Mummy at the School Gate

I'm so excited!  Lovely Manana Mama has awarded Yuckymum (me!!), the Liebster Blog award...my very first!  So my acceptance speech goes thus.... I'd like to thank my friends and family who have supported me through this process; to the kids for giving up the chance to spend quality time with their moma; to BH who for allowing tins of baked beans to replace lavish feasts; and not forgetting those working behind the scenes.... blah, blah, blah! But now onto the more serious stuff, and the duty of "Paying it forward". The idea of the award is to spread the lurve and  to bring lesser known (or not) but great blogs to light therefore I am pleased to nominate the following favourite blogs of mine as recipients of this award:   A Very British Dude  Radical, verrrry naughty..and they make me laugh..... a lot. The blog is written by two very opinionated libertarians who push the boundaries of acceptable thought!!  I can't honestly see them accepting this award, a

Mama ...and more  . ... tagged me for this particular piece and I will do my best to oblige. I'm not too good at describing myself and hope that this will give you an insight into who I am.  I am.... an idiot, but more than that, I am a stupid idiot.   much more than I was at 20. Searching for my reason for being, brings me to where I am now. I am all I was brought up to be, and no longer afraid of making a mistake or admitting it. I am proud of who I am and fear has no place in my life.  The bravest thing I have ever done ….was to chase after two young men who had broken into my car and stolen the stereo...OK, maybe not brave but stupid, but I did get my stereo back! I feel prettiest..... when I have a brown paper bag over my head. I've always said that BH married me for my earning potential...he doesn't disagree.   Something that keeps me up at night.... is worrying I may have inadvertently offended someone. I say things without thinking...BECAUSE I THINK IT

I'm not perfect.  I wish I was. If I was I'd be like Sookie ( True Blood, anyone? ). I'd be pleasant, sweet and nice.  But I'm not.  Well, sometimes I am. Nice, I mean. People think I'm nice. People say I'm nice.  But deep, deep down I must be a bit mean because I sometime do and say things that no normal person would ever do...because it appeals to my dark sense of humour.  That's not to say I'm not normal. I so am.   I think my children have picked up on this trait and I think they could be developing it themselves. Oh dear. They're in for a rough ride. The other day as I was picking up the kids from school, Mimi and I were having a discussion about whether or not her "bestest friend" could come home that night to play.  They'd decided between themselves and that was pretty much that as far as she was concerned. We'd a million and one things to do, the least not being a pile of reports to write in the hope that I could keep my j

Today is Mufti Day for Comic Relief. The kids all dress up in the "civvies" and off they trot to school each with a £1 in their pocket for the privilege. The only problem is, I could only find 50p...between them.  I searched down the back of the sofas, the bottom of my handbag, coat pockets for the elusive £2.50 but would you know it?  Not a sausage.  Thankfully, Mimi had a fiver from her granny and very kindly offered it, as long as I paid her back with exactly the same fiver.  She's even written down it's serial number! So clearly I'm expected to say to Mr Shopkeeper, "Here is £5 for this piece of rubbish that I'm only buying so that I can have the change....and could you please hold on to it, as I will return with a replacement because I need that one back?" But that was not the only problem.  Since it was Mufti Day and the kids get to choose what they want to wear, why on earth is Finn dressed up in a Pirate costume, brandishing a machine gun? 

It doesn’t take much to render me useless in an emergency.   The sight of blood usually brings me to my knees…I don’t quite faint, but run around the room looking for things that will probably be useless in staunching the flow…like a piece of paper or tape measure.   Having these things to hand probably would be useful in other circumstances but in this particular case could have been seen as surplus to requirements.    I’d often thought I could be a good doctor…but not in the ER..diagnosing ailments from my armchair is about as good as it gets!    In this case BH was doing absolutely nothing to warrant an  attack on himself....he was just lying there….sleeping!!    As was usual at that time of night, I was reading the latest hardback from Jodie Picolt.   BH was deep in slumber, as was also usual for that time of night.   Despite the fact that the TV was blaring , the side lamp was on , he could often sleep through the thousand lorries rolling past our house as was usual for th

It's been a busy week for us all in the household, and I haven't even had the time to sit, write or think.  But it's not all about me. I'm not here for just me...that's just selfish.  I'm here to make the transition through life smoother for those that matter in my life.  I didn't know that before, but I understand that now. I used to fight against it, and I used to resent it. But now I just go with the flow.  If you need me, I'm here.  I may have to take some time off now and again, to shut down the brain and recharge the batteries but I'll always be here for you. I'm not doing it because it makes me feel good, I have to do it because that's my role. I've spent many years trying to buck that role and denying it, but that is my purpose.  If I look back over my life then I can see where this is all been heading.  People don't come to me for advice (that would be too crazy, I'd definitely send them in the wrong direction), they

My mojo has gone and done a runner!  Actually it's my cleaning mojo that has gone. It could be that after a week of  everyone being at home, with the both the kids and the dogs doing mud sprints through the house from the garden that I've given up any pretence of appearing a little bit house proud.  There is a pile of washing to be ironed and a pile of washing to be washed and I really can't be bothered.  I mean, what is the point?  I'm only going to have to do it all again! BH has noticed, and  has commented. I was planning on visiting an old school pal on the Friday. "But it's "Cleaning Day" on Friday!" "Whaddyamean...Cleaning day?"  This phrase has never been mentioned and the very thought of it actually makes me feel a little bit sick. "Well..." he said, his eyes darting wildly (avoiding mine!) and I could see he was having trouble weighing up how to say what he was going to say. "You always clean up on a Frid

Following in the vein of the bloggers I so admire ( thanks to @notesfromhome), I thought I'd add mine into the mix. I'm probably repeating some very wise words (actually, I'm probably not!), and these are some of the things that my kids will probably think are gross now, but when they reach my age will realise that I'm a pretty cool mum. They may not see it, as they have no one else to compare me with just yet! 1. I once gave up my job because it interfered with my social life! OK, so it probably wasn't a good move, but if I hadn't left, I think they may have sacked me so I took a leap of faith and it threw up various opportunities which would never have happened had I not thrown in the towel. My parents never made me do anything I didn't want to do, and told me I could be whoever I wanted to be...and this is what I want for you. Do something you love...it makes life so much easier! 2. I had a ball as a twenteen. I did because I had no ties. I tra

Before the kids I was a savvy shopper.  Everything went with something. My wardrobe was arranged perfectly, and I would spend hours working out what I needed. I still have those clothes but they no longer fit. In fact, very little fits.   I used to walk the dogs in beautiful velvet trousers until one of the mums from the school gate commented on them. "Ohh, I see you're walking the dogs in velvet trousers.  How decadent!" I'm still not sure if she was being admiring or sarcastic!  From the look on her face I believe it was possibly the latter. Most of the mums at the school gate look pretty amazing, and I wonder how they do it, especially as they seem to have 3 or 4 sprogs in tow. Now it's jeans and a white t-shirt (if I can find a clean one), often it's a dressing gown until 12, (in my defence I work long hours!), then a quick change into track suit bottoms, wellingtons and a jumper to walk the dogs, then another quick change into smart (ish)

How many times over the past year have a shielded my kids from that inevitable fact?  The one where we're all going to suffer the same fate and die?  Is it fair to shroud it mystery?  Is it fair for the subject to be taboo?  In this household we've suffered our fair share of family deaths and the kids know that some people and animals die before their time. They've been given the "nice" story, the one that says everyone who dies goes to a nicer place where the sun always shines and everyone is good and no one is horrible.  The animals meet their owners, brothers meet sisters, families look after each other....and everyone is happy.  That's good, because it gives them something to believe in and stops them having nightmares....and it stops the awkward questions that I have no answer to. "Mummy, where do the tigers go?" "Mummy, does the bad man go there too?" "Mummy, will they be able to take their favourite toys?" "Mum

Someone asked on Twitter what is the worst thing you have done when sleep deprived?  It got me thinking because there are many things that I've done whilst sleep deprived, but as I'm used to staying up all night I can usually handle sleep deprivation. The only thing that drives me to distraction is getting up early! I'll happily stay awake all night, just don't make me get up at the crack of dawn or my life is one complete misery, where I'm counting the hours until I can go to bed or at least have a doze...even then I still have a moan!  Make me stay up all night .....easy peasy!! There was one incident when Bart was a baby and me a complete newbie.  He was about 4 months old and I'd been away for a few days (work, just in case you're thinking I had a wild weekend away!).  I'd come in after pulling an all nighter, and was so happy to be home, sent the nanny packing for a few days. I happily looked after Bart all day and when it came to put him down, wa

I love tea. I love coffee too, but I love tea more.  I love the strong, malty flavour of tea and I drink, cups upon cups.I like my tea in a thick mug, not the thin china ones normally used, and the bigger the cup the better. I can usually tell if I've over done it as my teeth go a stained yellowy colour, which quickly comes off with a quick brush. No one can make a cup of tea like me or my ma. And I never order a pot of tea in a restaurant or a cafe, or at a friends home...that's always coffee. My ma introduced us all to tea when we were kids. We'd come home from school and immediately through the door, Ma would put on the kettle and cut the bread for the toast.  It was always tea and toast after school.  Thick slices of toast, topped with a slice of butter (yummy) and finished off with a dollop of homemade blackberry jam. I can see us all now, standing in the kitchen waiting for our cup of tea and slices of toast...the eldest first down to the youngest. The tea was sweet

Lovely Ben and  the girlfriend have been looking after Peewee and Chubba while we were on our hols.  I didn't call home during our sojourn, for fear that the house had burnt down (and I was enjoying myself too much), but I did have a peek on Facebook and found that Peewee had chewed up "the girlfriends shoes."  I thought there may have been worse, and didn't want to be told that Peewee had chewed the kitchen to an inch of its life so crossed my fingers and hoped for the best.  Chubba is the best behaved dog I've ever had.  He's sweet, loyal and lies on my feet. His kisses are sweet and gentle and I know I can rely on him not to embarrass me.  Peewee, however, is a bit of a thug.  He's trouble with a capital T, and beats up Chubba and loves being outside.  His kisses are big massive licks with his tongue aimed accurately into the mouth! Yuk, I know.  He has commandeered the sofa like he was born to occupy it, and slithers over Chubba and off chairs like a

I was having problems buying a Christmas present for BH and hit upon the idea of purchasing a box of wine from a popular wine company.  It was half price so I realised I was snagging myself a bargain. Most of the bottles were delish, (as you can guess, we've drunk most of them!), and BH was delighted with his gift. Now we both like a drop of wine, but I gag at the thought of drinking Pinot or Chardonnay. That's not to say I'm a wine snob or even a wine buff, but I know what I like.  In the summer BH and I quaff van loads of White Granache (I don't even know how to pronounce it), and thoroughly enjoy our little tipples. I love champagne for special occasions even if there is nothing to celebrate, and will always buy a bottle when I see it on special in the supermarket.   Bart thinks we're both alcoholics, as he sees the bottles stacking up in the recycle bin and is worrying for our livers.  Now it's come to the time that I need to order another case at the fu

We've just got back from the snowy (just) alpine resort of Hinterglemm in Austria, injury free and shattered. I love skiing, and I couldn't wait until I had the kids so that they would enjoy it throughout their lives like I have.  We go as a family with a couple of other families and it's always brilliant fun. But...cheap it ain't!! From the accommodation to the kit, the sport has been designed to bankrupt you. Although the resorts we choose are child friendly with plenty of kiddie activities they come at a price.  In comparison our summer Holiday's are veritable bargains. BH loves taking his family with him, and so do I, but sometimes when the aches kick in I just wish I'd left them all at home.  I can barely lift my head in the morning, let alone attempt to get them dressed in their gear, with their boots on in time for the first run of the day. The kids are exhausted at the end of the day and plop into bed with barely a whimper. This year we stayed at t

I love a list.  I always have done. I buy notebooks, planners, diaries, and those long pads for "lists". I write my lists on scraps of paper, napkins, the back of old envelopes and new sheets of printer paper (folded in half). I wake up in the morning, sit down with a cuppa and plan my list.  Sometimes I write my "To do" list for the month and divide it up into days. I always write it for the day ahead. I know I'm not the only one in my family who loves a list.  Ma writes one for her shopping, and sis writes one just like mine and sometimes we compare lists and it's surprising how similar they are.  I like to write mine in the order of the day.  Sis writes hers as the ideas pop into her mind. Most of mine states the obvious and sometimes I cheat and add something which I've already done, like walk the dog.  I know, I know, it's something I do everyday anyway, but adding it makes me see how much I've achieved during the day. 1. Get up 2. Wash

Finn came home from school yesterday, and was looking a little disconcerted and a little out of sorts.  He kept looking in his school bag, taking out his books and pencils then replacing them. "Whats up honeybum?" When I call him honeybum, he giggles and tells me I always get it wrong...but this time he wasn't giggling and something was amiss as he wasn't hearing me. Not listening and hearing are two different things in my book. "OHH (ala Ness)..wha's occurin'?"  Finn looked up, his eyes as big as saucers, with tears just filling the edge of the lids. "What will I do at University?" he asked "Will they make me do maths..only I'm not very good at maths. Or will I have to do spelling? I don't know what to do! " "Hey, hey...what's brought this on? I asked "Oliver and Jamie were talking about what they were going to do at University. Oliver's going to be a Doctor, and Jamie is going to be an actor.

Arriving home this afternoon, I was greeted with the joy and love....and that was from the dogs! Mimi was surprised to see me..."But mummy..I thought you weren't coming home for another sleep! I wanted to eat pancakes for tea. Miriam promised!"  "Sorry to disappoint you sweetie, shall I go again?" "Yes please mummy.  Can you come back a bit later?" Finn was even more upset. "But Mum, Dad was going to take me to get a pair of rugby boots tonight and we were going to eat pancakes!" Looks like I've scuppered their plans for this evening! What on earth makes them think that their carefully laid plans are going to be upset? Am I such an ogre that I would stop their little pleasures. BH was disappointed too! "Aww..Miriam was going to make her special pancakes...I was looking forward to them!"  So, it sounds like Miriam is a bit of a whizz in the kitchen...a talent I never knew she possessed. She hates the kitchen and seems

I'm off again tomorrow for a few days (again...but this happens frequently), and am running around like a loony trying to play catch up and prepare for the week ahead. I'll worry about Peewee and the soft furnishings, I'll worry about the homework and the nutritious food that they won't be doing or getting...but there's little I can do about it, so I try and forget about it and have a moan when I get back.  I've got the ironing to do and I'm sitting here writing my blog when I should be doing 1000 other things of more importance. BH keeps looking over my shoulder, asking me what am I doing and have I ironed his shirts yet...get lost! While I look forward to some "me" time, I really feel guilty about being so far away.  They all love me when I get home and I know that they will  miss me, cry and beat their chests wailing, "Mummy, don't go.  Do you have to go?". Well, the answer could easily be no, but unfortunately it's alw

I've just been told to eat more if I want to lose weight. Whilst I know that it's logical, the thought of eating more food is really playing havoc with my thought processes.  I've spent the past 20 odd years starving myself so that I could fit in to my size 10 skinnies and now surprisingly find that I can't even fit into a size 12! Beautiful Ben (my nephew), has asked me to keep a food diary for the next 7 days, so that he can analyse my eating habits and see where the problem lies.  He's told me that most people put on the unexplained weight due to stress or issues within the individual and can generally pinpoint the problems when looking at the body.  He's a devotee of Charles Poliquin, a gentleman who is a renowned strength coach. Never heard of him!  It seems that he's very popular amongst the athletic fraternity.  Now I don't want to be an athlete, but I'd like a little bit more energy....and be able to fit into those size 10 skinnies! Every

I missed their first day back to school, but left it in the very capable hands of BH and Miriam (the au-pair). I had made sure their clothes were laid out and their bags packed and all that was needed was a pre-school bath night and breakfast in the morning.  Not too difficult really...so why is that walking into the house this morning did it look like I'd been away for several years.  The kitchen resembled the aftermath of a tornado, and Peewee had assembled a various assortment of school clothing in his bed and was chewing happily on a trainer.  The house is empty bar the dogs, but I feel as though I'd trudged into Armageddon! I don't usually like to leave home for too long for fear that they'll have moved away without telling me....now I wish they had! I don't expect too much from Miriam.  I only have to open her door to freak out slightly.  I'm not even sure she's in the room when I peer in, for the piles of clothes on the floor which resemble several

No, I'm definitely not one of those mothers. I have enough on my plate without encouraging them to make collages out of the remnants of my wedding dress so that I can hang it on the wall. If they want to make something I send them to the after school club.  They proudly bring home their attempts, and I proudly display it in the kitchen for a month or two then it goes into their bedroom.  I know in years to come, I'll probably coo and marvel at their skills at a tender age, but at the moment it's more clutter to add to the clutter. I now have a clear plastic box for each of the kids.  The work they've done for the year goes in the box along with all their books.  When they leave home I reckon they'll be about 10 boxes a piece...which they will be taking with them!! Mimi, often asks if she can bake because as she says, "You're not very good at it, are you mummy?". Finn begs to go to the Bake Sale, because "There are mummies that bake cak

My sister phoned me yesterday with some sad news and some...well, good news (I think).  She's moving away for a while with husband. That's the sad news, because I know I'm going to miss her.   We're very close and she's my role model because of Ben. Ben is my beautiful nephew, who is sweet, shy, funny, clever...and dyslexic. He has overcome hurdles and worked incredibly hard to put aside his problems to get where he is.  He's focused, motivated and has developed his own strategies to overcome his difficulties and I am proud that he graduated from university this year with a Bachelor of Science!  No mean feat for someone with learning issues. Ben was diagnosed with dyslexia at 7 years old. Sis had a feeling that he was, because as she said "I showed him flash cards from when he was born, I bought him puzzle alphabets, and every educational toy I could lay my hands.  I sent him to Montessori nursery from the age of three, and do you know what his teacher s

The kids are fighting and so are the dogs.  It's time for them to go back to school and even though I've loved having them at home I can't wait to have the house back to myself, if only for a few hours. I wish I could be one of those mothers who take pleasure in their company, bake cakes with them, or create wonderful object d'art, but unfortunately I'm more of the "go and watch the TV" or "lets get someone over to play" type of mother who abdicates responsibility for their fun to something or someone else.  Not good for their soul I know, but soooo good for mine.   During arguments Bart often brings in the "show stopper". "WHO is the child, here?” It always stops me dead in my tracks and makes me think...yes I am a terrible mother.  I look at other mothers and know they are doing a far better job than me, but I know my children and I know that they will always come and tell me what is bothering them without me apportioning b

As it's a new year, I decided that I would do a bit of research to find out what makes a good blog, and change mine accordingly if that's what is needed. It's not a NY's resolution, but mine looks rather drab after reading and viewing a million "mommy blogs" realised that words alone are not going to make me popular. The American blogs are the slick, professional and achieve some purpose. Many of the UK bloggers are concerned with traffic and getting as many people to read them. "Be my 1000th follower!" "Read my 1000th post" "Follow, follow....". They promote products, show offers, advertise their talents, and are there to either make money (how?), or to be popular in the popularity contest. Many are there to raise awareness (those are the ones I really like to follow!), and some are just like me! I follow around 30 on twitter and am followed by even less (lucky 13! Whoops...just dropped to 12!!) and read around five blogs da

It's 23.54 on New Years Eve. The fireworks are  already filling the air with thuds and bangs, and I'm imagining  everyone dancing and singing in the new year. My babies are all in bed, BH is flying through the night from a far flung destination, the dogs are fighting at my feet, Peewee keeps nipping me (by accident, I hope) and I am sitting here, alone, reflecting on the past year. It's probably far from unusual for many people, but its something I've never done before.  New Year was always a bit of an anti-climax. People trying to make merry, forced gaiety, dancing madly and trying to snog anyone they can lay their hands on. It's the one night I've always felt uncomfortable with. Men making a beeline and me ducking to avoid their well aimed kisses. Usually at midnight, I try to lock myself in the toilet (accidentally) missing the very sad and depressing "Auld Lang Syne".  It's not to say I haven't experienced rough times, I have, but 2010 ha