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!

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....

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...

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....

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...

Welcome To The Big Three-O Jungle

As a lover of karaoke, I never thought that I would claim to be all sung out, but after seven continuous hours of karaoke on my birthday, I reckon I should take a breather from the cabaret....

My birthday started a day early on Friday when I woke up at 9.30 am to the sounds of the bambino whimpering and shuffling and realised that the boyf was in the bed beside me. "Boyf I shouted giving him a poke. !""It's 9 frigging 30! You're really late for work!" He opened his eyes and smiled at me. "No honey, I took the day off work. That was the little surprise I had planned for you. I couldn't let you get ready for your 30th on your own." and I felt myself well up and come over all emotional. I blame my hormones.... We ended up getting slightly waylaid with our plans for the day because the karaoke machine arrived and the boyf decided to 'test' it out. He'd never done karaoke before and I swear I was crying with laughter as he sang 'Hello' in what could only be described as a husky tranny voice.

I woke up to feed the bambino on Saturday morning but the boyf got to her cot before me and carried her over to me to sing happy birthday. “Give mummy a kiss” the boyf said to her and she smiled at me as he leaned in with her. Just as I kissed her, she let a ripper of a fart and the boyf and I cracked up laughing. Later that morning after opening my pressies from them and crying (again) when I saw the gorgeous Macbook, I kissed them both and forgot that the bambino had milk on her face (she's a messy drinker) and ended up tasting my own breastmilk...It is ridiculously sweet...

The great Jerry Springer show was averted when the bro and my dad were 'reunited' after more than 10 years. Unfortunately I missed much of the action as my ma 'chose' that moment to phone me and demand a blow by blow account of what was going on. "I can't. I'm in the room with them!" I snapped. "Goooo ooooon! Tell me!" she pleaded. "What part of 'I'm in the room with them' don't you understand ma?! I have no clue what's going on because I'm on the phone to you!"

Of course the drama didn't happen with the bro and my dad, but it did with my parents because they don't know how to behave their bloody selves. My dad made a rum punch concoction which also had vodka and cider in it and it didn't take long before him, my stepmother, Daddy G and my ma were all sitting at the back of the garden 'reminiscing' in the form of pisstaking. The more sips of rum punch is the more out of hand it got and I turned my back for two seconds and next thing you know my dad is revealing all of my mothers relationship crimes to Daddy G who was looking rather nervous. My ma had this rabbit caught in the headlights/constipated look and my dad was laughing, seemingly unaware of his faux pas. My ma is still pissed off even today and it's become clear that my parents really just don't know how to behave themselves. If they're not springing mystery siblings on me, they're bickering like children and airing their dirty laundry at my 30th. I did what I have come to learn is best in this situation and backed away from them and tuned out of their carry on...

I fed the bambino and she was in bed by 7.15, just as the first drops of rain started to fall. Everybody brought all of the food and drink inside and demanded that the karaoke machine got turned on and that's when things got pretty wild. It seemed that my parents weren't the only ones necking the rum punch... Within seconds our Brazillian friend was singing Like a Virgin except for that she forgot that she was supposed to sing along with the words and appeared to be making it up as she went along. My ma, realising that the karaoke was underway, came racing in demanding to queue jump and sing. Seeing that the Brazillian was struggling she announced "I can sing this!" and just as she went to snatch a mic, I legged it up and blocked her. "Ma...this is NOT the song for you!" and everybody howled with laughter.

The boyf who had clearly realised that he has a great love of a mic and the sound of his own voice, decided to be MC for the evening and introduced each singer and kept the crowd going. I eventually got my turn after a few songs and sang 'Rock With You' and included a few MJ moves and 'Hee hee's'. Male NML (my friend who also has a penchant for MJ) lept up half way through and decided to join in. I couldn't believe he was trying to steal my thunder but it was actually very funny as the two of us performed out hearts out and high kicked together just like the video.

There were so many funny performances and people joined in on nearly every song. Mslash and the bro became a very dangerous combination as they both have the same crass sense of humour and penchant for attention. They 'tried' to sing PJ and Duncan's 'Let's Get Ready to Rumble' and they got booed and had to end the song early when they couldn't keep up with the words. Everyone was pissing themselves laughing as the boyf ushered them off but I found them outside a while later plotting how to redeem themselves and even contemplating unplugging the machine if they couldn't get a turn again. They eventually gatecrashed one of the boyf's performances and then brought the house down with a fantastic performance of 'Ice Ice Baby'.

When only the hardcore of us were remaining, we ended up having a sing off girls vs boys and scared the crap out of Male NML when we sang 'Superwoman' by Karyn White to him. Everyone was cracking up laughing as he felt the anger of women rain down on him and I'm sure he thought it was a veiled message from his girlfriend. When Male NML and his girlfriend sang 'Islands in the Sea', the boyf being competitive, demanded that we do a duet so we sang 'The Girl is Mine' and I have to say I loved doing that speaking part in the middle. I did a perfect MJ voice as I said 'I think I told you - I'm a lover not a fighter'.

The bambino slept through the whole evening and the boyf and I patted each other on the back for having such a lovely daughter. She woke at 2.45am and we realised that she hadn't let us get away scot free - she had done a MASSIVE poo! She wouldn't normally do it in the night and the boyf and I giggled and choked at her 'gift'.

All in all, my 30th was brilliant fun and having a karaoke party was the perfect way to start my new era. I guess I should start acting like a grown up but they say thirties is the new twenties so I can put off those plans to act my age and continue to be a bad ass. Who knows what the thirties holds in store for me but I'm looking forward to it.

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!