A · Normal · Life

And indeed it is. I have spent the day emailing some gorgeous friends I missed while I was absent, watching cartoons, feeding the ducks, eating a bacon sarnie and fiddling with the hubby (well, until we heard that ominous creak of the door opening). Not all at the same time, I hasten to add.


Now that the small person has gone to bed I have a whole evening to read some thoroughly rude fics if I can find some. I haven't started beta reading again yet because my concentration span isn't up to much at the moment, so no one is sending me the good stuff to read and I'm going to have to search for it myself. It's a hard life...




Excuse of the day
'Sorry I didn't iron your work clothes, I couldn't find a spare socket to plug the iron into.'

Today was fun, my little love had a birthday party to go to. One that I had sadly forgotten about. Oh well, kids love a fiver in a homemade card, don't they? Anyway, preparing for the party was another thing for my dear child to argue over (why, oh why was I blessed with such an awkward child?).

Me: Right, we'd better get ready, we're going soon.
LL: Okay, mummy, shout when you're ready.
Me: No, I mean you have to get ready.
LL: I'm already ready.
Me: You want to go like that?

(Little love twirls past me to the mirror, wearing a thin vest, a ballet tutu and her new roller skates)

LL: I like it...
Me: It's January.
LL: It's nearly February...
Me: Even so, it's still winter.
LL: I'll wear a coat too.
Me: But--

(Again, I catch myself arguing with the five year old, instead of bossing her about)

Me: Get changed if you want to go.
LL: Whinge, whinge, blah, blah

(She stumps her way upstairs and comes back ten minutes later dressed as candyfloss. She is wearing proper clothes now, but everything she owns is pink.)

Me: Good girl. Right, toilet time.
LL: I don't need to go.
Me: Well just have a try then.
LL: But I don't need a wee.
Me: Just try.
LL: Why? I said I don't need one.
Me: It's better that you go now before the party.
LL: Won't they have a toilet there?
Me: Um... yeah...but... um... just try now, ok?
LL: Are you going to try too?
Me: No, I went earlier.
LL: So did I. Can we go to the party now?

(Once again my logic fails me. There is no getting around my child, she has an answer for everything. We leave without going to the loo.)

Isn't it sad when you realise that your children are more intelligent than you? Isn't that even worse when they are only five? What do you mean it's only me??




Excuse of the day
'I would love to do the hoovering, but I dropped one of little one's toys earlier, and I don't want to suck it up by mistake.'

Hello, hello, hello.


I have returned from beyond the grave woooo-ooooo... Well, maybe not from beyond the grave, but fairly close to it for a while. Anyway, not only am I not in hospital, but I am home. Back to the daily grind of ... um ... watching the telly and drinking tea mostly. Especially because my little love is now at school full time so I have hours in which to do nothing. That's actually harder than it sounds because you have to spend large portions of the day working out how to look like you've been busy when really you're just rather proud that you remembered to watch My Hero.


Excuse of the day
'I'm sorry I didn't do the dishes, dear, I was afraid the smell of the washing up liquid might kill me.'

I only started this lj so that I could comment on other people's without looking like an anonymous troll. Now, I've been told that I am supposed to actually write in it. Fair enough, but I have no great philosophy to discuss, nothing stunning to impart. 'You don't need to, just talk about your life, it is a journal,' he said. Thanks, Pete, but that's not so easy if you don't have a life. OK, so here's what happened yesterday.


7.30ish. My four-year-old daughter woke me up by hitting me with her teddy.
Me: nngghhh.
Little love (LL): Mummy, stop snoring.
Me: I'm not snoring.
LL: You were, even teddy heard you.
As any mother knows, you can't argue with the might of teddy. So I tried to stay awake, wondering how my short daughter managed to reach the high-up playstation to put Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban on.


8.30ish. The film finished and we started the horrendously complicated getting-up routine. What, you think dressing, washing, teeth brushing and walking down a few stairs is easy? Then you don't have a four-year-old.


10.00. We got downstairs, only because LL decided she wanted breakfast. I went into the kitchen, put the kettle on for a much-needed cup of tea and made LL toast.


10.30. She finally decides how she wants her toast cut today (crusts on, cut into four long soldiers). I make it for her and sit down to enjoy my tea, even though it's probably cold. Bugger. I forgot to actually make the tea. I put the kettle on again, and sit down to watch Tikkabilla with LL while it boils.


11.00. Finally, after rewinding the Tikkabilla Jive and dancing to it three times, I collapse onto the sofa for my tea. Bugger. I left it stewing on the side. I fished about for a while to get the teabag out, the put the kettle back on. I race back to the lounge and set LL up with her scrapbook and some stickers.


11.05. Tea. It is heavenly, although it would probably be better if I had changed the scum-ridden mug from my earlier attempt. I turned the computer on to check my emails and do a bit of beta reading.


11.20. I should do the washing up. Well, sometime today.


11.45. I'll do it in a bit.


12.15. LL and I went round the shop to get more milk. Six quid lighter, we get home,
LL: Where are my sweets?
Me: you can't have them till after dinner.
LL: I know that, I just want to know where they are.
Me: Why?
LL: Because.
Me: Because, why?
LL: Teddy wants to look after them.
Me: Alright, but no eating them before dinner. (I hand over the smarties)


12.40. One cheese and ham sandwich later,
LL: Where are my sweets?
Me: I gave them to you earlier.
LL: No, you didn't.
Me: Yes, I did.
LL: No, you gave teddy his sweets, I want MY sweets.
Me: They ARE your sweets, you can eat them now.
LL: No, I can't, teddy ate them before dinner.
Me: (strangled silence)
LL: Can I have some more, please?


I go and get the kettle on again.




That's enough of my life for one day, I might put the afternoon up later.

Hells