Love thy neighbour. Wouldn't it be better if I just gave them a cup of sugar?

I haven't been on friendly terms with my neighbours since I moved away from Dublin about seven years ago. In Dublin, people know if you fart in a different way to the way you did the day before and everyone feels like they know everyone. The whole neighbourly thing is just not the done thing in London where it's a cardinal sin to ask a stranger for directions nevermind acknowledge that there are people living next door to you. It is OK to fart like a trooper without saying pardon on public transport though but that's a whole other story...

Since we've been doing country living on the edge of London though, it's starting to feel like I know half the town. I can rarely leave the house without bumping into someone I know and it's kind of fun. People wave to you when you walk by the shops and they know me quite well in Waitrose because I can't stop going in the place...OK that and the fact that I threw up all over their store, keeled over, and writhed in agony in their first aid room.

Anyway...a few weeks ago I had to go and see my new neighbour because I was p*ssed of about them piling up lots of bins outside the side of our house. We ended up chatting and I forgot about it till yesterday when I opened the front door and he said "Do you remember that time when you said if there was anything we needed, I should just call over?"

I stared at him blankly and a thought popped into my head. "I was kinda thinking cup of sugar territory..."

"Er yes..."I said warily.

"Well we need you!" and he launched into a rather long story about how his girlfriend had hurt her neck, he'd called an ambulance, now they were back home but she couldn't do very much.

"Basically, can you go over there in about half an hour and put the kids to bed?" They're one and two and a half.

It took a few moments for the request to connect with my brain and I could feel myself blinking furiously and my face flushing. He stared at me with an imploring look.

"I..er...yes...OK" I said in false bravado.

I admit...there was a moment when I wondered if it was all a ploy and I was going to be sold into slavery. I phoned the boyf up and explained what had happened and suggested my theory. I was greeted with silence. "OK, OK...maybe not slavery but they better not be any of those freaky deaky country people that get you to put your keys in the bowl and get swinging...." More silence and then him making me promise I'd call as soon as I got home. Ah, maybe he was worried!

Half an hour later, the bambino was hovering by his kids bedroom door as the one year old shrieked the place down like there was some heap of murderation going down. Wrestling with me as I tried to carry her to the bedroom, I actually didn't know whether to laugh or throw myself on the floor. The bambino, normally one to be walking along by guiding herself around the furniture or emptying out the drawers, eyed me suspiciously.

As I finally managed to get the one year old into not one, but two sleepsuits (I had no idea some people dress their babies like this!), the bambino went into meltdown mode and started slapping my leg as if to say "Get your frickin hands off that baby!"

I was glad I was able to help out but my God it was stressful and awkward! The kids had no idea who the hell I was? The two and a half year old would start shrieking when I so much as even attempted to walk towards her cot! I was mor-ti-fied!

When I got home, I packed the bambino off to bed and had a glass of wine to mellow myself. How do I get myself in these situations?

On another note, an email from HMV has just notified me that my Wii Fitness will be arriving within 5 days! Yay!

On a totally different note, my ma ended the Cold War and came to visit last Thursday. The joys of having a baby mean that mamas with grudges have to let go of them if they want to see their grandchild! She keeps saying "It's ages since you've been around to visit" Er, yeah I know! You were frickin blanking me for nearly five weeks hence the lack of visits! Mothers!

Cadbury's Creme Bambino and Crackerjack Ma's Not Speaking to Me

Towards the end of the Easter Sunday service, the priest was giving out Cadbury's Creme Eggs. I didn't go up first time around but when he said that there were still loads left, the boyf's mum urged me to go up, knowing how much I love chocolate. I carried the bambino up with me and her eyes lit up as they held out the foil covered egg and she snatched it gleefully, refusing to let it out of her grip. A few minutes later we headed off on the short walk home and I looked in at her in the pushchair where she was still clinging to the egg in worship.

I peaked in at her half way home. "Boyf, you don't think she's managed to break the egg do you?" I said worriedly. It was difficult to see with the raincover and the snow.
He looked in. "Nah..."

Minutes later we were home. I lifted up the raincover and was shocked to be confronted by a guilty looking bambino smeared in chocolate and goo. Somehow, she'd managed to pierce the foil and the egg and there was a ring of goo around her mouth, it was all over her clothes and her hands were unrecognisable! She giggled as she tends to know with all of her almost ten month old spidey senses when she's done something naughty. We took pictures of her and had to carefully bring her inside where we washed the sticky little mischief maker down.

I realise that I have many more times ahead of catching her doing funny things....

In the meantime, crackerjack ma isn't speaking to me. It's day ten and it's been an oddly quiet, drama-free period. Without boring you (and myself) with the details, she's essentially annoyed with me for 1) not allowing her to do and say as she pleases, 2) not thinking what she wants me to think, and 3) calling her on things that she says and does, rather than pretending that it's all hunkydory and giving her free reign to run roughshod over me.

I sometimes get nervous of turning into my ma in my old age until I remind myself that we're very different people and that if I don't want to behave in the same way with the bambino, then I will ensure that I don't.

At the end of the day, it's her loss and by giving me the blankety blank cheque book and pen, it's really the bambino who she is missing out on. As I haven't done anything and she's decided she's not speaking to me, I see no reason to chase her up about it. I'm sure in time she'll decide to get down off the crackpipe highhorse and until then, I will bask in the peace and quiet and be thankful that I'm not the one listening to all of the crackerjack tales and melodramas...

'Where's the tumbledryer?' has become the new 'Have you got a boyfriend?'

I'm going to shoot the boyf if he doesn't do all of the things around the house that he swears he's going to do every week. My ma bought us a tumbledryer nearly 3 weeks ago and it's sitting in the workshop outside..in the box. When she gave us the money for it originally she said "Now you'd better buy a tumbledryer. I'll want to see it!"
"Er...it's not like you're going to come around and ask where the tumbledryer is and I'll say it's popped to the shops!" I said in exasperation.

So now what's happening? Every frickin time my ma visits she asks about the tumbledryer! This is just like when I was single and my ma used to ask if I'd found a boyfriend...even if she'd spoken to me the day before! Every week I have to make up ridiculous excuses for my lazy boyf and in today's one I claimed that he'd hurt his neck. This is true (he slipped on the stairs yesterday) but that doesn't explain why he didn't set it up at the weekend. My ma's response? "He wasn't carrying the bambino was he?" and seeing me shake my head "Oh good".

His other 'crimes' include:

Going through a phase of buying 'art' on eBay and now my house is full of unhung paintings, some of which are behind the fridge. Every week he's promised that they will be hung up and they are still exactly where they have been for MONTHS!

Not unpacking his suitcase between trips. At the moment I am testing him to see how long it will take before he twigs that the suitcase fairy hasn't unpacked it and taken out his laundry.

Clogging up the TV harddrive with bloody HD wildlife programmes and then getting all twitchy about what I'm recording!

How many times can one person watch Face Off? Rambo? Demolition Man? and other stupid films that have people like Jean Claude Van Damme and Steven Seagal in them that only guys watch?


I got my bank statement this morning and noticed a lot of supermarket purchases. Curious, I added them up and was horrified when I realised that I'd spent £312 last month in my local supermarkets! That doesn't include any cash purchases I may have made or any of the visits the boyf made....I've decided that it's time for me to budget because not budgeting has me going in for a bottle of milk and coming back with £20 worth of groceries that I didn't need before I went in! Anyway...

The bambino is attempting to test my patience by ignoring my requests to behave herself. I know she's only 9 months or so but she understands 'NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!' Right now she's gone out to the hall and suddenly realised that the front door makes it a dead end...Moments ago she was in the kitchen playing with the cat flap left by the previous residents and before that she was standing up watching TV at the TV stand and trying to figure out how to remove the Wii...

The boyf accused me of snoring last night. "I was snoring?"I said in disbelief. "Yeah you were!"he said gleefully. "Well I must have cold then!" I said firmly and he cracked up laughing. Well why else would I be snoring....?

I have to go...the bambino is pulling out one nappy wipe after another and eating them....

I'm Doomed Never To Exercise So I Guess I'd Better Have a Mars Bar

A few years ago, back in my single days, I bought an exercise video which I used a few times...OK...I won't lie...I used it once...and then it gathered dust until a couple of days ago when I decided that I really must start doing some exercise. I was just about to order a new dvd (there are just so many to choose from and 99.9% of them done by Z list celebrities who probably had one of those gastro ringy things put in) when I remembered that I actually own several exercise DVDs...all used once...or not at all...

Exercise and I don't really mix. Until I was 27, I had only ever been to a gym once and it was to get my nails done and have a sauna on my 18th birthday. Then I took steroids for my sarcoidosis and gained a lorra lorra water and decided that I had to join the gym. I lasted three months and as soon as it got warm and I kept getting invited to pubs in Soho and pretty much anywhere that involved me not doing any exercise but getting drunk, I stopped going. Then I got sick again and I couldn't actually do very much without being in pain so I cancelled the gym membership.

Roll on almost three years and I've had a c-section (HAVE YOU FORGOTTEN I'VE HAD A C-SECTION? is my favourite line for when I want to escape being in trouble for something with the boyf) and I kept forgetting to do the exercises. The bambino did her best to suck the weight out of me via my breasts but unfortunately I am now responsible for getting a flattish stomach again.

The trouble is that I like food and I live about a three minute walk from Waitrose which is as bad as living close to a Marks and Spencer. I don't do starving, I don't do boring food, and I don't do exercise. Have I mentioned that there is a gym on my corner? I look out the window each day and think "Hmmm, maybe I should join the gym?" and then I take a bite of Waitrose Millionaire Shortbread or my Mars Icecream and think "Ah f*ck it..."

But it's a bit annoying being my old size (size UK 8) with a gut. I've gotten very good at sucking in my tummy. 4 days of hard labour at work (clearly I'm piss taking about the hard labour) got me very practised at hiding my baby tummy.

So stretching to a DVD seemed like a great idea but it seems I am doomed never to exercsise. I put it in the XBox 360 this morning and went straight to the warm up and exercise routine and the fecking thing said "attempting to read the disc". So after waiting a few minutes, I put it on the introduction. This turned out to be a good idea as it shows you some of the basic moves but I realised I'd forgotten to put my trainers on when I kicked out with my leg, brought it back down, and slid across the floor in a split like manouver because I was doing it in my woollen slippers....

Then it froze again on the warm up...

I took it out of the fecking Xbox, wiped the scratches and put it back in. For the next five minutes it wouldn't even get off the title screen until I realised that I'd absentmindedly picked up a different Xbox controller which wasn't turned on so of course I couldn't change anything on the screen.

It froze again so I thought I'd surf the net for a few minutes whilst the bambino rolled around my feet. Then FINALLY fifteen minutes later, the warm up decided to come to life. I leapt up excitedly but seconds later, Micah Bo (some dodgy black guy in too tight cycling shorts and a dodgy vest showing his pecs) went into slow motion robot moves and his instructions started to sound like a robot on its last legs.

"OH F*CK IT! I GIVE UP!" I yelled to no-one and then remembered that the bambino was there.

So it seems I am destined never to exercise. Either that or I need to root out another dvd...

In the meantime, the bambino has been taxing me by throwing up on my mobile phone, pulling the lamp down, refusing to have her lunch, having a hissy fit, refusing to nap, and breaking my chain....

Crunk and disorderly on my road trip

I had a great road trip with the boyf, the bro, and the bambino at the weekend. We sang along to Whitney and Michael Jackson all the way to the wedding and on the way back we did Lionel Richie, Madonna, and Stevie Wonder. There were so many great songs but our favourites were definitely Whitney's "I have nothing", Whitehead Brothers "Your love is a 187", Michael's "Lady in my Life", "Billie Jean" and "Rock With You" and Lionels "Endless Love". I saw some people in passing cars staring at us as we danced and sang like maniacs on the journey. The bambino was thankfully unbothered by our shrieking...I mean singing...and slept for most of the journeys.

We arrived after the wedding had started and the bro had to do a quick change behind the car on what must be one of the coldest days of the year. "God, it was lucky I decided to wear pants today..." I'm sure the neighbouring houses thought the same thing...

Despite being just under 8 stone (112lbs) and wearing a dress that should have disguised the little that is left of my post pregnancy/c-section bump, I was open mouthed when my aunt, who I must point out is waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay bigger than me said "So you're pregnant with number two now then?" I flounced back to the table in a huff and told the boyf and Daddy G piped up behind him. "Oh I had thought that too!" Feeling safe as my mother was engrossed in a long winded conversation with another guest I sniped "Oh shut up! Sure you'll be having your own baby soon, or hasn't she told you?" I quipped and winked in my mums direction. He looked visibly ill (actually so did the boyf)... "Just joking!" I added just as he looked like he was going to break into a cold sweat...

The speeches were quite good and when it got to the open mic bit, my cousin and I decided that we should lead from the front for us young un's. It was only when he grabbed the mic from the MC and lurched forward that it occurred to me that he was way past drunk. "I jushhh want to shay a few words but I should warn you, I'm a bit druuuunk...." as my crackerjack aunts stared at him and shot daggers through him. "I'm speaking for the younger people in the room...of which there aren't many..." and the bro and the boyf buried their heads in laughter. I actually don't remember what I said but my ma had tears in her eyes at the end (Was that motherly pride, the vino, or both?) and the bride and groom were very pleased.

I knew I must be very drunk when I realised that I was trying to get down and grind to the music later that evening with a glass of white wine sloshing around in one hand...and my other arm firmly clutching the bambino to my waist... Thankfully she's quite adaptable and when I decided that it was time to get even more obliterated, she settled into her car seat at our table, squealed in excitement for a while and then passed out into a deep sleep.

If you've ever been to a proper black wedding you get either one or both of two things: lots of people winding and grinding to reggae, revival, and eighties soul....even if they're eighty...or you get full on batty shaking, knee breaking, body popping, shape throwing moves. This wedding had both and unfortunately we have a picture of my ma and Daddy G doing the former...The boyf and the bro looked like they were going through an agonising death and I followed their stares to my ma and Daddy G who seemed lost in the music and were dancing (or should I say grinding) achingly slow. I tottered over wobbly with booze. "Do you two have to dance like overgrown teenagers? I'd tell you to get a room but I don't want to imagine that...." My ma was giggling away like a cheshire cat and out of the corner of my eye I could see the bro pretending to gag.

There was one guy who was in his early twenties and was trying to grind my aunts and pull one of my step sisters. As we were leaving, I found him creeping around her and I got a bit crunk and disorderly. "Oi! Tell that slimey little perve to get his hands off you!" I howled at her. Cue me trying to follow them up to the balcony and the boyf trying to hold me back whilst the bro nearly wet himself laughing. As I wobbled out to the car, I had a really good bitch about the little perv only to realise that my grandad was walking behind me and for once he had his hearing aid turned up properly. "You didn't realise I was here, did you?" he smiled and I wanted the ground to open up and swallow me.

I got even more drunk when I got back to my cousins and apparently after I fell asleep in the deckchair (he's just moved in), I kept trying to join the conversation in my sleep. Later the boyf helped me up to bed. "Are you going to sleep in your clothes?" he asked and after contemplating the possibilities of sleeping in my dress and tights, I sat up. Determined to get changed as quickly as possible, I tried to pull off my tights forgetting that I was sitting down and somehow managed to fall onto the floor between the wall and the bed and then in my attempt to get back up pulled the lamp and everything else off the bedside table. The boyf laughed so hard I thought he was going to get sick and when he finally managed to get me out of my tangle, the bambino was awake, staring at me with a very reproachful look. I think we had a bit of parent child role reversal going on....

Vote for me, The Hangover and The Tooth, Peeing Out Front

I could go on about getting pissed out of my head and slobbering allover the boyf on Friday, expressing when I was still drunk at 5am, being given a tour of the contents of Q's kitchen by her 6 year old as I staggered around behind her with a whopper of a hangover at 8am, or having to go for an emergency dental appointment and making a tit out of myself with the dentist... However, before I say anything about all that, I have just found out that Baggage Reclaim the blog I created to discuss dating and relationships has been shortlisted as a finalist in the Best UK Weblog Category of The 2007 Weblog Awards!

I found out a short while ago by accident and there are only THREE days left to vote and the other blogs have been canvassing already! I refuse to be last so I beg you to cast your votes and if you don't mind doing a click a day for me till the 8th, it'd be much appreciated! Vote, vote, vote! Thank you!

The boyf and I spent a night away from the bambino for the first time on Friday. I felt sad leaving her behind with his mum and thought she'd be dead upset at our disappearance. Instead she had a whale of a time, didn't cry once, and blanked us for the first half hour or so when she saw us again. No matter what direction we tried to look at her, she scowled and turned in the other direction. I felt a bit hurt but that was nothing compared to the combination of a hangover, a stonking tooth ache, and slight car sickness....

We'd spent the night at Q's where we had dinner with her and her husband and got pissed out of our heads. Well Q and I did anyway... They actually made me cry so hard with laughter I thought my c-section was going to bust as they actually brought 'leather' jackets from a dodgy guy in a Sainsbury's car park only to discover that he'd swapped them with PVC jackets... Oh and they have also brought 'art' on their doorstep... My tooth had been hurting when I arrived there but the vino numbed it till I woke up with a stonker of a hangover. I stumbled downstairs to find Q's 6 year old checking out You Tube. She kindly offered to show me where the headache tablets were and I made the mistake of attempting to open a false drawer to see if there were other medicines in there. That was her cue to walk me (OK I literally staggered) through every drawer and cupboard. She was hilarious as she flung open cupboards and based the contents description on one item. "OK this cupboard is for....cake stands.....and this one is for my art stuff. This drawer is for mummy and daddy's art stuff [it was a junk drawer]....This cupboard is for teapots....". In a case of role reversal, Q's 13 year old is chirpy and funny, whilst the 11 year old is like a teenager with her moodiness, diva tendencies, and her urge to cling to her dressing gown and skinny jeans with equal vehemence. Oh and how could I forget their big dog that can't hear and doesn't seem to see that well. I wanted to move in there and be a kid myself!


By Saturday afternoon I was in agony and was relieved when my dental practice called back.

"Which dentist do you normally see?" he asked.
"I can't remember his name. Young, tall guy, kinda good look..."
"Oh that sounds like me" he cut me off with a laugh.
"Well it's lucky that I didn't describe you as ugly then!" I wisecracked wondering why I can't shut up even when I'm in pain.

I knew I should have gone for my appointment a month after I had the bambino....Now I need a root canal, two fillings, plus I have to replace my other two fillings. I'm weeping already. That's four appointments where I'll wobble my feet like one of those bad actors who are supposed to be dying...

Dial M for Bro (Mean, Moody, Monosyllabic) my 22 year old brother has moved over from Dublin and he came to visit and meet the bambino. For the first hour I thought that he had mellowed into a sweet, young, man as he hugged and kissed the bambino and played with her. After she went to bed, he disappeared a short while later only to return and announce that he had gone for a wee in a bush!

"I didn't want to wake up the baby!" he said in his very strong Dublin accent.
"Let me get this right...you went out the back and peed in the bush because you were afraid you'd wake her? What's in your piss?" I said incredulously.
"Not the back, the front!" he laughed.
I swooned in shock whilst my ma's mouth flapped open.
"Jaysus, are you ACTUALLY smoking crack?" I roared at him.
"No, I just didn't want to wake her."
"Tell me the neighbours didn't see you?" I demanded. OK, I sound old there... I don't understand his logic though....

I am mort-i-fied that he would do that! Well with him over here now that means we have the full crackhead ensemble...Oh dear...

I Can't Focus On Men

I went downstairs to make a cup of tea and poked my head in the sitting room, only to be confronted with my builder with his trousers halfway up his legs. "Ooooh......Aaaaaaaa...I...Er...Sorry" I squealed, backing out hastily from the sitting room. Feeling like a peeping Tom in my own home I hid in the kitchen with my flaming cheeks. He was too busy laughing and came in and explained that there was nothing to be afraid of as he was putting one pair of trousers over the other. Jaysus my eyesight really has gone to shit when I can't even distinguish between a pair of trackie bottoms and bare legs....

I have started my driving lessons (again) after having to abandon them due to my dodgy back during my pregnancy. Last night I had to practice reversing around a corner and he went into one of his LENGTHY explainations. Out of curiousity, why do men always over explain things? Anyway...I digress... He launched into this explanation of the manouver "So it's all about the clutch and creeping really slowly and...." and after that all I heard was "bla, bla, bla, bla....bla, bla, bla, bla...I wonder if the bambino has woken up yet....shit I have two episodes of Heroes to catch up on...I need a wee...this guy needs a breathmint...I...OK...I get it. Go slowly and use the clutch...." Finally he stopped talking and there was an uncomfortable silence. "Everything OK? Did you understand that?" he asked. "Hmmmm...yeah...how about I just try the manouver and you guide me through?"

Earlier the bambino and I had paid a visit to the timber yard as we want real wood shelves for our floor to ceiling shelves that we're putting in for the unbelievable amount of books and DVDs we have. I did my best to explain to the big, burly guy behind the counter what I was looking for amd he starts trying to get all mathematical with me. Now I was actually very good at maths at school but pregnancy does some funny things to your brain (even after the baby is out) and when people ramble figures at you, it's difficult to maintain concentration. "So the you want a width of 40cm?" "No I want a DEPTH of 40cm!" and he went into lengthy explanation of his intepretation of depth and the various measurements. "4.2 metre high....21cm....width...I mean depth...how tall is your room?" I stared at him blankly and he began to look impatient. All I'd been hearing for the past few minutes was "Bla, bla, bla, bla...." He took out this enormous calculator "Ooh that's very big!" I said in an effort to change the topic. "It's because I have really fat fingers..." he explained. "Oh...." I said caught off guard and then I started to giggle uncontrollably. Oops...

"I got the foil you wanted but if I was supposed to get something else it'll have to be tomorrow as I couldn't remember. You know how I forget things..."I explained to the boyf yesterday.
"OK...I'll be home just after 7 so the electrician might get there before me"
"Don't forget I have my driving lesson. You'd better be back for it!"
"Er..your driving lesson is at 8. I will be home ages before then!" he said amused.
"Oh gosh..was it at 7 or 8....? I'd better check?"
"Gosh you are very scatty!" the boyf wisecracked.
"Oi! Don't be rude! My brain is perfectly fine thank you!"
"Er...didn't you say that you forget things?"
"Oh...yes....I did..." I should have said that I didn't remember saying that....

It's pee all over the toilet seat time

So work has finally started on our house almost three weeks frigging late after being ignored by one set of builders because I have a vagina instead of a penis, and then this builder rocking up a week late because my ma bumrushed us, not once, but TWICE!

He's lucky he does bloody good work because when I went to use the bathroom and discovered that he had sprinkled the seat not the rim, I wanted to go downstairs and give him a very large bucket to wee in from now in...actually I'm sure he'd have found a way not to wee in that too. Surely there must be a point when a man is too old to not know how to 1) wee INSIDE the toilet and 2) to wipe up after himself. It's as annoying as women that hover and golden shower the toilet....

The bambino has her first cold and on Friday she gave us her first bad night/worst night ever. She started screaming the place down just after 9pm and it took almost two hours to settle her after she went berserk at having calpol, teething gel, and generally being put anywhere near her cot. The noise was so stressful that whilst the boyf was trying to settle her, I found myself cleaning the bathroom because I wouldn't have been able to sit in front of the TV without feeling guilty. I remember sitting around in my boudoir knickers or hitting the clubs on a Friday night and now I scrub the toilet to tune out my baby's wails...

The boyf and I patted ourselves on the back for getting her settled and chatted and snuggled in bed. Just as we were dozing off just before midnight, the crying started again, this time with howls and screams of rage in between. The boyf went into her room, scooped her up and put her in between us on the bed. Feeling desperate I called my mum who suggested that I suck the snot out of her nose with my mouth.... Fortunately by the time I got off the phone, the bambino had fallen asleep again. Unfortunately for me I had to listen to her dad snoring and her snuffling, so I hardly slept. Mind you, the boyf had to get up at 4am to get a flight to Majorca for a boys night out! He wanted to cancel but I told him to go as my ma was supposed to be coming in the morning and M was staying over.

Naturally my ma didn't show up (thank God I didn't go gushing about finally having an opportunity to need my mother and her helping....) but fortunately the bambino was much better. So much so that when the boyf returned yesterday morning, I left her with him for the afternoon and went to the Babyshow with my friend. Really it was just an opportunity to take the piss out of people...

We visited a stand which was flogging soft close toilet seats that had a child seat on top. As he was talking to us, it looked like he was disinterested so I tried to follow his eyes to see what he was looking at. I kept this up for a minute or so till I realised why he was now giving me a strange look...he was cross eyed! Undeterred I asked "But what about those guys that pee all over toilet seats? What if they pee on the child seat?" He looked open mouthed as my friend and I fell around laughing. Oh dear...

I made a wisecrack about getting some nookie last night but the boyf is afraid to come anywhere near me after me going to a baby show...

Living with Mariah Carey and My Ma Jumping Out of a Cake

Have I mentioned that we live with a baby version of Mariah Carey? The bambino has always been quite vocal, especially since she was about four weeks old when she took to squealing and mimicking sounds that we were making. She has raised her game recently by communicating in ear piercing shrieks and screams which startle everyone around her. I blame her grandpa.... In an effort to have her interested in something other than sports on the TV, I hid her away from the TV and when she did look at it, it was for CBeebies (baby TV channel from BBC). The boyf and I put her in her little seat and some alien people came on the screen and next thing you know she was shrieking with high pitched joy. The boyf shot up out of bed and went over to her, thinking she might be in pain, but she just grinned at him goofily with a face full of drool. Now she seems to be challenging herself to reach higher and higher pitches...

We went to church yesterday and as we approached the reverend who'll be baptising her this Sunday, she let out a huge scream which scared the congregation! I reckon she got a few pacemakers going crazy...

Last week we were walking down the street and she was in her Baby Bjorn sling facing out to the front. As a man approached, she shrieked at him and he walked straight into a bin in shock!

On another occasion I was paying for a sneaky bag of sweets in Woolworths and she let out a high pitched scream at the counter and the poor guy backed himself into the cabinets behind him.

She woke at 6.15 this morning and I realised that I had forgotten to put the heating back on the timer. "OK, mummy's going to pop downstairs and put the..." I whispered as I padded down the stairs and she let out an ear piercing shriek and giggled. I had to steady myself on the stairs but sniggered at the thought of her waking her dad and grandpa out of their snores...

It's six days until the christening which seems to have exploded into a big affair which is likely to be have more than a hundred people in attendance. It's like a frickin' wedding and I can already hear the circus clock tolling... The boyf thinks I'm getting carried away with table decorations (they had a special on petals at the Confetti store...) and looked afraid when I suggested that each table should have a centrepiece. My ma called to ask if we're having a cake. "We're NOT having a cake!" the boyf yelled so that she could hear him. "Tell him to go to hell!" my ma giggled. I repeated her message and the boyf and his dad laughed. "Well I suppose we can have a cake...as long as you promise that you won't be in it!" he retorted. "Tell that boy that I'll deal with him when I see him!" she laughed. Much as my mother is very attractive and looks way younger than her 49 years, the thought of her popping out of a cake in all of her crackness is enough to get my heart thudding....

Heated debates and can I forcefeed my mum crack?

I really need to sort out christening decorations but I have the double episodes of Heroes and Brothers and Sisters to catch up on from last night... Anyway...

I had to laugh when the boyf and I were in bed on Tuesday and we were having a heated debate about someone else's relationship. Seemingly I tend to hang, draw, and quarter the guy where as the boyf is more open. As we argued our sides, I suddenly burst out laughing. "Can you believe we're arguing about someone else's relationship?"

Yesterday the heated discussions turned to the boyf's sudden penchant for buying paintings. We're about to get the whole house done up (like I don't have enough things to worry about) and the boyf is buying paintings the way I used to buy shoes. "Where the frick are we going to put all of these paintings????? I'm telling you right now, if you can't hang one, you'll sell it!" Hmmm, note to self - when I repeat what I say to the boyf, I sound like a nag... "I won't get this other painting then...but when [painters name I forget] becomes a renowned painter, I..." and then I cut him off. "Buy the bloody painting because I'll be DAMNED if I have to listen to you bitch for the next 50 years about that one time when I told you not to buy a painting and how we could have made a fortune from it!"He insists there is a place for all of his gazillion paintings and I have decided to try to zip it until the time comes for them all to go up. God help him if there are any left over...

My ma came round yesterday and insisted on combing and plaiting the bambino's 'fro. I warned her that she'd go ballistic but she said "I don't mind. She can cry as much as she likes!" Twenty minutes later and the bambino was now hysterical and in a total frenzy that my ma could only do little plaits at the top of her head and side. I'd hidden in the kitchen as it's difficult to see the bambino like that. When the plaiting stopped, the bambino continued to wail in rage intermittently. "I feel really bad now...It didn't help knowing that you were bothered by it..." she said petulantly. Cue much moaning from her about how difficult it was for the bambino to be crying like that and then "It's your fault because if you and the boyf combed her hair more often she wouldn't be like this! She needs it done once a week!"

Un-f*cking-real. What happened to "I don't mind. She can cry as much as she likes!"? I wash and comb through the 'fro twice a week and I told her this. "Oh well once a week is enough..." she said quietly. I can't win... Mothers...sometimes you want to shoot them and sometimes you want to forcefeed them crack so that they can get off your back....

Help! I live with football and cricket addicts

The bambino's grandpa was away for a few days which meant that I had the TV to myself and I could switch it off when I felt like it. It was blissful to catch up on a couple of episodes of Heroes that I'd recorded (or as Americans say Tivo'd) and I was able to wean the bambino off her mounting addiction to cricket and football. He returned last night and practically sprinted into the sitting room to put the football on in preparation for the Man United game that was starting an hour later.

"It doesn't start for an hour dad..." the boyf said with a grin.
"Are you sure?" his dad said with a look of fear.
"Yes dad...I have been watching Wednesday night football for years..." His dad still looked suspicious.

Just as I was thinking that I'd creep upstairs and watch Hollyoaks (you KNOW I love that show!), the boyf legged it upstairs and turned on the cricket! The bambino who had woken up from a mystery early evening nap was quickly grabbed by the boyf before his dad got to her (I see his competitive spirit is coming out...) and a few minutes later I popped upstairs to stake my claim on the TV. The bambino was looking very cosy on her dads lap as he cuddled and chatted to her whilst watching the cricket. "Hello cheeky face" I beamed at her. She looked at me like I was disturbing her and then she went back to focusing on the cricket. I stomped back downstairs to finish the dinner and wondered how I'd ended up with a house full of sports addicts.

"It's 7.42...." his dad announced.
"Jeez...the game starts at 7.45" the boyf laughed.

Moments later they were both engrossed in the game and speaking to either one of them was a waste of time. Whilst I fed the bambino I had to listen to them doing their own running commentary and the boyf airing his frustrations.

"Do you have any idea how ridiculous you both sound?!"
They both laughed and the boyf started explaining why he was annoyed about the game and I felt my mind go blank and it was a Homer Simpson moment of "Bla bla bla bla..." replacing his speech.

My ma turned up for one of her 'surprise' visits about twenty minutes into the match. I couldn't help but snigger to myself as her and the boyf's dad were introduced and he looked wounded at having to take his eyes off the match. The bambino was just about to go to bed when she arrived but my ma insisted on her staying up and lo and behold, an hour later and the bambino was in meltdown mode. We'd managed to calm her down for a while by letting her sit on the sofa whilst she tried to fit her entire right hand in her mouth with one eye on the Man U game. Then my ma touched her 'fro and she burst into tears...clearly believing that she was about to have it combed.

By the time the bambino was settled (it was actually the first time since she's been born that she refused to settle), the football was over and I was gagging for my bed. Fortunately I'd recorded Heroes. The boyf said he was tired too and was in bed by the time I was finished brushing my teeth...watching the cricket...

"Oh NO! Get that SH*T off!" Moments later I was snuggled up under the duvet watching Heroes...and the boyf was snoring like he was in danger of choking himself...

I may hide the TV next Wednesday and see how they crumble and fall...Well I would if I was capable of lifting a 42"....

Hmmm I'm a Housewife, Countdown to Family Drama

It was 9.30 last night and I finished putting away all of the clean laundry, I suddenly thought "F*cking hell! I'm a bloody housewife!" Now before anyone gets the wrong idea, I was not doing housework all day into the dead of night and instead I am a 'victim' of my own pisspoor time management. There were invites to sort for the impending christening, blogging to do, a 45 minute bitching session with Nac, amongst other pressing matters... As I listened to the bro explain lengthily about his love of Girls of the Playboy Mansion and "booty clapping" to the boyf, I stopped feeling worried that not going to work is making my brain go soft....

With less than 3 weeks to go until the bambino's christening, it is only a matter of time till I go into meltdown. Sometimes it feels like we're always in the middle of the next big thing. As I visusalise most of our families coming together, (the boyf's, my ma's, and my dads) I hear circus music as this has the possibility of fireworks...explosions even... This is going to be one big crackfest and I'm curious as to what's going to go down.

Will my ma and dad be speaking to each other or will she be scared that he'll show her up like he did at my birthday? Will there be fight for Caribbean or African supremacy? Will there be a dance off? Will the bambino do a poo during the baptism? Who will get pissed out of their head and say something inappropriate? Will the grandmothers be competing? Will my ma be having a hot date? Will the boyf and I be hiding at the back of the room snickering to ourselves at the mayhem of our beloved friends and family? Will there be a fight for the jerk chicken and patties? Cue dramatic music and closing credits.... Hmm I may need a holiday after this christening...or a security detail....

Ooh, before I forget...I am finally getting round to redesigning my blog so if you land here over the next few days and think I'm on crack, it's just a temporary glitch...

Exhaustion, Theory Test, TV Loving Bambino, and In the Big Girls Room

Jaysus I can't believe a whole week has gone by...Thank God I didn't go saying that I planned to blog more regularly which is what I had intended to say...Maybe I'll just surprise people...

It's been a pretty hectic week which was compounded when I felt myself feeling exhausted for the first few days. The bambino did her very best to wear out my poor boobs as she tried to settle back into our timezone. In the midst of all of this, I had to study for and take my poxy driving theory test and I found myself going into a panic meltdown as I tried to combat tiredness, hungry bambino, and oodles of multiple choice questions. It was my own fault really as I had intended to pack the study book for our trip and forgot it, which left me with 5 days to study of which 3 disappeared into a wedding and general craziness. Thankfully I passed but I remember at one point thinking that I was going to puke with nerves. The guy at the door to the exam room asked me if I was nervous and when I said yes, he replied "That's good. It's a sign of a highly intelligent person." I smiled and thought how sweet it was but as I walked into the exam room, I heard him drop the same line on the next person... Men! It seems they can slip you lines in all situations...

The bambino has become obsessed with her grandpa after treating him with suspicion for the first few days. Now she breaks into a huge smile and wriggles and squeals with joy as soon as she sets eyes on him. The feeling is mutual and after getting up late on one of the days, I went downstairs to be greeted by her grandpa with his arms folded. "Where is she?" he demanded looking rather petulant at being deprived of her company. Of course there are side effects to this love-in. The bambino has discovered that she loves the TV because her grandpa watches more sport than the boyf does. I mean seriously - How the frick can one person watch a sports channel all bloody day!? Now the bambino likes cricket and is constantly craning her head to check out the screen.

The boyf is delighted that he has a sports loving daughter but is rather put out because she ignored him for most of last week. "I'm sorry darling. Daddy had to go back to work..." but she just turned her head in the other direction and smiled at her grandpa. Later the boyf asked "Do you think that she thinks that he's me?". He looked so sulky that I fell around laughing. Now he knows how I felt when we let her be babysat (by his mum) for the first time and she refused to look at me when we got back, instead squealing with joy when she saw her dad. He pissed himself laughing then so I've had a lot of mileage out of this one!

She moved into her own room last Thursday and I felt very emotional when I realised that she wasn't in her carrycot at the side of the bed, squealing, farting, shuffling, and sucking her tongue. I'd been asking the boyf to put up her blackout blind for a month and I'd ended up screaming at him the night before. Being the tired, hormonal bitch that I was last week, you can imagine how pissy I felt when I woke up the bambino by accident at 10.30pm just as I was planning to have an early-ish night. The boyf made an outlandish claim that he's never woken up the bambino and I let him have it with both barrels, and stooped low by shouting at him about the blind. Of course ten minutes later and I felt like a total cow and apologised to him, and lo and behold the blind was up and the bambino in her room the following night.

I had been out for dinner with my antenatal group (it was the first time since 'the incident') and when I got back the light was on in our bedroom. When I pointed this out, he said he'd go and turn it off, but he knew full well that I would go to the bedroom as I would want to see the bambino. It took a moment to register that she wasn't in her cot and for a moment I was filled with panic until I looked next door. I dashed downstairs and confronted him with my hands on my hips. "You're a sneaky bas...." and then I spotted his dad and held back. "You think you're reeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaallllllllllllll funny don't you! Trying to play with my mind!" and we both burst out laughing. "I don't know what you mean.." he smiled. "Yeah, yeah. I saw the bambino in her room and the blind is up." "It is?" he said with a cheeky grin.

I do miss her in the room but it is lovely to have our room back. The boyf being extra makes a point of talking loudly when he comes in, just to prove that it's 'his' room. Obviously the downside for him is that he can no longer blame his daughter for his farts....

Alright Now, Religious Mix Up, Facebook Scene Investigation

I'm feeling better after my little vent and thanks for the lovely comments. I emailed the group and told them that I won't be joining them for the weekly get togethers anymore. I didn't do chapter and verse on the ins and outs of why and just said that for various reasons, I just don't feel that I fit in. It's not that I don't get on with them, but the whole group thing just doesn't do it for me and I think that the 'handbag' comment just ended up being the straw that broke the donkey's back. Since then I spoke to the girl I probably get on best with and it helped to clear up some stuff and to also better understand where my feelings stemmed from.

Apparently I got the wrong end of the stick when I overheard them arranging to meet up and then one of them went quiet. They never did meet up but that wasn't actually the point. I just didn't see the need for them to go quiet. I think that what has happened is that a few small things happened and then along came last Friday and when everything was all added together, I felt something snap. The feeling like I don't fit in seems to stem a lot from me not having a need for support or to moan about my bad experiences, because I'm not having a difficult time of it. I never take it for granted that the bambino sleeps and feeds well (touch wood) but as a group they have bonded through tales of sleepless nights, difficulties with breastfeeding, colic, frustration etc and I haven't been able to relate. To add to it, I felt uneasy about talking about enjoying things with the bambino as I didn't want to be perceived as 'too happy' or rubbing anything in their faces. Instead of feeling like I could enjoy sharing the joys of motherhood, as well as the downs, I felt like I had to be struggling in order to fit in. At the end of the day, I need more than the fact that we've all been knocked up as a reason to get to know them, and because I had no misery to share, it was like going along to AA and not being an alcoholic...

At the end of it all I have to chalk it up to a learning experience. I think I've probably made a couple of good friends who I will get to know on an one to one basis over time and without having to talk the baby thing to death, and I guess that's a bonus. As for the 'handbag' comment, I don't think I'll ever understand the insensitivity of the comment but I don't think I'm supposed to. At that moment I felt like there was a class divide and it was based on being black and as the only black person at the table, that was just damn weird. It's funny because one person didn't hear the comment and one of them that did hear it, didn't think anything of it. Does that mean that this person isn't listened to, or that people just don't think anything of racially insensitive comments?

Anyway enough about that...

It's one week till we head off to America and I feel a mixture of excited and nervous. We're taking a lunchtime flight and hopefully the bambino will be OK with it. She is a very chilled and contented baby but admittedly she's never had to cope with being on a massive, noisy, airbus! We're off to DC and a few different places in Maryland for a family wedding of 500 people. Apparently many of these people are excited about meeting the bambino for the first time and I wonder if we will get near our child during our stay. But forget the wedding. I can't wait to shop! I little feel a little feverish at the thought of the fab exchange rate and me hitting the stores. The boyf is petrified. Ah...poor boyf...he won't be able to go to the TV department in any of the stores and watch football matches like he would if he was shopping here with me...

We've also booked the bambino's christening - clearly the boyf and I don't get a rest - and it was very funny when the boyf panicked on Monday night because he thought that he'd booked it in a Catholic Church by accident. I got a lot of mileage out of it and took the piss out of him, but it turns out that it's not Catholic so I had to eat my words.

I must admit to a bit of FSI - Facebook Scene Investigation. You can peek into other people's lives and find out all sorts of stuff... OK, you can check out ex girlfriends! This is a fantastic pastime! Admittedly it hadn't even occurred to me to do it until the boyf's bro complained about ex girlfriend's putting too much info on there. Basically his current girlfriend came home one day and went onto their PC where he was still logged into Facebook. There were two outstanding friend requests from ex-girlfriends so she accepted them on his behalf . He was not impressed when they put stuff like 'We dated for a while' in the bit for how you know each other because he thinks that there is no need for people to know that they dated! I was pissing myself laughing because clearly he just doesn't want his girlfriend having a trail of his past. Of course, first chance I got I had a look through the boyf's friends and enjoyed having a peek at some of his ex's. One of them has a limited profile, which for those not in the know means that you can only see basic information and I couldn't go on her page. Without thinking I asked the boyf a "How come X has a limited profile?!" and he was cracking up laughing. "Sweetie, have you been checking out my ex-girlfriends? Aaah..that's so cute!" I have a feeling he'll be dining off this one for a while...

Is My Bra An ATM?

At 11.30 on Friday night, I walked out of restaurant with five other women that I met through my National Childbirth Trust (NCT)antenatal class. It was our first proper night out since having our babies and it was supposed to be a night on the razz but we appeared to be finishing early, and whilst people had drunk, they hadn't drunk very much. "So where do we get taxi's?" I asked and they all looked slightly embarrassed. "Oh X and Y are driving...." and I suddenly acknowledged that the cliquey vibe that I had been trying to ignore could be ignored no longer. One of them very hurriedly offered to come back into the restaurant with me to call a taxi and made a half hearted offer of waiting with me, but I quickly told them that it was OK for them to go and said my goodbyes.

In the taxi on the way home a few tears plopped down my cheeks as I smarted from what had happened. They were probably vino tears propelled by the few glasses of wine I'd had... I got home and spoke briefly with the boyf and the lads who were having a poker night and quickly took myself off to bed. I lay there for a while playing back the evening and some of our previous get togethers (we meet up each Wednesday - all around England, women who met through National Childbirth Trust (NCT) antenatal classes tend to meet up each week) in my mind till the boyf came to bed. He put his arms around me and said "Do you want to wait till tomorrow or do you want to tell me now?"

I told him about feeling like a complete dick outside the restaurant and realising how they'd organised amongst themselves without a care in the world for me. How one of the women (from South Africa) described being held up by black people at her business and them searching her bra for money. "Stupid people think thought that I had money in there. They forget that it's black women that carry their money in their bras. White women carry theirs in handbags." Do you know that not ONE person flinched from that comment? I described how I'd been at one of the get together's and come back downstairs from using the bathroom and caught the tail end of two of them arranging to meet up a couple of days later. "Will we do our usual meet up?"asked one of them. "Yeah, let's. Where do you want to meet?" "Shall we meet at..." and as I approached she gave her a warning look and tried to style it out and pretend that she was talking about something else. I didn't say anything and I couldn't have given a monkeys that they were meeting up. It was the weird secretive conversation and pretending to be talking about something else that let me know that she was afraid I'd want to be included. What are we? 7! Or how about when I first met up with them after having the bambino and some of them were being strange with me because she slept through most of the afternoon. One asked how she was sleeping at night and I was foolishly honest and said that she was sleeping really well. She looked at me with a tight face and snidely said "Ha! Let's see how long THAT lasts for!"

The boyf understood where I was coming from - He has previously expressed concern about the cliqueness - and he was upset for me as I shed tears at what feels like a weird rejection from people I don't know particularly well, and it's made all the more odd that we all met at the same time. I do live in a different area that's not far from them, which may have contributed to me being on put on the edge, but that doesn't make me feel any better. At the end of the day, it's not about wanting to be Miss Popular, it's more about not wanting to put myself in an uneccessary situation.

I happen to know I'm not on my own. The stories I have heard about NCT bitchiness are rife and I realise that motherhood and what you do with your baby, whether you breastfeed and are good at it, whether your baby is content, sleeps through the night, your clothes, your boyfriend/husband and any other thing that they feel like putting up to scrutiny means that I have now entered into an adult highschool. It's not a competition for me. The thought of people comparing baby weights, how well they feed, when they roll over, sit up, walk, talk etc just makes me cringe yet I know that it will happen regardless. I thought that hanging out with people who were going through the same life stage and experience was great but it's just another way for women to be bitchy. I'm 30 years old (jaysus I really am 30) and I'm too old for this bullshit. I know I'll never be able to escape the bitchiness that can sometimes be dished out by women but I'm not about to put myself in the frontline of it every week, just so I can say that I hang out with some new mothers and their babies and pretend that I fit in.

I'm not an over-sensitive person and I'm not going to keep soul searching and asking "What did I say? What did I do?!' because at the end of the day, breathing, existing, and being happy is hardly a crime. Women find all sorts of reasons to be cliquey and it doesn't have to be about me per se. At the end of the day, we're all adults and I'm glad that these people have found friendships and closeness. Being on the edge of a clique just isn't a nice feeling and I have so much going on in my life and much to enjoy and be happy about that it seems pointless to be uncomfortable with people that were unknown to me 4 months ago just for the sake of the fact that we've all had babies and become mothers.

As for the casual racism, I'm not going to second guess what was meant by that generalisation and whether it was or wasn't racist. All I know is that considering that I am the one black person at that dinner table, you need to be some kind of crackerjack to think that I will be comfortable with that comment...I actually said to the boyf "Do you think she's one of those people that doesn't 'see' me as one of 'those black people' or should I just consider myself lucky that when I've been at her house she hasn't asked me to come by the back door!?!" We were cracking up laughing in the bed and I knew that I would be fine and that the upset would fade. Just as I was nodding off I said "Maybe next time I see her I should pull some twenties out of my bra...." and the rest! Doesn't she realise that this black woman practically takes everything but the kitchen sink in HER handbag?!

Do I Have to Be Around When You Air Your Dirty Laundry?

On Saturday we went to a BBQ with our usual cohorts. It's normally pretty relaxed, with our bambino's in tow and plenty of giggling and pisstaking. Whilst we had fun, I have to admit that this time it was different as there were some guests that were very full on. Much as I may take the piss out of our men, the boyf would be mortified if I spoke to him like a dog in public (or in private for that matter) and aired any problems in public. I just wouldn't dream of behaving like this anyway because not only is it disrespectful but if he did it to me, his nuts wouldn't know what hit them...

For the whole evening, we were treated to this woman antagonising the husband about the fact that he hadn't married her yet. Nevermind the fact that she was already pregnant with their second child. At first I thought it was kind of funny because she was so blunt and he just seemed to tune out of her frequency, but as the evening progressed she just seemed to get more aggressive about it and occurred to me that this woman wasn't messing around. They had their kid with them who was a bundle of energy and didn't stop moving and touching stuff. We might as well have referred to him as 'DOOOON'T touch that or you're getting the wooden spoon!'... She tried to get the dad to take him off her hands and sent him outside to him. We were chatting away when the little boy mysteriously materialised in the sitting room (we were on the 1st floor of an apartment block). She looked absolutely livid because clearly she wanted a break and no word of a lie, she opened up the sitting room window and roared down to her boyfriend like a fisherwoman "DON'T THINK THAT YOU'RE FUNNY YOU KNOW!!!! JUST DON'T! I KNOW WHAT YOU'RE DOING! DON'T MESS WITH ME! YOU'RE SUPPOSED TO HAVE YOUR SON DOWN THERE AND YOU THINK YOU'RE FUNNY SENDING HIM BACK UP HERE! YOU'LL SEE! COME AND GET YOUR SON!"

I watched this unfold open mouthed and then I did what I always do in awkward situations where I feel nervous and had a terrible fit of the giggles. Then I caught my friend T's eye and she looked like she was going to bust a gut from holding in her laughter and we both started to laugh even harder. I tell you - Some women really know how to get GANGSTA with their partners!

We had a laugh but the evening was not our usual relaxed vibe and at one point when she snapped at her husband for saying that if he could turn back time ten years he'd stay in his home country with "Don't think that you could knock up a woman back home and not marry her there!", I wanted the ground to open up and swallow us all. Instead, recognising that the carpet wasn't about to give way to all of us, I ran into the kitchen and hid in there with T. We were laughing but cringing at the same time. The boyf of course was completely oblivious because he was watching the football, cricket, and golf. I had to explain to him what had happened even though he had been sitting in the same room! Honestly, you can't take him anywhere! But the fact that he watched so much TV whilst we were out suggested that on some level he knew that there was tension and 'tuned' out...

In other news, the bambino has taken to shrieking with joy by way of greeting us, and sometimes when she's about to go to sleep or just woken up. The boyf and I are pleased that she is so vocal and happy but find it quite strange when she does it 4am... When she does it just after waking up and it's dark, I do have to wonder what on earth can be entertaining her so much. But this is a child who has been focused on eating her hands for the past two weeks and who also sucks her tongue, much to the amusement of onlookers. She's clearly going to be a chatterbox..just like her dad (I say), just like her mum (he says) as she makes lots of sounds and if you mimic them, she gets very excited and does even more sounds. So far she has reduced both of her grandmothers to watery eyes with her chatting antics... As long as she doesn't grow up shrieking out of windows at her boyfriend like a fisherwoman on crack...she can shriek to her hearts content!

Farts, Nana Antics and the Jerk Chicken Cure

Early Saturday morning, I had just gotten back into bed after settling the bambino and snuggled in against the boyf. It wasn't long before I started to drift off and then I was shocked out of my sleep when I felt the boyf let a ripper of a fart on my thigh. I recoiled from the shock of it and the boyf instinctively woke up and grabbed me in a hug laughing and full of apologies. His fart was part of a dream and he'd thought it was OK... "I think I have lost the feeling in my leg..." I said through giggles. "Stop being so dramatic!" We lay there giggling and had just settled down when the bambino let a ripper of her own... Like father...like daughter...

My ma came round on both days at the weekend which was a bit of a shocker as she has been very absorbed with her boyfriend Daddy G over the past while. She has this thing where she literally walks through the door, snatches the bambino and no-one can get near her. Of course the women's final of Wimbledon was on and I had forgotten that not only is my mum a sports maniac but that her particular favourite tennis means that she thinks that she's on the court with them. I have to give it to the bambino for being able to sleep through my mum screaming at the tv "Venus NOOOOOOOO! NOT like THAT! Come on! Hit the f*cking balllllllllllll! Oh shit! I mean...oh...there there" she says stroking the bambino. "Nana didn't mean to swear. Nana loves you...Oh for FUUU...I mean VENUS! Get it together girl! You're throwing it away!!!!!....Oooh sorry NML. You know I get a bit loud...YES! Come on Venus. You can do it! I knew you could do it!" she said punching the air as the bambino shoved her hand down my ma's cleavage in her sleep.

My week has passed by in a blur of pikey TV (the 'occasional' chatshow, Cheaters, and property programmes), sorting out boxes of stuff in the house (we could be unpacking for years at this rate), hosting a coffee afternoon for my NCT (antenatal) group and their babies (gosh I felt very lady like), a spot of shopping (very tiring - I clearly don't have the stamina I used to for buying shoes. Note to self - must try harder), and meeting up with a blog friend (they spotted 7 black people in my neighbourhood - could this be a new board game?!) who was visiting from the US. The bambino didn't hold back on her farting then either...

We also had our gang over on Saturday for our first barbecue and the boyf and the guys did some gardening whilst us girls stayed inside gossiping and bitching about being hungry. We were supposed to be playing poker but the boyf, his bro, and one of the girls couldn't agree on playing it or any other game because they all take their games seriously. When we did eventually decide to play poker, the boyf was online getting the rules and a list of different hands. Honestly, he is something else! I folded three times but after watching the game, I plan to whup some ass next time round as I think I understand it now.

My ma and the bro called round on Sunday and the boyf and the bro continued gardening whilst the bambino sat in her rocker with her sun hat thumping the crap out of her bears. I walked outside and found my ma shaking really badly and in pain. She'd said she wasn't feeling too great but also admitted that she hadn't eaten, but after watching her deteriorate further, we decided that the bro should take her to hospital. The boyf looked on bewildered and concerned and just as they were heading off he said "I was just putting on some chicken which will be done very soon. You sure you don't want to wait for that?" and we all snorted back giggles. Only the boyf would be offering jerk chicken as a cure for what turned out to be a kidney infection!

Jaysus the big three-oh is approaching

Yesterday was the first of July and when I acknowledged the date, a tremor of fear went through me. "Oh feck! I'm 30 in 27 days!" I wailed to the boyf. He chuckled and said "Yep! You're getting old now honey!" I pinched him and reminded him that at 34, he's no-one to talk.

I remember being about 7 or 8 years old and saying "I'm going to be 30 in the year 2007" and thinking that it seemed so far away in a futuristic time when we'd probably have robots cleaning our houses and driving around in space cars just like in The Jetsons. Yet here I am with the big three-oh upon me and I'm still cleaning my own home and haven't got my driving license yet. On the subject of driving, I had planned to be doing my test this month but there is the small matter of a c-section which has blighted my plans.... Sometimes I wonder if driving and I are meant to happen...Anyway I digress...

I used to wisecrack that I'd love to be settled and have a baby by the time I was thirty a few years back but then I looked at the wasteland that was my dubious dating past and figured that with that many dodgy boyfriends and man experiences, it was safe to say that these things wouldn't be happening for a long time. Of course, life changed when I met the boyf and we all know how that story went as I became a mum (the bambino is pictured yawning on her playmat) and a homeowner at the end of May and I'm very much settled in our little country town at the edge of London.

Actually I digress again...There can't be too many black folk around this area. OK, I know there aren't as I've only seen one and it was on the day we moved here. But the main reason I know is because I had a look in the local baby shop and was just about to buy something when I saw two golliwog frigging dolls grinning at me from the shelves! After my last golliwog experience, I beat a hasty retreat and they won't be seeing a penny of my money!

So anyway, back to being thirty. I can only claim to be twenty-something for another 26 days which means I'll definitely have to do that redesign of my blog that I promised. They say thirties is the new twenties, so I wont be expecting to feel hugely different, although I wonder if I'll feel compelled to be more 'adult' like. Will I control my boobs better or swear less? I have actually been swearing a lot less for the bambino anyway... Will I suddenly develop a penchant for baking cakes and sewing? Will I stop secretly watching Hollyoaks religiously and start watching Emmerdale? (For those that don't know, the former is a soap aimed at teenagers that lots of 20 somethings watch and the latter is a soap based around a farming town that 'older folk' watch) Will I become like my mum? Jaysus perish the thought! I'd have to do a lot of crack for that to happen...

Well whatever my thirties holds in store for me, I know that I want to remain true to myself and do more of what I say that I want to do. Despite some adversity, I enjoyed my twenties a hell of a lot and ended up getting true growth from my experiences. I have a lot of great things in my life and I do feel very blessed to be so happy with my little family, so I guess I'll have to just embrace the onslaught of my thirties and enjoy whatever life holds in store for me. Of course, I could go wild for the next 26 days and act like I'm a wild twenty-something but there is the small matter of the bambino and the fact that leaking boobs aren't very trendy on a wild night out....