Dressing for dinner

Oh how our standards have slipped...
this was only 3 years ago and these days I barely tie my bonnet.

In My Hood

When I was growing up I lived in the back streets of Bingley....
Actually, it was neither cool nor edgy nor cosmopolitan.
Though we did have Martin's Bargain Centre which sold Everything.

My walk from home into the "town centre" -
ie. Martin's Bargain Centre plus the grocers, chemist, Boots and supermarket -
plus all important Bus Stop to take me to Faraway Exciting Lands like Bradford or (if feeling particularly brave) Keighley.

On my walk Downtown on the Upper East Side of the back streets of Bingley (aka Dubb Lane), I would cross over the canal via the green bridge. Turn right and follow the road.

On the left was a disused building that I think was a bakery in a former lifetime, but boarded and derelict whenever I passed it.

The building was tall and stood alone.
Right at the Very Top...
on the only large, smooth piece of stone, someone (Bingley's Banksy?) had sprayed - graffitied...
in huge letters:

Spuddy Fat Crisp

I still wonder how.
And why?

And why do some things stick in my mind and others are stored so far away I can't reach them?
I sometimes wonder about things I've forgotten, but then, this made me smile then and it still makes me smile now.

So seeing as though being a grown-up is extremely tedious and not very rewarding at the moment;
It's the best I have to offer.

Spuddy Fat Crisp

Feel free to use it.

Pick of the pops

Cole: I like killers
Me: Pardon?
Cole: You know, they sing that song: are we humans or are we hamsters?

Aaah.... yes, me too.

Lost and Found

Funny old tea-time today.
Romany goes to ballet/tap on Tuesday - Cole and I do something of his choice...
(my Stupid Suggestion as he never chooses magazine reading/chardonnay drinking)
Tho he is very good company at colouring in which at least takes place sat down, but mainly we have to Move.
A Lot.

Last week it was football in the park - apprently I'm quite good.
What do you mean, he's a six year old boy and has no discretion?
I am clearly Bending It like Beckham.

Our Tuesday park also has a basketball hoop so we shoot some hoops -
I was goal shooter in netball 100 years ago, so I casually blow his mind with my goals...
Cole is Really Good at shooting hoops.
As he is abnormally large like his Dad
(No, really, not being heartless... he's huge.. just turned six, wears 8-9 clothes and size 3 shoe)
he has his Dad's natural height advantage - and a pretty good aim, which clearly comes from me.

As we got Ro changed at her dance class after school; her leotard was missing from her bag....
dum dum DUM....
How frustratingly cliched that motherhood Really Does involve an awful lot of "Put that straight back into your ballet bag, then we know where it is..." every Tuesday.
(Library book Thursday, spelling Tuesday, swimming Wednesday... blah blah blah.... how I had planned to inspire her and not nag....)
but I restrained from saying "I told you to blah de blah de blah..."
and then convinced her as she had her pink wrap-top and skirt - and her pants were cool groovy short style, it wouldn't matter she had no leotard on underneath, so off she went.

It was Cold and Windy.
So I told Cole we had to play inside - jedi-mind-tricked him with reminders of how the dust got in his eyes at the weekend in the wind (though we were not in fact anywhere near the building site that caused the dust... but hey, he's six, I'm not)
Went home, we played Wii Sports... he beat me a zillion times at Tennist - argue with Cole about the pronunciation cos I no longer care and only notice if someone calls it Tennis

Then we got a phone call from Ro's dance teacher saying she was upset.
This had never happened in the two years she's been going there.
We drove straight to pick her up early - the teacher told me she said she was crying as she was missing her Grandma Maxine.
Hmmmm...
on Mother's Day, I had been a bit sad, as was missing my Mum.
Ro saw me cry and I thought it best to be honest so I told her I still miss her.
Ro sadly never met my mum as I was only 12 when she died, but I talk about her lots.


I took Ro home from dance early, fed her her fave tea and then we had a cuddle and a chat.
Call it Mother's instinct but I gently said...
"And did you feel a bit silly and then sad cos you had lost your leotard and had to do it in your wrap and dance skirt?"
She immediately agreed....
"Yes! I couldn't raise my arms properly.... or tap dance properly"

I immediately felt that lovely mother's guilt....

I fell back on an old joke that always makes her smile even in her grumpiest-first-thing-in-the-morning-get Dressed Now" moments:
"Hey Ro... do you think anyone else in the world calls their knickers, "Knickington-knackington-noodles" like us?"

She laughed... and then made me say it again... and again...

Then I gently concluded:
"So, it was very sad today at dance because we miss Grandma Maxine? And a lot cos you felt a bit silly without your leotard?"
"Yes, my back kept showing and my knickington-knackington-noodles..."

"Anything else?"
"No, not really."

You see, it's sometimes a fine line what makes us feel upset.
She laughed out-loud when I told her I cried once when I spilt my corn-flakes - it's true. It was very sad.
I told her sometimes we can cry for lots of reasons - like when she was the angel in the christmas nativity play - or when Daddy had messed up the hire-car arrangements on arrival at Nice airport and we couldn't get our car (hold a grudge, moi?)

But I'm pretty sure, on this occasion, she cried cos her knickington-knackington-noodles were on show... no-one can do a good tap dance under those conditions - even with a living grandmother.
We are going to buy a new leotard this weekend.

These topics are not covered in parenting manuals - she's 8 now - and there will come a time, I'm sure when I can't guess which bits are really making her sad and it wont always be so easy to make her laugh.

I get the distinct feeling Cole will continue to respond pretty rapidly to some rice, chicken and peas or learning some new guitar chords or drum-playing.... so far, he's pretty goddamn clear, "Wow mum... you can play guitar. But you can stop now, I'm hungry."

Bottom's up

Ahem…. confession time
My name is Vanessa and I recently had an operation.
I had to stay in hospital for five days.
I had a Very Very Large Abscess on my derriere, my booty, my bottom, ok, my ass…
In the last six weeks I have shown my bottom to SO many people I began to get quite glib about it.
The stay in hospital was followed up with having my dressing changed three times a week by the nurses first at home then at local surgery – hmmm lovely.
I am now able to converse quite readily with my bum in the air whilst some poor nurse packs, cleans and describes my wound as “looking beautiful”…. she really did.
And I was grateful.

It was quite simply one of the strangest experiences of my life.
When I was first ordered to Hospital A&E by my GP, I waited two hours to be seen.
Not bad, could have been up to four hours wait.
My turn finally came, and my name was called.
Was it the kind, old, wise-looking doctor I had seen coming in and out? No.
Was it the pretty cool looking young hip nurse? No.
Was it the matronly nurse who looked like she’d seen it all during at least 700 years of A&E. No.
No. It was of course, a young, tall, dark and handsome Doctor with an unplaceable accent and a twinkle in his eye.
Takes me into a cubicle and asks what my problem is….
How much did I want to invent ingrowing toenail? Or suddenly…. is that tummy ache I feel?
Instead, I tried to maintain some cool, dignity and think I said, something like:
“Although, this is clearly not the look I have been aiming for this season, and it certainly isn’t feeling very glamorous…. but I have a large abscess on my bottom and my GP says to come straight here as I can no longer sit or walk without Muchos Pain.”
(medical term for handsome doctors with foreign accents)
I definitely saw a flicker of humour/empathy/HAHAHA cross his face but, bless him…. he put me out of my misery immediately by explaining:
“I won’t ask you to show me as the surgeon will make the operational decision so wait here while I go get her.”
I thanked him as he left the cubicle, when he poked his head back through the curtain and said,
“I won’t ask you to take a seat.”
How very intuitive that I would rather stand…

The operational guru in charge admitted me to the ward. Reggie was with me by this point and I handled it all really maturely by crying and saying I didn’t want to stay in hospital and wanted to go home.
It didn’t help that my bay had a resident Crazy Lady. And by that I mean the Crazy Lady types that are easy to spot as they throw their zimmer frames around and ask all the patients which shopping centre we were in. After a couple of days I became quite fond of her and was brave enough to chat but it was a tad intimidating on day one.
Anyway, I waited a couple of a days for my op. Torturing myself over the thought of a general anaesthetic. Last summer, I past the age my Mum was when she died. It’s been kind of a new era having outlived her.
I convinced myself that the irony would be, I would survive potential hereditary cancer this long and then die having an abscess removed from my bum.
I told the anaesthetist.
I told the Nurses
I told the pre-op people...
I cried all the way to theatre telling them how my mum had died and I didn’t want to….
Right before they put the mask over my face I even confessed to something I may or may not have done a thousand years ago at a rave, but could have caused an undetected heart problem??!!

When coming round in recovery… I thanked the nurses 4 thousand times…. I cuddled the lady who I think just came to change my water jug. I thanked the person in the lift, I thanked the nurse who gave me the morphine (wow…. good shit man)

I was SO happy to be on this planet.
I clearly learn my lessons in not the most traditional ways.

I am more than grateful to still be here, will do what I can to dodge the cancer that wiped out my mum. And I will try my best to enjoy every day – or at least remember a shit day is still an advantage.

And I am very grateful two months on, to sit down on Both Buttocks.

Mum's the word

Introducing Maxine Lawton - isn't she lovely?

Sadly, she left this planet when I was only 12 which is still Very Inconvenient and can still ponder endlessly about her.... especially now I am a Mum myself.

Today something so lovely happened.... I wrote about her to Culture Vulture as they were offering comedy or opera tickets to deserving mum's.

I will copy it below:

Dear Vanessa

Our heartstrings were tugged, pulled and twanged by the reasons why our Mums deserved a good old night out with flowers.

Although your reason "As my Mum died when I was 12, I have always hated Mother's Day. But since having little ones of my own I am making the very most of it now. I have also now got a mother-in-law who, is the most wonderful Grandma to my two little ones. This helps tremendously to have one amazing grandma for them even though mine isn't here. So I would love comedy and flowers for both of us!" was very worthy it did not win the comedy prize. However because it was a very close second we thought you may like to choose a night out at the newly opened Howard Assembly Room at Opera North, where there is a very eclectic programme of music and performance between now and the end of April.

Just drop an email to let us know what you and your Mum in Law would like to go see!

With lots of love (having a wee six month chicklet called Georgie has made us clucky, in fact she choose from the shortlist as we were stymied!)

The Culture Vulture

What a feeeling.....

Went to Theatre tonight to see Flashdance!
No, it wasn't Shakespeare.... nor did it challenge my mind with thought provoking issues or break any boundaries within performance art....
But it did, make me feel 17.
And wonder if I could get my hair permed?
And wonder if I could dance and spin and stretch and sing.... is it too late to become a dancer?
It also made me relieved for Noel out of Hearsay as he had a prominent role and did a very good New York accent. As did one of the Nolan sisters.
Oooh we've got it all going on in Leeds you know.

Thanks to Karen, Emma-Jane and Abi for organising, driving and being the kind of friends I don't yet know very well or see very often but always feel comfortable with, and they all have such goddamn style, make me laugh and always look forward to the next time I will see them.

Cole got 11 out of 11 in his maths test today. This is such an event that you have probably already heard about it on News at Ten.
Ro is being a bit grumpy - needs a couple of early nights. This morning on the way to school she told me the sound of her own breathing was annoying her..... and the sound of Cole and I laughing at that annoyed her even more.
I'm sure when she is Older and Completely In Charge, she will get someone in to do the breathing for her.

Anyway... am off... really.... am definitely not going to fiddle on t'interweb and drink more wine... cos that would be silly... promise... well not for long anyway.

Girl Geek Dinners

Am v excited....
just signed up to go to the Girl Geek Dinner in Leeds on Thursday.

Thanks Abby - one of The Bezziest mates, clevergirl and definite giddykipper

I love my work as part of the team on cainer.com and do have regular work days with the great astrologer himself (and yes, he really is that good and and wise and can even make tofu taste nice)
Sometimes I even work with other real humans on our team - but I also work Alone from Home A Lot.
I absolutely know I'm lucky and appreciate combining work and motherhood, but sometimes it's solitary when my online conversations are more frequent than real ones.... and I can definitely type as fast as I can think (but maybe that's nothing to show off about).

Anyway, I think a Girl Geek Dinners sounds right up my interwebsuperhighway.
Will let you know oh zillions of readers
Nessa

Ace genetic recipes

My son and his Dad

Cole embraces his West Indian culture and can tell you all about yams, hardo bread, sweet sugar dumplings and jerk chicken. And tells me he is exactly like his Dad.

He wrote on his letter to Father Christmas that he would like a Nintendo Wii, Mouse Trap, a book and a take away from Maureen's Caribbean Cafe in Chapletown.

Bonjour Croissants madame?

Last summer we had our Best Family Holiday yet.
One of the many tricky bits of parenthood is finding a holiday that suits all involved. I had travelled a lot in my life before parenthood but realised quite quickly how different it is with kids in tow. I wanted enough style, adventure and facilities to suit the traveller in me but couldn't quite stomach the "family package holiday" nor have enough time or bravery for a real adventure.
When Ro was just 2 years and Cole only a few months we even tried a second-mortgage priced Mark Warner holiday... the kids wouldn't go near the kids club and I had overwhelming yearnings to shout "poo, poo, wee, wee sick and blood" over the never-ending conversations about "little Hermione's tennis serve". Or how ski-ing is best learnt under the age of two.
We've had lots of lovely cottage in England experiences but last year went to Eurocamp in South of France.
It was like Woo Hooo! Hurrah! Eureka!!
OK, so we didn't actually stay in a tent but a mobile home so I could still blow dry my hair, find the loo in the middle of the night and keep out the mosquitoes.... but we all slotted into the laid back, very French but still family atmosphere.
The photo is the kids coming back from the morning croissant run.
On our campsite, you simply had to speak French. The croissants and bread were baked on the premises; Ro and Cole learnt how to ask at the counter on their own for "quatre croissants et quatre pain au chocolait s'il vous plait".
This photo is them returning with their supplies after going on their own for the first time.
They had bikes on the campsite was contained so totally safe for them to cycle off together and return with breakfast.

One morning Cole decided he wanted to do the breakfast run on his own. He'd had a week or so with his big sister queuing at the counter, saying the French phrase and coming up with the goods.
So, we let him go it alone.
Off he went on his bike.... he was only 5 years old but pretty sure about the whole thing.

On his return he was still trying to play it cool.....
"Er Mum, I couldn't quite remember what to say, so I got this instead..."
He placed on the table some Toilet Blue Loo freshener and a bottle of water.

What I would give to have been a fly on the wall in that little French shop.... to say we laughed hard is un petit understatement, thankfully Cole knew full-well he'd deviated a little from the shopping list and think he already knows I will still be mentioning it when he is 24.

By the way, another stroke of luck on that holiday was we ended up being asked to do a photo shoot for the Netherlands Eurocamp brochure.... and they just wrote to us offering a free week's holiday in payment for it. It was quite fun though harder than I thought. The scene was two families having a meal outside so we all sat round and I had to pretend to serve up food and drink which we got to eat at the end of the shoot.
Again, Cole does not react well to waiting for permission to eat, he just couldn't get his head round the fact that I was putting it on his plate then back in the dish and he was supposed to smile.
I had to do a lot of cajoling to get Cole to smile whilst putting spaghetti on his plate that he wasn't allowed to eat - then the director of the shoot had the cheek to tell me I was over-acting!!! Moi?! The cheek of it.... our family are used to having our Toilet Blue the minute it's served thank you.

Gladiators ready? Erm.... actually no.

I have learnt lots today.
I have learnt that I do not enjoy being in the same room as 23 six year old boys, high on gladiator games and party food.
I have learnt that it's more complicated than I thought to give the right food to the nut-allergy-kid and spot the right moment to give the inhaler to the asthmatic one.... (I learnt pretty quickly it's when they seem unable to breath very well)
I have learnt that they are not bothered about pass the parcel as it doesn't involve running/jumping/racing.
I have learnt that it is a very silly idea to provide them water pistols as a going home gift (my stance against party bags).... I got desperate in the last 10 minutes and gave them out early and then seriously wanted to gladiator body slam a few of them for aiming straight in my eye/hair.
I have learnt that Cole tends to spit quite a lot whilst blowing out candles.... no thanks, don't fancy the cake.
I have learnt that coming home from party with only a few children and some ace parents who bring vodka, wine and a handsome husband who makes amazing spicy chicken helps tremendously.
Although it is not sensible to go on trampoline with children after consuming vodka and spicy chicken.

One of my favourite moments was watching Cole join the end of a line of girls running through our house shouting about being excited.... Cole jumped up, joined the line, ran through the house with great enthusiasm shouting: "What are we excited about?!"
Who the hell knows babe?
Happy Birthday My Sweet Funny Gorgeous Boy Who Is Six

The cake I made, iced and packaged and sent to tesco

Can I serve vodka at kids parties?

Not to the children.... obviously.... unless they are Very Annoying.
I now have an 8 year old girl and a 6 year old boy.
Tomorrow, my boy Cole is having a Gladiator party at the local sports centre.
We rather enthusiastically invited many friends assuming some couldn't come - but they are All Coming.
And I am a tad concerned that "Gladiator Party" sounds a bit more exciting than it actually is. Scott Hall sports centre, last time I was there, was in possession of at least 4 triangle shaped foam objects, a tired looking spring board, a few grubby balls and a stroppy teenager referee....
I have told Cole that Wolf or Trojan or Cobra probably won't be there.... I am hoping to manipulate their six year old minds with the offer of sweets, marshmallows, crisps and some weird sour snake things....

I genuinely big-time, seriously love hanging out with my six year old boy. It's certainly more interesting than a lot of grown ups. Cole is a deep-thinker - and no I'm not biased.
He laughs really really loud at all of my jokes, which proves his high intelligence. He has excellent manners - after burping he can follow it with burping the words "excuse me".
Cole's "friend" Percully - you know, the type of friend no-one else can see/hear/speak to - sadly died whilst bass jumping on top of a mosque. Let that be a lesson to you all.