New Year, New You? .... No Hope.

New Year on the horizon .. the traditional time to make new resolutions but you can keep your striving to a thinner/ non-drinking/ non-smoking/ BETTER you to yourself, thank you very much.

I might *cough* enjoy a bit of a drink, and I smoke - not often and in the greenhouse, in a mask, while surrounded by yellow police tape OBVS -  AND I might wear a mini skirt at the unsuitable age of 47. And I probably (definitely) have cellulite.

(I sound like Liz McDonald. I am not Liz MacDonald).

But you know what? I DON'T CARE.

So, How Was It For You?....

Is it over yet? It should be over. It must be over.

Christmas. What is it for? Really?

I KNOW it's SUPPOSED (theoretically) to be a celebration of the birth of Christ but I'm not religious and the kids, to my unending pride, despite attending a CofE establishment of education, have a healthy disinterest and skepticism in all things religion-related.

Though they have, to a child, related specifically to one aspect of the Christmas story and that's the bit when some blokes in beards bring the infant boy child gold, frankincense and myrrh or, more importantly, presents. Santa of course is all too real, has a much more impressive beard and is far easier to believe in that an omnipotent being or a virgin birth (the Teen Twins ARE 16 after all). Santa brings presents, in sacks, ergo Christmas is mostly about presents? Well, to the children it is.

Sweet Sixteen ... The Birthday Party, Part 5

Last night was THE night ... THE night of the Biggest, Bestest 16th Birthday Party in the world EVER and it all worked out rather well. No, really. It did. *bewildered shake of the head*

The lead singer of Teen Twin One's band Rentacorpse MIGHT have twisted his knee about an hour before he was due on stage and teenagers MIGHT have run around shouting "Call an ambulance" before he discovered his knee wasn't actually really THAT twisted....

Various fathers MIGHT have been dragged from the bar to charge off into the night to fetch yet more wires when other wires failed to live up to their wire-ness and the same fathers MIGHT have had to hang around to lug the PA out when the band finished....

Sweet Sixteen ... The Birthday Party Saga Pt 4

TWO days to go. TWO days to The Biggest, The Best Birthday Party in the Whole World Ever ... and I've started mainlining the gin.

I keep asking for a confirmed guest list, but have yet to see one. So I have absolutely no idea how many teenagers (or THEM as I have come to call, er, them) are coming. Oh, and absolutely no idea how many to cater for or what to cater with. I have bought lots and lots and LOTS of crisps and some popcorn, though I've nothing to serve them in. I AM considering just randomly throwing handfuls onto the floor during quiet moments.

Entertaining the Old Folks

I think Teen Twin Two has discovered a little bit of the true spirit of Christmas, or at least discovered Christmas is not entirely about presents and chocolate and, um, more presents.

Yesterday, she was in a group from school that went to the local old folks' home to sing to the residents and bring a little festive cheer into their lives. She wasn't entirely looking forward to it, she's sung in choirs since junior school and they're quite big on dragging them out to seasonally entertain geriatrics, possibly on the basis that they can't run away. Old folks' homes, according to Teen Twin Two, smell of wee and cabbage. But mostly wee.

My Letter to Santa

Dear Mr Claus

This year I have been a VERY good mummy, I've not run down the street screaming AT ALL (yet) or threatened my children with social services or prison or boarding school or living at Grandma's more than ooh, *crosses fingers behind back* two or three times.

So for Christmas I would like, um, World Peace OBVIOUSLY but if you could just drop the first batch of it down my chimney before sorting out the rest of the world that would be good, and at least I'd be able to put the boxing ring away ... it takes up such a lot of space and I do hate wearing the referee's outfit.

And I'd like an extra three hours in a day please, hours that no-one else will be using that I can fill with things that I like to do like, for example, NOT cleaning up and NOT cooking and NOT ironing and definitely NO explaining long division AGAIN.

And some extra ears would be good, so I can prop them in a corner listening to the children while I have a proper conversation with a grown-up because for the past 16 years I haven't got through a full sentence without someone shouting "Muuuuuum" in the middle of it.

 And I'd like a Fridge Goblin, who squats in the bottle shelf, shouting "DON'T EAT THAT, IT'S FOR TEA" every time someone opens the fridge. And a Biscuit Tin Goblin that yells "DONT EAT ALL THE CHOCOLATE ONES" every time the lid is raised.

And I'd like a bottomless laundry basket which never, ever overflows EVEN at weekends. And I'd like an ever-lasting hamster. And eternal youth. And eternal optimism. And gin, lots of gin.

Oh. And an iPad.

Thank You
Love
Mummy Cool

P.S: Please don't land the reindeers on the roof, last year they made a right racket.

*waits*

The Spirit of Christmas

*FANFARE* 

I have FINISHED Christmas shopping *sags on sofa, sighs, reaches for gin* ..... well, probably, possibly, maybe but hopefully. 

Though at roughly 3am on Christmas Day morning when I'm STILL wrapping away (inbetween glugs and curses) I WILL remember something that I have forgotten to get.

Of course, it'll be the thing that Teen Twin Two asked for six months ago as the ONLY thing that she wanted for Christmas and has never, ever mentioned since - not even on the two sheets of A4 that she filled in and said was a Letter to Santa but was mostly just a list of demands. She WILL remember about 3pm on Christmas Day and then spend the rest of the festive season threatening to call Childline and accusing me of neglect. Ahh, traditions.

And Christmas is ALL about tradition, though not necessarily traditional traditions. WE don't get the tree until December 23rd mainly because; Official Excuse: The Twin's birthday is on the 22nd ("Let's get that out of the way first FFS") but REALLY because I think Christmas should stay where it belongs and not spread itself around too much *Bah humbug face.*

Traditionally we ALWAYS get a ridiculously expensive turkey from the same farm where, apart from feeding their birds diamonds and sapphires in a suite with a hot tub, they crack the same joke absolutely EVERY single year when you arrive to collect the over-pampered bird: "Uh oh, I can't seem to find your order," the Ruddy Faced Farmer joshes and Oh. How. We. Laugh. Every. Single. Year. *weak smile*

But at least it's not frozen, so the traditional getting up a 3am to run a huge bird under a hot tap is sadly lacking. What? Oh. Just my mum then ...

And traditionally the Christmas Eve carols are "Get to Bed," "Santa Won't Come If You're Not Asleep" and "Don't Come In" (falsetto). 

I, traditionally of course, wrap presents and IT DOESN'T MATTER if I start wrapping them in September, come Christmas Eve I will be up until the early hours of Christmas Day wrapping stuff ... the cat, the fridge, a passing pizza delivery man. It does NOT matter. Not until the Christmas tree looks like it's been planted on "Exciting Present Island" I CANNOT REST AND I WILL NOT REST *pulls cork out of bottle with teeth, slashes at sellotape with sabre*

And - traditionally - I deliver the Christmas stockings in the deepest, darkest depths of the middle of the night to the background music of  "Shh, Shh, Thump, Thump, Rustle, Bang and Bugger" and, traditionally, I will fall into bed approximately 33 and a half seconds before there's a huge squeal and a very loud clarion call of "Santa's been" (Note to self; bribe Teen Twin Two to STOP DOING THAT).

And, traditionally, just after I've finished Christmas shopping ALMOST .... Daughter3 has just asked for slippers for Christmas (I DO NOT HAVE SLIPPERS) .... I feel the warmth of the Christmas spirit.

 

Yeah, and this particular Christmas spirit is Gin *clinks glass* Cheers.

The Gallery; My Awesome Photo

This week I'm joining in with The Gallery for the first time and not just because there's a chance of winning your photograph on a huge canvas ... Oh no, not at all *looks a bit shifty.*

I'm a bit of a photo addict and take loads and loads, much to the irritation of the children whose posing abilities are stretched beyond boredom point on a regular basis, so it's been very hard choosing just one.

But this is it and it's not technically brilliant or clever, but it brings back some special memories AND they all look happy AT THE SAME TIME ... an almost impossible thing to capture on camera. It was taken on holiday a couple of years ago on Goathland train station and stars The Small Boy and his big twin sisters.

In fact, I like the photo so much that when we back this year... I took it again.

Go to Sticky Fingers The Gallery to see everybody else's entries ... I bet they're Awesome.

Sweet Sixteen - The Birthday Party Saga Pt 3

SIXTEEN days to go to THE biggest and best sixteenth birthday party EVER of the Teen Twins ... and I'm only on the one bottle of gin a day so far so it's going better than expected.

The invitations have gone out ... designed, printed and distributed by Teen Twin Two though it is a little unfortunate that she forgot to put on the date. Soooo further amended invitations are to be issued. This time we will include the date though we might just miss out the venue and see which of their fellow teens will get to the right place at the right time. I might even award a prize.

Silent Sunday

The Death of The Hamster

Last night the hamster died. Sorry for breaking the news so bluntly, but it did ...  Daughter3 found it all curled up, small and, well, dead in it's sleeping nest. And if it wasn't ACTUALLY dead at the time, it was breathing it's last or expelling distasteful gases, who can tell.

Not that it was really OUR hamster at all. The Small Boy found it at in the Spring, cowering between some inappropriately placed plant pots in the summer. "Mum, mum," he said, charging up, dragging me by the hand, "Come and look." And so I looked and you CANNOT leave a defenceless animal in the street when a five-year-old believes he's found a rare and unusual gift. Even if you try really, really hard.

We (I) tried to find it's original owner. Invented a mythical small child (possibly in a gingham pinny but definitely with rosy cheeks) who was sobbing over it's loss just in case it was reclaimed but no-one did claim it. After it had eaten it's way out of it's temporary home and started chewing a cable, we threw over £40 at Pets at Home for an excessively excitable cage with inbuilt tubes and wheels and a mezzanine floor.

Despite misgivings, it had moved in. The cat - who has for the past 16 years been a fantastic, loyal and very valid reason for never having any other small animal in the house - showed a disappointing acceptance of it's new housemate. A poll (fight) was held on what it should be called and The Small Boy, because he had rescued it, given the final say. And lo, the hamster was named Toast.

RIP Toast

It has mostly spent it's time trying to escape, which it did about three times a week, and chewing things, anything and everything. But it was loved, very loved - it and it's cage were regularly cleaned, it's water always topped up and it's food replenished and ALL by the children which, frankly, was astonishing.

But now Toast is - I'm sorry - toast.

The Small Boy was heartbroken for about three minutes. The ten-year-old, gulping down sobs, put on her brave face and within 45 minutes was asking for a new hamster " .... or a chinchilla." Teen Twin Two was stoically accepting after a bit of a wobbly lip. Unexpectedly, rock 'n' rebel Teen Twin One - 16 years old in about three weeks - is STILL sobbing.

We buried Toast, The Man and I, in the garden in a damp and not particularly solemn ceremony. The Small Boy and Daughter Three didn't attend because: "Muuuum, it's raining" and they watched through the window looking a bit sad but a lot drier than we were. Teen Twin Two didn't attend because she was doing her hair. Teen Twin One didn't attend because she was prostrate with grief across her bed.

The house is just a tiny bit quieter without constant rustling, the endless, annoying trundling of the wheel and the occasional dull thump of it falling from the monkey bars. And I am NOT googling chinchillas *googles chinchillas*.