sure we get to bring forth life but the preceding list does sometimes make me reconsider.
I put on 30 kgs during my pregnancy. Eeeeeeeek! I am not proud of this but my body did loads of funny things I had no control over during this time so I am citing temporary mental-dissassocaition on this subject. Sure the cheese-covered first tri-mester wasn't exactly helpful but by the time I came to my senses the damage had already been done. Irreverisbly, I'm afraid. I have since learnt that stretchmarks are for life! Did anyone else know this and if so why didn't anyone bother to tell me!?!?!
But after the investment of the Mac-Daddy of all treadmills during my gestation I was able to keep the weight gain to within a fair range and was also able to waddle it all off after I squeezed out my sproglet! It took my a year but I lost the 30kgs and then some. Thankfully because I wanted to just die being unable to fit into my beautiful pre-preggers kit!
Then what with our move last year and the stress and panic attached thereto, I lost more weight. I am acutally smaller than I was before but what with the great "body-shift" that happend during incubation things are far less perky. I am now...............gulp...........drawn to the shapewear department in Woolworths. Before I would crave and covet something killer to wear in the bedroom. Now all I want to do is find something that will masqurade a muffin-top and hoist my boobs back to where they once happily resided. I would just love for my aunty in Canada to send me a Spanx for my birthday. I won't be offended. I promise.
I now find myself insisting on being on my back during conjugal grapplings. Not because I am a lazy shagger but simply becuase I can then suck in my tummy and my boobs will fall back and lie in vaguely their old position. I imagine I look like my former, firmer self. But I probably just look silly. I blame the media. It seems that Adele is the only accpetable earthling with an inch to pinch at the moment. The rest of us are relegated to looking like a badly packaged pork bangar.
And then yesterday I slid into and old pair of shorts and felt that familiar tightness around my derriere. I can't blame it on hormones as my week of ovarian servitude is over so I have to accept that I am just putting on the pounds again. You can't get skinny just reading the Men's Health Muscle Bible, you have to actually get off your bum and burn off some kilojoules!
Now where is that short-cut button again?
I put on 30 kgs during my pregnancy. Eeeeeeeek! I am not proud of this but my body did loads of funny things I had no control over during this time so I am citing temporary mental-dissassocaition on this subject. Sure the cheese-covered first tri-mester wasn't exactly helpful but by the time I came to my senses the damage had already been done. Irreverisbly, I'm afraid. I have since learnt that stretchmarks are for life! Did anyone else know this and if so why didn't anyone bother to tell me!?!?!
But after the investment of the Mac-Daddy of all treadmills during my gestation I was able to keep the weight gain to within a fair range and was also able to waddle it all off after I squeezed out my sproglet! It took my a year but I lost the 30kgs and then some. Thankfully because I wanted to just die being unable to fit into my beautiful pre-preggers kit!
Then what with our move last year and the stress and panic attached thereto, I lost more weight. I am acutally smaller than I was before but what with the great "body-shift" that happend during incubation things are far less perky. I am now...............gulp...........drawn to the shapewear department in Woolworths. Before I would crave and covet something killer to wear in the bedroom. Now all I want to do is find something that will masqurade a muffin-top and hoist my boobs back to where they once happily resided. I would just love for my aunty in Canada to send me a Spanx for my birthday. I won't be offended. I promise.
I now find myself insisting on being on my back during conjugal grapplings. Not because I am a lazy shagger but simply becuase I can then suck in my tummy and my boobs will fall back and lie in vaguely their old position. I imagine I look like my former, firmer self. But I probably just look silly. I blame the media. It seems that Adele is the only accpetable earthling with an inch to pinch at the moment. The rest of us are relegated to looking like a badly packaged pork bangar.
And then yesterday I slid into and old pair of shorts and felt that familiar tightness around my derriere. I can't blame it on hormones as my week of ovarian servitude is over so I have to accept that I am just putting on the pounds again. You can't get skinny just reading the Men's Health Muscle Bible, you have to actually get off your bum and burn off some kilojoules!
Now where is that short-cut button again?
24 January 2012
School day blues
The little madam started playschool last week. A phasing-in process has begun and since then I've been nothing short of frantic. Heaven knows if I thought I had no time to myself before then this has got to be a new type of mental.
I now have a new-found respect for school-moms. How do they do it? Running up to school. Drop off. Back home. Patter around - me doing some housework, the privileged masses probably doing coffees at the local barrissta. Fetch from school. Do lunch. Nap time for midgets more housework for mama's then its supper, walkies for everyone and bed. No time for a manicure, not even a nanosecond for the now well-coveted solitary wee!
I go on like a looney and I've got only got a "wee-me" in playschool. Prep, Primary and High School still loom. Oh, God give me the energy. I have no books to cover.No uniforms to procure in multiples. No sports meetings to suffer under intense heat and the smell of cream sodas and sweat. I have no recitals to endure by pain of auditory failure. None of the above. And I'm already flagging. It's only week 2 for heaven's sake.
To all the mama's past, present and future - I salute thee. Kids, I am beginning to notice, are hard work the older they get. But yet you just slot in and get it done.
I am nurturing what is promising to be the mother of all colds. In summer no less! Not only am I drained most days but this bug seems to have sucked the few kilojoules I have left right out from under my left bum cheek. Let's hope it comes back for the other butt cheek before the end of the week. I have a pool party to attend and don't want to be left with a limp.
Til the morrow......
Toodles
PS. I would like to state for the record that I love my mother very, very, very, very much! She was strict, hard and brutal. She smacked my bum. She made me eat my peas (argh!). But she also wiped my tears, coddled me when I was ill and taught me the value of hard work and sunlight soap.
PPS. Was that kiss-arse enough for you, Mummy???
17 January 2012
Four-letter words that start with an F
Today I have lost what feels like the thousandth dummy (pacifier) and thrown my millionth internal fanny-wobble.
How many times have I misplaced this rubberised item of sedation. A big crime in her majesty's eyes and punishable by torture in the King's - no chocolate for a month I hear him saying. Luckily there was an old, decaying, fuzz-covered specimen hiding away in amongst her socks.
I somedays just feel like a cosmic juggler. It's like I have these million chores on my mental chart and I go about daily saying tick tick tick to myself.
How on God's green earth am I meant to keep track of it all. Today went something like this
Get up
have a wee
get madam dressed for school
check school bag and pack school bag
get myself shampooed and clothed
slap on some war paint
make up bed
strip midgets bed
throw load of laundry in to wash
go to school
spend 2 hours there
go home
hang out laundry
fetch family
go to library
go to play place - the King wanted to try the coffee (!)
go home
bring in laundry
put madam down for a nap
remove refrigerated supper from fridge to have for supper
check mails
keep dogs quiet
think about tomorrows supper
madam awake
grab stuff to go swimming at friends
go to friends and have swim, chat, Cooley's, nice nice nice
go home
start supper
feed dogs
entertain madam
cook remainder of supper
serve supper
eat supper
clean up after supper
do dishes
entertain madam
bath madam
read to madam
make sure madam asleep, soundly enough to have an audible conversation
have a cuppa
catch some news, maybe a little telly
chat to the King
flop into inadvertent coma
And woe betide whomever asks me what I've been doing all day. Then I begin to imagine four-letter words that start with F.
Food, frog, fuzz, figs, the list goes on. Dirty minds!!!!!! Naughty, naughty, naughty!
Toodles
How many times have I misplaced this rubberised item of sedation. A big crime in her majesty's eyes and punishable by torture in the King's - no chocolate for a month I hear him saying. Luckily there was an old, decaying, fuzz-covered specimen hiding away in amongst her socks.
I somedays just feel like a cosmic juggler. It's like I have these million chores on my mental chart and I go about daily saying tick tick tick to myself.
How on God's green earth am I meant to keep track of it all. Today went something like this
Get up
have a wee
get madam dressed for school
check school bag and pack school bag
get myself shampooed and clothed
slap on some war paint
make up bed
strip midgets bed
throw load of laundry in to wash
go to school
spend 2 hours there
go home
hang out laundry
fetch family
go to library
go to play place - the King wanted to try the coffee (!)
go home
bring in laundry
put madam down for a nap
remove refrigerated supper from fridge to have for supper
check mails
keep dogs quiet
think about tomorrows supper
madam awake
grab stuff to go swimming at friends
go to friends and have swim, chat, Cooley's, nice nice nice
go home
start supper
feed dogs
entertain madam
cook remainder of supper
serve supper
eat supper
clean up after supper
do dishes
entertain madam
bath madam
read to madam
make sure madam asleep, soundly enough to have an audible conversation
have a cuppa
catch some news, maybe a little telly
chat to the King
flop into inadvertent coma
And woe betide whomever asks me what I've been doing all day. Then I begin to imagine four-letter words that start with F.
Food, frog, fuzz, figs, the list goes on. Dirty minds!!!!!! Naughty, naughty, naughty!
Toodles
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