Monday, 21 December 2009

Double Bloody Mary

I'm signing off this year with one more blog and one last gasp of effort after a long, ailment-afflicted month. The list is too long and tedious to re-live, so I thought I'd skip to the good bit - Christmas. Yes, the usual whirlwind of panic purchases has gathered strength but so too have the festive flashbacks.
Missing this year's Playgroup Christmas Party due to illness was probably a good thing as I don't think it'll ever live up to the legend that is PCP, 2007. This was pre-Diva and Batboy's first nativity. I'll never forget it.
The playgroup  is held weekly at the local church by The Ladies, who are happy for the focus of its sessions (save the odd service schedule thrust into indifferent hands) to be eating play dough and scrapping in the sand pit.
At Christmas, however, The Ladies feel they have to make a stand and remind the biscuit-munching heathens (and their tea-soaked parents) of “the bigger picture”. 
The event was, quite aptly, pregnant with promise. We were led into the church and lo and behold it was picture-perfect. The children ran gleefully down the aisles towards the Christmas tree on the ‘stage’, which was surrounded by nativity dress up gear and even a baby Jesus swaddled in a manger.
The vicar had taken up position and was bracing himself with his guitar against the tide of toddlers. I too was carried along the swell of parental pride as our children donned their costumes, especially as Batboy was the only Joseph volunteer. Alas, the title turned out to be a bit of a poisoned chalice as he was landed with two Marys.
The vicar then bravely launched into the story of Joseph and Mary’s journey to Bethlehem, her subsequent labour and the birth of Jesus. This was followed by a rousing rendition of Away in a Manger led by The Ladies.
It was clear, however, that the vicar’s wavering voice and earnest bible teachings were too little too late. The church now resembled a scene from a pre-school Lord of the Flies.
Batboy for one had ditched the tea towel, wearing the headband Rambo-style, and was running up and down the aisles shouting. No way for a new father to behave, but to be fair, a polygamous marriage is no picnic and it’s not strictly his kid anyway.
Meanwhile, back at the manger the baby blues had kicked in and the two Mary’s started shouting. One had Jesus roughly by the head and the other by the feet as they started pulling and shouting; “I WANT JESUS”, “NO, ITS MINE”. His blanket slipped and fell on the floor leaving, the poor plasticated Jesus exposed to the fury of the two-year-old tantrum.
Cranking up another gear, it reached its dramatic conclusion as Mary One grabbed a fistful of Mary Two’s cheek and twisted it with her podgy hand in a last bid to free “her Jesus”. It was wrath on a biblical scale, which left the audience spellbound.
Then the screams finally pierced the celestial picture for the vicar who, horrified, leapt on stage to separate and calm the Marys, explaining for the zillionth time the art of sharing; “Jesus isn’t yours, he’s everyone’s Son of God” etc.
The party was steadily broken up with the kids herded back into the playroom in a cloud of shame, while the parents all chattered about “what a nice idea” it was. We then steered ourselves towards the service hatch/holy grail for all parents with shredded nerves, where we were blessed with tea and mince pies and true Christmas cheer. 

Wednesday, 18 November 2009

The great escape

We've all had a big week-long adios to my friend Jess and her family who have gone on holiday for three months before being sucked into the school-system vortex.
Yes that is three months, not three weeks all-inclusive, proper pre-kids style traveling - with kids. Madness or genius, we've as yet to find out! 
I just remember her booking the trip all hazy-eyed and dreamily talking about drinks on the beach while the kids sleep in the camper van. Course they'll sleep I thought and not fight and/or trash the camper and/or eat their passports. Seriously though, he who dares wins. They'll have an amazing time. 
Talking of school vortex's I've been sucked head-first into the murky mire of school selections for Batboy next year. It seems like our school choice was actually - 0. So we're selling up and moving out. Looking round houses is every snoopy woman's dream but with batboy and diva (aka catgirl) in tow it's a race against time. Diva's thrown a face-down full-blown tantrum on the floor of a newly-converted coach house, locked herself into a good-sized bedroom and lifted various small artifacts. Batboy liked the house with incredible hulk gloves but came a cropper in an Edwardian money pit. Turns out periphery vision isn't very good in the bat mask as he walked square into a worm-riddled door frame. Cue more screaming and tears while an agent tries to push me for an opinion. We've all run screaming from a couple of homes but I think we've settled on one (the one with the hulk gloves, we're such sheep). Still doesn't completely solve the schools mystery, whoops, but it's got a lovely garden. I'll just be glad when it's over as the whole schools/house search has been eating into valuable Facebook time.

Wednesday, 4 November 2009

Batboy gets hitched

It was just another ordinary day at nursery, but when I picked Batboy up and started to head home I could tell something was up. Was it his mask? Check, no. Was it his belt? Check, no, it was still sagging half-mast round his bum. There was a lightness in his step though, a certain look in his eye, then he fessed up. "I got married today". 
No mum needs to hear of their kid's wedding after the event but I kept my cool. It seemed Batboy had already forgotten his wife's name (it happens) but he told me she'd proposed and they "did the ceremony and everything" eloping to some corner of the nursery. 
Well Britney Spears step aside, it seems my boy's trumped her on the shotgun wedding stakes.
I was telling my mum-friend Jess all about it, whose daughter goes to the same nursery, and she said "I think I know that girl". My ears pricked up in a 'nonchalant but would love to know more about my daughter-in-law' sort of fashion. 
It turns out this 'Tara' has lots of blond curls and just loves boys, always chasing them trying to get a kiss and/or married. Then Jess reveals "she has a Ben 10 watch, which the boys love". 
Well, I have to hand it to her, what a player. Four and she can already read boys like a book. She hooks their interest with some alien-fighting merchandise, flutters her eyes and gets them down the aisle before they can say "Ben 10 alien force". 
Poor old Batboy's already a soft touch with the girls, so a novelty watch on a girl with curls would be like kryptonite to him. He didn't stand a chance. 
And now? Well he seems to be back on side with the boys at nursery but he's not forgotten her. He proudly announced he wrestled some glass/plastic slipper off another boy for her and she told him "you've rescued my heart". So I guess the honeymoon period isn't over yet, although its been quite crowded with Robin, Two Face and the Green Goblin all joining in. It's a pretty random mixed-up fantasy world they live in and long may it last.

Wednesday, 21 October 2009

What the tummy tuck?

NB: Click on the picture to see the details.

One for the mums here! Yup, I'm afraid the "over the bump or under the bump" waistline dilemma continues way past actually being pregnant. Lovely stuff. Felt a bit guilty this week after accusing my fella of suffering from manflu all weekend, it turns out he's got tonsillitis and an eye infection. On the plus side (for me) it means he's been stuck at home and once the eyepatch came off I got him to give me a quick lesson in photoshop. Yey. So you can expect the Batboy chronicles in technicolour from now on - if I have time. 

COMING SOON - "Batboy gets hitched"

Thursday, 8 October 2009

Batboy & the dark night

It was three in the morning when Batboy appeared at the bedroom door and solemnly declared "I can't sleep when it's dark". It wasn't clear if it was just because the night light had died or because vigilantes only work at night, cleaning the streets of crime. Once the fug of sleep had drifted we realised it was because he'd been in bed since six in the evening sweating out a bad fever and was now feeling better and ready for books, dvds and general light entertainment. Cue "quality dad time" while I slope off to the spare room. 12 hours is enough for me, I don't do 24 hour ents.
This has been a bad week at no 44 Gotham city. It's rained all week and Batboy's been struck down by flu. At first I thought it was the man made fibres of the batsuit that was causing the sweats (we've all been there with the polyester). Then I realised it was internal, most likely picked up at that bug-breeding ground aka nursery.
Once the Calpol kicked in he would stagger off the sofa and insist I become Superman and join him in his crusade against all the baddies; Green Goblin, Two face etc. Then his temperature would go up again and he would crawl back under his blanket, which Catgirl thought was an elaborate and on-going game of Peekaboo. She would jump on top and pull it off his feverish face, creating a vicious circle of screaming and tears that could outstrip an X Factor final. 
Ah well, we're out the other side now and Batboy's having to take stock of the havoc wreaked by catgirl while he's been out of action. The Playmobil pirates have been stuffed in a teapot and Buzz lightyear is currently being held captive in catgirl's lair, wrapped in a "blankie". There's a lot to sort out but he's promised me he'll stick to the day shifts from now on.

Tuesday, 29 September 2009

Clarks farce

That's it, Clarks have blown it with Mrs B. I bet they're shaking in their well-designed footwear. Batboy was saying his pre-summer shoes were hurting, so I took him to the local branch of Clunkys footwear where they measured his feet then claimed they'd grown half a size. As there was no immediate choice other then the dullest pair of tan, can't even do it to a four-year-old, shoes we left. I then sent the old but perfectly good pair, complete with pointless flashing lights, to charity.  
Fast forward a week and I'm at the in-town, far more cosmopolitan, branch of Clunkys and they measure his feet again saying he hasn't grown at all and it's all a web of lies. They then proceed to roll out another selection of smart-casual frankenshoe nightmares.  We left in a cloud of fury, only to be alleviated by H&Mecca and a pair of cheap robot pumps. 
As it turns out we can't see the shoes anyway under the batman suit's spongey shoe covers. Why did I bother and will I get sued? Bring it on, I have righteousness and Batboy on my side...

Tuesday, 22 September 2009


This was classic "grannygate" with her one-track mind when it comes to bottle talk. She's got our two for the whole night in a couple of days though, so I'm saying no more, as it's a bold and heroic gesture, she's sure to regret. Me and my fella are off to a "gig" in London. I know, what the "peaches geldof" I'm I thinking. Can hardly say the word gig anymore, let alone stand and jostle with sweaty bods for four hours, do enough of that at monkey business. 
Don't know who'll be more pooped though, her or us. There's sure to be a prime granny-ism, maybe she'll send bibby 1 off to nursery with a fun-size bottle of gin for lunch (better hide my secret stash).

Monday, 21 September 2009

Going insanesburys

Siblings, the early years

New beginnings

This is it, it's the post-swine flu blog clean up. Going to start again, the kids are being dispatched into childcare on a regular basis, with strict instructions not to mention they've had swine flu. Probably a bit lost on the one-year-old but you never know what they're spongey brains are soaking up, mostly Loose Women, but hey, it doesn't do me any harm. Anyway, going to have a mix of old stuff, new bits and sketchy bits. Yey, it's all good...