Saturday, 28 May 2011

Save the Children...

Drawings by my lot for Save The Children…

In June David Cameron is hosting the global vaccine summit in London, attended by world leaders. Save the Children has launched a campaign to ensure the funding shortfall for vaccinations (4.7 billion) is met by all the donor countries. 8 million children under the age of 5 die each year from treatable or preventable illness. One in five children receives no vaccines at all – they are the poorest, most marginalised children most at risk of killer illnesses such as pneumonia, diarrhoea and measles.
If you do nothing else, please sign the Save the Children petition here.

I have been tagged by Motherporridge, asking me to join in by passing on the petition, The rules are as follows:

1) Get your child to either draw or craft a self-portrait of themselves now or in the future, perhaps imagining what they will look like or what they might do.
2) Sign the Save the Children petition and share news of it with your friends.
3) Come back and join the linky here.
4) Tag 8 bloggers to do the same.

I asked all my kids what they wanted to be when they grew up…here are their responses…

The pictures: from biggest to littlest, we are going to the shops to get more colouring pens as they are on their last legs and Monty and Lola were very frustrated doing their’s saying it ‘wasn’t good’…blaming the tools. But anyway, here they are for the world to judge.

Monty wants to be the following: a Zoo Keeper, a ‘Policemen’, a Climber, a Karate, UFC and Judo champion and an Astronaut. So we’ll see how he gets on after he discovers girls and beer…

He actually called his picture 'rubbish', and pointed out he'd done arms coming out of the Astronaut's boobies.

Lola wants to be a mummy Princess, and have 3 kids. 

Lola is not doing anymore till we get some non dried up pens...fair enough, we get the gist!

Mitzi wants to be a climber, she always has wanted to be, a mountain climber, and eat icecreams in 'clocky' shoes.

These feet could be trotters, or 'clocky' shoes, and she's in the process of climbing, hence the hands in the air look.

Esmie, like Pinocchio, wants to be a real boy or a spider. We may have some full on issues to break through with her…

Pretty full on spider...

I do hope she may change her mind about being a real boy....

So there we have it, and the following, you’re IT!

well, come on...what you waiting for??!

Friday, 27 May 2011

she could be mistaken, and we would find ourselves with a big fat cock in our hands…

who can resist them...?
Right, I have finally remembered, after 8 months of searching, what the big red flappy thing on top of the chickens’ heads is called. And I felt compelled to share it with you all. A ‘crest’ that’s right isn’t it? I have known it in French, une crete, well at least I imagine it is spelled with the feminine ‘the’ –‘une’ as all their nouns have ‘le’ or ‘la’ preceding them, depending on whether the noun in question is a masculine or feminine word respectively. And in my mind, the word for big red flappy thing, must be a girl associated word, correct me if I’m wrong…? I am on the chicken theme because following the untimely death of our chicken Meg (please refer to blog….to find out whys and wherefores…) when she died very suddenly the day after the chicken’s had been driving me to Nutsville on the ‘we’ve been let out for into the community for a day for god behaviour’ bus, I finish (and start) the day by saying loudly and regularly that ‘I want to kill the effing chickens’, well the next day, she snuffed it. Anyway, to cut a long one short, my friend has hatched and is raising chicks at hers, so she tells me to come down and get another one. We do just this, and then went back this evening to get another, and order 2 ducklings for 2 weeks time, after we’ve got some water sorted in the garden, Alex, honey, you’re digging a pond this weekend!! So that’s that.

Mitzi is away tonight, she has gone on an overnight school trip to a nature reserve place. It’s only 20 minutes away, which is reassuring, because I am expecting a call at midnight tonight saying that ‘Madame Wood, we have 65 children who are still not asleep, various mummy volunteers and teachers who are not either. Mitzi  being the culprit. She’s had a proper nasty cough which kept most of us up most of the night, and I didn’t want to send her, although she seems completely unphased by it, the teacher said she should come anyway, they would ring me at 8pm tonight to let me know, and I could always come and fetch her at worst. So I am going to be sleeping fully clothed and shoed up tonight, just in case.

The arrival of the first new chicken really got Margot’s goat up. Is that even an appropriate phrase to use when one is talking about a chicken? What would the animal equivalent be? ‘Yeah, that donkey, he really gets my human up, man.’ It’s all sounding too weird now, I am stopping this nonsense. So she hates the new girl, and tonight, flies at her, flapping wildly and over dramatically, big flappy red thing on head flip-flapping from side to side with vigour, she hurls herself on the new girl, who incidentally is called ‘Blanchette’ ‘Whitey’ (the friend who gave her to me named her). She does a full on belly flop, like some WWF fighter with red flaps and wings, nice. The new, new one is ‘Brigite’. Although the friend did warn me that as they’re young, she could be mistaken, and we would find ourselves with a big fat cock in our hands…now just for the record Facebook banners out there, I am referring to a male chicken, not a male member. It’s true you know, I was blocked for a while for ‘rude, offensive and obscene content’. I even had to contact them and explain all this ‘cock’ business to them, and that I was just a mummy trying to change the world through my blog…Seems to be working too, I hear World peace is just around the corner.

I am now off to take time to pamper my self, after mopping the floor, well, I’ll at least take the time to put some deoderant on, that counts. And then I must break the news to Alex about the duck pond (which we’ve found a frog for-no, not a random French dude squatting in our back garden, going 'ribbit ribbit' with a French accent, a real live one who lives in our garden and talks to Monty, true that, Monty’s fluent in frog) which he will be fashioning this weekend.

QUACK QUACK, RIBBIT RIBBIT! Hey, the old Mac Donald’s farm song is coming along…few more small animals to get. Alex? Alex? …*tumbleweeds* *spooky howling wind sounds*

See ya!

Tamsyn x

Btw, can you help? It’s the names for our ducks, we cannot settle on them. Here’s the suggestions to date: Donald and duck, to Homer and Marge, Brad and Anjelina, to my astoundingly intelligent offering of Posh and Beaks…geddit? How funny am I?

Thursday, 26 May 2011

flashlastnight, glimpse of hubby's antics, whilst I blog and thus change the world...

Last night as I did my blog-my man slept it up on the sofa next to me...hard times...

Wednesday, 25 May 2011

It’s a coming of age when your 7 and a half-year-old son 'ders' you for the first time.


Monty is sad when he comes in from school tonight. I ask him what’s bothering him as we have a cuppa and draw at the table after school tonight. He tells me about a boy ‘Justin Bieber’ (say it with a French accent, and pronounce the Bieber, Beebear, and you’re kinda there, it was a good effort for a beginner). He says all the girls are ‘amoureuse de lui’ in love with him. I ask him if this is a new boy in his school (keep reading-I realise my unbelievably behind the times mistake in a minute) he says no, it’s a film star, der. Or something along those lines. The ‘der’ gets me thinking. I am obviously not just wrong, but ‘der’ wrong. It’s a coming of age when your 7 and a half-year-old son 'ders' you for the first time. This was serious. I busy myself Googling Justin Beebear. Oh, OK, only the modern day new Brad Pitt. My son’s der was justified, if a little rude. I have been derred and shamed guys. In my defence, I never read magazines, we do not have a working T.V and I catch up with news on the computer, and rarely do this, thus living in blissful ignorance of the self-destructing planet we are living on with Justin Bieber, lucky us. So you see, I am behind, but I am not taking responsibility. Good philosophy that. Treat life like you’re an insurance firm ‘ah yes, Mrs Wensley (where’d Wensley come from?) we see that your house just burned down, but you see, from the evidence, there are your finger prints all over it, so we’re aware, but taking no responsibility’. As Mrs Wensley cries you w*nk*r, I live there, that is why you have found my fingerprints all over it.

In our house, we have a dog who is frightfully gay, the chickens who are mutating into giant, carnivorous flapping ostriches, we have 3 cats too. One who is the laziest cow in the whole of the animal kingdon. She’s 10, she was abandoned and we found her at 6 weeks old, her name is Angelica the fat cat. Initially it was simply Angelica. She is shizer at catching daddy long legs, when how can this be that a daddy long legs, by name it suggest it’s giant long-gangly-legged proportions, and yet she cannot really even catch one of these. Yesterday, was a monumental moment for us, at the age of 10, she caught her first ever mouse. It was still alive, and unharmed, so I rescued it and set it free, or sent it on to another worse death.

The mouse hid in my arm crease, and I carried it to freedom...
Bumble, the 3rd cat we got who we found in the field last summer, has not yet had his ‘bits’ chopped off, and is causing issues with Weetabix the 2nd cat we found. Alex explains to Monty about a little operation to chop off Bumble’s ‘nuggets’ (his Dad’s choice of phrase) and he’ll be less aggressive. Monty wondered whether the 2 naughty aggressive boys at school could have their nuggets chopped off to chill them out. Hmmm, I’ll suggest it to the mums…

I have Esmie throwing the most insane paddies when everyone is back in from school. She’s into everything, apart from sitting down, and is generally good as gold for me in the days when it’s just her. The minute we get in from the school run, she grizzles, follows me round throwing tantrums over nothing-different child. My discipline practice has always been to lock them in a cupboard ignore completely tantrums and paddies, and big up to the point of sounding like mummy Barney (that f*ck*ng annoying American purple dinosaur-how come he survived the extinction? Cruel world that sings relentlessly about ‘happy, happy I’m so happy’ things) when the behaviour’s something you want practiced. But despite many efforts I am not hearing the end of the paddies just yet. It’s not even like she needs to battle for attention, she’s still carried around lots, helps me cook and although I do make it clear that it’s the other’s time for a bit now as they’ve been at school all day, It’s not as though I leave her in the car and get the other 3 in and homeworked/bathed/fed/read to/beded.
Comeon kids, be happy happy happy and sing happy things with me....
I can but try as someone or other said, never a truer word in my case! Tomorrow we’re getting a new chicken! To replace the deceased (R.I.P Meg), then collecting Lola’s best friend and taking her and Lola to a party, after somehow before 2 o’clock getting a present and her dressed up as a princess (yawn) again. So I am now off to prepare mentally for the angel child who got dropped off, to have turned into a e-numbered up, fizzy popped up to the eyeballs..Bejazus, it’s gonna be the real rock and roll tomorrow at party kicking out everyone-else’s-kids-at-long-last-and-now-you-have-to-invite-mine-to-your’s-so-I-get-3-hours-off-too, share and share alike.

There we go, I’m off now, I’m bored-see you all!

Tamsyn x

Tuesday, 24 May 2011

Madam Wood the Domestic Goddess...(i have made myself my own crown and 'well done to me' badge)

Well this week is vegetarian week, so today I am putting up a recipe for one of my veggie burgers-no they're not disgustingdon'twantit-give them a try, you'll be mighty impressed (possibly). I do make a lot of burgers for us, as it's easy and quick and a good texture replacement for the 'meat' on your plate...Without getting all Nigella on you, here it is:

This will serve 4-6 people:
  • 400g white beans (pre-cooked ones, or out of a tin)
  • 1 medium red onion
  • 1 medium white onion
  • 3 cloves garlic
  • 1 medium/large finely grated carrot
  • chick pea flour or plain flour (although chick pea flour's best) for binding the mixture
  • 4 large table spoons soy sauce
  • oil

Bung everything (you can tell by my terminology, the use of the word 'bung' I am clearly a budding Domestic Goddess in the making, watch out Nigella, Madam Wood's on her way...). Anyway, bung it all except the grated carrot, flour and soy sauce in a food blender. Whizz it all up (the technical wording gets richer).

Then add the soy sauce, carrot and enough flour so the consistency is not too wet, and makes patties easily.

I feel awfully grown up using the word 'patties'...make them into patties/burger shapes.

Heat about 2 mm of oil in a pan, fry one side till golden brown, then the other side.
And VOILA!! you have yummy veggie burgers...serve however you want, chips, burger bun..go wild.

I would just LOVE to know if there is anyone out there brave enough to try these...! please let me know if you did, and what you think...(hears tumble weeds blowing across screen). 

Have a happy veggie week!!
See you tomorrow, Tamsyn x

Monday, 23 May 2011

I am forced to streak in the garden, forced.

So the world didn’t end on Saturday, second time we’ve been let down. Or maybe it actually did, and this is a brand new one, exactly the same, and we have had our minds brainwashed and have no memory of the world’s end. Maybe. Anyway, whatever, I survived! And so did you, and my blog (and the fooking chickens) so I am happy (enough).

disclaimer: Not an actual picture of Alex's Nan...

We went away this weekend. Alex’s Nan and her sister (92-years-old and 82-years-old respectively) flew out to France on their own to see us! Alex’s parents have a mobile home further north in France, roughly 5 hours from us, and they spend 6 months a year there, 6 months in England. So Nan and Aunty Bet have come to stay with her and see us. The kids were stars, Nan and Aunty Bet were blown away by how independent and self sufficient Esmie was-yes, I reason, although I doubt it has much to do with the fact that she is extraordinarily advanced, rather more to do with my mothering skills, she has learned independence, because if she didn’t get herself dressed/do up her own buttons/put her own shoes on/read herself her bedtime stories, then she’d be constantly going round unbuttoned, or worse naked, bare foot and unread to. We managed to get through it without toddlers swearing, and no old women got taken out either, so in my eyes, this is always gonna be a successful trip. However just before I left I decided that as we would be gone for a night, I’d like to give the House the best possible chance of smelling habitable for humans, rather than habitable for animals. I lit an insense stick, locked up and left. Shortly after arriving I realise what I just did. I may as well have lit a match, chucked it in the house and shut the door on it. As if one does that? Lights insense sticks, actually leaves something burning in their house when they leave for the weekend? Me, obviously. I spent the whole time we were there having visions of coming home to ashes where the house once stood, and on entering the street, my heart starts racing, convinced I can smell a cross between BBQ cat and chicken wafting down the road, as we get closer, I think quickly, how to get out of this? I know, and I cover my eyes with my hands so noone can see me anymore, well it works for kids. When I look up, the house is there, not burned to a cinder. Someone’s on my side this week, I have not had to start it having burned downed my own house, which is always a positive.

A strange thing I noticed this weekend-not the strangest thing by a long chalk (by a long chalk? By a LONG, CHALK..? A long one…OK. Point made), but my nail varnish has not chipped. Fascinating. But bear with me-the bigger picture-here it is. A night away meant I had less skivvy jobs to fulfil, and no floors to mop! So I now realise, were I not a mother, I would be stunning-absolutely drop dead GORGEOUS, a veritable Helen of Troy, Angelina Jolie, Alice Cooper (? Now she’s getting  more realistic)…I could sport fashionable heels, have rouged lips (not nivea smeared under my nose making me look like I snort drugs for breakfast), unchipped nail varnish, no bags resembling the Titanic’s safety rings, and above all, absolutely no crippling dire need for Botox. Just think! But then, you know, there’s that, but it would mean sending my kids back, would you believe me if I said I had a lump in my throat saying that? No? Oh, because you actually saw me crack my head on the floor, falling off my seat over-zealously wooping.

Last night, after getting back late from the long drive, I am forced to streak in the garden, forced. There was no conscious decision in it, the heavens, out of nowhere, opened, and the suitcase full of clothes was outside the garage, the lawn mower still on the lawn, I have just had a bath and have to rectify this, there was no choice, a towel would just slow me down, half bent over trying to keep it concealing my ‘bits’. So I go without, we are fairly isolated where we live, I would not practice this type of behaviour if we lived in a built up area, for example, so if you did happen to get an unfortunate glimpse-I am both sorry and utterly mortified, but I hope you understand, I had no choice.

Everyone asleep, including the dog...!
Right I am off to get on with my Monday, after changing the trousers I put on and spilt burning coffee on, the scalding sensation has cooled now, but I am wet, and refuse to start my week going round with inappropriate crotch stains…

Have a good one!

Tamsyn x

Sunday, 22 May 2011

Our drive home today...

Introducing the long suffering, long distance trooper driver, Alex...

The Sleeping Beauties (and Minnies)

And the Road...The looooong drive home-but it was worth it.

We drove 5 hours north to see my husband's nan, 92 and sister Aunty Bet 82, who flew here to France to see us! they're staying with my mum-in-law 5 hours from us, hence the weekend escapade...more about it in tomorrow's blog!

happy Sunday night!