I did it!

I skated and didn't break anything! In fact, I didn't even fall over. Not once. I was even skating sort of quick! I started getting a bit cocky, like, I'd speed up, then get stuck behind a couple of slow skaters (it was a really small rink), inwardly roll my eyes and think 'Amateurs!'. I'm very proud of myself. I may take up figure skating (Ha!).

Christmas activities and possible broken limbs.

I'm going ice skating tomorrow! There's a temporary ice rink in the city centre, so as my wonderul sister is looking after my children, Husband and I have decided to get into the festive spirit and spend the afternoon ice skating, looking round the Christmas markets, sipping mulled wine and generally just getting nto the Festive spirit.
I'm in a bit of a dilemma, though, Folks. I'll start at the beginning. I've been ice skating a grand total of 2 times. Both times, I ended up with a bruised bum and bruised pride. I know I can't skate, so why do I have visions of me gracefully gliding round the ice like a figure skater? The logical part of my brain is telling me I'm going to look like a cat wearing rollerskates. So, here's the dilemma. I'm thinking of perusing the Christmas markets and sipping mulled wine before the ice skating, hopefully that will numb me enough that it won't hurt so much when I fall, and I won't care how much of an arse I look. On the other hand, I'm more likely to fall over after a cup or two of the red, spicy stuff. What to do, what to do?
Ah, who am I kidding. We all know I'm going to end up shuffling round the edge, clinging on for dear life while experienced skaters whizz past me.

Until next time,

Crazy Mother

x

IT'S CHRIIIIIIISTMASSSSS!!! (Well, nearly).

I'm superduper excited (see, that's HOW excited I am- I'm saying stupid non-words, like superduper). Christmas time is almost here! As I write this, I'm listening to White Christmas on the radio. Yes, the festive season is upon us, the season of goodwill and joy to all men, blah blah blah, you know the script. I LOVE Christmas! I'm such a big kid when it comes to Christmas. I love it all; The food, the decorations, the trees, even the freezing cold weather! Now the nights are drawing in, the air is getting chillier and people are stringing fairy lights up in the windows. Am I excited? Oh yes! Am I prepared? Ohhhh no. I've bought about half of the kids' gifts, NO gifts for anybody else. I don't have a tree yet, I (barely) have plans for Christmas day, and last week, I had the marvellous idea of volunteering to host a Boxing Day party! What a bloody fantastic idea! Because Christmas isn't stressful enough already, and you know what? Nothing says 'Festive' like a nervous breakdown. I think the term 'glutton for punishment' was invented for me.
Anyway, I'm trying to forget how stressful it will all be by focussing on the fun aspects of the festive season. The kids and I made Christmas decorations yesterday! Baby didn't think it was much fun, since the activity quickly turned to 'Let's stop the baby eating salt dough. And icing sugar. And flour. And cookie cutters. And random other bits of the floor.' After realising he was probably a bit small to help, and fastening him into his high chair (AKA Baby Jail, it being one of the only remaining contraptions that can keep him secure- God help me the day he figures out how to get out of that one) I concentrated on making the decorations with the girls. They actually turned out really, really great! I'm the least crafty person one could meet, however, I can bake, and this was esentially baking and decorating inedible cookies. So it was all good. I'm actually very pleased with our efforts! I shall hang them on the Christmas tree with pride.
In other news, Girl2 has been cast as an angel in her Christmas nativity play in nursery. The day they were announcing the parts, as I was collecting her from nursery, the teacher quietly told her to 'Shush', and a hysterical crying fit ensued. The other child who had been cast as an angel had a whopper of a tantrum because she didn't want to be an angel. How ironic that the two "angelic" figures in the play were the two tantrumming little monsters? She's very excited anyway, having tried on her angel costume and realising she gets to wear wings and a halo. :)

Hopefully I won't leave it too long before I update again!

Until Next Time,

Crazy Mother
x

Hi, my name is PsychoMum

...seriously. I've become one of those mothers. I think I've passed a little bit crazy and sailed on to full on cuckoo territory. I've set my son up a Facebook page. I log in and post status updates from him. Also, he now smacks me and pretends to cry when I kiss his little smoochy lips. I couldn't work out why my son suddenly didn't love me any more, until the Husband pointed out that sometimes I pin him down and smooch his little chubby face until he's squirming to get away (the baby, not the husband). What's wrong with me?

I had my heart broken yesterday. My oldest daughter was watching Elf, and she turned, looked at me with her big, innocent, 5 year old eyes and said 'That's silly, mummy. I know that Santa isn't real, the mummys and daddys buy presents for the little girls and boys!' Cue my heart smashing into a million pieces. She's still a baby! How the hell did she work that out?! I feel kinda terrible for it, because I was always gonna be honest with my kids and blah blah blah...but I told her she was wrong, Father Christmas IS real! I just didn't expect her to find out this young. I wanna squeeze another couple of years out of the 'Christmas Magic' feeling you only get as a kid who believes in Father Christmas. So, now I'm the mother who terrorises my children with kisses and lies to them. Great.

While we're on the subject of Christmas, I started my Christmas shopping. Finally! OK, by started my Christmas shopping, I mean I've made a list, bought one present (that wasn't even on the list) and I don't know who to give it to. Oh well, that's a start.

Until next time,

Crazy Mother

Being a teenager for the day.

OK, so I'm super duper excited! Me and my 2 friends decided that we haven't had a girly night out in SOOOO long (I'm not kidding, it's been like, 3 or 4 years). So we planned one for tonight. I'm feeling like a teenager again, I'm so excited! The husband is staying home with the kids, I'm even going to my friend's house to have drinks and get ready, just the the good old days :P . I kinda feel like a fish out of water, though. I'm twenty three going on fifty. I don't listen to the music all the 'kids' are getting down to these days. I'm worried my shoes will rub and give me blisters, and I'm debating the merits of taking a coat (What? It's chilly! So what if it doesn't match my drop dead gorgeous expensive dress! I don't wanna catch a chill...). I'm fully preparing myself for a night of "I'm cold just LOOKING at her." and "What? That trendy cocktail costs HOW much?"
Teenager for the night? Hmmm. Maybe I should stay in in my comfortable slippers, drinking cocoa and watch a gameshow.
I'm getting too old for this.

Until next time,

Crazy Mother
x

Wishing the ground would swallow me whole

I accidentally posted a picture of my boob on the internet. Yes, that's boob, singular. Just one lone boob, looming (albeit very obviously)in the background of a family photo. Luckily, some kind hearted old school pal took pity on me, and instead of posting on her facebook status 'Hey! Guess who just posted a picture of her boob in with her holiday snaps?!' she sent me a message, informing me that I was 'Umm, flashing'. Actually, the first thing that went through my mind was 'Please let it be a boob and not something worse', as her warning was, to be honest, pretty vague. So, when I saw the offending picture, my emotions quickly ran through relief, shock, embarrassment and then panic, as I tried to delete the photo. Then I phone my husband, who, after laughing solidly for about an hour (OK, more like 30 seconds, felt like an hour though), logged into his facebook in work and confirmed that I had indeed deleted the offending photo. I'm just starting to see the funny side of this now. Only because I deleted the photo very quickly.

In other news, we took the baby on his first ever trip to the pinewoods, to see the squirrels. Bad news is, all the squirrels have died from squirrelpox. Good news is, we managed to see three, and according to a park warden, we were very fortunate! Our daughter had a great time (oldest daughter was in school, so didn't come) and the baby tried to eat a fir cone (I sometimes feel like I should change the name of this blog from 'Crazy mother' to 'Guess what non-food item my kid tried to eat this week?').

Until next time,

Crazy Mother x

So, I'm back! I just remembered that I hadn't posted anything here for like, over a month! So here I am to update you with my various ramblings and observations. I've been on holiday! We have just returned from a week in sunny Spain, and surprisingly, I feel rested and relaxed! I know! A week by the sea, in a foreign country, a plane ride away, with three children! And I feel relaxed! We spent the week swimming in the sea, jumping in the pool, catching fish and crabs on the beach, and eating Spanish food (Well, mostly- I draw the line at eating anything with tentacles, so the squid paella was out). The weather was beautiful, all week. Not a grey cloud in sight! Isn't it strange the way the weather can affect you so much? Like, the sunshine puts everyone in an amazingly happy mood? I, personally, am more of an autumn/winter person myself, but I enjoyed the sunshine immensely! Nothing could put a dampener on our holiday, as the sun was shining. Not the sewage smell coming from the shower in our hotel room, not the fact that the kids' clubs were all in German (seriously, they couldn't understand a word of it, LOL. It didn't stop them joining in, though! They were even singing along auf Deutsch by the end of the week!). Not even the fact that we spent £60 on a boat trip with 'beautiful mountain views, swimming in unspoilt coves, spotting dolphins and a delicious lunch included' which basically amounted to a ferry ride and a warm, stale ham sandwich with a bottle of lukewarm water. Nope, it didn't matter! We had the sun, a beautiful beach and a whole week to enjoy it. There was even a holiday romance! No, I didn't have an affair with a hunky spaniard- it was my 3 year old daughter, and a little boy who she is now calling her 'best friend'- they were totally inseparable all week. I also got the CUTEST naked-baby-on-the-beach photo of my son. Perfect to embarrass him with when he's a teenager. He absolutely loved the beach. Like, went crazy shouting when we took him out of the sea, until we plonked him back in it. His favourite game was "Let's eat non-food things we find floating in the sea". I lost count of the times I caught him eating a handful of sand, bits of seashell and seaweed- and I shudder to think what else. Funny thing is, he didn't even spit it out. In fact, he seemed to quite enjoy it. Strange baby.
Anyway, fun times were had by all! I'm already looking at holidays for mext year.

Crazy Mother
x

Why oh why did I ever long for a garden?

The school holidays are in full swing. The kids are climbing the walls (I know only Girl1 is usually in school, but when she starts whining 'I'm booooooored!!!', Girl2 usually chimes in). They've been playing in "The Garden", AKA bit of dirt and brown grass at the back of our house, whenever the weather permits. Today must have been National Bug on a Stick Day or something, because it seems like all they've done is run in the house with a bug on a stick, going 'Look, mum! A centipede/caterpillar/snail/tarantula!!' and waving it in my face, all while I'm trying not the shriek and squash their new pet with a big shoe. I had the genius idea of telling them they could plant seeds in the garden and grow plants. Cool! Except that they've planted pumpkin seeds, pepper seeds, apple seeds, a whole banana (?), orange seeds and an onion (basically whatever fruit or veg I happen to be cooking with that day), and now feel the need to inform me every 2.9 seconds that nothing has grown yet. No matter how many times I explain the them that things take a long time to grow (I decided not to crush their dreams by telling them it's highly unlikely that anything is going to grow in the barren, dry clay, I mean soil, in our garden)they still insist on asking me. All. The. Time. That's going to get a tad annoying over the next few weeks. I'm tempted to go and stick some carrots in the ground with the tops poking out, and tommorrow say 'Look, kids! Look what's grown! Never mind, how did a carrot grow from a banana and some pumpkin seeds, the important thing is that you grew it! Well done!'. I've had enough of having a garden now, it's no fun any more. I had visions of lush green grass, beautiful foliage and brightly coloured, fragrant flowers everywhere. Then I remembered that I'm not at all green-fingered. In fact, I'd be lucky to keep a plastic plant alive. The Husband is going to attack it with a lawnmower again, anyway, and see if he can't get it looking halfway decent. I'm not holding my breath.

On a brighter note, I get a night off tomorrow! After a day of avoiding bugs, sweeping up soil that's been traipsed through the house and lying to my children about their agricultural attempts, The Husband and I are going to the cinema! I'm not sure what I'm more excited about, going to see the new Harry Potter movie or getting a night off. Is it weird to be this excited about going to the cinema for the evening?

Until next time,

Crazy Mother

x

Happy Birthday!

Today was Girl2's birthday! She turned 3 years old. Time flies when you're having fun, doesn't it? It's hard to believe that 3 years ago, she was a tiny, squirmy squished-up baby, just hours old. Ah, listen to me, I'm getting all nostalgic and misty-eyed. Now, as I'm relaxing with glass of red wine, is the only chance I've had all day to get nostalgic and misty-eyed! I hadn't planned a party this year. I decided that, after a stressful few weeks (moving house, amongst other things) that a lovely, relaxing birthday at home, with family dropping in throughout the day, was the way to go. No organizing lots of party food, invitations, entertainment, not to mention the expense. We'd wake up, open Girl2's gifts, have breakfast together, and spend the day cuddling, reading stories, playing games and enjoying family time together. I didn't factor into that a jealous 5 year old, a teething baby, Husband having to work and the constant stream of visitors. I soon realised that renting the local soft play space wold have been the easier option. Girl2 decided halfway through the day that she didn't like being a 'big girl' any more, and announced that it was no longer her birthday. Then got mad when Girl1 decided she would take over the role of birthday girl, and play on the new High School Musical trampoline (which, by the way, I had to search high and low for- the things we do for our kids). But what's done is done. The kids are in bed (FINALLY! It's 10.15PM as I write this), the house is still in one piece(ish) and we have leftover birthday cake (woohoo!). Another birthday, and I survived to tell the tale! I really shouldn't complain about these things, I'm told. Before long she'll be on holidays/night out with her friends to celebrate her birthday, and I'll be yearning for birthday parties with pink cakes, balloons, jelly and ice cream and toddler tantrums. You could probably bet your bottom dollar that, if I'm still writing this blog then, I'll be writing a nostalgic and misty-eyed blog entry about when she was a sweet, angelic three year old, eating pink cakes, playing with balloons and bouncing on a High School Musical trampoline, then falling asleep in her dads arms, exhausted but the happiest little girl in the world.
I'm going before I set myself off again.

Until next time,

Crazy Mother x

I'm a blogging virgin...

...so forgive me if this is long, rambling or boring (who am I kidding, it'll probably be all three). Please bear with me while I get the hang of this thing.
I suppose I should start by telling you all a wee bit about myself. Well, I'm a 20-something mother of three wonderful (maddening, at times, but nonetheless wonderful) children. I have a 5 year old girl (who shall henceforth be known as Girl1) who is too smart for her own good, at times. She's getting to the whiny teenage "It's just not FAAAAAIR!!" stage about 7 years too early, I think. But she's such a lovely, kind girl who'd do anything for anyone. Girl2 will turn 3 years old this coming Saturday. She's an absolute sweetheart, who could melt anyone with a bat of her long, dark eyelashes, but she has a mischeivous streak (apparently she gets it from her mother. Moi? Mischeivous? Never!). Such a cutie, anyway. And then there's Baby. He's my son, he's 11 months old, and I think the poor little guy has already resigned himself to the fact that he's pretty much going to be bossed around by his big sisters forever. He's already officially 'the doggy' when they play house, I really don't think there's much hope for him now. He's a sweet little fella, and it just about starting to walk (and run, and crawl, and climb, and pull things down, and hide behind furniture...). So, that's my kids. I'm a stay at home mother (a crazy one, hence the title of my blog) while Husband works full time. I'm pretty sure I was teetering on the edge of crazy before I had my kids, they just about tipped me over. Girl1 is already displaying signs of aforementioned crazyness, so maybe it's hereditary.
Wow, look at that. I'm already rambling. I'll tell you all a bit about my day, then leave it at that, for now.
I woke up today at 5.30am to the sound of buzzing (you ever have it when you can hear something in your sleep, and you think it's part of your dream, then you wake up only to realise it wasn't a dream, and you could actually hear it?). The buzzing turned out to be 6 large, pissed off wasps which had gotten into our bedroom through a vent. Turns out there's a wasps nest outside our window. So, after jumping round waving my arms like a lunatic for a few moments, I ran down to get a can of Raid to kill them. I was certainly awake by now, anyway. No better wake up call than a battle with a small swarm of angry wasps. We've now blocked the vent up, anyway, so hopefully it isn't an experience I'll be repeating any time soon.
Once we were all up and fed, we decided to go and play in the park (less than one week into the summer holidays, and I'm already running out of fun things to keep the kids occupied/burn off some energy. It's going to be a looong six weeks). Then it rained. Then it stopped raining. Then it started again. So, we decided to go feed the ducks instead. Ducks live in water, they must like the rain, right? Wrong. Not a duck in sight. Home we trudged, in the rain, bag of stale bread (AKA: Duck food) in hand, feeling slightly deflated.
Only 42 days left of this.
Don't you love the Great British Summer?

Until next time,

Crazy Mother.
x