If you were to ask my opinions on soft play I’m not quite sure what they would be – I neither love it or completely hate it. Like most activities aimed at young kids it simply helps fill up the day until you get to
gin time the bedtime hour.
We go to soft play for a number of reasons:-
1. It’s raining
2. They are destroying the house
3. I want a latte
4. They have chicken nuggets and I can’t be bothered to make dinner
5. I fancy a bit of adult conversation (even if it’s just saying thanks to the guy who puts the shoes in boxes)
6. The boys have got dirty stinking colds and it only seems fair to share their snot back into the germ pool that has cost us £400 in pointless nursery fees so far this year
7. It makes happy go on their faces
8. All of the above
We have a few soft play options near us, The nicer posher ones that cost about £50 to get in. And the one round the corner which is a bit old, a bit dirty and a bit violent. I usually go with the latter, cos that’s just how we roll.
I’ve observed over the years that there are two types of parents at soft play:-
Category 1, The parents of older kids who read Grazia, look at their phones, drink steaming hot coffee and deserve to die.
It occurred to me the other day that although I have been banging on about my foray into greetings cards on social media I haven’t talked about it on here; and soon as many people just follow this blog via email or visiting direct I thought I would give a quick into into my new venture how it all came about.
A couple of months ago I wrote a post about how me and J got together, the last image I drew was of us sitting on the sofa. As it seemed to resonate with a lot of people J said ‘Hey you could make pictures like that into cards!’
So I did! And Gin Bunny Prints was born.
I got to work creating a small range of cards, mostly self indulgent stuff featuring gin, bunnies and the like (hence the name) and launched about two weeks ago.
Our house is a war zone right now. Us (or actually just me) vs. the toys.
They are bloody everywhere, slowly creeping into every nook and cranny, claiming room after room for their own. In my shoes, in my bed, in my handbag, even in the freezer?!
If the situation was serious before, Christmas certainly didn’t help. Arriving home with a car that looked like the getaway vehicle in a Toys R Us smash and grab has lead to far too many storage solution related dreams #FML.
I was not prepared to take it lying down so there was only one thing for it – we needed a big clear out. The only thing in my way was a small, blonde, noisy thing but I reasoned that I could appeal to his better nature.
But, um, have you ever asked a child to help select a few of his old toys to give away?
Yep so altruism hasn’t really happened yet. Whatever, I just got stuck in anyway – he couldn’t still want all of the old broken sh*t right?
So Christmas is over. Or at least it is for the kids because by my reckoning all the adults still seem to be living on a diet of oven snacks and prosecco, deluding themselves that it will all be ok if they can manage a dry January, which will NEVER happen.
All in all there were some highs and there were some lows but I learnt a lot.
On Christmas Eve we saw ‘Father Christmas’ fly overhead. It would have been a bit more magical had all the adults not kept using the terms ‘sleigh’ and ‘International Space Station’ interchangeably and nudging each other and laughing when they got it wrong. Lesson one, most things about Christmas are utter b*llshit.On the morning itself I rushed downstairs and to my extreme relief saw that he had been. It seems the repeated threats of ending up on the naughty list didn’t amount to much. MENTAL NOTE: Next year don’t let their ‘he’s always watching’ b*llocks influence your behaviour. Either he didn’t see me decorating mummy’s handbag with cat food or he doesn’t give a rats arse.
I got married 3 years ago today so I thought I would write a little bit about how we actually came to be married – also I was thinking that If for whatever reason we die before I document it perhaps our children won’t ever know the wondrous tale!
Actually it’s not such a great story… I would like nothing better than to tell you a tale like the one of my Mum and Dad’s. They met in a pub, sat on a staircase, him sitting on the step behind her. They got chatting, he asked for her number and a few days later having totally forgotten her name, called her lodgings and asked to speak to the ‘northern nurse’. A brave and totally uncharacteristic moment for my dad which led to mine and my sisters very existence.
Our tale was more akin to a gradual wearing down.
We met at work. Our jobs were on a similar level but he had to produce reports for me and unfortunately, probably as they were deeply dull reports, he often got them wrong.
We found each other mildly irritating for a while but slowly and surely over the course of a year we started to grow on each other.
We liked to stay up all night dancing.
We were just friends but I started to realise that I didn’t enjoy things as much when he wasn’t there.
One day, after an award win at work, our company held an event to celebrate. They had loads free booze so we got drunk and snogged.
The next day everyone was hungover. I said I couldn’t believe it. No one else was surprised.
I’m sorry, It pains me to say this but I just don’t think we’re compatible any more.
You with your pretty ways, me with my lazy arse. If we don’t part ways now I’m afraid we’ll just end up hating each other. You see there are things you don’t know about me, bad things. Things that would leave you feeling disappointed and let down.
Ok here goes.
1, Most lunchtimes I feed my kids *whispers* sandwiches. I’m ashamed to say they are served square and have never been cut into dinosaurs or bunny shapes. I don’t tie neckerchiefs onto their bananas and I don’t hand carve faces into their babybel. Does that make you want to weep for them Pinterest?
2, I make my kids sleep on beds! Just you know, normal beds – slats, cheap mattresses and a headboard. Not castles, boats, tree houses, nor VW camper vans. It gets worse Pinterest – to get out of bed they just flop their feet down over the side! There’s no fireman’s pole or rope ladder, there’s not even a f*cking slide!
I have had the pleasure of attending two weddings without my kids over the last couple of weeks. One where we choose not to take them, leaving them in the care of their grandparents and one where the wedding was a no children affair.
Sipping a lovely glass of white wine in the grounds of a beautiful country house last weekend, begged me to post the following question on Instagram. Child free weddings – bit rude or a bloody genius?
I’m sure many couples planning child free affairs might be worried about offending their people but by the looks of it a lot of mums could not be keener…
From time to time mummy gets asked to review things on this blog, usually she can’t be arsed. Her policy is to say yes to alcohol, food or holidays so when Domino’s contacted her and asked her to hold a football pizza party she was all like ‘great that will be one dinner i don’t have to cook then.’
The biggest worry when you get take out is always – are you sure you got enough?!
Lets get stuck into the kronie then!
We have an incredibly organised filing system in our house for important documents and miscellaneous items. It goes a little something like this: –
- The lift up lid box (aka foot stool) – lint rollers, tea lights, dusters, broken sunglasses and the digital thermometer
- The kitchen scales – nail files, keys, clip safe things, bits of lego and used batteries helpfully mixed with new batteries
- Kitchen table – magazines, nursery day sheets, unwritten thank you cards that will never get sent, gaffa tape and the latest Toys R Us catalogue
- Blackboard key tidy thing – parking permits, chalk, safety pins, blue tack, party invites, hair bobbles and Calpol sachets
- By the Printer – generally just a huge stack of various papers including bills, forms that need filling out, to do lists, the kids ‘art work’ and seasonal related goods such as the a panini world cup sticker album
- The ‘to file’ box – important documents that needs to be filed
- The actual file – a bunch of old documents that need removing from the file so that stuff that actually needs to be filed, can be filed
Day 1 – We are going on a holiday. Daddy says it’s a chance for us all to relax which makes mummy snort and mutter something like ‘same old sh*t, different location.’ A thing called packing happens which seems to make everyone hate each other and random inanimate objects such as shoes and charging devices.
After we have been in the car for a bit the baby sicks up loads of big lumps of milk that stink. We can’t stop due to the motorway so we have to drive for ages with lots of crying and everyone feeling sick due to the disgusting sick smell.
When we finally find somewhere to stop mummy starts changing the baby and daddy wanders off, she says ‘you have got to be kidding me!’ He comes back later with a coffee the size of his head which mummy says is ‘bloody ridiculous’. I wonder if when I grow up, I will get angry about the size of drinks other people buy too.
We get on a boat that takes us on the sea to the France which is a place where they drive on the wrong side of the road and eat cross ants for breakfast.
The house we are staying on sits on water. It has no wifi which is also ‘bloody ridiculous’ and causes mummy to have a tech tantrum similar to when i throw the ipad on the floor in a rage or when daddy kicks the xbox because he loses on Fifa. It means I can’t watch videos of people opening kinder eggs on YouTube. This sucks.
I can’t sleep because I don’t understand how a house can be on the water and not be a boat. I have to ask for clarification 37 times before I can properly relax.