Bless

Wetting the bed at 5am is tiring for a wee girl.
Wee girl... Geddit?

Jo has started trying to get her out of night time pants, and last night she was apparently dry.  So I put some sacks under her sheets, put her in bed and... Sploosh.  At 2am.  So in response to her crying, I went up, changed her sheets, reapplied sacks under the sheets and put her back to sleep.

Repeat at 5am when I decided I couldn't be bothered to re-re-make her bed, so I stripped her bed, put the bedding on to wash, put her in some night time pants, and put her into my bed.  Of course, that made getting up fun this morning.  She finally got up - after I dragged her - at 0815.

Which is all fine and dandy, except we usually leave at about 0820.  Marvellous start to the week.  Thank f**k tomorrow is Jaysens last day of school!

How To Make A Grown Man Cry

Last night, I Tam was wandering around causing trouble as normal. Me, on the other hand, I was washing up and doing dinner. When Tam is "behaving" (being quiet and not breaking something) I tend to let her get on with it - she was "singing" in the dining room while I was at the other end in the kitchen.

"Daddy!"

I turn around to find this:


That's the Peanut, wearing a school dress that was put away for her many moons ago. And for some reason, it really choked me up. I thought of Bethy wearing a school dress (not that she ever did, it was too cold for her when she was in school!), and I realised how quickly Tam is growing up, that she will be in school too, and that she doesn't live with me any more...

I gave her lots of cuddles, sat her on the side next to me, and carried on doing dinner with a few sad little tears running down my face...

Oopsie Daisy

You may have noticed that there are two Musical Monday posts today. Two! And more's the point, they are both numbered the same to boot. Oopsie Daisy indeed.

Luckily I can explain. Firstly, I'm a plank, but we knew this. Secondly, the Who song I posted on Thursday morning while I was doing house work. I set it to post on Monday. However, I had forgotten I'd done it. The Ting Tings song I posted last night at about half nine while I was half asleep chucking photos over to Mand to put on the Interwebs.

Aside from that, I woke up this morning with a three year old toddler snuggled up against me stealing my bed space. I feel worse this morning than I did yesterday. Thankfully, it's germ-related and nothing to do with booze. Where I've been so busy over the weekend I've not let the germs take a hold, but getting in last night and just flopping down, the germ invasion took over.

I'm still all croaky and bunged up, but now I've upgraded to "coughing green stuff" which is always nice. It's Manly though, so it's all good.

Not got a clue what's happening today - school run, back to Ruths for coffee, pop a few doors down and get Sally back from Cel. The house is clean and tidy being that I worked so hard on it, so that's good. I can get in later with Tam, put on Playhouse Disney and then just veg out.

Blergh I feel rough!

(No) Musical Monday

So, once again, I'm late with my Musical Monday post. However, I've gotten in this evening, and with so much going on in my head, I am actually copping out. I hold my hands up and say "I gots nuffin guv"

This weekend, I shifted the kids off to Jo and headed over to Ruths. Her fella was down, and needed help lugging a bloody great rather heavy television, as well as having his computer looked at. TV, not an issue, we got it in and spent an hour fiddling with connections. However, the banana head managed to forget his hard drive... Ho hum.

Saturday I cleaned, then Kellie came over before we both jumped on a bus and headed back to our old stomping ground. She used to live next door to me, and we have plenty of memories of accident, injury, falling off/over/through things, so we decided to go back home, stopping at my mums for a coffee.

Was great to look at the places we used to terrorise, and marvelled at how similar but different it was, how walls and trees we used to climb just seemed dinky now, and how the walk to the local shop and then the school was a few minutes - I'm sure they used to be miles from home.

Then we headed over through the old Laindon Shopping Center. Wow... It used to be a concrete and depressing stand of shops - now it's a concrete and really depressing stand of boarded up shops. Headed over to Gemma and Petes to see Zoe and Amy. Ooooh broody. Zoe is lovely, Amy stole all my money, but I got a beer out of it, so you know, fair trade off ;)

I would detail what happened after leaving Gemmas, but I promised my guest that I'd not mention her weak bladder or her doing the "Don't Pee Myself" dance. Suffice to say, after not seeing Gemma for the better part of fifteen years, Gemma saw Kellie twice in one day.

Then it was back to mine, grab my stuff and head over to Kellies. Bus ride, walk, collected her kids, ordered chinese food (Yes, I'm a lardy) and then spent the evening drinking and watching comedy telly, and one of the Jackass movies. Oooh how we chuckled. Well, I chuckled, she chuckled and gagged.

Sunday we nearly got lost wandering to her sons football practice, then wandered home where she sorted out a roast dinner. Yummy. Did I mention I'm a lardy? Then it was a few more drinks before I had to head home in time to have the Boy returned to me.

After an early night - and waking up with a snotty nose and sore throat... I headed over to see Jo's new place. Oooh it's purdy. While wandering lost on an estate I should know, I gained a stalker. Now, aside from the fact I should be used to stalkers (as, let's face it, I have a few of them!) I was completely unfazed while people I've told today have said they would be scared...


He literally popped out of a bush next to me as I walked through the estate, and followed me from ten - maybe fifteen feet - for about twenty minutes. People kept stopping and staring at me as though I was The Crazy Fox Man or something. Even after coming out of Jo's place, he was there and around for a few more minutes before heading off into a bush where I assume he had a nap.

After having lunch with Jo and Tam, I headed back to Ruths, then school run, then back to Ruths for dinner until finally, being knackered and feeling a bit icky, I headed home. I think the plan for this evening is to throw the boy in the washing machine, get the tiny bit of washing up washed, then have a shower and maybe an early night.

How was your weekend :D

Poorly...

She was sick last night, is hot today, and not a happy bunny.
Well, she wasn't till I gave her some medicine - she's currently attacking Jaysen..

Goggles

It could be said that Tam is, at times, a little bit... 0dd. To be fair to her, she DOES have some interesting genes going on... My brains, good looks and, er, well, I think that's all she needs really..

But none the less, she has developed from somewhere, a rather 0dd streak. Sometimes she likes to wear her knickers on her head. Sometimes she likes to sleep under the duvet, around the wrong way, with her feet up on the pillow. Some days she just chatters away in her own language, much like Leeloo in The Fifth Element when she crashes into the taxi cab.

While poodling around the various blogs I read, I came across Nutty Mummy on The Little Nut Tree discussing one of her wee ones sudden love of goggles. And while reading it, I could only think of my daughter on one of her strange moments.

See, Tam owns goggles, but hates them - with a passion - in the bath or shower. However, as is the case with Her Strangeness, she loves them all the time away from the bath.




Yes folks, she is wearing her goggles, and her hair inside them, just because she likes to. If you have long hair, have you ever tried to drag a pair of goggles over your head?? It's painful, yet she likes to do it, and she does it a lot.

Maybe it's just a phase... I'm still going through it. It should stop any time now....

Slave Labour - Alive And Well

It wasn't that long ago that kids over here were used in order to perform menial tasks. Chimney sweeping and coal mining mostly. But with these new fangled laws protecting the young and offering them an "edumacation" it means that other poor saps - namely, grown ups - have to perform these tasks that were the only way the kids went out and got some fresh air.

So, in order to bring the harsh reality of the real world to my daughter, I set her to work this morning.



I can't shelter her forever, and there will come a time - hopefully around her 12th birthday - that I will be able to marry her off to someone wealthy and she will be ready to perform the fulfilling tasks such as washing up, laundry, housework... I would have got her doing the ironing today but her pesky female-arm-muscles need building up in order to push the scorching metal across the clothing.

She's rubbish really. No muscle, very slow at her job... Maybe I'll be able to sell her off to someone and get a decent dowry for her. She sucks a hoovering as well.

(hahar! sucks, hoovering...)

I think I might get her up the rickety ladder later to clean the windows... Maybe give her the bleach and get her scubbing the loo...

Peanut

Yesterday Tam had a blast. Gifts, cake, friends, cards... While I don't think she completely "got" it, she knew she was three. And showed everyone her fingers too.

We spent a while here opening everything and trashing the place, had lunch, built her bike, went out for a couple of hours... It was manic.

And she not only loved her bike to bits, but she picked it up really quickly...

Apologies for the crappy video quality.







Hopefully these videos work for everyone and not just me ;)

Happy Birthday Peanut

21st March. I can't believe how time has flown. Today is Tamsyns 3rd birthday. Of course, it goes without saying that today is another date that reminds me how long Bethy has been gone. Tam is 3, Bethy has been gone three years one month.

But that isn't what today is about.

I can't believe she is three. It doesn't seem that long ago she was this little squidgy thing that needed protecting from everything around her, and today, well, she still needs protecting, but she'll give it hell...

She's growing fast, and she is a complete little smart arse, but refuses to talk. I'm hoping that it's just her being lazy though, as she seems to have her own language. She uses lots of words, and every now and then comes out with something new that she refuses to repeat until she decides to do it again.

She is a complete Aries, strong willed, stubbon, has awful mood swings... That screaming child in the supermarket? That's my daughter.

But, even though she is a complete mummys girl, she is becoming more and more of a Daddys Little Princess. It's tough being wrapped around another little finger, but I can handle it. She gives the nicest cuddles, and when she's in a good mood, will do almost anything you ask, from cleaning up to running stuff up and down the stairs.

Tamsyn, my little Peanut,
I can't believe how beautiful you are. Clearly, you've not gained that from me, and that's a bless. You are a beautiful little girl, even if you are a monster some days.

Some days I wish you could chatter away with me and I wouldn't have to concentrate on your words. You have so much going on in your head, and I'd love for you to share it, for us to understand what point it is you are trying to get across.

Yes, I wish you weren't quite as much of a monkey as you can be, and while the wall art throughout the house will always remind me of you, I think the walls would look better without thick blue marker or similar designs.

You are going to be such a smart little girl, and I wish so much that you grow to be as happy as you are now, to enjoy life and to know all the best things that are out there - love, happiness, peace, fun, and to experience everything the world has to offer.

I love you so much, and know mummy loves you as much as me. Jaysen might get moody with you when you push his playstation off the shelf, but he loves you lots too. I know Bethy is out there too somewhere, suggesting things to you that drives you on to do or say the strangest things. I know she's told you how horrible my stubble is, but I'll keep it trimmed and shaved, I promise.

I love watching you grow, love seeing your eyes light up at something new.

I know our family is a strange one, but you will get used to it. Mummy and Daddy are still friends, and even though we don't live together, we both love you very much.

Happy birthday, my gorgeous little Peanut.

All our love,
Daddy and Mummy

And, as usual, here are photos of the little monkey through the last few years, in no real order. The last one, however, was taken yesterday.

Click any of them to embiggen them!

Lounging

Me and the Wee One had an early night last night. She fell asleep on me at around 6pm despite my best efforts to keep her awake. She was comfortable, snuggled, and the white noise of the hair dryer put her to sleep.

I got her onto the sofa and left the hair dryer running to keep her settled while I poodled around on Facebook and the internet, winning at Scrabble (a lot!) and trading in the lives of people in Human Pets and Owned.

Nothing more relaxing than buying pets from strangers in the world.

At around 9pm, Tam started to wake up. Not good. If she woke up properly, she would stay that way till, say, all night.

No, not good.

So I rushed around doing the night-time stuff; threw the dog out, dragged the cats in, sorted the washing machine and tumbler, locked doors and windows, dragged the dog back in, de-caked her muddy paws, fed the critters, grabbed two drinks, turned off lights, ran upstairs, put drinks down, had a wee, ran back downstairs to check the doors and windows were locked, also checked the smoke alarms, ran back upstairs...

And she was snoring on the sofa.

Well, I figured I'd get her into bed anyway, but she woke up as I tried to get her into her bed and did the clinging-on-the-neck thing, so I put her in bed with me.

I am such a soft touch.

She dozed and wanted to watched the laptop, so I put on old faithful, Samurai Jack. It engrosses her, I can't understand it. I mean, it very well made, but she just watches it quietly.

Stil, she started to doze and I started to doze and we were both asleep before 1030pm that night.

Of course, half six she woke up this morning, but laid with me cuddling till half seven when she decided that was enough of that, and we got up, got breakfast, got washed and dressed and, well... Aside from a few meal breaks, visitors, drinks and toilet breaks, we've done nothing today.

And Samurai Jack is still on!

We've sat and done some reading, we've played with some cars (she's such a tomboy), and we've done our own things as well. But generally, neither of us have had a pressing need to do anything.

Of course, breakfast was fine, as was a mid-morning snack, lunch and various drinks during the day, but the bad daddy award was presented to me at 7pm when i realised I'd forgotten to do dinner. Oops.

She's forgiven me, and I will attempt putting her to bed in about half an hour or so. Well, in theory. Chances are she will mosh around till my bed time, or thereabouts.

It's strange not having anything to do, and Tam is being a good little Peanut for me, so it's all good. I feel like I SHOULD be doing more around the house, but for today, I am doing nothing.

But Tam IS A Freak!

And here's my proof:



I have no idea what she's doing, but that is indeed Tamsyn, in the corner, behind a chair with a towel on her head. At first I suspected foul play - something she shouldn't have or whatever, but no, she is there, under her towel, giggling like a loon.

The Sun Came Out...

I do believe that since Christmas I have not "been well" for one single day. I feel tired, drained - exhausted - and the headache/sore throat/snottiness is getting very very boring now. However, aside from a few days of just vegging out on the sofa and, shockingly, sleeping during the day, I've been pressing on as best I can.

However, today, the sun is out and while I slept in for a stupid length of time - something else I don't do - I am taking advantage of the nice looking weather. All the curtains are open and I am bathed in sunlight. Granted I am freezing my nuts off, but none the less, the sun is nice.

Last night, we decided that we all fancied some pancakes. Well, aside from Tam - she doesn't like them, the little freak. So, I did something I have not done in a long time. I made a large batch. Yesterday was a long day, and I've been stressy and pissy all week, and didn't care what I ate.

And so Dan cooked. And tossed flipped pancakes for an eternity. And the plate of pancakes became a little mound, a heap, a pile, a tower...


That, folks, is a pile of 38 pancakes. There would have been more, but I got bored with the dregs in the bowl and poured three-pancakes worth of batter into the pan to save time.

The result? Jo, Jaysen and myself scarfing the worlds supply of pancakes. BUT don't think we're lardy fatties. No no, we left three. Which I might eat now.

Anyways, I am making the best of today - and prolly the weekend - before next week lands and saps my will ;)

And for the record, my new computer is completely set up to my liking - just getting used to Vista from XP, but it's not too different really. But it makes a nice change to play games without having a gale-force wind blowing around to keep it cool. It's nice to use a computer that works without randomly nosediving because I asked it to do something ;) You can see it here if you want, but it came from - strangely - a supermarket. A German-chain no less, that tends to sell rubbish.

Granted, it's not a supercomputer, but at the end of the day, it does what I want it to do, and it does it well. Warcraft, Half Life 2, Hellgate - it's all good!

Bad Daddy!

It's a common misconception about me, that I am in fact a good father. People often say to me "Awww you're so good to your kids" and I smile and nod, and make threatening "Shut The Hell Up!" looks at the kids. The fact of the matter is, I am a bad bad person, and likely, will burn downstairs for the things I've done.

Those of you that have been on the end of my sarcasm or "humour" will be pleased to know, I am an Equal Opportunities Bastard. Just because I take the piss out of you, does not mean my kids are immune. In fact, you have to bear in mind, they are here 24/7. They probably get it more than those of you that get ridiculed every few days.

When Jaysen was born, I became a Daddy for the first time, and, as he grew, and became a little more sturdy, the fun increased. Take a child that is learning to sit, surround them with pillows, hold tight and take bets which direction he'll fall. When his neck is strong, take two grown men, one armed with a baby, one armed with a soft ball. Baby Baseball was a big hit, and even when he was a toddler, if there were people over, he'd bring the ball over and want up in order to play.

Even Bethy was subjected to my harassment. With her insides all screwy, it wasn't quite so viable to play the physical games with her, but I used to offer ice cream and nice things to "Everyone with a spleen can have some!". Of course, Bethy was born without her spleen! Even in hospital - and probably some sort of defense mechanism to stop us wallowing - we used to laugh at some of the things she had done... When she was very ickle, they could not, for love nor money, get a line into her arms or legs - so they used a big one on her head. To protect it from Wandering Baby Hands, they taped a galley pot over the top which, for all intents and purposes, looks like a yoghurt pot. And Voila! The Fruit Corner for Cannibals was created/

Obviously, even now with Tam, she gets it too. She's not a fan of bugs or creepy crawlies, so guess what Daddy chases her with. She likes to be "shocked" with a BOO! so I do that fairly often. Probably too often. She's also been a member of Baby Baseball and Which Way Will It Fall. Of course, thanks to our shopping centre (Mall, for you Yankies) being made with marble flooring, Baby Curling was also a big laugh. Put the hood up on her coat, grip her by the front, and see just how far you can slide her. She was a pro at 18 months of age.

And so it continues, physical humour, dead arm/dead leg tricks, shocks, surprises... And this morning, I added a new (and, I add, unintentional) feather to my cap. I slept through three alarm clocks, five phone calls, a half-dozen text messages - and made Jaysen miss half a day of school.

Oops. Still, it's only the second time he's ever been late for school.

I'm not going to count the number of times I've forgotten to collect him...

She Gets It From Me

Looking in a mirror first thing in the morning, two things always go through my head. The first being hideous screaming at the sight of what happened over night (usually a visit from the hair fairy), the second wondering How On Earth Bethy and Tam ended up so damn pretty.

No, I'm not including Jaysen in this - boys aren't "pretty".

Anyway, I was sitting here the other morning, half asleep, warming my proverbial cockles with a hair dryer. Yes yes, I warm myself with a hair dryer. Anyway, Tam kept moving it and it was blowing her hair around and she was posing. Out comes Mr Camera, and clickity snapity click. Wind-Swept and posing. Bethy was a poser too.

So, my two beautiful girls...



Clearly I am a carrier of the Beautiful Gene. I could make a fortune as a sperm donor... Who wants my babies!

Whinefest (Part the First)

Sometimes you just want to kill people. And I don't mean that literally, Mr FBI/MI5 or which ever government agencies might flag me for that. I mean just pure GAH!

None of this is in any order of irritation/whine/bitch, it's just as they come to mind, as they flow off the grey matter and onto the great big cyber lump that is the blog.

Names may or may not be changed to protect the innocent.


The Wrong Number:
So this morning on the way to school, my mobile rings. Not only do I not recognise the number, but it's also international. So I ignore it. And ignore it. And ignore it every time it rings the following dozen times. Eventually, because I'm just feeling all GAH! already, I answer it. Someone jabbers at me.

"I only speak English"
More babble
"I'm sorry, you've probably got the wrong number" I say, rationalising, that this person is trying to contact someone that not only speaks Italian, but is expecting so many attempts at a call.
"I calla from da Italy" he says in 'English'. I say 'English' because his accent was so heavy I could hardly understand it.
"I think you have the wrong number" wondering for a minute if it's a certain crazy Italian I know having a laugh. L0tars, if that was you, I'll kill you. Anyway...
"Meester Terrrry? I calla from da Italy" he says again.
"No, I'm not Terry nor Mr Terry, you have the wrong number.
"Dis da numba I have for da Meester Terrrry. Do you have da numba for longa?"
"This is my number, and it's a new number (I know, I checked), so you're dialling wrong."
"Oh, itsa okay, I'm a sorreeee."
"No worries, thanks, bye"

Fifteen nano seconds later, the phone rings, Italian number. "You've still got the wrong number".
"Meester Terrrry?"

Rinse and repeat three times before I switch Mr Mobile to silent.

And no, I won't apologise for my Italian accent impression.


Damn Kids: The Boy
It's the weather, I swear to all that is good and pure, it must be the weather. My little cherub that is Jaysen has just been Mooder of the Year this last week. Everything you ask is "hang on" or "in a minute" or an outright "no". It's not just him; I've noticed a few kids in his class are talking the same way to their parents, so if it's not the weather, it's a nasty case of airborne Shitbagitus going around school.

Case in Point: This morning at 7am, I get up, and he's on Jo's computer, killing all that is evil in Unreal Tournament. He's in his boxers.
"Morning little man" I offer in way of greeting, as I do every morning.
"Make me breakfast" is the reply. I offer a "pfft" and give him The Daddy Look, but he doesn't see it, too engrossed in winning. I saunter off to have a whizz and a shower, come back in, and he's not moved. By now, it's 7.30am.

Yes, I had to wash my hair.

"Jaysen, get dressed and breakfast"
"I don't wanna go to school" he replies - still not looking at me.
"Tough -" I reply, leaning over to hit pause, which gets me a glare "- now go get your clothes on and get breakfast."
He stomps off, huffing and puffing, so I kill his game. Don't care if it's not saved or whatever, his loss.
"I can't find any boxers" he says.
"They're in your drawer" I reply, knowing the next question/statement will be,
"I've not got any socks" he calls upstairs.
"In the basket. The basket full of socks." I call back down, grinding my teeth. Bear in mind, the clothing hunt occurs every morning. Socks and Boxers are ALWAYS in the same place, trousers are ALWAYS where he left them (ie, somewhere at random between the front door and his bedroom), and shirts are ALWAYS hanging up. But I digress.
He comes back upstairs (stomping) and starts whining about how school is unfair, how Tam gets to stay home, how it's boring and blah blah blah. Till he sees Jo's computer is on her desktop and not a paused game of Unreal.
Cue more bitching and more whining, and he sits on the sofa watching cartoons in a huff.
I just fuel the fire, remind him to get breakfast and to get a move on.

The joy continues right up till the moment he says bye bye, and goes through the school gate.
Daily.


Doctors Are Evil
It's no great secret that my previous GP was a bit... Well, we'll call him "off his game", when a closer representation would be something along the lines of sandwiches missing from picnics , or being as mad as a box of frogs. While he had told me many times what "could" be wrong with me, I was never told, "Mr English, here is a diagnosis for your issues."

I should point out too, that Previous GP was also struck off the medical register for "Outdated Practices". Which I won't even go over because, you know, it's just more whining.

So, New GP; He's young, hip, knows his shizz and is a smart button. So when I tell him what could be wrong with me, he gets a form, scribbles on it, and says something that involves my least favorite words.

Blood Test.

I am not a needle person. Tattoo needles; no problem. Piercing needles; piece of piss. Bodily-fluid-removal/adding-needles; whoooole different kettle of fish. In a different ballgame. I'm the man that goes for a flu shot, and leaves with a concussion. I'm the man that goes to have stitches and a tetanus, and leaves with an accident report card.

So yesterday, while trying to fix Celestes computer (yet another story), Jo texts me. "Mum will be here in the morning to take you for your blood test".

Impending doom. That's all I feel.

Last night, I did NOT sleep. When I did manage to doze off, I had nightmares of needles, bloods being drawn and all sorts of generic nastiness. I felt like turds this morning, I've picked my fingers into oblivion. Jo's mum arrived bright and early, we pack off into the car, and head to the hospital. It might as well have been Barad-dûr for all I cared.

The Pathology department is always busy. The doctors of the area seem to send everyone up there at random, plus the preggers people waddling in for their tests. The average age, I should add, is about 826 years, thanks to the horde of old cronies (+partner) that live up there. The waiting system, akin to a butcher, is take a ticket, wait for your number.

Yes, "Your number is up" does spring to mind.

Screen Display upon arrival: 31
Ticket Number in sweaty hand: 61

Shit.

Like a deer trapped in headlights, I sit in the waiting room; Jo is being ever so supportive by counting down for me "Ooooh only 14 to go" BZZZ "Oooh 13" BZZZ" Just 12 - not too bad is it..." Tam is trying to entertain me by running around and acting cute, while Jo's mum is corralling Tam so she doesn't escape into the bowels of Basildon Hospital.

58, 59, 60.......................... 61.

So I go in, Jo follows, and I sit in front of one of the blood sucking vampires phlebotomists. I hand her my form, she pulls forth her sword and Jo interrupts. "Has he told you he's scared of needles" The woman smirks and answers no, giving me that awwww but you're a big boy. You want a lolly pop? Jo then adds "Did he tells you he sometimes passes out?" Vampire Queen stops and looks at me with that look only a woman can give. "No, he didn't, but you really should tell us that sort of thing."

Yes, I know I should tell, but it's really not manly is it.

So I get impaled on her spike and she asks if I am ok. I can't talk, my tongue is lost somewhere in Bermuda. My eyes are cold, and the room is very pretty and spinny. Plus, the dead giveaway is the Cold Eyes. My eyes get cold when I am going to drop. Jo is telling me to stay with her and the leech is working hard to JustGetTheDamnBloodAndGetTheFreakOut.

After she drains my gallon of blood, I sit, whoozy as hell, trying to relocate my tongue, and after a minute, she kicks me out. I survived in a manly fashion, but now feel sick and headachey.

Just for a doc to look at it and shrug.

Oh, and to rub salt in the wound - I had to starve for this test, no food after midnight (because I am gremlin thing) and nothing to drink after 3am. The Pathology lab is through the small cafe in the hospital.


Damn Kids: The Girl
Tam is well, truly and fully rooted into her Terrible Twos. Seriously, this child has done everything BUT murder, and even then, I wouldn't put it past her. She's good at hiding evidence.

For example. I get in last night, and where Jo is still The Hobble Queen, she had Tam and Jaysen go downstairs and get some cereal. I don't know why they wanted it after dinner, but hey, better than whatever else they wanted. Jaysen tells Jo that Tam spilt some cereal. Jo tells Jaysen to leave it for Sally.

Anyway, I get in, take two paces into the darkened hall and hear *crunch* from underfoot. Cereal. Through the hall, up three or four stairs, and covering the kitching and dining room. A virtually full box of cereal, scattered. Sally sits on the stairs looking down at me, and her expression says "Piss off, I ain't eating that"

Well what good are you then. So I crunch through to the kitchen, get the dustpan and brush, and crunch through to the hall, and sweep my way through the ground floor of the house. Golden Balls, how I hate thee.

Yes, Golden Balls, that is what they are. So the get caught by the brush and roll away.

Aside from cereal incidents, Tam also loves to play with toys. Yesterday after lunch, Jo went upstairs and tidied up Tams room. She had strewn stuff all over the shop, so Jo cleared it up. 7.30pm rolls around, and the kids go to bed. Both of them dick around at bedtime something chronic, but last night, Tam had bigger plans. She wanted to surpass herself...


That, dear reader, is Tamsyns room. But wait, there's more. Not content with covering 94% of her own bedroom in toys and junk, she moved up the food chain:


And that is Jaysens room. Full marks for being thorough. I can't get into either room without stomping on something.

And I'm not even going to detail her wanting to do everything by herself. I mean cooking, and carrying hot/sharp things and generally throwing an arsey strop fit if she's not allowed. Nor will I cover the highdive bombing run she performs on me in bed at random. Nor the stroppy kicking/pitching/scratching she performs occasionally.


And to make things even more interesting, this isn't actually everything. Not yet. I've not ranted about idiots online, idiots around me, nor the inlaws, nor the washing machine repossession, not even computers and technology or anything else that is just hacking me off. But I will... Oh yes...

Now if you will excuse me, I need to wash up in order to make myself a cup of tea and some toast.

Pack Up Yer Troubles

And so it came to pass, Dear Reader, that as of 5pm this afternoon, Jo and Tam are off housesitting till the weekend. "But Dan!" I hear you cry "Isn't Jaysen at school this week?" And yes, the little man is still at school, which means Me and The Boy will not be traipsing across Basildon twice a day. No no, Me and The Boy will be lazing here in our pants, drinking shandy and burping/farting till our day is content.

Jo and The Girl will be doing makeup, hair, nails and whatever else it is that girlies do, without causing Me and They Boy to hack up a lung or anything.

This means that one of us drawn the short straw, but I'm not sure who. The house here is chaos, which means I'll get the house sorted without "Outside Interference" while Jo has to look after random critters and a "sick" old fart which isn't me for once. Of course, it's not helped by the fact I keep telling Jo the old fart will probably pop-her-clogs while Jo is there.

No, I shouldn't laugh, but then I am an evil shit.


[-8]

Too Quiet

You know when your child is being quiet - too quiet - well, this is what they do when you're not looking...

Four Eyes

Jo is standing here telling me she's tired, having a bad-sad day and as if on cue Tam walks in like that!

I Actually Survived

Despite the best efforts of Gravity, Karma, and the generic abuse of the Laws of Physics, I actually survived to bed last night, but not before getting beaten senseless by Tam. Some nights she goes to sleep, other nights... weeeell not so much. At 10pm last night, she became Hyperactive Girl in the 21st Century, which also translates to "Kicking the Shit out of Daddy". I survived though, that's the important part.

Regardless of yesterdays goings on and mishaps, I was once again up at stupid o'clock. Cannot figure why I am waking up and getting up so early, but meh. This morning, the kitchen is spotless, most of the washing up is done, and the floors are completely glass free. And Timmah, the reason I use a Broom instead of a Hoover is because we have a hard floor, and while your crazy upside-down Aussie Hoovers might be battery powered, our thing just pings everything around downstairs. So downstairs is Broom+Dustpan/Brush, while the middle floor and the top floor are the Realm of the Vacuum Cleaner.

Currently, I am home alone and loving it. I don't often get time to myself, when I don't trip over maurading toddlers, crazy women, or action-man incarnate. I can make myself a coffee without getting a tea, and a juice, and another juice, and some toast, and some crisps, and some sweets... I just do "what I want" at "my own speed".

Which, for the moment, is currently "frag-all" and "slower than a squished snail".

The tornado will return later though, in the form of two very very grouchy females after suffering from Needles. Tam is having some Jabs, while Jo is getting more of her back coloured.

See, Tam SHOULD have had these Jabs a looong time ago, but we've been having some issues with our family doctor. Sure, he is a nice enough chap, but when I was 10, he was the family doctor, and back then, he was old. Also, as Gemma will agree, his wife ticks. But anyway. Over the last few years, some Mr Docs decision making has been, shall we say, iffy. Now it turns out he hadn't gotten around to booking or ordering Tamsyns injections, so she's something like eight months behind. So she'll be bags of cheery fun later.

Oh, and did I mention the doc is currently on leave for 18 months. "Out of Date practices" is the charge. Eighteen months is also the longest the British Medical Association can strike a doctor off for.

Jo will also be a big happy bag of laughs from her back work being done. When the tattoo was first done, it was two weeks of her being a wimp. When she had some of it coloured, it was three weeks of her being an even bigger wimp. So she's having more done today. Joy.

Like people that drink too much and get poorly, I will have no sympathy for her. After all, to restore the balance after my adventures yesterday, I should wash her back with vinegar and a brillo pad.

Anyway, the 30,000 hits mark is approaching, and so far I've been bribed, threatened and generally people want to claim that big 30k mark. I've had an offer from Tim Down Under (who I notice is posting as I post!) for a prize, which means it won't actually be as craptastic as I thought it would be. Unless he posts a dirty nappy. So, for the time being (once I've actually spoken to the Aussie!), the person that submits the 30k screenshot will get:

• - A sticky post for 7 days at the top of the blog, linking to their site
• - A sparkling review from Yours Truly of your blog with me saying only nice things
• - A prize from Tim (who, as my "sponsor" will get advertising!)
• - A permanent link to the image for the world to see

No, I know it's not a lot, but it's not like it's Xmas or anything. Not yet, anyway!

Update: Tim has graciously made his offer to the person that hits 30k!

"Alright Dan .. here we go. As a hobby we list a few collectables on eBay.

If you would like, Beachside Collectables will offer the 30000 visitor any item in the store to the value of $40 (unfortunately I will limit it at one item due to postage)"

And in other news - in three posts time, I will have hit 800 posts on here!

Lastly - Timmah is hugging his lurkers this week, so if you've ever been over there, go and say howdy! You know you want to!

Boring Post With Pee!

So, things are actually pretty quiet here of late, probably more to do with me and Jo both being poorly still, unable to shake this germ. The heating is down, the windows are open a bit, we're eating and drinking properly, but this germ wants to stay firmly rooted within us.

As Jo posted last night, Tam is getting better at figuring out when she needs to go. Usually she gets the feeling, strips off and then refuses to use the potty. Invariably, she will pee somewhere she shouldn't - the floor is the biggest victim, but the sofa has been hit in a friendly fire incident, as has Jo's computer chair which is highly amusing to me. She's hit mine too, but mine is a leather, pee-on-scrub-off deal, while Jo's is a nice absorbent sponge fabric & foam deal. It sucks the piss right up!

So yes, aside from germs and peeing, all has been well and truly dull. Heroes is still a great series and if you've not seen it, watch it, for heavens sake! We watched Constantine again last night. The first time we watched it was A) A crappy pirate copy, and B) The night we came home from hospital, so we didn't enjoy it, couldn't focus on it, and it was a bit too twisty for us shell-shocked sorts. After watching it again last night... Meh... I hear the comics/graphic novels are so much better. I actually managed to watch Finding Nemo for the first time since hospital too. The last time I watched it was the week before we lost Bethy, sitting in ICU of all places, keeping her entertained. I've looked at the box more and more of late thinking - knowing - Tam would enjoy it, and I needed to do it. So I did, and was fine. My mind jumped back a couple of times, but nothing serious.

Jo is a bit happier again now too, after the night of sobbing. I left her in bed till she wanted to get up (Which was designated by her handy dandy Tam-Alarm-Clock-System) and we pottered around tidying up, made something to eat and chilled out, and she's much perkier. Thank goodness.

All in all, everything is OK, aside from this bug!