Monday, 11 April 2011

Nonchalantly, she picks up her own pooh, and hoys it with gay abandon out onto the bath mat. Nice.

I started off last week having my blog blocked on facebook, as it had been blocked by some straight-arsed b*st*rd for, and I quote, ‘obscene and abusive content’. All I have to say to that is (turn away, dad) B*LL*CKS SH*T B*LL*CKS! and FYI Mr Facebook moderator, a 'cock' is  a male chicken, not a reference to male member.

But there you go. Life goes onwards and onwards…you can but go with it. I am writing this blog whilst Alex, as usual when I am ‘playing’ on the computer, watches UFC fighting. This time  however, it is with a twist, the fighters are women. I just saw a glimpse of one, and remarked to Alex, ‘Oh, poor , poor girl, she’s no longer recognisable as a woman, she looks like a man’ to which Alex replies ‘that’s because it is a man, Tamsyn’. Thank goodness, wouldn’t wish those powerful thighs on any woman!!

it's not right, they're ladies...!

Well it’s the holidays here, and they have kicked off with rain (many expletives), some almighty paddies, and a few time out sessions. Yesterday however, we had some guests, a family have moved here from Australia, and we were delighted to meet them at long last. The kids were angels, and so today we took them to the shops in an attempt to reinforce this behaviour, and treated them to 2 things of their choice that they could feast upon. Their choice was bubble gum (soooooo against fyi, but they had carte blanche, so I had to go with it, and they got them because each one has a tattoo in, which they love, as wrong as I genuinely think 'chewing like a cow, spit it out', is, like my old English teacher used to say to me, sorry, but it's just not 'nice'! And so much for my principles. If my most important principles are not giving in to guggle bum, then I have some stepping up in motherhood to do, I know, but thanks for rubbing it in). Esmie was not allowed one, and thus paddies all the way home kicking her little chubby-chubster legs, thumping her fists and crying ‘guggle bum, meeeeeeeee want guggle bum, give me guggle bum, NOOOOWWW!’ But her cries are to no avail. Unfair? Well, yes, most probably, but at 2 and a half, I don’t think she’s big enough yet to get the whole ‘it may still be flavoursome, but you gotta spit that sucker out now, no swallowing here’. So I suffered the paddy, at least she was literally strapped in (in the car) to see it through. And OMG, she saw that paddy through. The second choice was marsbars. And for the first time in their lives I let them eat a whole one each. That shut Esmie up for a bit. Hopefully they will rememeber being good, followed by huge treats, and I am training them up like Pavlov’s dogs would have been had they had been fed guggle bums and marsbars. Watch this space!

Esmie wakes up at around 11.30 pm. I go up to see what’s up, staggering with tiredness. In honesty, I was a wreck, I usually am come 7pm, immobile, my body goes on strike, nothing moves how I am pleading, rocking in a corner, in tears willing it to. Plates get flung on the floor instead of slid elegantly into my WORKING (yey!) dishwasher, cups hoyed in the sink, I was meaning to ‘gently place’, but something jerky happens to me around evening time. I try and console Esmie, swaying and proceed to burst into lullaby, almost passing out with the exersion, the effort was too much, and I didn’t get past the first syllable. Thankfully she finally went back off without my dulcet tones.

Oh, mum, you're not about to tell everyone that I hoyed my own s*** out the bath with gay abandon are you? Nope, honest.

In the bath tonight, Esmie apparently can’t control her urges, and poohs in the bath. Everyone freaks and starts climbing out going ‘pull back! Jump ship! Run! Esmie’s POOOOOOHEEEEDDDDDDD!’ Esmie is obsessed with her baths, and is often asking me at two in the afternoon for a bath. Nonchalantly, she picks up her own pooh, and hoys it with gay abandon out onto the bath mat. Nice. Quite happy to still stay in there, I have a right slippery struggle to get her out. But I win! So I think that’s 3 to me today, and big fat zero to you baby! Is it wrong to be that competitive, that I feel both right and just in competing with my toddler? Well, whatever gets me through, I say! See y’all soon!!

No comments:

Post a Comment