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!

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...

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!

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!