Don't forget to remember

At what age is it reasonable for children to remember some things for themselves?

Like, their PE kit on the right day or that they have homework to do - or in my daughter's case the more, dare I say, "trivial" last-minute fashion conundrums.

Clearly if she leaves the house in Those Skinny Jeans rather than the Other Skinny Jeans, people will point and stare and ridicule. News at Ten will headline the fact and Channel 4 will commission a documentary on us; The Family, Rubbish Dressers.

(My suggestion of the triangular-shaped-scarf being in the same league as the square-shaped one proved my lack of knowledge on these matters and she will no doubt have a blog on the subject very soon.)

Romany always remembers her Important Issues either as we are leaving the house or as I am switching out her lamp to say good-night.
I am at my least patient when trying to get us all out on time or indeed get kids to sleep - so last night gave her a bit of a lecture about being more organised - she is 8 now for goodness sake. (so what if I'm a bit older and not quite mastered it yet, am good enough to fool small children)

This morning while she is begging for her hair to be plaited, of course too late....
(Ro has Very Big Morning Hair which I'd already tamed) I piped up about "planning ahead".

She thought for a while then announced - her plan was "to get her hair plaited at the last minute."

Smarty pants... (of the fashionable variety of course...)

F You, F2

We are decorating the front room/or lounge/or reception room, depending on how posh you are.
Actually, Reggie is decorating - with my helpful advice, input and direction.

He is not always very appreciative of my vast wisdom/suggestions/questions.
He didn't praise my eagle-eye that spotted that the first two "drops" of the wallpaper were one shade - then the next "drop" was a different shade.
It was not a design feature.
It was Not Supposed To Look Like That.

I had come down from my office to do my stand-by-the-door-and-offer-praise-say-wow-a-lot-and-lear-at-his-ass-a-bit etc etc.... but all I could see was:

Two Different Shades of wallpaper.
Side by side.
Glaring at me from their pasted position on the wall.
Stuck there to taunt me and remind me that I'm a front room kind of a girl and may as well dig out that pot shire-horse that I used to own (moi? not really of course.... honest.... as if....) and display it on my stone hearth next to my ill-matched walls...

Reggie had worked til midnight the previous night so I stood and deliberated long and hard as to whether or not to mention it. I pondered for a at least 7 seconds before tactfully announcing:

"Shit, babe, they're two different colours. Shit. Oh Shit..." then adding, "and you've hung them so beautifully too...."

So, then we checked the batch numbers on the roll.
Yeah, yeah, yeah...
I do KNOW NOW that it's what you do when buying wallpaper.
I do KNOW NOW that I was the Only Person in the entire universe stupid enough to not check the batch numbers blah blah BLAH
Who is responsible for not telling me this type of stuff that everyone else knows?
I want to know.... there could be other stuff that I'm walking around unaware of.

Anyhow, we set off to try find some more in the same F2 batch.
(Funny how F2 starts to sound like F You)

To cut a long and fascinating story short - F2 doesn't exist anymore.
Not anywhere. In any of the stores in Leeds anyway

(No lie, in EVERY shop today, including supermarket checkout, no joke, shop-ladies said to Reg: "Oooh aren't you tall?" or "What did your Mum feed you?"
Or, to me, "Goodness, he's a biggun!" "Don't you get neck ache?"
Or, my personal favourite: "Do you play baseball?" when they actually mean basketball... that one actually does make me smile - or snort if I catch Reggie's eye, as he's always too polite to point it out to them and patiently explains he "used to".

Anyway, by this time I HATED the wallpaper. Never ever want to see that wallpaper again.

So, anyway, if you are still even reading this fascinating article....

We bought a New Wallpaper.
From a fancy la-di-da-type shop.
And it was half-price!
And it is much nicer than that old bitch of a pattern...
And all rolls are from the SAME litter.
No in-breeding in my reception room.

Growing up

How come one day I feel far too much like a grown-up and other days wonder if I will ever feel like a Real Grown Up.
I am pretty sure that I don't like the grown-up business full-time.
This last week away at the coast with Reg and the kids was the exact prescription I needed - and it barely involved pinot grio... though did a bit...
My recent experience of insomnia altered into that other condition, who's name I can't remember cos it's too tiring, but involves falling asleep a lot.

I had so much fresh air my lungs were cold turkeying for some traffic fumes.
I was such an outdoor-girl-type I found myself lingering outside establishments that sell walking clothing - even admiring the particular design of a fleecy zip up....
A FLEECY ZIP UP.

I even gave Reg one of the best presents he says he's ever received - and no, it wasn't that one....
it was a hiking stick.
I'm pretty certain it's appealing to his theatrical eccentricity - this is the man who designed, and had made, his very own blue plastic shirt.
And looks good in it. Honestly.
Being 6'6" and mixed race allows for all kinds of exceptions from rules.
Even our own son asked me, at the age of 4, why black people are so cool.
To which I answered: "Hey whaddya mean, I'm white and I'm cool? Aren't I? Just a bit then? I am!"
Clearly making my point.

At the coast we all went cycling! Cycling... stop laughing....
cycling like a proper outdoors type family.
We nodded at other passing cyclists and I wanted to laugh cos they didn't spot that I was only pretending to be a grown up with her family allowed out on bikes together...

And I enjoyed it and it made me feel about 12. And I did it one-handed and everything.

Only wore trainers or wellies for a whole week, didn't miss my shoe collection - though did stroke a pair on the stairs when we got home, just as I was passing... nothing too weird.

I spent the whole week in practically one pair of the 25 different style of jeans I took.
Cole spent each day changing into the least wet/stained/muddy pair of trousers in rotation.... he has spectacular talent for looking grubby even freshly laundered.

(Tho, he does have other talents... Ro and I discovered that if you put his front hair in a pony tail, with pink bobble, he looks like a - sorry stop reading if dedicated to PC correct literature - he looked like a rather pretty but rough girl... we called him "Our Sharon". He played "Our Sharon" for a whole morning, complete with "Our Sharon" conversations. Just so you know we not prejudiced, he can also play old man Yorkshire and of course his beloved Caribbean-man complete with dance routine.)

The sea-gulls in Staithes and Whitby are the hugest hardest toughest meanest you have ever seen in your life. Honestly, you would not mess with that foot long beak and DO NOT make eye-contact with that beady eye that leaves you transfixed.... before you know it, you're ignoring the signs telling you not to and throwing your fish and chips at them cos it's too scary to not.

Romany continues to prove her lack of fear and love of the "buzz".
At 8 years old it's manifesting in wanting to spin the tea-cup ride far faster than is necessary, nagging continually to take the Tour through the Dracula Museum
(I gave in, I nearly fainted)...
she waded up streams and rivers while Cole stood aside - he even sees the difference himself now and says in his best Yorkshire Old Man voice: "I'm just doing health and safety"
She managed to blag herself two free tokens to go on the playhouse funhouse twice and another go on the tea-cups... she found a crab so big it wouldn't fit in our bucket and managed to co-ordinate her outfit every day making full use of her leg-warmers that she bought for 50p with her own money.

Ro also lost a tooth whilst in Staithes, though to be honest the frisbee in the mouth helped it along its journey a bit - it had been wobbly for ages and spent an impressive final 24 hours sticking at right-angle out of her gum.

when it finally came out and we discussed current Tooth Fairy rates - apparently immune from the credit crunch - the little monkey then laughed her head off whilst confessing to the last time the Tooth Fairy visited...
Hmmmm.... I bloody knew it...

A few months ago I woke at 2am to go to the loo and realised I'd forgotten to do the Tooth Fairy thing...
so went into her room, blithered around trying to find the goddamn milk tooth under her pillow, then froze like a statue as she stirred in her sleep.
I remained crouched and still in the dark - reminding myself I was keeping her magical dream alive...
Something about the expression on her "sleeping" face made me suspicious at the time, but I could hardly question her... finally, I made the switch.

After her confession, I swore her to secrecy for Cole's benefit. Despite cole being freakishly big has no sign of any wobbly teeth and is the type to believe in the Tooth Fairy til he is 42. He has a very active imagination,
(he made it through the door of the Dracula Museum before falling apart and being carried out to the safety of outside...)

So, Monday morning is looming and I have made my list of things I need to tackle - strangely the boiler fairies didn't come whilst we were away and we still have no hot water/heat.
It's top of the list in the morning.

Amazingly, cainer.com survived without me - and I survived without my laptop for 7 whole days.
I am like some weird addict now reunited...
my Inbox is bursting at the seams and I'm looking forward to my routine of coding horoscopes, my cutting and pasting skills functioning in many languages and I can spot a birth data input error from 20 paces.

I missed our amazing, fantastic, readers who come each day and read Jonathan's scopes from all around the world - and write to us with such open-ness and honesty (sometimes a bit too honest... ok, ok... so very occasionally "technical" problems happen and the site is 10 minutes late updating... couldn't possibly be my mistake... must be mercury retrograde)

When I grow up I want to be like www.cainer.com

I heart Staithes

We back.

Splendid week away by the sea-side -
(even though it did include sliding inelegantly down several rocks, streams and landing in a waterfall. My bottom has never had such a dangerous year.)

Kids having sleepover at Grandmas this evening, Reg and I off out to watch Denapoli at Seven doing his thing.

This also means we get to sleep in tomorrow as no children or seagulls in/on our house.

Life feels good today - but as my friend Lorraine reliably informed me once, "don't worry, it will pass." Strangely comforting.

I don't sleep through the night anymore

I don't know why.
I used to be Very Good at sleeping all the way through.
Now it's 4.21am and I am wide awake.
It's quite boring these days being up at this time.
Not sure what I should be doing.

Wish I was the kind of person who cleaned when stressed/can't sleep.
My house would be immaculate. At least I would be tired but with a clean kitchen floor.

Instead I am the sort that writes songs or poetry that I think are really good and then read them in the morning and have to remind myself that I am not 17 and rubbish lyrics are not what is expected at my age.

I have a guitar with broken string so can't strum.
I have had sleepy tea and played 4 games of online backgammon - I'm trying not to do that as think I could become cyber backgammon loner geek....

Any suggestions?
Right now, would resort to any drug/tablet that my virtuous ideals usually avoid....
I have even searched for Cole's piriton for when his eczema gets bad but he must have had it all. How rude.
Four nurofen have not touched me.... I must be hardcore... rock and roll.

One last point - please leave me a comment if you visit - I feel a bit like a BillyBloggerNoMates. I know some people are reading.... go on, say hi.
It will make me feel dead popular and important and may cure my insomnia and then if you ever visit again you wont have to read this boring tripe.

I will leave you with the lyrics that are in my head to a song that I probably shouldn't write:
"I hold in my stomach, while you hold in your farts
Then we go ahead and break each others hearts."

Catchy huh?

Yes, I know, my time would be better spent cleaning....

More kipper than giddy

The last couple of weeks have been a tad trying.
My new dongle doesn't work on my laptop.
Our boiler has finally given up - no hot water or heating now.
My mobile phone only works when it feels like it and has attractive crack on front cos I dropped it whilst trying to get out of car with shopping/kids/school end of term easter "art projects"....

My tyre went flat - the car's tyre not my own spare.
(I was positively trim after doing the Nil By Mouth NHS diet recently.... it's based on being admitted for an emergency operation that they don't have time to do for three days. Works wonders)

Ermintrude the guinea pig mysteriously got behind the sofa without Either Child lifting her out of the cage.... incredible - and Ermintrude does not respond to her name and generally has very bad manners and is unhelpful in this type of crisis.

Reggie took some clothes to the dump which included a cardigan belonging to a friend I am just getting to know who only popped round for singing practice last week..... yet he didn't take all the clothes our children have grown out of, they remain in a pile in their room.
I am hoping to find similar cardigan for her - bit like when you're a kid and your goldfish dies and your mum buys another. It was black and white stripes so if you see one, let me know....

Took the children to see 3D film and fell asleep almost all the way through with my 3D glasses on, no idea whether it was good... kids liked it.
Found popcorn in my cleavage hours later when getting ready for bed. I showed Reg and think he just thought I was being practical - and asked was it sweet or salty? .... oh how things change after 10 years together.

Anyway, tomorrow we are all going to Staithes for a week by the sea-side.
We've been a few times and it always works it's magic.
Little cottage, next to beach, open fires, rock pools, no phone signal, fresh air.
Obviously it being England, will have to pack for all seasons but hoping it will lift my spirits and put the giddy back in the kipper.

Will post some pics when I return - oh no, forgot, my camera wont work either - yes, the one I spent a lot of money on 18 months ago...... breathe in... and breathe out....

I think inspired by my parenting skills this week Cole made up a joke:
What did the Mummy door say to the little door?
Shut It.

Wife wanted

I have realised what it is that I need in my life.
And it's a wife.
I can totally understand how fantabulous it would be to have one.

A gorgeous babe who does the shopping and cooks the food.
She would remember on what day which child goes where and with what.
She would re-cycle our household waste properly and NEVER sneakily stuff the odd leaflet in the other bin as the paperbox wouldn't be overspilling...

She would keep up the glass re-cycling so I don't ever have to face the reality that the wine bottles far out-number the other empties....
(am trying to name other glass items we re-cycle.... eerrrrm jam jars.... yes, that's what takes up all the goddamn room )

She would congratulate me on completing a week at work.
Listen sympathetically to how unfair it was that I was robbed of promotion/payrise/the last salad sandwich on granary with no mayo.

All these years I have been a feminist
(and yes, a feminist is allowed to own a pair of Jimmy Choos and be held together by Touche Eclait and Beauty Flash Balm)

But I see it all so clearly now.... the men were right all along.

I would like a wife too please, what a marvelous idea.

Marry me?
No?

God, you are so mean internetsuperwebhighway....
then at least leave me a comment - a wife would.