Musings on menfolk, missing socks and nefarious blond fluffy floozies

Could he really live without me?

Do you ever wonder if your family could live without you? I mean function as a unit through the mundane tasks of the daily grind? Do they know how to switch on the washing machine, work the dishwasher and more importantly know where to put the crockery afterwards?

I don’t think mine can, but it’s not as if I am one for doing everything for them.

Quite the reverse. Get ‘em cooking, cleaning and doing the housework as soon as possible is my motto. Every opportunity I have them hoovering and dusting and helping me out but it obviously fails to sink in.

And as for my other half – don’t make me laugh.

He’s just come in complaining he can’t find any socks. What DOES he do to them? He is always losing them.

I thought I had a fail safe system. I launder everything from Sunday to Tuesday and dry it all ready for ironing on Wednesday. On Thursday everything that isn’t being ironed is brought upstairs to be sorted. All odd socks go to an odd-sock drawer which EVERYONE knows about. This means that perfectly good socks are not thrown out when their pair goes missing for a couple of months weeks. Once sorted all clothing is put on the beds of each individual for them to put away in their chest of drawers and cupboards. So if socks or indeed any other undergarment goes missing it has to be the individual’s fault, for once it is in their room I take no responsibility for it at all.

Still doesn’t seem to stop them all from yelling at me to find everything for them. I wonder if they need their eyesight checked? Invariably the thing that they are searching for so assiduously I find immediately.

Are males hardwired to be helpless? I always thought that was what females were meant to be, or certainly that is the way it seemed in the all the fairy tales that I read as a child, where princesses had to be rescued from fire breathing dragons by knights in shining armour.

Or is it that males see the ‘whole picture, as my other half so predictably says, that it is difficult for them to concentrate on the details? Personally I’d have thought being able to feed oneself is a little bit more than just a detail in one’s life.

I do know of females who make their menfolk totally dependent. I find them weird and slightly creepy in a 'Stepford Wives' way.

It’s done so subtlety that the menfolk have no idea it is happening at all. They don’t understand that their independence and free will is quietly being sapped from them as they are offered slippers and ironed newspapers, along with an evening whisky on their return from a hard day at the office before a three course cordon bleu dinner by candlelight after which she asks for NOTHING at all but to sit at his feet and listen in rapt wonder to his pronouncements about the ‘State Of The World Today’.

Sort of Night of the Vampire Mummys…with Cath Kidson.

Scary.

No, I won’t let that happen to my boys, I’ll get them to see that that sort of thing is just a honey trap to make their brains turn to mush so that they can be manipulated by alien blond fluffy floozies whose sole purpose is to take over the world for their own nefarious purposes – such as making every girl in the world wear pink…

Not sure that any of that is clear but it makes up for the fact that I was the ditzy brunette that drove the car into a puddle and wrote it off….

A silly woman

I am chastened.

Quiet.

And I admit it.

I AM A SILLY WOMAN.

I have been berating myself ever since I did it and I had so hoped I would get away with it but there you go, it looks like I haven’t.

I was on my way to collect the boys from school and I nipped down a lane that I know as a good shortcut and arrived at a puddle in the road.

And I drove through it.

Now in my defence the puddles on this lane are usually not very deep and you can get usually through them. There were no flood warnings to say to watch out. And indeed other cars had got though I could see them driving off on the the other side of the puddle. It was getting dusky

However, I hadn’t factored in snow melt or sodden fields…why should I? It wasn’t raining, in fact it hadn’t been raining all day. Yes there had been rain the night before and it had taken away all that snow but surely, in the afternoon…

So I drove in and… the car konked out.

Not to worry thought I’ll get it pulled out and everything will be OK.

Problem was I had no signal on my mobile phone.

I had to get out of the car and walk to some cottages to get help. They couldn’t get the car out but they could let me use their phone. They were so kind.

So I phoned my local garage to ask them to help me get the car out. No worries they said we’ll be over.

However between the time the car konked out and the time we got it out of the puddle, the puddle was more than a puddle it was like a long lake taking up most of the lane and my car was in the middle of it right up and over the seats in brown murky water.

I still thought we’d be OK.

Or at least that is what I was convincing myself but I was beginning to get really worried.

The next day at the garage they took the injectors out and blew away the water that had seeped in, the engine was fine – I had got away with it.

But there was still so much water.

Unbelievable amounts of water.

The boys at the garage emptied it all out, gave the car a service, checked everything they could and then gave the car a bloomin’ good valet.

I drove her around; the engine seemed fine, everything seemed OK.

BUT

We hadn’t plugged her in for diagnostics.

So yesterday I went over to the garage for one last time to get her sorted, so I thought…and the news was devastating.

It seems as if the ECUs [electronic computer units] of which there are many in my car were not talking. As far as they were concerned I had been in one almighty crash – electrics and water DO NOT mix.

While mechanically everything seemed fine, without the electronics working it is a different matter altogether. For example if I were to be in a crash, things like the airbags wouldn’t work – in effect my car is too lethal to drive.

So I called up the insurance explained what had happened and now the car is gone and I feel SO stupid.

I may have totalled my car by driving into a puddle.

I am going to cost my family upwards of £14,000 because I was stupid. A £14,000 bill we can ill afford.

Everyone has been so kind. The insurance people, my local garage, the guys running the valet service, even my husband and I feel like shit.

I am a silly woman…

Bringing up Boys: His first Valentine

Be My Valentine

The Boy has delivered his first Valentine. His first proper Valentine. And I have mixed emotions.

Half of me is delighted. His Valentine is a wonderful girl, pretty and popular in the school and one with whom he has been friends from the very first day he arrived.

But.

But there is a bit of me that is absolutely terrified that he is going to get hurt and I don’t think I will ever be able to forgive his Valentine if she is the one who puts the boot in on his fragile dreams.

My imagination goes into overdrive and I picture him  tentatively handing over the card to his Valentine in front of the whole class all her fiends and all of his and opening up a whole can of worms on the teasing front. Can you imagine it?

Even if his valentine was pleased with the all the attention, all it would take is one other child to say something silly and the moment would be destroyed and instead of being happy The Boy’s Valentine would be humiliated and in turn furious with The Boy for putting her in such a situation. There would be ructions and I don't think my boy would recvover easily.

So knowing he was nervous of rejection and the whole Valentine thing in general I was hoping that he’d cop out and not go ahead with it; but he’s made of sterner stuff. Luckily I was able to persuade him not to give the valentine at school.

So it has been delivered into the hands of the girl's mother with strict instructions not to let her daughter have it until they are on their way skiing tonight for half term.

At least this way if he is rejected it can be done quietly and more importantly no one will know, at least not until after half term!

A Lenten choice

What are you giving up for Lent?

"Vegetables!"

"Home work!"

These are the things my boys wish to give up for Lent.

While I think both are worthy candidates for giving up, as their removal would make my life an awful lot easier; I had to ask the boys to reassess just what Lent was all about.

There was a universal groan round the kitchen table.

"So what do you like that you could give up?" I asked.

Bog Boy looked firmly down at his plate to avoid my gaze and muttered: "Vegetables!" mutinously under his breath.

The Boy looked thoughtfully over my shoulder. Then came back at me sharply.

"Question is Mum, what are you going to give up?"

"Biscuits and cake," I said virtuously, while thinking that the chances of me sustaining more than three days without either would be extremely thin. Thank God I didn’t say alcohol!

"Look boys the time from Shrove Tuesday to Easter Sunday is 47 days but we only need to do 40 days of fasting. Did you know we get Sunday off? So every Sunday you can eat or do whatever  it is that you give up. Do you think you could do that?"

Bog Boy perked up at this: “So in Sunday I could eat sweeties ALL day"

"Well not all day but you could have sweets on Sunday."

"Lots of sweets?"

He’s a hard negotiator my youngest

"A lot of sweets," I agreed wishing to stop the bargaining process before I was committed to buying family packs of sweeties for his consumption every Sunday.

My eldest considered this for a while.

"Chocolate!" he said. "I will give up chocolate but only if I can eat it on Sunday like you promised."

"You know that will mean no chocolate biscuits too don’t you?" I replied.

"What no bourbons?!!!"

"No Jaffa cakes!!!" piped the youngest.

"No sweeties, no chocolate, and chocolate is sweeties do you understand." I am a hard mother.

There was a considered silence round the table.

The tap at the sink dripped.

Finally The Boy nodded as if he had come to a great decision.

"Can we think on it at school today Mum. It's a big decision."

I nodded and smiled to myself. I, of course am only giving up biscuits and cakes - the joy is I can still eat sweeties! I wonder if they will catch on before the end of the day....

Bringing Up Boys: Making them scream like girls!

Screaming like a girl!

There are times when I like to scare my boys silly. Not in a bad way, but in a shocking unexpected GOD-THAT-SCARED-ME-BUT-I-AM-GIGGLING-NOW kind of way.

It’s good for the soul.

Just now before I packed them off to bed I heard them thundering towards the door that separates the two upstairs landings and I just couldn’t help myself. In a couple of strides I waited on the other side of the door crouching right down ready to spring. I could hardly stifle my own giggles in anticipation and my heart started to pound.

I could see the play of shadows where there feet were on the other side of the door and then it was flung open as they prepared hurtle towards my office but I was there with a massive RaRRR!

They screamed like girls

Really high pitched squealing shrieks of fear and then they saw it was me and I got flattened as they flung themselves all over me and we all landed on the floor in a great big giggling heap trying not to excite the dogs anymore than I already had.

“Muuuummmmm!!! That was scary!”

“Muuuuummmm!”

“What!!!” quoth I, from under a pile of pyjama clad small boys and over excited whippets that wriggled and giggled and squirmed all over me.

“DO IT AGAIN!!!!”

Insomnia and how to deal with it!

How I'd like to sleep - out cold!

Up at 1am this morning thanks to a gigantic clap of thunder.
"Great!" I think, "Third night in a row when I won't be sleeping."
I hate waking up in the middle of the night because I know that it is very likely I won't be going back to sleep in a hurry.
I have insomnia and the most common form I have is the "wake up and not go back to sleep variety". There is also the "cannot get to sleep variety" that my youngest insists he has, only for me to come into his room five minutes later and find him comatose. Wish I had his variety...
When I wake up, I try very hard to pretend I haven't woken up and sometimes within seconds I drop back off to sleep again. After the first time I will wake up several times but in essence sleep through the night. Disturbed but at least not awake.
Sometimes try as I might I am awake all night too tired to get up but too awake to sleep.
Mostly I give up after an hour or so and switch on the light and read in an attempt to 'drop off'. Sometimes I just land up reading a whole book in one gulp. I know I should try more taxing books and bore myself to sleep but it takes too much concentration and then I just get grumpy.
The real difficulty about not sleeping is the why I am not sleeping now scenario.
Once I can work out they 'why's' I am a good way to feeling more relaxed (based on its better to know rather than guess frame of mind. I have been known to stay a wake all night worrying about the reason why I am worrying enough to keep me awake all night. That's just bizarre!
So why am I awake right now?
Well I am worrying - worrying about getting my work done before half term descends and I am effectively forced to pander to my boys rather than my work. If I could pander to my boys each and every whim without worrying about work that would be bliss but that is never the case and I land up pleasing no one. So if I get all my work done I won't have to worry and I'll get a good night's sleep.
Wish it were that simple all the time.
Worry is the thing that keeps me awake
Noises, cold and hunger are the things that wake me up.

• So eliminating noise is the first thing - I don't sleep with my husband because he snores. I keep every door shut in the house at night. I sleep in a room as far away from everybody as possible and I have a set of ear plugs. 
• If I wake up cold first thing is a hot water bottle, fingerless gloves, extra duvet and my dear old bed socks. If it is really bad a hot bath though I have been known to fall asleep in the bath.
• If I wake up hungry - well I have a secret cookie jar that even the dogs don't know about for emergencies only.

But the best things to get one off to a great sleep?
Preparation!
Eat well, no alcohol before bedtime, plenty of exercise and fresh air, a warm lavender scented bath before bed and relax.
If you do wake up work out why you've woken up then stop worrying about it and do something to relax or at least keep your brain occupied until you forget about the reason why you have woken up.

• Try lying really still and counting slowly you have to lie still with no moving and relax while counting  - as a kid I never got much above 45.
• The other thing is to meditate: try relaxing by talking yourself through the routine. Start with your toes and feet and imagine them being caressed by warm water just like when you first get into a delicious bath and relax all the way to the top feeling the warmth seep into every part of your body
• Accept that you are awake and stop worrying about not sleeping 
• Read a book
• Have a bath
• Don't start mithering!

Whatever you do don't try and catch up with your sleep during the day keep going until bedtime and keep a routine!

Bringing Up Boys: Cough Cough Cough ek ek ek....

They're playing: "Poor Me!"

I have just picked up my youngest from school - early. A mere 48 hours from doing exactly the same operation for his elder brother.
I was not the only parent collecting their child from the sick room, just possibly the only one who knows their way there and is on first name terms with Matron.
This shouldn't be surprising really, as me and sick rooms have a long history.
I was in the Sanatorium so often during my school years that when Nurse retired I was invited to her leaving-do and my parents have harboured a long running family joke that I was 'head of house' - the prefect in charge of the sanatorium in my latter years at school. I was not amused then and the irony of the current situation is not lost on me now.
However, I now reside in a home full of cough, cough, cough, ek, ek, ek! And I feel like I should be painting a great red cross on the front door and ringing a bell calling out: "Unclean! Unclean! Unclean!"
Despite my familiarity with sick rooms I am not a good nurse. I don't do "ill" or indeed "sick". When I am ill,  I am ill and take to my bed leaving everyone in peace or so I like to think. When my sons are ill I am on 24 hour call without even volunteering.
They get into my bed all hot and sweaty saying they've had nightmares and are feeling sick and they need me. They breath, and then cough in my face. They surreptitiously wipe their snot ridden noses all over their clothes and worse they demand cuddles then wipe their noses all over mine!
They are demanding and whinge about being too hot or too cold, about having headaches and sore throats. They don't want to eat followed rapidly by the fact that they're hungry or thirsty. They need water. "Not warm water, Mummy! Cold water!"
Then they're bored and can they watch TV, play on the Nintendo/computer, watch a movie, go outside? The answer to these last few queries is a resounding: " NO!" At which point  there is much snuffling, bewailing about how ill they are and finally silent tears streaking down their faces and I am undone.
I allow myself to be cuddled and hugged and breathed upon and all the time I am fully aware that no work is being done and deadlines are approaching far too fast and the terrible fear grows that next week I could be the one who is ill - and who will look after me?

Bark Bark Bark Bark - Old Dogs

My Old Dog!

My dog is old and it seems to have crept up on us suddenly. He wasn't that old the other day but now he definitely is old. He's not got any noticeable grey hairs, he potters about just as busy as anything, eats well and still sees off the postman.
But he is deaf.
Very deaf.
I SAID HE WAS DEAF - do keep up!
I find myself having to shout much louder to get his attention and when he sleeps he sleeps much more heavily, in fact you can now creep right up upon him without him even noticing. Not something he'd have stood for in his younger days. He was always right up to the crack then, always one step ahead - now I find him loitering way behind and sometimes he just sits down and waits for us to get back to him.
He still hates the postman but it's a hate that borders on obsession now and it tends to encompass not just the postman. I suppose because he cannot see the postman very well he has decided to err on the side of caution and go demented at anyone who ventures near the door.
Problem is because he can't hear very well he sometimes just starts off barking anyway - again on the presumption that he has to let everyone know that someone or something COULD be coming up the drive. This can also happen in the middle of the night.
It's like waking up to a fire alarm.
At first you are disorientated by the cacophony, then you have to trace exactly where it is coming from and then you have to shut it up.
If he is in one of the boys rooms, I have to vault out of my bed and get to the dog before he wakes them up - luckily both are very heavy sleepers and they have yet to wake before I have removed the offending canine. I then take errant hound down to the kitchen and he snuggles up in his basket once I have checked all the doors and windows and given him a dog biscuit.
If he is downstairs and he starts barking, it takes me a little longer to sort out but suffice to say that I then have to take him to bed with me - and as an old dog he has powerful breath.
He gets obsessed with stuff.
Cleaning himself or his basket or worse the chair you have just sat down in. And all you get is lick, lick, lick, lick. Usually as you watch TV.
Oh he also snores.
Heavily
And very loudly!
Sounds a lot like my husband save my husband doesn't do the obsessive licking thing, or the barking thing or the chasing the postman bit...at least I don't think he does!