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!

Sometimes I think it would be so much better if my family actually WERE

Well it's been a crack filled couple of weeks that's for damn sure. I've decided that my family are crackhead nutters. I almost think I should shove a crack pipe in their face and make their madness legit.

My ma and I, well it's day 30 in My Ma is Not Speaking to Me Even Though There isn't a Legitimate Reason. She did call me on Day 21 but after doing the usual filling me on herself and her various shenanigans, things quickly disintegrated and it became apparent that unless I groveled and let everything slide, the battle lines would stay enforced. There was some heavy artillery brought out and I'm sad that we still can't see eye to eye, but I just can't be involved in the games or the crackness. It's funny sometimes...but actually, on the whole, it's all just rather draining. I love my family, but my own family has to come first, particularly the bambino.

Do you know how all of this started? Because I didn't want to get drawn into the constant arguments between herself and Dial M for Bro - the 22 year old Monosyllabic, Moody, and Mean. I also didn't appreciate the flippant comments about him possibly ending up living with us one day as I have no desire to raise a 22, almost 23 year old. I made my feelings perfectly clear - he is always welcome to stay over but he can't move in. It wouldn't be fair on us or the bambino. Of course they had another argument and he ended up at our place and I felt very backed into a corner as if being challenged to see if I meant what I said. Cue this whole pallava...

Anyway...since then, Dial M for Bro phoned me up one day looking for fifty quid in his brisk Dublin tones where you'd almost believe he was brought up in inner city Dublin, instead of going to a posh school and living in surburbia... I agreed for the sake of peace and quiet. This was at 5pm. I'm in my bed minding my own business, when my phone rings at 11.15. I answered it worriedly because people don't phone late unless there is something wrong. Right?

"Er..NML, remember that money I said I needed. Well, can I come round and get it now?"

"Have you lost your effing mind? I am in my bed!" I howled at him.

"Well you didn't have to answer your phone" he said petulantly.

"You didn't have to bleepin' call me did you?"

Of course I declined. I'm not a gangsta hanging around on street corners late at night. That and he would never have managed to get a train to mine and back...

Like a numpty, I spent half of the following day trying to reach him. Why the frick am I chasing somebody about borrowing money from me? I felt like Samuel L Jackson's mother in Jungle Fever!

I heard nothing and after a week, I heard the door knock and I answered it to find him on my doorstep. I was on the phone to a client so I let him in without a word. I got off the phone.

"To what do I owe this great pleasure?" I quipped.

"Er...do ya remember that money I said I needed. Well, I need it!"

I couldn't believe the fecking cheek of him and I let him have it with both barrels. I sometimes think that my crackerjacl family take me for a mug.

"Jeesus! Stop busting my balls!" he whined.

"You have no idea what busting is!" and I gave him one of those shrivel your nuts looks.

"I was thinking...you know, you all need to chill out man...You know...relax...let things go...You're all too uptight!" he said with a grin.

"Are you stoned?" He claimed that he wasn't and that he'd just woken up.

Does he think I just fell out of a tree?

So yeah, it's been a busy two weeks but I shall be back...I have been beavering away (that's working not my va-jay-jay) and there are a few big things going on that I will talk about soon..... Must go, the boyf's snoring with the rubbish vampire movie in the background is reminding me it's sleepy time!

She's still not speaking to me...so I shall bask in the silence!

Day 18 in NML's house, her ma is still ignoring her even though she has no reason.

Yep, it seems that peace and quiet will continue to reign. Whilst I have been irritated at her behaviour (OK p*ssed off) at times, I recognise that this is an opportunity to not have to cater to lots of drama and enjoy normality. There's no denying I love my ma but I don't like relationships with anyone where it's their way or the highway. If I was five and she could threaten me with a can of whupass then things would be different, but I'm thirty. Those times of expecting that I will say, do, and think as you want are over. I am a firm believer that if the only way you can have a relationship with me and be happy is if I only do things on your terms, then we can't have a relationship, that's why I stopped going out with assclowns.

Considering how many I dated in the past, I have been down the road of jumping to someone else's beat far too many times and the only beat I jump to, is my own now.

I must get one of those clocks for the blog which shows the number of days since she stopped speaking to me. The whole situation is so ridiculous it's funny!

In the meantime, the boyf has FINALLY put the bed back up after, oh I don't know, four months! Two more paintings have gone up and I've threatened to put them outside if he doesn't sort out the remainder. It just goes to show...periodical nagging does pay off...after a few months! Note to self: increase frequency of nagging and stop accepting excuses of bad back, sore toe, extra bone in the foot pain....

Assclown Watch: I'm watching you watching me and I'll take you down to Chinatown...well not really...

I think it would be too much of a leap to claim that I have a stalker (a different one...)...but it would be safe to say that I have a creepy follower.

Now I have really tried not to be suspicious and jump to conclusions because, well...ah feck it...I have jumped to conclusions. The boy is too fecking weird for my liking.

Let me explain. I live in a town in Surrey that is pretty 'white'. That means that there aren't very many black folk around and when I first moved here, I was keeping a tally of each black person I came across... Anyway, I digress... Now when you're black, there are two things that can potentially happen when you come across other black folk in places where there aren't many...

1) You do 'the nod' or 'the smile' which says "I know that you know that we know we're black and we're in a white area and we should be nice and polite and acknowledge each other". The key here is acknowledgment. Example, I was in Palma a few years ago and a black guy nodded and smiled at me even though he was with his girlfriend. "Why did that guy just nod at me and smile?" I asked my aunt. "Lucky you! That was Nigel Benn!" she exclaimed.

2) Certain folk assume that you must want to be best buddies because you're brown. Example, when I lived in Ireland, complete strangers would walk up to me and say "Hello my sista". Now most of the time you don't mind but when some guys would get a bit frisky, I'd want to get a bit gangsta... The overt example is that when I was at uni, there were a group of black guys that assumed that because I was one of two black women, I must want to shag them all and one attempted to treat me as his property...

3) You ignore each other. I don't do this as it's a bit extreme and some fools will call you a 'coconut' or 'Uncle Tom' if you don't at least do 'the smile'...

Anyway, I have totally digressed!

Last Friday as I went to get the train to see Chris Rock, I got a weird feeling that someone was watching me. I half looked behind me and noticed an awkward looking black guy a few paces behind me who quickly looked down. A minute or so later as I approached the station entrance, I looked behind me for no particular reason and he quickly ducked and hid behind the pillar outside Waitrose! I paused with the pushchair and looked again and he peeked out again and then sort of ducked by the trolleys!

Now what type of man in his right mind, even if it was totally innocent, pulls that type of rinky dink, assclown, bullsh*t?

I forgot all about him till a couple of days ago when I was walking up to Waitrose (yes I know I am addicted to the bloody place...) and I looked behind me as I crossed the road and could NOT believe my eyes as my 'follower' freaked out, tried to duck out of the way and avoid my glance and nearly got himself run over by oncoming traffic! If I hadn't been so shocked, I would have pissed myself laughing! I looked behind me again a few moments later and he was waiting to cross the road and looking seriously agitated and kept looking in my direction and then quickly looking at the oncoming traffic.

I told the boyf who was howling with laughter. "Are you sure he's all there?" he laughed.
"I don't frickin know but if he's freaked out by seeing someone else who's black in the town, he's being a bit extreme about avoiding me!" and we cracked up laughing.

All joking aside, I'm on asslown watch. I am being careful and checking that I'm not being followed home as I want to play it safe and not let him know where I live. He's lucky I have a sense of humour...and a black belt in karate...(joking)...

Is it coz I is black? No I'm not effing pregnant Miss I'm Too Old To Be Wearing Braces!

So in the past few days, I've fulfilled my dream of seeing Chris Rock live (it was amazing), got glared at by a bunch of girls in audience who were goggled eyed that M and I were clearly out with Alan from Random Burblings...who is white, got a bit drunk on champagne and MJ danced to Billie Jean in front of an entire 40th birthday party, been asked "So how long have you got left to go?" by the black version of Betty Suarez (Ugly Betty), and finally done some exercise. Woohoo!

Chris Rock made me laugh so hard in parts, I actually thought I might wet myself laughing or puke. His style is like watching one of those crazy preachers that have snakes or that 'heal' people and demand that the person in a wheelchair "WALK!". The guy didn't even take a sip of water during his almost hour and twenty minute performance!

It's been a while since I had the whole 'I'm staring at you because I think you're going out with that white dude' look and the last time I got that was when I was out with my stepdad a few years ago...who is in his early sixties. Clearly they thought I was a Jamaican Mail Order Bride.... As M and I followed Alan and his son to the seats, the cheeky bitches were staring and pointing. It took me a few seconds to twig what was going on and M and I were pissing ourselves laughing. In hindsight, I realise I should have started throwing my arms around Alan so I could give them a heart attack. Jaysus...you'd never believe that it was 2008 and that some folk do intermingle...or as MSlash has coined it, 'cross pollinate'...

I've never understood when people think that they need to premise a conversation with you by touting their black credentials. This guy a couple of seats down started trying to talk to M and he quickly squeezed in "I'm mixed race you know. I have black lips". Hilarious! What did he expect M to say? "Ok, you may now enter the court of blackness"

On Saturday we went to the boyf's cousins fortieth. She hired a marquee for her back garden and laid on the booze, so who was I to say no to repeated glasses of champagne. People had been egging me on to pull a few moves all evening so I couldn't say no of course, and did a few crotch grabs, high kicks, moon walks, and glove moves. I think I pulled a muscle in my thigh though...

Earlier in the evening, I'd been sitting there minding my own business when the black version of Ugly Betty (who by the way I'd never spoken to before), kneels at my feet and says "So how long have you got to go?" I stared at her blankly and she added, "You know...your bump..."

F******CKING HELL! Now I know that I have a bit of a tummy but I am telling you right now that I DO NOT LOOK PREGNANT!

"I'm not pregnant...I've already had my baby...seven and a half months ago..." I said looking her squarely in the eye as I didn't want to stare too long at the braces.
"Oh....is it a boy or a girl?" she asked without showing a flicker of embarrassment.

She tried to make conversation but the whole 'You just basically implied that I'm fat and now you want to make small talk with me' vibe hung in the air... Maybe I should have made small talk and asked her what time her parents were coming to collect her....

So of course, I dragged myself hungover to the teeth to Woolworths on Sunday and brought Davina's High Energy Five. I managed to do the warm up and most of the aerobics workout. If only I could turn the sound down so I didn't have to listen to Davina being goofy... I would have done all of the workout, but I was so hot that I was convinced my menopause had arrived early and then the bambino threw a mega strop. I forgot to do it this morning so I shall do my workout this evening instead. Let's not dwell on the fact that I had banoffee pie yesterday and a caramel slice today. I have had a c-section you know!

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....

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...

Mistaken Identity

The boyf, the bambino, and I were supposed to go to church yesterday as we were planning to meet the reverend to arrange a date for her christening. Naturally we woke up late so we were in a bit of a rush but surprisingly, we were all ready really quickly. Just as we were getting ready to go, we heard the distinctive sound of a squelch. "Oh NO! She's doing a poo!" I wailed. "I'll change her" the boyf said and we quickly got out of all her changing stuff. As he undid her nappy he started making mock choking noises and cleaned her up as we both giggled. He placed a wipe under her bum and just as he was laughingly saying that we need to open the window, we heard another squelch. "Lucky I put that wipe there!"laughed the boyf. Then there was another squelch, and another which went into his hand, and next thing you know nearly 25 minutes had gone by and we'd missed most of the service.

We all hustled into the car and a few minutes later as we approached the church, the boyf starts flinching in agony. He'd complained that his stomach was a bit upset earlier but I thought he was over it. He decided to head back to the house but seconds later he said that he felt OK again and that we should head back to the church. Then he looked stricken again so we went home and he practically sprinted upstairs to the bathroom...

Eventually we went back to the church as we still needed to see the reverend. There were three older black women standing outside the church. "Jaysus! That's 3 more black people I've seen! That must bring my total to about 10 now!" I quipped. The boyf giggled and said "Well it's good to know that there are some black folk around here..." As we approached the church, lots of church goers came out, most of them elderly and they all became excited at seeing the bambino, who scowled at most of them. "Isn't she beautiful!" they cooed and next thing we here one of the women say "Oh yes she is beautiful! She's coming into see her grandmother!" and it was all I could do not to howl with laughter.

As we sat in the church waiting for the reverend I said to the boyf, "They think we're related to one of those black women that we saw outside the church!" and we were doubled up laughing in the pew. "I mean seriously! You know there are not that many black people in this town when people assume you're all related!"

It turns out that one of my friends dropped a major faux pas at my birthday. She was talking to my mum who was sat between my dad and stepmum, when my mum asked "Guess who this is?", looking at my stepmum. "Er..I don't know...Your mum?" she answered. The boyf and I cried with laughter when we heard about this. My friend is terribly embarrassed as she insists that she only said this because my mum looks really young, so she assumed that her 'mother' would also...

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!

Just Call Me Daddy/When Mothers Turn Baby Showers into Hot Dates

Yesterday I had a baby shower thrown for me and of course no occasion could be complete without a bit of mama antics. Am I the only person to ever have a baby shower where her mother decided to combine it with having a hot first date?!

I found out about my ma's date G, when she called me up yesterday morning to ask if it was OK (to be fair she'd already invited him) and explained that he was a builder that she'd met through her work. Of course I wasn't going to object but she did mention that the bro was livid with her. I was already distracted so I didn't ask any questions and quickly got off the phone.

The next time I thought of G was when my ma brought him outside to introduce us and I happened to be standing with several friends and the bro.

"This is my daughter, and NML, this is G, friend and builder" she said gaily and I shook his hand and tried not to meet the eyes of my friends for fear of giggling.
"And THIS is my son, the one that said 'Mum, what are you bringing that builder to the party for?'"
The bro froze and his face became blank as he pretended that the two of them didn't exist but it was too late because we were all falling around laughing. I looked at my ma and G and she was grinning like a cheshire cat and he seemed to be loving all of the attention. They were barely out of earshot when the bro hissed at us "Can you believe that they f*cking met when he came to do a building quote yesterday?!" and this time he was laughing too as everybody tried to laugh their way out of shock.

I went into the house a little while later and found my ma chatting very cosily with G. There was a lot of giggling and flirting and I just felt thankful that we were all outside enjoying the BBQ and the sunshine. I raised my eyebrows at the two of them and gave my ma that look that said "Behave yourself" and being the pisstaker that she is, she saw the opportunity to wind me up.

"Say hi to your new daddy!" she said with a giggle.
I looked around me and said "Who?"
"G - How would you feel about him being your new daddy?" she wisecracked, just as the bro walked in and glared at the two of them. "Now!" she said looking at the bro. "Show some respect to your new daddy!" she quipped and B and I started snickering at the showdown that we sensed.
"Only if he lasts a week...." the bro replied drily. B and I were nearly in hysterics laughing when we saw their faces.
"THE BRO! I'M WARNING YOU!" my mum said, now starting to sound slightly nervous.
"What? It's true. Don't worry G, you have a seven day cooling off period!" he quipped and now we were all laughing.

We finally left them and went back to stuffing our faces outside. I relayed the story to the boyf who was clutching himself laughing and of course my ma was now providing the entertainment... The bro left about an hour later without too much drama but admittedly quite a few barbed comments were directed at my ma. After he left, I figured it would all be calm without any more drama....till I went into the house and discovered that there was no sign of them.

I demanded to know her whereabouts and was told that she had gone out the front. I walked out of the house and turned to go out to the street and froze when I saw my ma and G giggling, looking very cosy with their arms around each other. I didn't even think before I spoke. "MA! What the HELL do you think you're doing?!" I exclaimed and we all stood there staring at each other.
"NML!" my ma said and she looked nervous yet mischevious as she started to extricate herself out of his embrace.
"GET.IN.SIDE." I said icily.
"NML!" she said laughing. "It's OK, we're just talking."
"I don't frigging care. And G, would you mind taking your hands off my MOTHER!?!" and stalked back into the house.

After that my ma knew she was on thin ice with me. It wasn't that I wanted to piss on her parade, but having a first date at my baby shower and acting like randy teenagers was NOT what I had in mind. I thought this was when she would have been in the proud grandmother role!

She left an hour or so later with G escorting her. I was polite to him but kept my distance as I felt that he was enjoying the discomfort which isn't exactly a sign of him sticking around and ingratiating himself with her family... "Make sure my ma gets home safely because if she doesn't, I WILL be calling the PO-lice!" I said half jokingly. The boyf said goodbye to him and wisecracked "So should I start calling you Uncle G after today?" and G replied with a big dirty smirk "No....just call me Daddy G!"

In other non randy teenager related activity, the boyf's mum had her friend bless the food before we all started. I was expecting a quick grace but I hadn't realised that she was a reverand and she proceeded to sing and then break into lengthy prayer. Two or three minutes later, I started to break out in a hot flush and clutched at the boyf's hand. Once it was over, everyone dived on the food and Vulture boy said to me "Jeez, I thought she was going to start praying for the #2 bus any minute!" Hilarious!

Prayer Antics and Voodoo Doo Doo

Yesterday the boyf and I were invited to his mums as she wanted to arrange for the baby and I to be prayed for. I don't claim to be the most religious person on earth but I'm not naive enough to not recognise that a bit of positivity and prayer certainly isn't the worst thing that could happen at this particular point in my life. It did occur to me that I should ask the boyf what it entailed...and promptly forgot about it...

So when we were in Sainsbury's grabbing breakfast on the way to his mum's, I didn't think anything of it when he picked up a bottle of cod liver oil that his mum had just asked him to buy...

An hour or so later, I'm sitting with the pastor with a rather bemused look on my face as he goes through the prayers. The boyf and I at this point had stopped catching each other's eyes for fear that we'd have a fit of the giggles. The pastor was lovely but he did keep praying for a speedy birth and the boyf and I were cacking ourselves. I will be 36 weeks this week and as excited as we are about the baby, we have not moved yet (don't start me on those mutherfoccacia [stole that word from David Gest..] estate agents and solicitors) and I haven't even had my antenatal classes, which start this week.

"Pastor, we don't actually want to have the baby this week... NML's not even quite 36 weeks yet..." the boyf said with a terrified look on his face and then his mum, the boyf and I collapsed in giggles.
"The baby will arrive when it wants to!"
"Er, it'll arrive when I say it will!" I quipped and we laughed even harder.
"My wife went into labour early and started screaming. I was running around in a panic in the middle of the night trying to get dressed and poof, the baby had arrived ten minutes later!" This is one of those classic occasions when men talk out of their bums and EXAGGERATE. If he'd actually had to push the baby out himself, I am pretty sure that he would know the real amount of time it took! The boyf's mum looked at me and cracked up laughing at my face.
If he hadn't been a pastor, I'm would have wisecracked about some of us having bigger fannies than other's but instead I said "Ten minutes? I'm sure it was longer than that... Maybe she let you sleep through most of the labour.... I suspect that our baby isn't planning a ten minute passage...It's not even the right way around at the moment!"

Things slipped into a momentary nightmare a few minutes later when the bottle of cod liver oil got whipped out. He'd mentioned something about me having it but denial had made me believe that he was taking the piss... He asked the boyf's mum to get spoons and I thought she'd come back with teaspoons and instead she returned with what appeared to be the biggest table spoons in the frigging world. I clutched the boyf in panic and tried to block out the memories of my grandmother giving us cod liver oil and the bro and I screaming the place down and spitting it out as soon as her back was turned. It is one of the most vile things in the world! Black folk man! The older generation have an unhealthy fascination with cod liver oil, liver, pigs feet, carnation milk and Guiness...

The spoon approached my mouth and I hastily grabbed at my nose and let it go into my mouth. Fishy wishy horrid rank stuff. I froze and then tried to swallow. It went down for a moment and then I retched and had to will myself not to throw up everywhere. NEVER AGAIN! Apparently cod liver oil lubricates you for birth...I take it he's never heard of KY Jelly....

Of course, I told my mum that we'd been at the boyf's mum for prayers and I howled with laughter when she had the cheek to suggest that it was a superstitious thing and demanded to know if it had been something dodge like voodoo!

"Ma, you need to stay off the crack!"
"Don't you be cheeking me!"
"Well you do! Give me some bleedin credit to know when I'm in a voodoo friggin session! It was private prayer with a bit of cod liver oil thrown in for good measure and that's just for health purposes."
"Cod liver FECKING oil!" she roared. "Hmmm, I hope you know what you're doing!"
"Oh I see, so when you pray for me everyday should I be calling you a voodoo queen?" I countered. And before she could add anything else, I pulled out the piece de resistence. "And I seem to remember that it was YOU that kept trying out different churches last year and didn't even realise that one of them was full of dodgy voodoo people! You're lucky that the boyf and his mum pointed that out to you!"

Is that a golliwog/minstrel or are you just happy to see me?

The boyf and I decided to view a few properties yesterday and after a pretty quiet week of me staying at home and resting myself and the bump that kicks like a maniac, I was itching to be out in normality again. We turned up for one of our viewings just before midday and another driver cut us up for the parking space outside of the house. As we parked, we noticed that they, a middle aged black woman and her daughter, were also approaching the same house. The woman had on a wig that was on a little bit crooked so I decided that it was understandable if she didn't see us when she cut us up moments earlier....

The woman had recognised that we were there to view the same property and seemed to race very cockily to the front door, so the boyf and I waited by the gate. The front door opened and I stifled giggles as an older white man's (looked to be in his late sixties) eyes widened at the sight of us all. He quickly composed himself but he was very short with the woman who had not only got the time wrong the day before, but had also turned up thirty minutes early now. He asked what our names were and waved us in.

One thing is sure to happen to me when I'm scared (Remember when I got the acupuncture needles in my bum and my va-jay-jay?), nervous (Me at my step-grandmothers funeral and just after the burial seeing little bro doing what appeared to be a pee several feet away. Turns out he was washing the dirt off his hands.....) and shocked, like I was at the viewing.

The door closed behind us and he said "Right so, I'll show you the upstairs first!" and he went ahead of us up the stairs and I turned to take the first step and was confronted with one of those golliwog/minstrel statues. I paused for a moment and then quickly moved on because I had been attacked by an uncontrollable fit of giggles. I mean F*CKING HELL! Do people still keep those things in their houses?

When we decided to sell the flat, our estate agents advised that we do a bit of decluttering. Did it not occur to their estate agent to say "You know sir, I reckon you'll sell this place quicker if you declutter" and when he know doubt asks what they mean, they could say "Well you could start with putting away that black faced statue at the bottom of the stairs."

The images and history of golliwog's and minstrel's images are pretty controversial on either side of the Atlantic. I'm not an over-sensitive person but I do find them to be offensive representations of how black people have been perceived in the past. The term 'golliwog' used to be a very popular racist term and both were popularist items of white culture that still hold some very negative connotations. Clearly he can display what he wants in his own home, but

As we walked around, I hid behind doors and looked out windows to let out my giggles. I kept looking around expecting to see more of the statues leering at us. I didn't dare look him in the eye for fear that I would erupt into hysterical laughter. I got us out of there as quick as possible and tempting as it was, I resisted the urge to make a comment about the statue as it would have been highly uncomfortable and a waste of my breath. OK..and the boyf would have been mortified. In the car, expressed our shock in between laughter and that's what I'm thankful for: we don't let people's dodgy racist ways get to us and find them laughable. Obviously we won't be buying his house...

In more struggles of the politically correct, the boyf got very drunk last night and in a slurred long winded explanation about God-knows-what, he described it as "Politically erect". Today, he is paying for it all with a massive hangover and we've got to go to my mum's in a while, which should make for an interesting afternoon.