It is heatwave season. This means a number of things. Firstly the Daily Express gets even more shrill about weather than it is the rest of the year, seriously just click on the link above and I can pretty much guarantee that one of the first two or three stories will be about the incredible heat, or the possibility that next week we will be struck by an 'icy blast' from somewhere. Secondly it means I write a blog post complaining about how hot it is. Regular readers will now that I have a particular view about hot weather, which boils down to, it seems that lots of people seem to enjoy it, I don't and I would rather that it be somewhere else, anywhere else really. However, this year will be different, this year I am not going to complain but instead I am going to regale you with a quick tale that will both entertain and instruct, well, maybe one of them, and probably the only instruction you will take from this is the obvious, if important, lesson that you should never leave your children under my supervision.
Showing posts with label Garden. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Garden. Show all posts
Tuesday, 30 June 2015
Sunday, 5 August 2012
Polar Peril
Special Extra post time!!
It’s Sunday, but here is a blog post. I know, I’m excited too! And in keeping with the theme of last week it is full of charming self deprecation, or something.
I tend to be quite exuberant about sports, and hurling myself around in general. I have managed to break a bed in one of our old flats by diving onto it whilst practising my penalty saves. That was quite the experience, although it was capped off by B laughing hysterically whilst filming my attempts to fix the bed which went progressively from bad to really quite bad to total failure. In the end the bed was held up by me piling books underneath it. Probably not quite conforming to manufacturer’s instructions, but a solution nonetheless. Oh and that film, it vanished mysteriously and will never, ever, be seen by anyone.
It’s Sunday, but here is a blog post. I know, I’m excited too! And in keeping with the theme of last week it is full of charming self deprecation, or something.
I tend to be quite exuberant about sports, and hurling myself around in general. I have managed to break a bed in one of our old flats by diving onto it whilst practising my penalty saves. That was quite the experience, although it was capped off by B laughing hysterically whilst filming my attempts to fix the bed which went progressively from bad to really quite bad to total failure. In the end the bed was held up by me piling books underneath it. Probably not quite conforming to manufacturer’s instructions, but a solution nonetheless. Oh and that film, it vanished mysteriously and will never, ever, be seen by anyone.
Friday, 6 July 2012
I like you (yes, you)
I want to like you. Obviously I love you, but liking you is different, and much more difficult. You just make it so hard when you behave like you do sometimes:
When you get angry and refuse to do anything that you are asked.
When you are so tired that you fight against everything, especially your mummy and me.
When you decide that eating is for inferior beings and, that you never want to eat anything again but instead, (like those people in that story that I have forgotten) have decided just to be nourished by smell.
When you throw your arms around and nothing is safe.
When you throw your toys around and those things that had been put safe from your arms are suddenly in the strike zone again.
When you say you need the potty, only to sit there for ages and not do anything.
When you’ve sat on the potty for ages, but hold on to whatever you’re going to do until I’ve picked you up.
When we’re outside in the garden and all you want to do is pull plants up.
When you’ve got bored of pulling plants up and decide that the only thing you’ve every wanted is to eat peapods, not the peas so much just the pods they come in.
When you stab me in the chest with a pencil and then get really grumpy when I take it off you.
When toys are not for playing with but for scattering like fairy dust around the house.
When, having done your best Tinker Bell* impression, you want the one thing you’ve scattered that we cannot find.
When you don’t believe me when I tell you that we’re going to put you in your chair to have lunch, so you take it out on my ears.
When you absolutely will not go to sleep no matter how tired you are.
When you decide that if you aren’t going to be asleep no one on the entire street will.
When you hate being in the bath until the exact moment that I take you out of the bath and then you hate being out of the bath.
When mummy is the parent you want, until you’re with mummy, and then daddy is the man for you, until you’re with him.
When you have been told not to touch the cooker time after time after time, and yet just can’t resist playing with the knobs one last time.
When you climb up on the arm of the chair and won’t come down until you’ve fallen off.
When you won’t play with any other children at all but are sad when they leave.
I want to like you, but you make it so hard, are you just keeping me on my toes? Are you trying to wear me down so far that I will let you get away with anything that you want? Is this how life will be for the next 18 years, or is is just a phase you are going through? Is there anything I can do differently? Will I look back at this one day and wish we were back here again? Because even though it is so hard to like you, I never want to let you go.
I want to like you, and underneath everything, despite this list that I have put together, you are very likeable, your smile is wide and toothy, your giggle is infectious and comes easily, your cuddles are freely given and heartfelt, you are my daughter and every now and then I see myself in you and almost explode. Yes, I do like you, but couldn’t you just make it a little easier, even just this much.
*Who knew that Tinker Bell had two names? Not me before writing this!
When you get angry and refuse to do anything that you are asked.
When you are so tired that you fight against everything, especially your mummy and me.
When you decide that eating is for inferior beings and, that you never want to eat anything again but instead, (like those people in that story that I have forgotten) have decided just to be nourished by smell.
When you throw your arms around and nothing is safe.
When you throw your toys around and those things that had been put safe from your arms are suddenly in the strike zone again.
When you say you need the potty, only to sit there for ages and not do anything.
When you’ve sat on the potty for ages, but hold on to whatever you’re going to do until I’ve picked you up.
When we’re outside in the garden and all you want to do is pull plants up.
When you’ve got bored of pulling plants up and decide that the only thing you’ve every wanted is to eat peapods, not the peas so much just the pods they come in.
When you stab me in the chest with a pencil and then get really grumpy when I take it off you.
When toys are not for playing with but for scattering like fairy dust around the house.
When, having done your best Tinker Bell* impression, you want the one thing you’ve scattered that we cannot find.
When you don’t believe me when I tell you that we’re going to put you in your chair to have lunch, so you take it out on my ears.
When you absolutely will not go to sleep no matter how tired you are.
When you decide that if you aren’t going to be asleep no one on the entire street will.
When you hate being in the bath until the exact moment that I take you out of the bath and then you hate being out of the bath.
When mummy is the parent you want, until you’re with mummy, and then daddy is the man for you, until you’re with him.
When you have been told not to touch the cooker time after time after time, and yet just can’t resist playing with the knobs one last time.
When you climb up on the arm of the chair and won’t come down until you’ve fallen off.
When you won’t play with any other children at all but are sad when they leave.
I want to like you, but you make it so hard, are you just keeping me on my toes? Are you trying to wear me down so far that I will let you get away with anything that you want? Is this how life will be for the next 18 years, or is is just a phase you are going through? Is there anything I can do differently? Will I look back at this one day and wish we were back here again? Because even though it is so hard to like you, I never want to let you go.
I want to like you, and underneath everything, despite this list that I have put together, you are very likeable, your smile is wide and toothy, your giggle is infectious and comes easily, your cuddles are freely given and heartfelt, you are my daughter and every now and then I see myself in you and almost explode. Yes, I do like you, but couldn’t you just make it a little easier, even just this much.
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| Check the awesome table cloth! |
*Who knew that Tinker Bell had two names? Not me before writing this!
Tuesday, 12 June 2012
The First Word is the Hardest.
First words are tricky things, both for the child and the parent. For the child it is the moment that they introduce themselves. This is what people are going to be talking about in twenty years time. “Yes, well, my Johnny’s first word was kumquat, so beat that,” your parents will say in just one more attempt to keep up with the Joneses, (as everyone knows, Martha Jones’ first word was triceratops as she stood in the Natural History museum pointing out the spelling mistake to the curator. We just can’t hope to keep up.) First words stay with us, you really want them to be something big, something important, something Descartes would have been proud to have said, and let’s be honest, isn’t there a moment in all of our lives when we wish we’d been the first to say cogito ergo sum? Just me? Oh well.
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