Sunday, 28 September 2014

"The (*ahem*) clucker will rue the day"

As anyone who knew me in my life "BK" (before kids) will attest, I was not adverse to peppering my rhetoric with a liberal smattering of expletives.  Clearly I've had to clamp a lid on this ruthlessly now I am living with a 3 year old parrot and a 9 month old sponge, and I am pleased to report that I am now 99% curse-free (I think a person should get special dispensation for muttering at fools when behind the wheel of a car).
This new order of things was pushed to the limits the other morning when BEFORE COFFEE (which is ironic because I don't indulge in caffeine) I had to deal with a flying pterodactyl (daddy long legs / crane fly) AND an eight-legged assassin (spider) lurking in D's bottom wipes.  Seriously.  Inside his packet of bottom wipes.
I utterly loathe any form of creepy crawly, and am determined not to pass on the same terror onto my kids, so you can imagine the scene - Muhammad Ali-style footwork while waving around a humane insect catcher (the kind where you take the gadget outside to release the offending creature) trying to snare the pterodactyl. In my PJs. Finally managed it (after falling over a highly amused F twice) only to drop the gadget and release the ruddy thing right there in the room.
As Withnail said in a similar context in the wonderful film "Withnail & I", I thought "the (insert word that rhymes with 'clucker') will rue the day.....!!" and I battered it with the humane catcher. That'll learn it.
I dealt with the spider by chucking the job lot out of the window into the back garden while F & D looked on agog.

Saturday, 27 September 2014

Disdain is sometimes the name of the game.

In our house, it's a running joke that Mike the Knight is a "massive wally" because he needs to rectify some kind of self-inflicted cock-up in every episode. This assertion is the cause of much mirth and occasionally, should the mood take her, some glaring from my 3 yr old daughter F. This morning was in the latter camp. I was told in no uncertain terms: "Mummy. Mike the Knight is not a massive wally. If you keep saying that, I'll tell my nursery teachers and they will tell you off". Clearly even 3yr olds are not above the occasional act of flagrant bribery.

In other news, I made a taggie for my 9 mth old son D this week. Give him any toy, and he just wants to run the tag through his fingers, hence why I hit Pinterest and found a tutorial ( to make him something I thought he might like. After a trip to the shop where F and I carefully chose fabric and ribbons followed by a couple of hours in front of the sewing machine, I lovingly gave the taggie to D, who promptly threw it over his shoulder and picked up a rattle instead. Ingrate!

It's all in the name.....

Well, after some time thinking about whether or not I have anything to share with the world that anyone would actually want to read, a friend of mine convinced me to have a bash at this blogging malarky.  Having finally made up my mind, I was stymied by deciding on a name that reflects what I'm most likely to be blogging about. 
I'm a stay-at-home mum with two lovely kids (a girl - "F" - aged 3, and a boy - "D" - aged 9 months), and a Kirstie Allsopp wannabe with a cheap sewing machine and designs above my station creatively speaking. 
So how to reflect that glorious chaos that comes from having two small people in the house, while at the same time not undermining or belittling my creative efforts?? The language snob in me (I'm a languages grad) wanted something alliterative, and after much daydreaming and doodling I came up with it: "Domestic Discombobulation".  I think that sums up our household perfectly, and I'm pretty pleased with myself :)
If you are reading this, thanks very much!  I'll be back in a couple of days (ok, probably in 30 mins) to post something about this week's craft project.  Watch this space!