I see an explosion, blue clouds of blazing fire whooshing everywhere ...

Fancy dress Lola at the end of last school year.

OMG, seriously OMG, I just sat down to write my blog, thinking I’d settle in for a bit on the sofa writing the toils and troubles of the endless days of my groundhog day life…..sorry, went off then. So, I sit down, then think I’ll make a cuppa, walking through the garage to ask Alex outside if he wanted one too (he’s on BBQ duty) I see an explosion, blue clouds of blazing fire whooshing everywhere like it’s just been given instructions to ‘Fly! Be free! Burn everything in your path! And above all, be blue and big and scary and HOT!’ It flies through the car (windows are open) Buster, Alex and I leap around like monkeys shouting ‘FIRE!’ collectively, which brings me to a point, why do you always shout the bleeding obvious when there’s a disaster ‘Fire’, ‘Bomb!’ ‘’Burglars!’? Where? Oh, it’s me giving examples, OK. Why? We all know, it’s VERY f*****g obvious, surely? But there we go, fact. So we prance about shouting the bleeding obvious in different directions,  after some serious monosyllabic discussion, ‘Fire!’ ‘Towel?’ ‘Water!’ “How?’ ‘Here’ ‘F***’, we establish water would be a good start. Alex tries to attach the hose and douse the car, the tap wouldn’t turn on, he waggles it violently to try and drip out a bit of liquid, in the mean time I grabbed Alex’s T-shirt, put the washing on (alright, I made that up), see a bottle of fizzy water and run towards the burning car, screaming for what my life is worth ‘Water!’ I have some difficulty getting the lid off, but Sheera with the power of Grey Skull (Google her if you have no idea who I refer to here) skills kick in, and I shake the fizzy water all over the burning interior and exterior. Buster flaps vigorously around doing a sterling job putting out the fire too with his bear hands…It’s alright Jo, he can get new hands the Dr said so. Only joking! He had a big flappy towel to aid him. And it’s out. Well done us! And I lived to tell the tale again! (please click here to refer to the burning down the public bin and the entire Fire brigade armies descending to put it out incident). Oh, and BTW, Alex did admit he had got a teeny bit slap happy with the paraffin stuff to light up the BBQ, but honest to goodness, it did not warrant the magnanimous explosion...

Earlier on that day, Esmie had been busy decorating herself

with GROWN UP nail varnish

Monty this morning, announces he would like to invite us all, including Buster our nephew, to watch a Star Wars lego battle between the Jedis and the baddies…We all accepted with glee, and set a date at 10 am. We all show up, as Monty hurries us up the stairs, insisting on putting on the Star Wars theme tune on loop, whilst he battles. He begins, the baddies are all introduced, their weapons, their flyable offable bits, their hidden invisible bits and their powers. 20 minutes later, he begins to introduce the goodies…Finally, battle commences, and Star Wars blares away downstairs, we answer appropriately (enough) to the commentary my son is so enthusiastically giving. Although I declare ‘oh nooo, not him’ at one point, and my son looks at me and says matter of factly that it’s fine, it’s good, he was a traitor and a baddy…OK, woop woop.  

A leaking ear (again) meant a trip to the Drs again again aginan (well you try writing that quickly and correctly on your knee at 11pm at night after you burned your car out…) for Mitzi moo. She had grommets put in some months back, and so although she still gets the infections, she is not ‘ill’ each time with it, temperature, agonising ear ache etc. she seems unbothered, more tired, but not many symptoms other than the constant stream of puss from her ear *everyone begins retching a little* Sorry. Next time I’ll put a ‘rank health symptoms’ warning sign up.

So she is about to start school on Monday, with another ear infection, and on antibiotics…poor baby. It’s the perfect excuse to the teacher for any bad behaviour or ‘pretending not to have heard you’ tactics, she literally is deaf in that ear it is so bunged up, so once I let the teacher know, they can blame any ‘unpositive’ behaviour on a deaf ear.

STILL in Minnie mouse costume (3 days) and MAN those ears are starting to weigh me down, mum...

The week end fast approaches, I stink of burned car, it is back to SCHOOL and me off to work (very part time) at the same time. So I am on mental preparation survival mode, I need all the help I can get!

See you tomorrow,

Tamsyn *runs out of mental preparation coping techniques, commences rocking in the corner stance*

Quick pic...Blowing out candles...by Minnie Mouse

Esmie blows out her candles on her cake with family and friends....FAB day!

So in all fairness, these guys are f****d, before they even start.

Me and my Esmie Rose on her 3rd Birthday, tint she too gorgeous?!

Chicken nuggets, was what I prepared for my kids tea tonight. I dutifully coat the breasts in egg and flour dunk them enthusiastically after. I often do this with fish, but they do not eat huge quantities of meat, so when I announced it was ‘chicken nuggets’ for tea tonight, the sniggers that ensued I was puzzled by. As it happens, this is actually our word for boys’ bits, but the other choices for me have crude overtones, awful words, just really awful, so rude...Not that the words for girls'  bits are any better, I am not just being sexist. So nuggets, it is…Anyway, they then after laughing hysterically for what seemed like hours, me sussing why, them then gawping when I tell them I expect them to gobble them up. ‘Oh but muuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhmmmm, not chickens’ nuggets?’. So I still have no idea whether they know that a ‘nugget’ is not just necessarily another word for b******s..

The Minnie Mouse cake I made *phew* and I lived to tell the tail...(get it?)

Well, as you all know, we had Esmie Rose’s 3^rd birthday this week. The evenings are usually spent in a whirlwind of kids to bed, hovering, tidying, last load of washing, mopping *ahhhhhh  mopping*, folding, washing up odd pans and wtf does not EVERYTHING go in the dishwasher? I realise I am now (1 year on from being a first time PROUD dishwasher owner) becoming spoiled, but the egg pans are surely the WORST things in the world to wash up. I get sinky heart feeling every time I see one, scrambles being the worst, my god, I could seriously go on for hours about egg pans, but for fairly obvious reasons, I shan’t. So, egg pans, why was I talking about egg pans? *rereads* oh, OK, dishwashers not taking everything, shame. Then sitting down, putting the UFC fighting on for Alex and writing my blog. Which I do around 9/10 ish. So the wrapping of presents and making a Minnie Mouse cake was not leaving me with ‘happy’ feelings. We managed it however, then balloon blowing was remembered at midnight ish, and I nearly lost my husband to ‘blowing up balloons for the 6^th birthday/Christmas/Easter event time this year, at midnight, again, can not take this any longer, that’s it I have now actually lost it’ death. It takes some blowing, he was honourable in his efforts. I did take pity when he nearly vomited from over-exertion…I only made him do 10 more…

Esmie looks 'overwhelmed' with her Minnie Mouse cake...

The next day was Esmie Rose’s birthday! Our friends came over with their 15-month-old son, and plus our 4, already 5 kids was plenty. Plus Buster, our nephew, 5 adults, nice equality for once! She had a brilliant afternoon, we had her cake outside and the big giant ostrich flap mad chickens were in their prison! We were onto a winner all day, they are nearly all too fat to carry their own flaps, they cannot get their feet off the ground, despite the flapping, errr, stop eating all the worms then…We all sang ‘happy birthday’ in English, then French. Well, I say we sang ‘happy birthday’ in English, with our French friends, and in France as a rule, we sing  ‘Appy bersdayz tooo yoooooos’. You see the ‘h’ sound does not exist, neither does the ‘th’ sound, so in all fairness, these guys are f****d, before they even start. So our version was the ‘appy berzdayz’ version, but Esmie got the gist.

I must go and see to the 2^nd round of dinner, us ‘growed ups’ didn’t eat with the kids, so I am about to do the second sitting. But just so as you know, I know who you are the 2 people who found my blog by searching ‘ big bazungas’…

True story that too.

Right, I’m off, see you tomorrow,

Tamsyn x *slips off to grow big bazungas*

Thought for the Day. Week 12...

Esmie's 3rd birthday cake, Minnie!

With Esmie's birthday just passed, I really wanted to find a 'thought for the day' that reflected the mood of this week for me, it's been family oriented, and wonderful!...I found this, 

 "The thing about family disasters is that you never have to wait long before the next one puts the previous one into perspective." 

~Robert Brault,

True eh?!

See you tomorrow, Tamsyn x

Dear Esmie Rose...

Dear 3-year-old Esmie Rose, today!

My baby you are three already! The years have flown by, and I have watched you develop into your own little character, totally independent from your brother and 2 sisters, you ‘get on with it’ do you own thing, never too far from them, often playing with them, but happy, just being you. I see already your confidence, your curious nature, your dazzlingly wicked smile, your huge blue eyes. I see as well, your loving nature, your incredible affectionate side, the cuddles that you *squeeze* out of us, and your stroppy one!

I didn’t know I’d have you, you were in fact my fifth pregnancy. But we battled on, through some health issues found in the womb, and saw all that through to a very positive end, you are healthy and blossoming now.

You are a Rose to me, beautiful, soft but with a sharp side, a side that can stand up for herself, and I love that. It is all YOU, all Esmie Rose.

As a baby you were rarely out of my arms, I cherished every second of my ‘last’ baby, you slept fairly well, and still do, thank you for that, I owe you one! You weren’t fussed to walk, happy watching the world go by, doing things your own way, in your own time. But when at 14 months you finally did walk, there was absolutely no one and nobody that could stop you. You do fabulous roly poly’s now, and enjoy the obstacle course races I set up for you and the bigger 3 in the house/garden to ‘kill time’…you attempt it all, determined to do it, getting cross with anyone for trying to help. ‘Leave me alone!’ you shout at your brother and sisters, you know what you want to do, and you are damn well going to do it BY YOURSELF!

As your mother, I am blown away everyday to have you kids, to have you as my daughter. I have to pinch myself to check it’s really true, that I am lucky enough that you came to me, I am your mummy. You brighten me up, you make me laugh, real raw belly laughs. Your little look of concentration as you try and sing Twinkle Twinkle Little Star (your favourite), and woop and ‘yey’ at the end (maybe because mummy’s stopped singing at last?) and each time I suggest we sing a song, your look of delight melts my heart. ‘I’m a little Tea pot’ is your current favourite, and as you apply yourself to the choreography, you never fail to make me smile. In fact today in the car you had a paddy when Lola was not singing  ‘I’m a little tea pot’…

You cannot help but boogie when you hear music, you copy dance moves and have been the same since you were a baby. Your God Mother, Jadie Kell is a dance teacher, so that’s handy! Were it not for the difference in countries!

I long to stop the clock, to stop all of you from growing up so quickly, I try my best to spend time with you and listen to you. I am not perfect, I am an extremely fallible human being, and I hope you will see that even if my ‘mothering’ ways you do not always understand or frustrate you, I honestly, honestly from the depths of my heart and my soul, am always trying to guide you in the ‘right’ way, never meaning ever to hurt you or misinterpret you. I am trying to guide you also in a spiritual way, to encourage you to be free to explore that, and hope you will.

When you grow up, I hope I will not be a ‘disappointment’ of a mother to you, I hope my efforts, however wrong I may get them at times, you will understand.

If I am ever wrong, if I do misinterpret you, I am sorry now for this, there’ll be, no doubt, plenty of these times.

Right now, my angel, you are tucked up in your bed, cuddling your ‘dou dou’ with no pyjama bottoms on ‘because you were ‘hot’, and your sheets kicked onto the floor for the same reason. God forbid I should go and try and put any of these back on!

I love you my sweet heart, a love unfathomable, a love I never even knew existed till I had you kids, a love that terrifies me (how can I ever let you leave home, my side even???) a love that is utterly unconditional, a love that will never ever subside, a love that is the most beautiful untangible thing you could ever imagine.

Happy birthday Esmie Rose, 3 today!!

Always live life being true to yourself, my baby.

Love from Mummy xxx

Well, I told you so…

Stick-in-the-mud rules were slightly bent in our version of it today. We went to the park (Alex had a day off work today) and then afterwards for a walk around the lake nearby. We got there, exhausted from the park where we both had been on *steer the mental child who has not stopped running in circles blindly since the minute his dad opened the park gate for him away from other small children* duty, it had been heavy weight, and it had taken both Alex’s and my combined efforts. We were practically high fiving and chest pumping each other every time we avoided yet another small child run over by mental child incident. So we opted to go and walk around the lake, we got there, spotted a picnic bench not too far off and decided to call it a day, sitting down and telling the kids to ‘go play hide-and-seek’. We felt a bit guilty, so Alex made up the rules to Stick-in-the-mud. He counted, we all hid, we then had to run to a safe place before he caught us, if you are caught, you are stuck in the mud, quite obviously. You could free another person if you were free however. The game ended up dragging on for soooo long, Alex added another rule ‘stuck-in-the-concrete’ which meant you were fully out. I went first and nearly puked as he cave man carried me to the ‘out’ tree. Which he did to each and every kid. We were all out, and could finally go home! Although I piggy-backed Mitzi, Alex drew the short straw and had Ezza on his shoulders and Lola on his back…We nearly died out there today…

But we didn’t!! And so I still lived to collect my 19-year-old nephew Buster (Monty Buster’s name sake!) from the airport in the afternoon, and make a ginormous tuna pasta bake with creamy mushroom sauce. I also made a big mushroom soup whilst I was at it (cooking), which incidentally went down like a bag of shite down a slide…I learned this from initially the up turned noses and curled lips, ‘Errr, thank you mum, this looks lovely’ I prompt the kids, then the intermittent borks out of the corners of my beady ‘watching kids at chimpanzees' meal time party’ eyes. The ‘phew, I’ve finished’s and the ‘mum, I didn’t like it, and it didn’t smell nice either, but I did eat it anyway, and it was lovely’s (?) decide for me that I will not attempt to disguise their collective WORST vegetable in the world as a soup again, for a while…

Monty comments to me tonight how DOUBLE COOL it is to have Buster here, he has been counting down the days, and kept asking me all day whether it was time to go to the airport yet? He has had the biggest grin on his face since we picked him up! However at the table, after Lola says to Buster, ‘well, show us your muscles then, Buster’ He flexes, and they all go ‘hmmm, OK, but Daddy’s are up to here’ with enormous gestures of ginormous mountainous objects! So that wiped the smile off Buster’s face, and will definitely put a big one on Daddy’s when he gets home from work! 

Thud! Tears and screams, and oh b*ll*cks, I sprint upstairs to find Esmie had been spinning around and around (still not asleep in bed then…) and fallen over decking her chin on the edge of the bed, hold on a minute, the ducks are quacking outside the front door, they obviously think it’s their dinner time. One stray chicken was out there too, she is not quite as phenomenally proportioned as the rest, and can still flap her own weight off the ground, with some success, as she can escape the confines of the pen Alex has just done them. CHICKEN PRISON *big smiley face* anyway, the chin decking spinny child incident, well, she’s arnicad up, and has a whacker of a bruise. Well, I told you so…!

See you tomorrow, It's my beautiful Esmie’s 3^rd birthday…my baby is THREE!

Tamsyn x

Parents’ worst nightmare...

Well Monday was WICKED! There was the town fete thing all weekend, we have been punished every evening with the most horrendous music billowing through the trees and over the hill and down to our house, sung by strangled cats on Diazepam, FRENCH strangled cats on Diazepam…it’s just too awful, an assualt to the ears, covers of French pop songs, is there anything, really in this whole wide world, that could possibly be a worse experience? No more sitting out in the evenings, Alex and I feel like we have walked into a Karaoke for the French ‘let out in the community for the day’ brigade. 

A  picci of some of the biscuit making kids here the other day...The others had snuck off to eat chocolate crumbs out of the wrapper...

Despite this, today was a day they had HUGE inflatable things, water slides and a spectacle and sweets and coke (-a–cola) for the kids..then home time, yeah thanks. Sweets, then coke, then told it’s time to go home, in one fell swoop. Parents’ worst nightmare those 3 things together, in that order. My friend suggests we all go back to hers for a bit. She has a beautiful house and lots of garden space for the kids and a swimming pool. So this seems a good option. Esmie comes up to me, we are sitting by the pool letting the kids do their *watch me mum, watch me, mum, oh no not that time, hang on, I’ll just do it again, are you watching, mum, mum? Are you…’* thing, and I half listen to Esmie as I follow through with her request to ‘pull off my arm bands’. With out thinking, I hadn’t listened to the end of her request, she’d been happily jumping in the pool armbanded up. Her request had been to ‘take my armbands off so I can jump without them. Calling her to come back from the ‘swim pool’ without her armbands, she shouts ‘WATCH!’ and jumps in…I of course leap out of the chair, take off my shoes, and go to jump in, when I see I can just grab her arm, and save drenching myself in my clothes, mascara running everywhere, creating a black gulf stream in my swimming pool. Any way, this was an event spared. However, after the incident, I turned to my friends and asked them why the hell I had taken off my flip flops. Just before I nearly jumped in, through my head went the thought ‘you must first remove your flip flops’ how mad’s that? I am still completely baffled as to why I did this? Can anyone enlighten me?

So another late night for all concerned, I gave my other friend and son a lift home, and rolled in at 8.30 pm, to have a mini heart attack as Alex rises from the outside sofa…he’s doing out door work at the moment, and had fallen asleep an hour and a half ago, when he got home and found he had no key! At any rate he gave me the fright of my life rising up slowly and bleary eyed-good job it was my husband, I have 4 kids in the car I plan to set on any Burglar...

I have some of my favourite flowers growing in the garden ‘Cana’ but I have no idea what you call them in English-hang on *google translates* and voila: they are, in English ’Canna’...tricky. Here’s a picci:

Now, they are ever so pretty, and worth chopping off their petals with scissors apparently. I see the de-petaled flowers which had only blossomed TODAY strewn upon the floor. Esmie is nearby, scissors in hand, cutting the grass now. ‘Err Esmie?’ I call her, she walks over, ‘yes, mum?’ ‘well, look, I have just found all the beautiful flower chopped up on the floor’ ‘Oh.’ She looks surprised (hmmmm) I continue, ‘well, who did it?’ shrugs, ‘it was Lola’ Lola is standing right next to her, and denies the accusation, she is believed (obviously) Esmie then blames Mitzi, then giving up, goes ‘OK, it was the chickens’ really? To which Lola butts in, ‘Well, errrm I don’t really think that it could have been Esmie, coz chickens do not have fingers to hold scissors, they only have feathers, so t couldn’t have been’. Esmie is insistent however. The chickens did it. She is so convinced of her own lie that taking the scissors off her makes me feel a bit mean. But to be fair…!!

So the mystery of the flower cutter is unanswered chez us…On an exciting note, it’s Esmie’s 3^rd birthday in a few days, our nephew will be here, so it’ll be a lovely family do, and Minnie mouse themed!! Planning the cake now, it takes some planning, I can tell ya!

Ezza in costume...she wore it ALL day and will be till school, and even at school, she informs me!

So see you tomorrow, if you dare return…

Tamsyn x *Minnie mouse cakes, Minnie mouse cakes, Minnies mouse cakes, Minnie smouse aches OMG*

quick pic: 'I look lovelies, don't I mummy?'...

Add caption

After taking this pic of the costume Esmie's friend has lent her for her birthday with Ezza in it, she checks the photo out and announces 

'Oooo I am so lovelies, aren't I mummy?'

Yes, angel you are, even with your finger up your nose...

I literally cannot take any more flaps to the face/arse or shin.

Thankfully of late, the weather has been glorious! Hot, and beachy, so we’ve been beaching it up. The kids are (bar Esmie) all swimming, at different levels, but confidently and loving it, so I am very proud!

Bury them in the sand and MAKE A BREAK FOR IT ALEX...QUICKLY before they follow us!

We are out in the garden, Alex is fencing in a corner of it for the chickens. I literally cannot take any more flaps to the face/arse or shin. That’s not even talking about their laying eggs in cars, flapping violently up into my children’s faces and snatching food from their angelic mouths (very much a true story, I add, and plenty more than once it happened too), the s**t, the smell, the fact I feel violated by CHICKENS…I am a grown woman, we are being bullied by our ostrich chickens and flapped into submission…But I say NO! No more of this, and so I made Alex put up a fenced off corner for them. We are FREE!! Woohoo, they are so huge they cannot fly as their wings are not strong enough to flap any height for any length of time. Hallelujah to putting steps in place towards an easier, scary animal free area, life.

The swimming kids....

I walk through the garden to get some figs off the tree at the end, they’re ripening now, and TOO delicious! I feel a jam-make coming on, my friend’s kids had been over to play for the day, and I was sending her back with some chocolate chip cookies we’d baked and figs from the garden. I dart off going ‘No, it’s fine, I’ll just leap over and grab you some’ with this I do actually leap, trip over and slip down the big mound I was trying to jump both impressively and nimbly. I grazed my knee on the gravel and made holes in my leggings! I felt a right wally, she stood pointing and laughing, so did all the kids, so I hobbled on to collect her some figs. As I walk under the walnut tree, they all decide to take 'suicide walnutter stance' and with the help of an almighty gust of wind they pelt themselves hard and deliberately at my face, shins and facial orifices. They have been training all Spring and  Summer, and they are ready now going, ‘Come on lads, this is it, NOW! Pelt her, pelt her, pelt her, that’s it! Now my turn weeeeeeeee ..plink, oh man, I only made a plink, I am a disgrace to the entire walnut army, a plink..my god, the shame...’ And well, this is how I imagine it goes anyway. I duck and defensively hold my arms over my head to protect myself from the walnut onslaught, kids and my friend, STILL laughing. Anyway, my mission is accomplished, and she is handed her kids back, figged up and mean. That’s a joke, I do love her to bits! (you know, in case she’s reading).

There’s obviously been something going on, as later on that evening, I manage to yank the whole fridge door off, by it’s hinges, smash a big pot of jam everywhere and clobber my funny bone whilst tackling the evening’s mopping. Which brings me onto another point, wtf is funny about it? Really? In real life, it just f*****g hurts.

The love of my life....(it is a picture of my husband FYI)

I am off to hang out with my man, we got in and did the *kids’ pyjamas, kids’ milk, kids’ teeth, kids’ bed, kids’ last wee, last drinks* whirlwind shift at 8.30 till 9pm (not bad going), after the whole hot afternoon till 8pm was spent on the beach.

Before I go, however, I would really like to know who found me (my blog) by typing in ‘Funny fat kid jumping’ in the search engine?? This world baffles me…

See you tomorrow,

Tamsyn x

Thought for the Day. Week 11...

What to talk about? What to talk about…what to talk about….?

I could pick a million and one experiences from this week to draw on…I am sat here now, wondering which to use as my inspiration for today’s Thought For The Day…

I am back, I have made my decision (I think) and am focusing, this week, on loyalty…With that in mind, here is my Thought for The Day, which is, for me, very apt in its ‘sum up’ of this, fairly depressing too! But I am sure you can take what you need to and want to from it…

"Loyalty cannot be too liberally insisted upon. Altruism in nature remains an exception. It poses a puzzle, being in prima facie conflict with the survival of the fittest and most selfish."

PETER BIRKS, Privacy and Loyalty

10 Things I learned From This Week...week 3..

1 Eddie Izzard rules, probably the funniest man on the planet.

2 I hardly brush the kids hair in the holidays...

3 I hardly brush my hair full stop.

4 People will continually astonish you in life, good or bad reasons.

5 In life, you have to do your UPMOST regardless.

6 Hippo milk is pink-how cute! (or poisonous?? Not sure)

7A chicken's flap to the face, hurts.

8 I am now almost completely capable of walking into a room/the fridge/outside, and REMEMBERING why I went there on less than 10 ‘repeat steps to find out wtf I am here’ trips.

9 That I am tiny next to German women

10 And miniscule next to German men…

Right I am off to the 'mini' farm with the kids in our town, it's a special weekend for kids, leaving Alex to fence off some space for the chickens-I HAVE HAD ENOUGH!! enough of roaming free, they're getting fenced in! And then some friends who we have not seen for 5 years are coming to see us, it's due to be hot, so we're off to the beach...

Have a great Saturday all!

Tamsyn x

Bit of BOB....what could be a better start to the day?

The mornings, especially before the school run, are usually not my most favourite time of the day...To counterbalance this hard time (!) We listen to reggae often, and LOUD (drowns out the noise of screaming kids)...Bob obviously gets played A LOT...So here, today, I present Bob Marley, and Natural Mystic....he RULES. End of.

Have a super dooper Friday...

Tamsyn x

Stupid questions kids ask whilst watching something...

Dad and Monty fashioning the 'Death Star'...

All in all we have had a particularly mild Summer, rainy, grey and erring on the lethargic style. As a result, rather than playing gaily outside 24/7 till the kids fall over with tiredness, we have had many indoor activities on the go.  We have made (and eaten) some kind of biscuits almost every single day, thus today I thought I’d ask Monty if he wanted to make them on his tod, he looks delighted at this suggestion. He initially installs himself at the table and clicks his fingers going ‘er mum, the bowl?’ and ‘mum, the chocolate?’ till I stop him in his tracks and let him know that he is doing them by himself  therefore, get off your little bottom and get it all for yourself. That way, at least if I ever get eaten by a bear unexpectedly in the garden, and Alex befalls a similar fate, I know they will be at least capable of surviving on chocolate chip cookies till help arrives…I did offer a bit of help, but generally left him to it, I did not need to remind him of any of the ingredients, quantities nor how and when to mix each one in, clever boy! *proud mummy moment*. The cookies were delicious! He did such a good job bless him. So, if Alex and I do get eaten by bears, the kids can get by on their own homemade omlettes and cookies.

Mitzi, tonight at bed time, gives me kibses and butterfly kibses; when you flutter your eyelashes on the other persons' hand…she does this to my hand tonight and the stubby slightly prickly butterfly kibs I receive gets me wondering…Closer inspections reveal that Mitzi Moo has chopped off her own eyelashes, to the root. Normally, Mitzi, I refer to as ‘ostrich eyes’ not that necessary to spell out why, and so the eyelashes she has hacked off to stubs are quite …different.  I am somewhat shocked and go to tell her off as, on a Health and Safety level, she could have had her eye out…I relent, however before I even get ‘firm voice’ revved up, she’s devastated, I think the lesson is already learned. I tell Alex this evening what she has managed to do, and he asks me ‘You did tell her they grow back, didn’t you?’ but, no, I didn’t, I forgot, bad mothering that, forgetting to reassure your child their lashes would grow back. I shall do tomorrow.

Camping....in the garden, too glamorous, our own matresses and everything...

This evening we watched STAR WARS! Why does everyone insist on  SHOUTING the title, like at the TOP of their voices too, when it comes up on the screen? I try and join in, but am the sad geek in the corner who shouts it just a little bit after the others, and ends up out of sync, shouting it all on my own…Alex had beavered away with Monty all afternoon making the ‘Death Star’ out of cornflakes boxes and loo rolls, Monty is mad about Star Wars and so tonight, as he had baked us all the cookies, we had one after tea, and in front of STAR WARS! I was on answering the ‘stupid questions kids ask whilst watching something’ duty, playing farms with Esmie, who WILL not (and MY GOD we have tried/bribed/forced/scelotaped her to the sofa to get her to) watch television, and taking a seat in the hairdressers for Lola an Mitzi to do my hair. My god, it was painful. My poor brian (not editing this typo, we all have one!) and scalp, must have been wondering wtf was going on up there. Eyes streaming, head being yanked in every direction known to kiddie hairdressing land, hair ragged, hair pulled out in giant clumps and ‘oops sorry mummys' ensue. It’s a good lesson in self control though, anyone else doing that to me would get a slap! But I sit there, sporadically wincing in deep pain, replying to their ‘Am I doing it alright, mummy?’ requests with ‘ooooh yes, sweetheart *ooowww in the name of…Sweet Jesus someone make this stop* you’re doing it beautifully, thank you’…

Phwoooaaar, check put you Do, Kylie...I have one just like it...

I am sat here now, sore headed, probably bleeding out of most hair follicles on my head, and looking like a cheap version of the front cover of Kylie Miniogue’s ‘I should be so lucky, lucky, lucky, lucky’ record. But at least everyone had fun! That’s all that counts (kinda). Tomorrow Mitzi and Esmie have a friend each coming to play, 2 of my friend’s girls are coming to play from dawn till dusk. So I will let you know how the 5 girls and 1 boy turns out…

See you tomorrow, Tamsyn x

‘Brink-of-divorce’ discussion...

I have successfully managed to ‘de-flap’ my son’s hair, he looks a frightful lot better, I might say too, so b******s to the stupid wench hairdresser who went snip happy and created the ‘mud flap’ look on my boy.  Not that I am competitive, but I did a better job, and I am not professing to be a moody-ass hairdresser, no one flaps up my son's hair and gets away with it, so there we go.

The tent is UP!!! At last...

Esmie sets off to bed, she is in pyjamas and happy, looking at me with squeezy-squidge-eye going on, as she has decided she MUST go to bed in a sun hat too small for her chubby head…I know I shall be up there in a while trying to convince a groggy, half asleep p*ss*d off Esmie that to not wear the too small hat may be a positive step towards her being able to sleep free-eyed. Still, in all honesty, I was feeling, at 8.30 tonight when we got back in from the beach, and after camping in the garden last night, tired and unable to drag up the courage (coz nearly 3-year-olds take some courage in facing, let me tell you) to confront her about the potential nightmare for mummy and daddy if she insisted on wearing this sun-hat. So we’ll see how that goes.

Yesterday we had the fabulous idea of camping in the garden. Alex spent hours putting up the tent, and we were lucky this time, we had not even one ‘brink-of-divorce’ discussion. It took him hours, bless, but I was right, it did go the way round I said it did in the first place…As I hung out with the kids collecting sticks, Alex got to work on the camp fire. It was great fun, the fire went on for ages, we were round it till 2am. I have a bit of a fetish for driftwood. I cannot help myself but collect it. I hoard the stuff, I love it! Today, at 6.30 this morning when the ducks woke us up flying over the tent (note to self, MUST clip their wings, although not hugely looking forward to it, well, have you ever tried to catch a flying duck? Nope, and there’s a reason, coz short of taking off yourself, having actually succeeded in making the first ever working Flying Suit, you are not able to) they do their red arrows  bit and wake us all up. They make such a performance about it, quacking away, that noone goes back to sleep. Fabulous. I realised that we had manged to keep our fire going, as I had conceded and burned all my bloody drift wood!! I kept certain favourite pieces, strategically placed around the garden, but apart from that we threw the lot on! Oh well, I’ll have to get myself back down the beach to collect some more…

Here's one I made earlier...

Esmie is a right character, she is very inquisitive, totally scrumptious, fiercely independent and knows what she likes. She is also extraordinarily witty, she likes to make up jokes and try them out on people too…this afternoon we spent with friends on the beach, Esmie dresses herself carefully. I have now given up telling her her shoes on the wrong feet, she truly believes every one else has got it wrong, that right foot into left foot and left foot into right foot is the correct way. I challenge anyone to tell her otherwise. My friend comments on her lovely trousers, to which she looks them straight in the eye and replies sternly that ‘they are NOT trousers, they are leggings, silly’.  But at least she tells it like it is!!

The camp fire burning my driftwood, and the kids posing in their pyjamas....

Anyway, I am off now, Alex has lovingly burned cooked me dinner, and I am to it, then hit the sack! I am done, spent, knackered , and suffice to say there is no camping tonight, we have dragged all the mattresses back in and onto their indoor beds, and everyone is to sleep till 10am tomorrow, please! (yeah right).

So see you all tomorrow,

Tamsyn x *allows eyes to droop*

Thought for the Day. Week 10...

I have had a very emotional and traumatic week. Without going into any specific detail, as sometimes in life you have to sit back and let others get on with their lives, people are going to believe whatever they are going to believe...despite. Sometimes, there is nothing you can do. Here are my words, my Thought For The Day is thus, today:

 "Every truth has two sides; it is as well to look at both, before we commit ourselves to either..."

Aesop.

 

10 Things I learned From This Week...in ten...

Well, it’s been an eventful one this week…ALL  kinds happening, but to keep it brief, here are my ’10 Things I Have Learned From This Week’

1 More than 10 people a year are killed by vending machines, pretty odd, but true.

2 That we have a cockroach infestation-OMG, *FREAKS out just writing this sentence*

3 That the phrase ‘pecking order’ came from observing poultry and their behaviours-they ‘peck’ off the smaller and weaker, thus we deduced this must be where the phrase had come from (clever us).

4 You WILL make a complete t*t out of yourself if your bike seat is set too high. Ouch *nurses scabby knee*

5 All kids LOVE Mary Poppins, chimchiminy, chim chiminy chim chim cheroooooooooooooooooooooo.

6 That from time to time, you need to ‘like’ yourself, have faith in you, and who you are as a person.

7 You should never ask your husband to read out the subtitles you cannot read with out your glasses, a man shouting ‘STAR WARS!’ at the top of his voice is enough to wake the dead, and give me a premature coronary…

8 You need to practice at having patience, and exercise it with everyone.

9 Family is THE most important.

10 I feel sorry for those who are doing it I really do-how did they get to that point in their life that thought their actions were actually justified? How have we managed to raise a generation who have succeeded in creating the devastation and sorrow in England?

There we have it, my week in 10. Have a good Saturday, we are camping in the garden tonight, just to ‘change it up’ a bit!

Tamsyn x

So if a social worker meets my son, I shall bribe him to keep schtum about the 'Daddy dancing around, gaily flapping towels' incident...

‘Mum?’

‘Yep, here and present’

“Don’t people work hard in China, hey?’

‘Erm, yes, baby I guess they do, what makes you say that?’

‘Well, EVERYTHING is made in China’ Monty states matter of factly this morning. After reading labels in things, he has come to this conclusion…!

As for the rest of us, I had a night out last night! I went for a drink with a couple of girl friends for a few hours. An outdoor bar over looking the sea…I diet-coked it up, as I was driving, and it was lovely. Whilst I was out, Daddy is on night duties. Everyone is asleep, when I return, it is all quiet, Alex has even dozed off on the sofa. I make a cup of tea and grab some of the home made peanut butter cookies Grandma made with the kids just before she left. The peace is over, Monty descends, he has been bitten to **** by a Nazi-mozzy. He is covered on one arm and hand and wrist, and ITCHY! Alex rears his head, 'what’s up mate?', he asks Monty, 'well, you know that mozzy I told you about that kept waking me up and biting me and I couldn’t sleep because of it but you told me to stop thinking up more excuses and to be quiet and go to sleep?’ Alex did know, he was now feeling proper guilty, so he is prepares for action stations…he takes Monty up to bed formulating a plan, they see sight nor sound of the b*st*rd mozzy, so Alex comes back down.

Explaning to me that he felt proper guilty, Alex tells me why.  He had got so fed up with the ‘last thisses’ 'last thatses’ from the small child brigade, that he finally put ‘firm’ voice on and Monty at that point took the brunt of it. We hear another mozzy alert shout from Monty’s room. Alex sprints up to his room, this is apparently (his words), ‘the only way I can make it up to him is by killing this mozzy, I have to go…’ and with that, he pelts up the stairs, me thinking the house is about to cave in under his Forest Gump efforts. He enters the room, and I hear an a giant fall down, humungous crash, something big crack,  an ‘OWARRRRRGHH’, in fact a few of these, with the odd ‘FOR F***S SAKES’ added in for good measure. I, quite obviously, am wondering what the hell is going on.

‘GOT IT! YES!’ Woops let rip from Monty’s room, and Alex comes back down triumphant. I half expect him to be doing the Victory march, and blowing a horn… So I question him as to wtf went on up there, it transpires he had been so determined to get the mozzy, that he ran up the stairs, tripped on entry (the giant fall down, and humungous crash), he picks himself back up, whips off his towel  (the  big crack-oops, the 'noise' I hastily add!), as he whacks gaily away with his towel at Monty's bed. He’d had a bath before dozing off for a bit on the sofa, hence the dress, and flings it violently in mozzy direction. The towel flaps around hard, Alex whacking all kinds, he clobbers his head on the door (the ‘OWARRRRRGHH’), falls again in the over exertion (the FFS), to finally getting the moz. Result! Of course, this whole time he’d been wildly leaping around the room, completely starker’s (his towel being the weapon). Monty had just sat through 5 minutes of daddy leaping naked around his bedroom at midnight…So if a social worker meets my son, I shall bribe him to keep schtum about the 'Daddy dancing around, gaily flapping towels' incident...

Daddy getting picked on, well 'clinging on with sheer delight eye-pokey' by a toddler. Still, at least he's fully clothed ;)

The things that go on in this house.

We all got to the beach today, it was a lovely sunny afternoon and as we get to the beach, the clouds come over. Still, the kids dove about in shore breaking waves, Esmie even joined in the antics today, normally she is in my arms crying gas I approach the sea, as if she’s sure if I am about to give her her first swimming lesson-in the Ocean…So today was real progress. We picnic tead it (sandy tuna sandwhiches, lovely!!), kids were shattered when we get home, and it’s straight to bed-all is quiet at 8pm! Apart from the animals who I now have to see to…

Anyway, I am determined to get my kids on a bike ride, despite my events getting back on the bike at the request of my son to ‘race’ him. It’s pretty big, the bike, I mount it successfully enough, set off, and realise the seat is WAY to high down there. I cannot quite reach the pedals, wobble dramatically and  yes, go a*se over t*t. Well, I didn’t win the race, I got a scabby knee though!! But I will try again, I SHALL get back on the bike.

Me, in back in 2000, Ok, big fat lie, but I reckon I am about 5? here, I am doing my basketed bike well though!

I just need to point out my enviable fashion sense (just you wait, you’ll all be dressed like it soon) in velour tracksuit and red Dorothy shoes and white socks, trousers tucked into them of course, you wouldn’t want your chain to get stuck on the trouser flaps…

See you all tomorrow,

Tamsyn x

The 'flap' look is never gonna be a good look...

There is something wrong with my kids, VERY wrong, like mentally, in the head-they asked me to ‘turn up’ James Blunt. Now if you read my blog, James Blunt, as I am sure you do, I apologise, in all honesty, I quite liked ‘you’re boooootiful, tis true’ but WTF is all the rest of the crap you have been churning out ever since? As usual, the French are BIG fans, anything musically pants is welcome here, thus Jamie B is BIG over here. At any rate, the kids need channelling down other music routes, and QUICK.

Oh, so this is what you looked like back in 1973....

There is also, something dire wrong with me, having a sort through of some old stuff tucked away in bags within boxes within boxes within bags, I came across a Mariah Carey tape. Did I actually just say that out loud? Oh, yes I did, bad scene, no retracting now. I have no recollection of buying it to be fair, so can I be let off? Phew! Thanks…*bursts secretly into Mariah Carey style singing as been practising her singing voice for years*

OOOOOO you're so pretty Mariah...you have even tamed butterflies...

So, what news?? Well, Monty Buster had his first ever hair cut today, I must add, ‘at the hairdressers’ , he has not been wandering around a male version of Rapunzel, Rapunzel let down your hair…He loved it, and he looks a thousand times better. I however, nearly had a b*tch fight with the stupid wench that cut his hair. She wanted to set the ‘Tondeuse’ (the word for a lawnmower, in French, but in fact it is also the same  for clippers) Monty was somewhat worried at the thought of her lawn mowing his head…Anyway, the nasty woman wanted to hack it all off. I however, preferred her going for a shorter version of what he had already. So did he, I wasn’t being an overbearing mother, I just know what my kids want, they do not need to give their opinion… He is fussed over like a poodle in a poodle parlour, washed, hair cut, and blow dried. In the interim, after the ‘so what shall we do with his hair today, then?’ the silly cow and I have a Mexican stand off through the hair dressing mirror. She was determined to use the clippers, but backed down, she gets busy snipping, I give a little ‘not tooooo short’ squeak like someone squeezing a weasel-a reflex action. She hacks away threateningly, glancing over. After, she sighs heavily, looks at me, ‘will THAT do Madame?’ (Madame? cheeky bitch, she’s not that much younger than me…or maybe I’m in intense denial, very possible…) and actually, as it happens, no it will not do. She made a right bat’s arse of it, not that I have ever intensely studied bats’ arses, but she has done just that. All weird and long at the back, and a bit ‘mullety’. I ask her to take a bit more off, to stop the ‘flap look’, the flap look is never gonna be a good look…not on anyone, let alone a small male child. She rolls her eyes, actually rolls her eyes, ‘Well, I’ve done the cut now.’ To which I reply, ‘well, to be fair, you have still got the scissors in your hand, so if you would…’ she huffs (WTF kind of hairdressing world is this?) snips unevenly and goes, ‘There, will that do?’. I give in, that’s gonna have to do, after all, she is at an advantage, she has sharp scissors in her hand and my boy in front of her. ‘Fine’ I say, although at this point I can not even look her in the eye, I am seething. We pay, and scarper. I am sure she snips after me with her scissors.

Don't care what face you pull, you're still getting the chop..

My parents-in-law are off tomorrow. My father-in-law is stiff as a board, he’s made us a super DELUXE chicken house! All out of reclaimed wood too. I am hugely impressed. As are the chickens, 48 hours he has been slaving away at it! The roof goes on tomorrow! My M-in-law too is ruined, she’s been on cooking duties for us all too! So they’re off tomorrow! I have my meeting tomorrow with me new boss (after re-read, I did mean to write ‘my’ but I quite like the Dick Van Dyke cockney accent thing going on there), to finalise start dates, and the like! I am really looking forward to it.

So, on that note, I shall leave you all.

See you all tomorrow, 

Tamsyn x *sets off to hunt down hairdresser*

A blog 'About Me'...Up Close And Personal...

About me:

So, here it is (nervous dun dun dubn…)  my first ‘personal blog’. Well, for the last 2 years my health has been becoming more and more of an issue that I could not avoid any longer. As a result, I have decided to eat fish. My explanation goes as follows:

Apart from the outward signs of my health depleting:

- Pale

- No energy

- Nails never growing, breaking so far down the nail bed it hurts

- Deep cracks in sides of nail and finger tips which sometimes get infected, inflamed, and sore

- Scarecrow hair (relevance, no natural oil to keep it healthy)

- Unable to put on weight, bit of a gaunt look going on without make up!

- Four root canal surgeries and 4 rotten teeth crowned in less than 3 months…

- Palpitations and adrenalin charging through my body as if I am every day about to sit a Degree…

- Insomnia

I have decided, initially for the sake of my kids, then thinking I needed to cut myself a bit of slack, for me, for my sake, too. I could go on no longer avoiding the signs-I was feeling so ill and exhausted, my memory and nerves shot to oblivion, two stomach ulcers and plunging to not quite 39 kilos (5 stone 10 lbs) several times has not helped either.

I needed my brain to function,

I need energy for my kids, for me, for my life and all its adventure

I need to sleep,

I need to chill out and take responsibility, shirk my ‘principles’ for a bit, and start eating fish.

I became a vegetarian nearly 8-years-ago, through mostly spiritual beliefs, and believing in karma. Also, personally when eating vegetarian, my body feels ‘clean’, guilt free…Thus from that day, through 4 out of the 5 pregnancies I have had, I ate a strict vegetarian diet. Twice eating a bit of meat given to me as a present (the bus driver with the chickens and the sheep?!) As I believe, for me, it’s ruder to refuse a gift, a meal, when that person has shown kindness, than to ‘not eat meat’.

I have been craving fish at insane levels for 6 months or so. Back around the time I suffered a peptic stomach ulcer.

I never had a healthy relationship with food when I was younger (maybe a blog one day, but no point going into it here), leading up to my first pregnancy, when everything changed. I had to eat for my baby. I was to be a mum.

5 pregnancies, 4 kids later, I have definitely put my body through some and back again…I have eaten well, though looking back, in the first 3 or 4 years, of little kids/breastfeeding etc, I mostly just remembered by about 3 pm I should eat something…the last 2 years I have been far more diligent about taking care of my health, eating well, exercising, but when roughly 8 months ago I started borking violently at meal times with the kids, I wondered what was up.

I ate my first ‘fish’ meal, Friday passed, and the relief I felt immediately, was overwhelming. Since, the violent borking has vanished, already my nails are growing, Alex commented how much colour I had in my face (no make up!) and I have not got that ‘wrought’ no energy, skeletal feel inside. I feel stronger already, it’s only been a week.

The borking was awful, imagine, sitting down to a meal with the kids, then spending your whole time trying not to puke up the ‘lovely vegetarian meal’ you’d cooked yourself. I was so worried the kids would be affected. I think in hindsight, my body subconsciously had been trying to tell me for a long time I needed something else in my diet. As I say, since eating fish, I look forward to eating, I do not fear bringing it back up on my plate at the dinner table!

Do not get me wrong, fundamentally, I fully believe a well balanced vegan/vegetarian diet can be extremely beneficial, and possible to be completely balanced and healthy.

In my individual case, after putting my body through what I did for nigh on 12 years, then all the pregnancies in as many years, breast feeding, being ‘busy’, my body had had enough.

I am now nourishing my body, already reaping the benefits. I did give it my best, I flogged it right till the bitter end, I really did, and part of me, a big part, is devastated that I am eating an animal. I am sad. But at the same time, a part of me is really, really excited to be exploring a life feeling healthy, not jumpy, scatty brained, sore finger tips, nearly puking at the dinner table. I am relieved I have made myself do it. It’s been 2 years in the decision process, everyone around me telling me to eat at least fish…One thing that really got me was what my mum said when she was over. She looked at my nails and said, ‘You know what Tamsyn? If that is what your nails look like on the outside, imagine what your bones are going through on the inside…’ The kids, I thought, I have to do this for them. I had disregard the external signs as ‘well if that’s all I have to deal with as a result, then so be it’…But my inside? Even Gwyneth Paltrow who has been a strict vegan for x amount of years, after a bone analysis revealing she had the bone density of an 80–year-old woman, has reassessed her principles, and added chicken and fish to her diet. So I am not alone!

So there you go, a little bit about me, and the things that go on in the background of my blog life...

Go easy on your judgements!! It's been an impossible decision, but I have to take responsibility.

Thanks for reading,

See you, Tamsyn x