My life is a right old social whirl. Went to a pottery painting evening at the welfare centre on Wednesday. Everyone else did truly gorgeous and festive bits of decorative ware, I spent two hours painting a small black china spot - not a hint of crimson or green in sight. Once it is fired it will be a very chic black pendant thingy, which I will be able to wear to xmas functions. When people say "Oooh, I love your necklace; where did you get it?" I can reply that is is a one-off, designer piece. Alternatively it will be a complete waste of a fiver (plus seven quid for the baby sitter and another fiver for the bottle of wine I took along - come to think of it, it works out a bit of a rip off, even for a one-off designer piece). Got quite squiffy, as no-one was really drinking, except me - they were all too busy making nice little homey things to make their houses look christmassy (my family have to put up with a string of sparkly fabric elephants hanging in the living room, which have in fact been there since last christmas). However, after draining my bottle of cava, I dragged myself away in time to roll home for the last episode of Heroes. Really glad I made it in time, but don't ask me what actually happened.
Hubby was supposed to be home at the weekend, but of course wasn't. Think this may be the military equivalent of 'working late at the office' and he is having an affair with a saucy insurgent. Or something.
Twin 1 keeps saying she wants Daddy, and wants him "now, now, NOW!", which is all very sweet, but not at 3am, which is what happened last night. Somehow after this I ended up with Twin 1 and 2 and the dog in bed with me. Then son came in at about 6am to update me on the status of his broken toe nail. Or was it something about a poo? I am not a very good listener at silly o'clock in the morning.
I am looking forward to Hubby coming home, so that when we are woken up in the middle of the night, I can say "Look, there's no point me going, it's you she wants".

Balls!

There is a diplomatic crisis going on in the street.
It's the mess Christmas ball on Saturday and there is all kinds of rising tension, bitterness and recrimination concerning the seating arrangements.
Husbands who have been tasked to put down names on seating plans in the mess are now finding themselves in serious marital disharmony having put their wife next to someone she doesn't want to talk to for five minutes, let alone through a five course meal.
Wives are hopping into their four-wheel drives and zooming down to the mess to rub out names and frantically re-arrange before the whole thing is finalised, whilst cheerfully lying: "I'm so sorry, I can't sit next to you because Rupert - God, aren't men useless! - forgot that we had already promised to sit on the Robertson's table." etc.
Furthermore, there is a logistical crisis as the wife who was supposed to be doing the flowers now can't, so there is some panic amongst the wives who have now been spammed with the task, and much debate about chrysanthemums and gypsophelia. And this is on top of the usual headache surrounding what to wear, finding a cheap-but-reliable baby sitter "...and God knows when I'm going to have the chance to get my roots done!" and so on.
I am well out of it because we aren't going this year, otherwise it would quite possibly be me stressing about my highlights and the suitability of lilies and roses in the table decorations. (Although even if we were, I can't imagine anyone would be fighting to get on our table as we are without doubt the least sociable couple in the street.)
Which is all a bit scary as I am within a whisker of becoming the stereotypical army wife.
I am just a heartbeat away from buying a breadmaker, renaming the dog 'Trooper' and developing an interest in country crafts.
Whatever happened to the girl who liked roll ups and the Stone Roses? If anyone finds her, please post her home!

the family seat

Seem to spend an inordinate amount of time on ebay at the moment. I wouldn't mind, but it's not even as if I'm bidding for anything cool or exciting, like designer sex toys (which, come to think of it, are neither cool or exciting, but I'm so out of touch I don't even know what would be cool and exciting).

No, I'm in the market for family toilet seats.

Twins keep telling me about their wee and poo, which is all very helpful, but the thought of potty training two at the same time is mildly terrifying. However, it has to be done, so I suspect Santa may be bringing one of those toilet seats that's a big seat and a little seat in one - if you have kids you will know what I mean (Santa is very kind to us in this respect and will also be bringing toothbrushes, soap and probably pants and socks. There may be room in his sack for a couple of toys, but no promises). That is, if Mrs Santa doesn't keep getting outbid on ebay.

So I have been spending my evenings crouched over a hot keyboard, desperate to get the best bid in. So far, the news is not good, but I've upped my limit to twenty quid this time, so fingers crossed. (Do you think ebay is like online gambling? Am I developing a habit? Will I end up neglecting my children as I spend ever longer hours bidding for elusive bits of toddler gadgetry?)

It's a sad indictment on my sorry existence that the main focus of my energies at the moment is finding a cheap lavvie.

Anyway, now off to log into ebay for yet another evening's rollercoaster ride of hope, anticipation and no doubt ultimate disappointment.

Have not heard from Hubby for ages. No idea what he's up to, but sure it has nothing to do with bathroom logistics of any kind.

PS. I am asking Santa for a new bottom for Christmas....because my old one's got a crack in it... ho! ho! ho! (ah, the oldies are the goodies)