Bra-vo

2010-10-10, 9:45 p.m.
How come I can�t find time to update more than every twelve days at the mo? What�s up with me? I�m working less hours and in a less stressful job than I was this time last year but I�m being such a slacker. Either that or (*ahem* the real reason), I can only write stuff when I feel properly cheerful and that doesn�t seem to be happening quite so much these days. Meh.

I don�t think it�s anything to do with the weather, as it�s been pleasantly autumnal and has meant that I can go out and take pictures like this one, which pleased me enormously

Photobucket

And it�s not because I haven�t done anything interesting, cos I jolly well have. I have even met up with barefootruby and bought him a beer for his birthday. I felt kind of bad that I didn�t invite him to MY birthday, which was only a couple of weeks ago but then I remembered the sort of dumbass things I got up to on my birthday and its probably just as well that he wasn�t there as he probably already thinks I�m a bit of a ninny, without inflicting �Didgeridoo Symphonies� on him
.
Photobucket

Oh, and I�ve also been on a Geography Field Trip to study coastal erosion, which sounds boring but was actually pretty good � especially as the reward for being in a minibus with a load of gobby, smelly teenagers was being able to look at stuff like this:

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

Photobucket

I had the shouty and disruptive ones in my group which had the potential to be really REALLY bad but they seemed to be quite cool with having me with them, possibly because I�m not a �proper� teacher which generally means I am kind of OK with the occasional bit of swearing (particularly when experiments just WON�T go right. I even said �buggeration� myself once or twice) and didn�t mind too much that they had pretty much eaten all of their packed lunches BEFORE the allotted �stop for lunch� time. It MAY have been a mistake to give the one with the homicidal tendencies a ranging pole to carry as it is, after all, just a bloody red and white stripy stake with a 5� metal spike on the end but no blood was spilled and I think he had fun pretending to kill stuff as we trudged up and down the beach. He even laughed a little bit when I said �I think it�s probably dead now� as he impaled a discarded milk flagon for the umpteenth time.

I also overheard these immortal words which made me smile lots on the inside (and a little bit on the outside, too). �No, I�m going to try and do it properly, cos Miss asked me to and Miss is alright and she�s managing to walk up all these bloody hills without moaning and she�s carrying most of the stuff and writing all this shit down for us even tho she�s probably, like, 35 or something. I can�t not do it now, can I? That would be crap.�

Tried to have a Family Movie Night last night but L came home really late and the children were arguing about who was going to sit on which sofa until my head was just about to explode. Instead of actually exploding (which would have been messy as we have woodchip in the TV room and its never easy to clean stuff off woodchip, especially not bits of skull and brain matter) I just swore quite loudly, shouted something about them all being selfish bastards, stormed out in a temper and refused to come back in. I told them they could watch the bloody film without me as they�d all clearly have a much better time and I was SO SORRY if I was inconVENiencing them by wanting to do something NICE for a change that ACtually involved ME as well (all that stuff said in that horrible sarcasm-heavy tone that only a truly pissed-off mum can muster). I also slammed a few doors for added dramatic effect and went into the sitting room to sulk calm down. Five minutes later, both girls were crying and I felt like an absolute bitch.

We ended up watching the film anyway, with me and Treac and Jooj cuddled up on one sofa and L stretched out in comfort on the other, occasionally saying in slightly shocked tones �are you SURE this film�s suitable for them to watch?�. It wasn�t, but we were too far in to stop and they cant UN-watch it now they�ve seen it. Mercifully most of the v bad stuff went over Treacle�s head (�to be honest mum, I was laughing cos you and Jooj were laughing, but I don�t actually know what you were laughing at and I didn�t like to ask you to explain it�) and Jooj is un-scarrable, so no real harm done. And No, I�m not telling you what we were watching as I�m pretty sure Social Services read my blog � mostly for Perfect Parenting tips, obviously, but you never can be sure�. � and would have my damaged offspring away before you could say �BAD mummie, bad Bad BAD mummy�.*

Because I had rashly promised weeks ago whilst drunk (and because I still had some residual guilt left over from last night), I took both girlies away into ChavVille today for Bra Shopping. Bra Shopping has capital letters because it is V important and is a Big Thing around here. It is mostly a Big Thing because, apropos of nothing at all, both girls had an enormous hormonal meltdown which was entirely bosom-based, within a five minute window of opportunity the other day. Both have some body-angst going on at the moment and both had had almost identical blubbering histrionics at opposite ends of the house resulting in me beetling back and forth between their bedrooms calming, soothing and generally smoothing over at an astonishing rate. Like Kofi Annan on a Heathrow shuttlebus, I was.

Trouble seems to be that they aren�t growing at a proportional rate for their age, nor at a uniform rate over their entire body. This means that one is furious that her sister has a fulsome rack while she is stuck with �an ironing board chest and a fat arse�. This of course is countered by her sister�s argument that �it isn�t my fault and all the boys at school are making fun of me and I wish I was just normal sized like the other girls�. The added kerosene on this particular bonfire of vanity is, of course, that it is the younger of the two who is breastically endowed whilst the one who IS actually allowed to go out with boys is the one of more�umm�slender proportions. And a bootilicious JLo butt.

So. I drove them both into town and then dumped Treacle in Primark accessories dept while me and Jooj went and filled our navy blue net of shame (well, fucking hell, none of the DECENT shops have those stupid things, do they? Just Primark and Claires and Matalan. Tragic that I know these things, boys and girls. Tragic.) with all manner of gel boosted, air-cushioned, structurally engineered bits of frippery. Actually, most of them were pretty much OK � I balked slightly at the fuchsia satin one but, hey, if �3 worth of frivolity is all it takes to make her feel more confident then it is a small price to pay.

There was also a bra of such heroic proportions that Jooj couldn�t do up her shirt once she�d got it on. Laughing, she stuck her head out of the dressing room and said, �I�m not getting this! It looks STUPID! I'd be embarrassed to wear this out. Id look fake and weird and too much like (insert name of girl from her class at school who is, indeed, fake and weird).�

Once we�d got her smiling and chirpy again it was time to work the same magic on Treacle. She has a slightly different criteria for underwear in that it must not EVEREVEREVER show through your clothes or otherwise bring any kind of attention WHATSOEVER to the fact that it is being worn. It must not have lace, bows, or other fripperies. Hmmmmmmm. Off to M@rks and Spenc3rs, methinks, where a pack of two of the plainest garments ever to be seen outside the Amish branch of Victoria�s Secrets were sneaked onto the counter (being seen BUYING a bra is nearly as cringe-making as actually having to WEAR one, apparently) and hastily bundled into a PLAIN bag brought along specifically for the purpose.

Trauma alleviated, both girls were then allowed a little recreational retailing time and Torchwood CDs and glittery bangles were purchased, along with a giant confetti cannon from the Pound shop which will come in handy for Sissy�s 50th birthday celebrations next weekend.

I won an enormous chicken in the meat draw at the club on Friday so I cooked it for dinner tonight, with all the usual gorgeous traditional English roast dinner accompaniments. Never make gravy whilst wearing white jeans. The resultant splatters will make you look a little bit like you had an unpleasant shit-based accident. I also made pineapple upside down cake for pud and all was right with the world for a moment.

Spare a thought or two for L�s dad, who is in the hospital, busy being very poorly indeed. When you are an 83 year old diabetic with Alzheimers, with your son and daughter feeding you a pureed roast dinner, being in hospital is generally a bit crap. Also �a bit crap� is the conversation L and Suze had with the doctors along the lines of �resuscitate or not resuscitate?�.

Oh, and while we�re on the subject of sound advice, in a general discussion with your kids about footwear, don�t branch off into a stupid song about Wellington Boots, particularly in a �comedy� voice. If you do, this will happen:

(the additional giggling is provided by Jooj. I don�t know why we were in the bathroom)

later
s
x

PS* it had a Chinese man in tight white trousers in it. And a baby.




back - forth