Well here we are… 26, September 2012Posted by babychaos in General Wittering, Mum, not while you're eating.
Tags: children, General Wittering, Small Scale Disasters
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Yeh there’s a bit of a gap isn’t there, but this blog gets hundreds of hits a day so I thought I’d come back and see what you’re all reading. 10 songs, it seems.
McMini is now 4 years old. He has started school. Today he stuffed pasta in his ear and I had to take him to hospital. The pasta worked its way towards the surface while we were waiting and was removed by the nurse.
As we waited to go in we had this conversation.
McMini. “I won’t want to eat the pasta when it comes out. ”
BC. “No, I can imagine.”
McMini. “Yes, it would be covered in earwax and it would taste yucky.”
Anonymous woman with daughter with PE injury next to BC chimes in. “Very sensible, we all know how horrible earwax tastes.”
We all laughed.
It was almost upbeat in there, nearly all kids, nearly all injured in PE, arms, legs etc. Nearly all of them with parents who were just thankful it wasn’t any worse. It made it much easier to contain McMini and considering we were waiting to see a doctor for a couple of hours it was almost fun. Some git had practically wrenched the wing mirror off my car but it seems to have been designed for that as I was able to put it back. Quite glad as it only has 100 miles on the clock and it would be a pity to break it before I’ve even finished running it in.
When Mr BC arrived home, I told him what had happened – not the car, the other bit. He guffawed and said, “he’s definitely YOUR son.”
Cheeky. True, but still cheeky.
More antics of mini me 25, September 2010Posted by babychaos in General Wittering, Life and living, Mini Me, Mum.
Tags: children, General Wittering, motherhood
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Grand Prix qualifying today, wee man was having his ‘rest’ he doesn’t sleep but he does need some time on his own so I put him upstairs with books and he burbles away. Mr BC and I sat happily in front of the telly listening to the baby monitor.
God knows how but he’d managed to get a pot of sudocreme – that’s nappy cream to the non breeders – it was a huge catering sized vat.
Downstairs, Mr BC and I are listening as we watch, it’s about time to collect Mini Me but he’s very quiet, is he asleep? We listen? No… there is some noise but it’s furtive – none of the usual cheery singing. After 20 minutes or so we decide he is awake and, knowing how much he will love the qualifying he likes ‘fast cars’ I go up and get him.
The site that greets me is… interesting. Imagine a mechanic. The messiest mechanic you have ever seen, with oil on their forehead, arms, clothes and everything else around them. Got that? Right, now turn the black white. I know he’s been up to something the minute I walk in because an aura of glee almost knocks me over when I go into the room.
I open the curtains and he looks up at me smiling. There is sudocreme on his forehead, his dummy and he clutches a sock in one hand which is also white with sudocreme. His trousers are white, his shirt is white and he has removed an arm and one shoulder to wear it toga style.
“Ah,” I say, “I see you have some sudocreme.”
“I have put it on this tractor,” he holds the white greasy tractor up proudly, “and this tractor,” he holds up another one, “and my feet.”
“Mmm…” I say, “Why?” That’s thrown him. He looks nonplussed but continues to smile proudly and sweetly. “Is there any left?” I ask. He hands me the container and I peer in. “No.”
It is also all over his books, and Mr Tiger, his favourite cuddly, has a slightly greasy sheen.
“Did you…?” I point.
“He had a sore bottom.” He says. The laughter bubbles up, like John McEnroe, I canNOT be serious.
More antics of Mini-Me 12, September 2010Posted by babychaos in baby stuff, General Wittering, Life and living, Mini Me, Mom, Mum, toddlers.
Tags: children, General Wittering
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Wee man has taking to running round the house unaccompanied. This is OK if I listen out but when things go very quiet it’s time to go and investigate.
Today things went quiet but I was on the loo and well you know how it is I was trapped until I had finished. The unusually peaceful atmosphere was occasionally broken by the sound of footsteps overhead. Oh dear. Then silence, except for a gentle thump every now and again, a door banging quietly? Yes, sounded like it.
As soon as I was able I headed hot foot upstairs. Nothing, not a peep.
There had been an incursion into Mr BC’s office which needed to be put right and then, as I finished tidying up, I heard it again, a gentle thud. Hmm… had he got trapped in the spare room again? He can get in there but not always out.
I went into the hall.There was the bang again. I recognised it now, it was the spare bathroom or one of the cuboards – but I couldn’t remember which one.
“Where is he…?” I said to myself as I walked. As I reached the airing cupboard the door opened slowly and a small blonde boy with the biggest most seraphic smile I have ever seen peeped out.
“I have been hiding., he said proudly and pointed, “in there…”
“Mmm… you have, haven’t you?” Was all I could say.
He’d done all sorts of bad things, like going upstairs unattended, going into his father’s office and mussing up my neatly stacked towels but there was no mischief in it and anyway I was laughing too much to be able to tell him off.
Back downstairs he spent the morning running around with an orange balloon he’d been given to take home from a party. He is very keen on the balloon and keeps saying,
“Thank you Eleanor. Thank you for my balloon.” (It was Eleanor’s party) Then he hands it to me and says. “Muggie’s balloon.” That’s my cue to chase him round the house bashing him over the head with it while he guffaws with laughter. The game usually ends when he’s laughing too much to be able to run any more and trips over and hurts himself.
“I bang my knee.” He will say, standing on one leg and proffering the banged knee upwards. “Muggy kiss it better.”
I do as I am told.
And now I must sleep, Mini BC is getting up very early at the moment.
I’m talking ’bout things… 15, May 2010Posted by babychaos in baby stuff, General Wittering, Mini Me, Mom, Mum, not while you're eating, toddlers.
Tags: children, General Wittering, motherhood, toddler, writing
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I went car booting today, arrived home and mini-me runs into the garage with his daddy.
“Hello gorgeous!” I say.
“Hello Muggie!” He replies. Two words together. Yes, as of this morning we are doing phrases, with consistency I mean because phrases are what he did first (a two off “I dat” and “I go la” at 9 months then a one off “no mummy, I get this today” at 13 months or so which was the time he started saying the odd word).
His cognative skills are better too.
He also has a hissy fit if I…
- Shut a door without letting him do it for
- Flush the loo myself.
- Help myself to loo paper – I MUST allow him to remove it from the roll and hand it to me in tiny pieces or, if I’m lucky, sheet by sheet.
I’ve probably psychologically scarred him for life using a menstrual cup in his presence but very possibly slightly less than if I’d shut him out in the hall while I did it, judging by the yelling that goes on if I do.
Finally, I’ve published ANOTHER e-short which you can find here it’s also on Feedbooks if you prefer. Blurb below, enjoy.
Gerry wakes up in in a bath full of cold water in her interview suit and best shoes. How did she get there? How did she sleep and why is there nothing aluminium left in the flat? Her flatmate Jane wants a shower, her other flatmate, Nina, is looking for her saucepans but Gerry… she just wants answers. British English, a bit of light swearing U/PG
The Chaos Fairies Have Moved In 29, January 2010Posted by babychaos in General Wittering, Small Scale Disasters.
Tags: barking, General Wittering, how wrong I was, kids, life, Small Scale Disasters
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We decided to take junior out today. It’s ‘warmer’ than it has been so we optimistically headed off to the zoological gardens. We arrived and did very well for an hour or so until glove-spurning junior’s hands were so cold that he started to scream… it was also his lunch time so we headed for the café. It was freezing outside but we discovered that people eating in are not allowed to bring their own lunch (fair enough) even for children (not quite so fair if the child is very small). Still, since we’d packed Mr Small’s lunch it seemed pointless to buy one, especially one designed for older children which he was unlikely to eat.
It was too cold to eat at one of the outside tables and when junior ran into a corner, started to cry and refused to come out, we gave up and headed back to the car to feed him his lunch there. I had brought a free sample bottle of baby milk with me instead of the usual carton. The freebie had a screw top and I thought I could put the usual two thirds into his sippy cup and then put the lid on. Great I wouldn’t have to worry about trying to hold the milk container upright to stop it spilling all over the spouse-mobile, I thought. How wrong I was.
During the journey the screw-top proved to be leakier than a carton with one corner snipped off. Milk dribbled out and ran down the plush leather seat of the spouse-mobile. Since the spouse-mobile is sporty and more of a 2+2 than a 4 there was no room for my knees and so I was sitting with my legs apart. Naturally, this resulted in the milk collecting, unnoticed in a pool at my crotch.
We got out at the shops and I found I had a large wet patch exactly where the pee would be if I’d wet myself or – should I have a requirement for such things – overestimated the absorbency of my tena-lady. I managed to find a loo, remove my knickers (which left me feeling pleasantly draughty and a lot less soggy) and dry the worst of the milk off my naughty bits – not to mention the trousers.
After all that, the bloody shop was pretty much devoid of stock so we went home.
When we arrived home, I couldn’t find my keys in my bag. I searched the spouse-mobile, searched everywhere I’d been in the house. I decided I would have to ring the hotel where I’d been to the loo and get somebody to see if I’d left them there… or jump in the car and go back to the car park to see if I’d dropped them. Luckily before I went I decided to take one last look in my bag.
Yeh, where else would they have been? If I could have back half the time I’ve spent looking for my keys I would still be cash poor but oh so time rich.