So today Bear was ordering us a pizza from Domino’s and he somehow managed to order it with no cheese! I mean seriously, who would even want a pizza with no cheese. That’s like having a burger with no burger. Fish and chips with no fish etc etc.
I reckon the pizza making people must’ve had a right giggle at the spanner who ordered a pizza with no cheese. I know I’ve been laughing about it all day, especially as I keep picturing his face when he opened the box and said “where the fuck’s me cheese” 😂.
It’s not the first time he’s buggered up a Domino’s order either. He once ordered it with extra BBQ sauce and there was so much sauce that all the toppings slipped straight off as soon as we picked up a slice. By the time we’d finished, the pizza box was just one big mass of sauce and toppings. Very appealing, not!
Watch this space because these kind of things are the norm in our crazy world.
Up until a few months ago I was a Sprinkles Gelato virgin. I know. Where have I been living, in a cave or something? Nope. The fact is I’m quite a stubborn old witch so when I saw everyone else raving about how amazing it was and posting their stupid sodding photos of their Sprinkles goodies I generally took the piss a bit and vowed never to go there.
That was until I did. And Oh. My. God!
What can I say, I’m totally converted and will happily take the kids there whenever my bank balance allows it (which isn’t very often but I’ll take what I can get). I even, now here’s a major confession from me, took the obligatory ‘look what I’m eating’ photo. *Hangs head in shame*
As soon as you walk through the doors you’re hit with the sweetest, most lovely smell. I know I look like a right muppet walking along, nose in the air sniffing in all the yumminess. But do ya know what? I don’t care. I’m there for the experience and that’s just what I’m gonna get!
The menu is huuuge, I’m always tempted to ask for 1 of everything on the menu but even my lard-arse body couldn’t take that much goodness all at once. My fave is the warm cookie dough with ice cream and strawberries which absolutely count as 1 of my 5 a day right? I love the combination of cold ice cream with warm cookie, it’s simply heaven on a plate 😋.
It’s ok to dribble while you’re writing a blog post isn’t it?
I have no doubt that parents everywhere will know exactly what I’m talking about here.
That moment when you try to sneak into the loo for a quiet release only to have a little chatterbox follow you in. Sometimes there’ll be more than 1 bogcrasher and you end up squeezed into the tiny space like a tin of sardines. All while you’re trying to do the do (or doodoo depending on the situation).
When Bear is at work and I’m on my own with Thing 3 and Thing 4 I kinda expect it, better they’re both safe in the loo with me than playing with the knives alone in the kitchen. This in itself takes some serious planning, I’ve learnt to start preparing for the big event well in advance to reduce the likelihood of me peeing my pants, or worse.
Firstly I have to move all of Thing 3’s toilet training equipment out of the way so I have room for Thing 4’s bouncer. Then I strategically place the bouncer so she’s close enough for me to be able to get to her if needed but far enough away that she doesn’t get a close-up view of her very first home!
Then in comes Thing 3 with her stool (nope, I’m not talking about poo yet), she has found the perfect (for her not me) spot for it so she can sit and chat to me while simultaneously winding Thing 4 up. Yay. Please remember I’m still trying to empty my bladder/bowels at this point and I’d actually quite like to concentrate on that thank you very much.
When Bear is home it doesn’t matter how frigging stealthy I am, I still can’t get in that room by myself. I’m starting to think Thing 3 can read my mind and knows where I’m headed. Maybe she thinks I actually want company while I’m going, that I need to be entertained. The other day I was treated to a wonderful roly poly performance as I sat there with my trousers round my ankles. Who said motherhood wasn’t glamorous?!
There was one time though, and I have no idea how I managed it, that I found myself in the loo. By MYSELF! I felt a bit confused and daydreamed for a little while. What was I doing? Oh yeah, going to the loo. But where was the chatter? Where were the gymnastics routines? It was a great moment and I swear I could hear angels singing as I washed my hands (again by myself, without a pair of little hands squirting Carex everywhere) and left the loo in a happy daze.
I may have won the battle but I’m pretty sure I know who’ll win the war.
For my birthday this year I compiled a small list to help guide Bear in the right direction. When I say small, I actually mean tiny. 3 things to be exact.
- My fave chocolates from ‘Chocolates For Chocoholics’. If you’ve never tried or heard of them, you really should, they’re the dogs nuts. Google them, google them now people!
- An Amazon voucher to feed my book/e-book habit.
- Socks because I literally only had like 3 chuffing pairs.
Not an unreasonable list, right?
So what did he get me?
- A pack of vanilla votive candles from George at Asda which smelled yummy so no issues there.
- A bottle of ‘Glow’ by J Lo. Hmm what the actual…
‘Glow’ smelled like soap, and cheap soap at that. Within minutes of spraying a small amount on my pulse points I was coughing and spluttering. I actually felt the need to rip my own throat out just to get rid of the overpowering smell. ‘Glow’. Does. Not. Smell. Good.
On the plus side I received some lovely gifts from other family members but I couldn’t help but feel slightly pissed off that once again (this isn’t the first time it’s happened) Bear didn’t listen.
Before you say that I shouldn’t be so ungrateful, I do appreciate the gesture. He wasn’t to know how shit ‘Glow’ would smell and it was in a beautiful bottle, I’ll give him that. Maybe I should just put it on the shelf and look at it. But it’s that disappointment isn’t it. No one should feel disappointed on their birthday. I bet sodding J Lo doesn’t!
I nearly died just a couple of months earlier giving birth to his fourth child, I should’ve been dripping in diamonds by this point not suffocating in a cloud of effing soap – I don’t actually expect diamonds but you catch my drift, right?
Oh well there’s always Christmas to look forward to. Help me pray that Bear finally listens, oh and some socks would be nice too.
It’s a good job he’s pretty!
We have these neighbours who are constantly doing their house up. They drill so often that I swear they can’t have any walls left!
Their loud DIY often woke Thing 3 up back when she used to have a daytime nap (oh the fond memories) and have generally caused me more frigging headaches than I would’ve had if they’d done the decent thing and decided to set up house somewhere else, like the moon perhaps.
So today when there was a knock on my door and I was asked by a very nice delivery man if I’d take a parcel for my neighbours, I said no. I know it sounds petty but I did it for all those peaceful moments that never came to be. For all those times I sat down with a coffee hoping for some quiet time but thanks to them and their sodding noise it never happened and I was left with cold coffee by the time I had managed to console Thing 3.
I have to admit that a tiny part of me felt guilty as I shut the door but the other part felt chuffed as nuts that I’d achieved this very small victory. *Does happy dance*
Have you ever heard the phrase ‘like a red rag to a bull’? Well that’s exactly what a Christmas tree is to a 2-year-old.
Thing 3 has been on a permanent high ever since we fished out our fake snow-covered tree. I have to admit that she already had feral tendencies but now that the Christmas tree has been erected (can’t help but giggle at that word, no I haven’t quite grown up yet) the feralness has turned up several notches.
Not only do we have frigging fake snow all over the floor (whose genius idea was it to get a snowy tree anyway?) but we also have baubles and beads flying in all directions. It’s not much fun standing on a sparkly star let me tell you. Honestly who actually thinks it’s sensible to make a tree decoration as sharp as a pissing scalpel? But then who actually thinks it’s sensible to buy the sodding things? Oh yes, apparently at some point I thought all of the above things were a good idea. *Rolls eyes*
So anyway, it’s been up one day and I already want to throw it out the chuffing window!
I can’t even remember how many times I’ve threatened to take it down or told her that Santa won’t bring her presents if she keeps being a little bugger (obviously I said pickle instead of bugger but I was bloody well thinking the other word).
I’ve even made a deal with her – “you can play with the baubles as long as you put them back on the tree when you’re finished”. I think that’s massively reasonable of me. I know that my tree is gonna look like shit by Christmas Day but if she could please pick up after herself then I’m perfectly ok with it. Job done, or not. I may as well talk to a brick wall.
It’s gonna be a long December!
I took Thing 2 and Thing 3 to our local winter carnival.
Thing 1 is a teenager which means he’s far too cool for that kind of crap and Thing 4 is only a few months old which means she’s likely to catch hypothermia from standing around in the cold for so long. These two stayed home with Bear who was clearly devastated about having to miss such an epic event. *Rolls eyes*
So we get to the spot where it’s all going to happen and smugly find ourselves in the front row. This is important because Thing 3 is only 2 years old and therefore quite small, if she’s not at the front she’s not going to see bugger all is she.
That’s when my battle commences.
Trying to keep Thing 3 at the front so she can actually see the carnival floats is like trying to battle 100 chocoholics for the last piece of chocolate – bloody difficult.
I don’t understand why anyone, especially adults, think it’s ok to stand in front of a little person who is simply trying to enjoy the moment. I swear these people may as well just turn around and steal her sodding sweets while they’re at it.
One look at the bewilderment on her face unleashes my MIC instincts and I have to deal with it. And deal with it I did. Sadly I had to keep on dealing with it over and over again which just left me stressed and proper pissed off to be quite honest. It seems that a few carnival floats and Christmas lights really bring out the worst in people.
Naturally Thing 2 was oblivious to all of this, I guess now that she’s 10 she doesn’t remember what it feels like to be a short arse.
There is a happy ending to this story though. Yay. They actually both enjoyed their evening out at the winter carnival. Thing 3 hasn’t stopped yapping about the floats, Father Christmas and the horse that pooed on the road right in front of us!
It’s good to know that my constant battling paid off even if I did need a massive glass of wine afterwards.