packitis

Definitely have what my mother calls 'packitis' now. As we have had a stream of very nice visitors over the past few weeks, I've managed to put to the back of my mind that I'll shortly be travelling to the other side of the world with three small people (and one small Hubby). But now all the visitors have gone, and it's only a week away, and somewhat scary. Not the thought of being in Nepal (which is the reverse of scary and floats in a pink fuzzy way in and out of my consciousness, with the waft of jasmine and 'time for tiffin!' ringing through the air), but the actual packing up and leaving and changing nappies on aeroplanes and stuff. I'm sure it will be fine. A friend of mine who flew with her little ones to New Zealand recently, advised me to take plenty of spare clothes (in case of vomit incidents at forty thousand feet) and lots of sweets (which she said would be good to help with earache on take off, but I think will also be good for general bribery), so I'm going to heed her wise advice. 

Twin 2 crying upstairs with imaginary tummy ache or something so have to go...

Twin 1 came into the kitchen this evening, whilst I was preparing supper (I say 'preparing' but actually I was re-heating some leftovers from a dinner party I went to on Friday) and said: "Mummy, can you be 'evil mother'?". I would like to think that this is because she was outside with Son and their friend (who we like to call 'Big H', which makes her sound like some gangland boss, instead of a six-year-old, flaxen haired girl. Although in the context of under-eights in this street, she probably counts as a gangland boss, given that all the other kids seem to do exactly as she says, mainly due to her fearless persistence) playing Cinderella, and not because me being in a good mood and not being shouty and impatient is so unexpected that it was starting to unnerve her. Although the latter may be the case, as great combination of PMT and summer cold (not sure why summer colds are called summer colds - seems to me they are exactly the same as winter colds, just more irritating and no-one is sympathetic as they assume its hayfever) means I have been a bit of a witch recently. Have been trying not to be, and have also spent a fair amount of time apologising to the poor little blighters for shouting unnecessarily.

Anyway, realise as usual that I have been somewhat remiss in doing this whole blog thing recently, mainly because there has been admin to sort out in the evenings, but also because I've been spending my evenings having a pedicure (blue nails, which chipped off and looked skanky almost immediately, since you ask), having lots of fabulous visitors, and going to a dinner party somewhere in the wilds of South Yorkshire.

The wives champagne breakfast was lovely, got a v. nice green glass bracelet as a leaving present and although there was no champagne, it was pretty nice cava and furthermore, we all got a five quid refund, so not bad at all.

Twin 1 has just told me she's off to do a poo, so I must go and do some lovely bottom wiping  - tootle pip!

Dog gone

The house is even more cavernous and echoing since Dog has gone. He left at the weekend for an extended holiday in Wales with my sister, whilst we do our Nepal posting. Predictably, I blubbed when the time came for him to go, but he didn't give a monkey's - he is always trying to get himself adopted by random strangers anyway, and looked (uncharacteristically) cheery when he left. I would like to think that he was crying on the inside, and just being brave so as not to upset me, but I somehow don't think this was really the case, the traitorous little hairy tyke.

Anyway, it's a bit annoying because now when there are strange creaking noises at night, I can't blame it on the dog and instead just lie quaking in bed, convincing myself that the place is haunted (and this isn't helped by Twin 1 pointing at something and asking 'Why won't that man talk to me, Mummy?' She was pointing at an empty bit of wall...)

Ah well, not much longer in the haunted house and then we'll be off to the earthquake zone.

Just need Hubby to hurry up and get his arse back from extra-marital affair/adventure training. 

In the meantime, I have jolly super wives champagne breakfast to look forward to tomorrow. For those of us who are posted, it's our leaving do. It's cost me fifteen quid, so I do hope it's real champagne and a half-decent present, and not just Lambrusco and some Superdrug bath salts.

The Apprentice wasn't on! Gutted. Think I must have the wrong night. Hope it's not tonight, as I will miss it again as lovely lady coming round to do reflexology. Wonder if she'll mind having the telly on at the same time - although that might spoil the relaxing ambience... Watched something about Victorian food instead, which also had one rather dishy male presenter, which somewhat made up for the lack of lush Alex (or handsome postie). And then the culture show, with presenter whom I normally find a pretentious arse, but rather liked this time as he totally slated the Sex & the City movie (he's now less of an arse in my eyes as I too think that Samantha et al are two-dimentional silly old bints -  I mean their characters, of course, not the actual actresses who I'm sure are totally lovely and deeply caring and not superficial fashion-obsessed ageing slags), but would still be rather watching lush Alex. 

Mum's birthday bash at the weekend was ok - lovely weather, nice food, etc. At least I think so. It all passed in a bit of a blur, really. Felt a bit tense, which was totally self-induced as I had the great idea of trying to get some footage of the day so that Mum could have a DVD to remember it by. Realised pretty early on that I couldn't actually do this and look after Son, Twins, Parents and Other Family Members, so I tried to delegate/outsource to Nephew(14), who looked like he could manage it. As a result, we have some absolutely super shots of the back of his parents walking towards the mess. And that's about it. I tried to take some other stuff, but I am pretty hopeless, and children would keep on falling over or doing poos, which rather interrupted the creative flow. 

Anyway, ate lots of cake and drank a few glasses of champagne and actually got to see the whole family together, which hasn't happened since Mum's 60th (we are totally crap at that sort of thing).

Both Sisters were there with their sleek, glossy hair, looking gorgeously photogenic as usual. My hairstyle was inspired by Wurzel Gummidge and owed much to the fact that my brother-in-law had poured me a super large G&T before I attempted to dry my hair the previous evening. My outfit would also have been similarly scarcrow-ish, but luckily a pair of black linen trousers arrived with the (strangely handsome - which you don't expect, or maybe I've just been a bit too long without Hubby) postman in the morning, just in time to pull them on before everyone arrived. Which, upon re-reading, makes it look as if I answered the door to the postman with no trousers on. And of course I would never do that, not even to the handsome one (although he is not my favourite; the podgy one who has just turned fifty is actually my favourite, but in a friendship-only way. If I had to choose which one to have intimate carnal knowledge of, it would be the handsome one, without question. Although not if I had to choose between the handsome postman and lush Alex from 'the Apprentice'. In that case, lush Alex would win out over handsome postie. And obviously if George Clooney were there too, then I'm afraid lush Alex wouldn't be in with a chance either - I'm sure he'd be gutted, too....).

Hmmm, think it's definitely time Hubby came back from his secret assignation in Nantwich/skippering a group of soldiers in the Atlantic (delete as applicable).

Right, I'm off now to watch 'the Apprentice'/dress up as a sexy nurse for the handsome postman (delete as applicable).

Friendly babysitter came round at six this evening so no need for Cassis - good job too, as I managed to polish off the rest of the bottle last night (oh, it was nearly empty already, honest), whilst watching River Cottage and calling my sister about banners with 'Happy 70th Birthday' on them. Yes, Mum's birthday bash is imminent...

So anyway I escaped for a run at six. Felt like I would run very, very fast away from the house, especially as the Twins had skipped their afternoon nap and had been mini-banshees for the last hour or so, but my thighs were their usual leaden selves. I have been hoping that the stress of uprooting the family and moving to they Himalayas would affect my appetite and shave a couple of inches of cellulite off wobbly bits. But sadly the reverse seems to be true. Am almost looking forward to getting Kathmandu-tummy and losing a couple of kilos. 

Well, I must go and tidy up the house now. Even though it is almost empty, it still manages to look untidy, somehow, and the cleaner is coming tomorrow. And half my family, of course. Oh, and I have a massive stack of ironing, and Twin 2 has just started to cry. Might be a late night!

cabin fever

Have just had a large glass of Cassis. Looks and smells just like Ribena. Tastes like it too, but am hoping it will take the edge off midweek half-term blues.  

Kids are all in the bath, but I shall be able to hear if anyone drowns! I just had to tell them that Mummy's patience is now the size of a very thin piece of paper and I am within a whisker of wailing like a banshee at them. 

Twins are both crying at the moment - which proves they are breathing, so I'm staying put!

Today started ok, and I was inwardly congratulating myself on how well I was doing with the whole half term/rain/car-less thing, and then we spent the morning with one of the Twins' little friends. She was not on top form (we'll give her the benefit of the doubt and assume she's coming down with chicken pox or something, and not just being a grumpy hectorette), so it was an endless round of tantrums and tears and snatching and not sharing and naughty steps etc. All I wanted to do was hide in the kitchen and have a quiet cup of coffee, and I kept getting drawn into disputes over whose turn it was to wear the sparkly ring/use the Barbie perfume bottle etc.

In desperation Little Friend's mum put on a DVD, which meant they spent most of the morning watching telly, thus limiting options for the afternoon.... so I tried having them let off steam this afternoon by having a pillow fight, but Son kept actually hurting me, and Dog joined in and started humping the pillows, so it had to be abandoned. Tried playing catch, which was also pretty disastrous, given that my ball skills are about the same standard as the Twins'! They were finally happy for five minutes scuttling about in one of the empty packing cases and pretending it was a helicopter - until someone shouted too loudly, which made someone else's ears hurt and someone else banged their head, etc. so it all ended in tears, as blooming usual. 

I guess this is what is called cabin fever.

And speaking of which, wonder how Hubby is doing out in the middle of the Atlantic with his burly crew (or is he in a motel with a beauty therapist from Nantwich? I neither know nor care)?

Right. The Cassis is beginning to take effect - might have just enough courage for story time...