Why I Love Cheap Plonk

Yep, I love cheap wine. Now when I say cheap I have to point out that I’m not talking about Lambrini, even I couldn’t drink something that tastes like cat piss! No, I’m talking about Lambrusco and yes, I’m aware it sounds similar but the big difference is that Lambrusco actually tastes nice. There are white, red and rosé versions and they all have a lovely sweet taste which is just what I’m looking for. They usually cost less than £3 and are low alcohol which means it’s perfectly acceptable to have a glass while the kids are around, that’s just a Brucie bonus in my eyes.

I’m also partial to a nice bottle of Martini Asti (not a whole bottle all at once mind you) but this is at the top end of my budget and has a higher alcohol volume. Depending where you shop these sparkling little lovelies can cost anything up to £7.50.

I’m not ashamed to admit that when I’m shopping for booze I will always go for the cheap stuff and here’s why…

1. We’re broke. Well not actually broke as in bankrupt but we don’t have as much money as we’d like. I guess that’s what happens when you breed like sodding rabbits and have a billion kids to look after. Anyway, spending money on alcohol isn’t a priority so cheap stuff suits our budget.

2. Expensive drink becomes too precious. This actually happened with a bottle of expensive champagne that Bear bought me for Christmas 2015. I didn’t want to waste the ‘good stuff’ so I was saving it for a special occasion. A few weeks later I found out I was pregnant with Thing 4 so that bottle of champagne sat there teasing me until Christmas 2016. By that point it had become like a frigging religious icon, I was actually scared to open it!

I finally popped that cork and poured myself a glass, took a couple of sips then realised there was a stream of bubbles coming up from something at the bottom of the glass. It was only a sodding midgey fly in my expensive champagne. So what the hell should I do, I’d waited a whole bloody year for that drink and it was really expensive so I didn’t want to throw it away. Oh the dilemma.

I drank it. I fished the bugger out and drank the fly champagne. Not my finest moment but there was no way I was wasting that drink.

My point here is that I wouldn’t have had that issue if it had been a bottle of cheap plonk, the drink would’ve been thrown out no questions asked.

So unless you’re loaded (in which case, do you wanna be my friend 😉) always stick to cheap plonk, it’s much safer.

Why YouTube is Like a Public Argument

I’m sure we’ve all witnessed an argument in public. Be it a couple, friends or even a parent and child, people can lose their shit with each other in any place at any time. It happens.

So why on earth do I think these arguments are like YouTube? Well, the things that connect them in my opinion are: they’re both amusing, you don’t really understand what’s going on and you’re not sure you actually like it but you just can’t stop looking!

YouTube is filled with so much craziness and pointless activities that we probably shouldn’t find it entertaining. Opening a box to show what’s inside, tipping coloured slime into a toy bath and even people walking round the shops are just a few things I’ve seen while the kids have been glued to the screen.

The first thing that usually goes through my head is ‘what the fuck, why would anyone watch this shit’ but then after about an hour I realise that I’m still watching that shit. I’m even suggesting which videos to watch next and stopping the kids from switching to another video before the one playing has finished because I just have to see how it ends.

I still can’t work out why this happens but then I’ve never been able to figure out why a public argument is so appealing either. Who knows, who really cares. I guess entertainment comes in all forms and we just have to accept it for what it is.

Now please excuse me while I go and learn about colours on the latest Sparkle Spice YouTube video. Woo hoo!

Christmas Treats

Father Christmas was very kind to our household this year, we all had lots of lovely treats.

There were a few treats we could’ve done without though.

You may remember that we were plagued by coughs and colds at the beginning of December. I thought we were on the mend but at 3am on Christmas morning came a really fun twist (not really fun but I’m trying to pretty things up here).

We woke up to change and feed Thing 4, all quite normal so far. Hubby was downstairs making the bottle while I changed the nappy on the bed (Thing 3 was also in bed with us as she always ends up in there before the night is over). I had just undone Thing 4’s nappy when I heard gagging next to me, I looked across to Thing 3 who was throwing up huge chunks of stinky puke all over Bears side of the bed. I quickly pulled her hair back and began rubbing her back to soothe her but then I realised Thing 4 had her bits out and could pee or poo over me at any moment!

After a quick nappy change hubby came to my rescue and helped clear the mess up as I stifled more than a few giggles at the fact she puked on his side rather than mine. *Does evil laugh*

So that started our day off beautifully, treat 1 done and massively enjoyed… not.

Then on Christmas afternoon, after we’d received some treats that we actually did enjoy, Thing 3 was crouched in the hallway playing with her new toys when we were overwhelmed by the most rancid smell I have ever had the displeasure of smelling. We all looked at each other, clearly thinking the turkey farts had started early this year, before realising that the smell was coming from the hallway. Poor Thing 3 had literally exploded. The watery crap was all down her legs, over her feet and, the very best part, all over the floor. Yay. Merry fucking Christmas.

Christmas 2016 will be forever etched in our minds as the year of the unwanted treats.

For anyone who may be concerned, Thing 3 received lots of love and cuddles and is slowly making her recovery after infecting the rest of the household with her treats.

The saga continues…

Too Easy To Takeaway

If you’re 1 of my 48 followers on Twitter you might have seen that the bloody winter illnesses have been doing the rounds in our house.

During this fandabbydozy time we went through boxes of tissues like they were going out of fashion, coughing up god knows what and neglecting the housework so it looked like we were living in an actual pigsty.

As a poorly mum I still had to look after 2 kids under the age of 3 (who were also feeling shitty) while simultaneously trying to make sure the older 2 (again feeling shitty) had everything they needed for school/their social lives. Keeping them fed and watered was also important and this is why the takeaway became my saviour.

My already lard-arse body is now several lbs heavier thanks to the easiness of being able to click a few buttons on the computer and order our food to be delivered (mostly hot) ready to eat.

Since when did it become so sodding easy though?? I didn’t even have to pick up the phone and try to explain the complicated needs of my incredibly fussy kids. There were no language barriers or confusion when I had to order a quarter pounder with cheese without cheese. Just clickety click click and the food was being prepared while I sat on my fat arse cuddling Thing 4 and watching CBBC with Thing 2 & 3. Being a typical teenager, Thing 1 doesn’t leave his pit until the food is actually ready to shove in his gob. God forbid he spend some time with his family. *Rolls eyes*

The hardest part of the whole experience was having to get up and answer the door!

Now I’m feeling better we’re getting back to normal but I have a feeling I might find myself “accidently” clicking on those buttons again soon. It’s far too easy not to.

Don’t Deliver To My Back Door

This year I made the genius decision to do all of my Christmas shopping online – there’s no way I would choose to go shopping at this manic time of year with 2 kids under the age of 3 in tow. I felt really smug about my idea, quite cocky in fact.

Then I realised what I had done. I realised that I had about 50 billion parcels on the way and I’d actually have to stay at home to receive them. No popping out to Costa for my regular caffeine hit (I have 4 kids, caffeine is pretty much the only thing getting me through each day). No swanning off to visit family members so that I’m not solely responsible for Thing 3 for a couple of hours (she really does require a tag team of adults to keep her under control) and definitely no sneaking out for lunch to save me the hassle of finding something in the cupboard that meets Thing 3’s approval.

As if that wasn’t bad enough, there seems to be a special group of delivery people who think it’s perfectly acceptable to wander through our back garden and deliver to the back door. Now I think this is a chuffing rude thing to do anyway – I wouldn’t dream of just walking into someone’s back garden, that’s their personal space in my opinion.

But it’s even worse in our case:

The massive dog has free run of the back garden and we have a sign on the back gate informing people of this. ‘Do not enter. Dog loose in garden’ I mean how sodding difficult is it to look at the sign and not bloody well enter??

If they get lucky and the massive dog is indoors it causes me a whole shitload of aggravation because now the dog can see a stranger coming into our garden and he goes batshit crazy.

His barking obviously wakes up Thing 4 who has usually only just gone to sleep and is now screaming at the top of her lungs because the bastard dog has just totally ruined her nap.

Then, as the dickhead delivery person starts knocking on the back door, somehow I’ve got to get the angry dog out of the room so he doesn’t lose his shit with the idiot banging on the door, whilst simultaneously shushing Thing 4 and trying not to trip over Thing 3 who is jumping around making her own barking noises.

Then I’m expected to be polite to the person who has caused all this crap. Believe me when I say it takes everything I have not to shove the parcel up their arse!

I’d just like to point out here that the dog might be massive but he is a complete gentleman, a gentle giant if you will. He just doesn’t like unexpected visitors in his personal space and, as you can probably tell, I feel the same way.

I’m still waiting for 100s of parcels so I’m sending out a plea to all you delivery people out there – DON’T DELIVER TO MY BACK DOOR!