Fleas, Bugs and Dementia!!

I am a self confessed fleamarketthriftshopbargainantiqueaholic. This morning, I was up at the crack as, thanks to the rugby yesterday, I had earned myself a morning at the largest Flea market in New England! I love that place, it sends shivers down my spine and I get really excited. I don't know quite what it is that I love so much about someone else's dirty crap and I am bloody awful at bartering for stuff too, but there you go. There is a certain thrill to it all bringing back this knackered old piece of history and recycling it.

So setting off at 7.15am (on a Sunday morning!) an hour later found me raking out some fantastic finds. Mr Beehive, I have to confess, is a very understanding husband as I bring back all sorts of weird, wonderful and down right filthy things into the house to turn into something else or do up. In the past I have made shelves from shutters and old planks, ornament shelves from old apple boxes, I have sanded down old chests, tables.....the list goes on. He was pretty lucky that this morning I didn't bring back the rusty old bath taps that I had my eye on, I was thinking about it though.

Look at the rack not the amount of wine!!!!!!

Having found the bottle crate above that I am turning into a spice rack for the kitchen I decided I needed 24 small reusable glass containers to keep all my spices in. So this afternoon to the delight of Master Beehive the younger and the Little Miss I trogged on out to the Swedish-place that-shall-not-be-named as I couldn't think of anywhere more inspiring that might stock exactly what I needed, and Master Beehive the younger was near on wetting himself with in trepidation that he might be afforded a half hour in the Smaland!

On my return home, I was greeted by this!!

Those little black dots you see all over the front of my white house are ladybirds!! There must be over a thousand right now. I am sure this is down to the weather warming up again to over 70. They have all, quite literally, come out of the woodwork, still there are worse things to be infested with, they will eat the fruit flies that are also getting hyper active at the moment. The only downfall is that when you accidentally tread on one, they make a delightful crunch and squirt yellow goo all over the floor and Master Beehive proceeds to jump manically around the kitchen squealing that the ladybird wee'd itself over and over (god help me!). I have cleaned up some stuff in my time, but Ladybird piddle takes the biscuit!

I asked Master Beehive the younger to help me remember the names of two realtor boards I had seen on the way home. He was really concerned that he might not live up to the task.

"You'll do fine!" I reassured him, "Just keep saying the two words in your head: Higgins Group and Prudential."

"Okay!" he said worriedly "Higgins group, Prudential, Higgins group, Prudential......."

When we arrived home, I asked him if he could remember the names of the two Realtors:

"Sure mummy!" he grinned "Higgins group and Dementia"

You and me both kiddo!

Heckling in 2D

Here's a question for you: Why do people shout at the telly when they are watching sport? What do they think it is going to achieve? Do they think that for that split second the guy on the pitch to whom they are directing their tactical criticisms will stop, look up and say:

"Sorry mate! I know I am a bit crap today, but the heat is unbearable, my wife washed my strip in a new washing powder so I have a dreadful chaffing going on and there is actually a really fit bird sat in the stand who keeps putting me off. But I agree with what you are saying I really should throw it to x in order to make that try, I know you are an armchair coach and you would have done it much better. Sorry!"

Do they hear us shout at House that he ought to do better with his diagnoses of patients and stop being such an arse, or yell at the guy in Pushing Daises that there is absolutely no way in real life he would be able to snog Anna Friel through plastic wrap without afflicting serious injuries. Perhaps, in fact, the contestants of American Idol or Dancing with the Stars would, truly, dance and sing much better, were they to be heckled and remonstrated from a sofa in Connecticut on a Saturday afternoon? *Okay, forget that, there is NO amount of heckling that would improve some of those reality shows!*

It is mind boggling.

It's the Rugby world cup final. Mr Beehive has ordered it from Cable to watch. He actually doesn't really watch much sport on TV, but he does love the Rugby. He has in fact, entrapped both Master Beehives to this pastime so they are all in fact down there yelling at the screen.

It sounds something like this:

"Come on! What ARE you doing???"


{{{{Pause}}}}}


"Yeah, what IS he doing?" (Master Beehive the elder in annoyed agreement)

"Yeah! ..........Can I have a drink?"






"Ooooohhhhh, NOOOOOOOOOO!"

{{{{Pause}}}}

"That SILLY man!"

"What is this game called again?"


Oh, and England lost ooops!

Go to the light.............

Do you remember that scene in Friends? Phoebe is at Carol and Susan's wedding and is possessed by the wife of an elderly man who cannot move to the other side as she has still got to "see it all". Phoebe takes it upon herself to try to find the one things this woman needed to see to finalize her life in limbo. As it turns out, it is in fact the wedding of Carol and Susan that seems to be it.

This morning I awoke.......prodding Mr Beehive I hissed, "Are we alone?" (poor bugger, thought his luck was in!). As it turns out, we were. No midnight visitors and no child to fall over asleep on the mattress beside me. I showered - for ten complete minutes, even enough time to remove the fuzz from my legs, still no visitors. Both Master Beehive the elder and younger came in with smiles on their faces to bid me a good morning and then proceeded to lay the table and prepare their own breakfasts with out beating seven shades of s**t out of each other. I actually fell over my mouth rather than the washing on the stairs when I came down to a peaceful kitchen.



Where in the hell was I? I have been having some rather odd dreams of late, so I was initially convinced that I actually was probably still asleep upstairs in some evil and vile trick of a dream! Or maybe I had passed into no man's land, dying in my sleep, and this was the one thing that I needed to see to "see it all"?



Giving the usual five minute warning, I was knocked over by all three (you did read that correctly) Beehives appropriately dressed, no Snow White or Samurai, most clothing on the correct way around and not inside out, minty fresh breath and combed hair. All three continued to the next level of my gratitude by putting on shoes and coats without fuss and proceeding to the car.......in fact I do declare I even heard an "after you...." - Nah! probably not!

Given that most mornings the five minute warning tends to take over fifteen to fully appreciate, we were all sat in the car in the drive in stunned silence at 8am wondering what to do next. Could we really drive to school this early? Perhaps a maths problem would be in order: If I had to drive 4 miles in half an hour, how slow did I need to go??? Did I need gas?? No!

Later on after drop off I went to get my hair done. We have a cocktail party tonight at school and I felt that the new Sporty Spice look from the 90's with the high scraped back ponytail, was a touch rough around the edges.

My hairdresser, Jennie, really should be named Midas. She can perform wonders and not only that, anyone who is prepared to let their fingers get remotely near my three day old, unwashed bar net, deserves a medal in my book! Anyway, as she left me with a stunning coiffure that even looked a shade or two lighter (perhaps I shouldn't be confessing that out loud!) I noticed that God, in his infinite wisdom had chosen that precise moment to press the "rain" button. I had had to park quite a way from the salon as they are having renovations carried out at the moment, so knew this was a disaster for the new Aniston wig!



"Do you have a hood?" Jennie asked



Shaking my head she disappeared to the back of the salon, returning with........... a nice plastic shower cap.



Weighing up my options: either a great poodle frizz from the rain and humidity, or a five minute walk through the town sporting the latest, hot of the catwalk, head gear.



Well, what can I say, I only hope that some poor old biddy was able to use that comedy moment to find their way to the other side having finally "seen it all"!

Slummyacky Parenting

What is it that classifies a smug mummy from a slack parent, a yummy mummy from a scummy mummy?

The growing trend it seems these days is that whether one knows or likes it or not, one fits into a particular breed of mother during ones parenting career.

So, this is my brief Internet quiz as to are you a Smug/Slack/Yummy or Scummy mummy:

1. When your child brings someone back for a play date, do you usually serve a snack of:

a. homemade vegan carrot muffins with a flax oil and beet smoothie?
b. Whatever you can find that isn't growing a blue fuzz, the dog hasn't licked and hasn't too much sugar!
c. High tea of scones and cucumber sandwiches that the housekeeper made.
d. Chips, Wotsits and gummy worms


2. When you take your children to school in the morning, are you:

a. Dressed ....almost! Awake..........far from it!
b. School? The nanny does it, I can't park the 4 X 4 in those silly spaces, besides, it clashes with my wax/pedicure/haircut/breakfast with the girls.
c. School? We Home-Ed.
d. School? What school? They have to go to school? Nah, can't be bothered.

3. In their spare time, your children like to:

a. Eat flour and make pasta pictures on the floor.
b. Knit yoghurt and learn Greek
c. Collect ASBOs
d. Go to swim classes, ballet, horse riding and fencing all in the same afternoon ....... with the nanny!

4. Your six year old son comes home with a grazed knee after a scuffle with a classmate do you:

a. Immediately go down the school and demand allowances due to his indigo-ism.
b. Ask if they punched the other kid's lights out, then get in the car to go round and torch the house of the classmate.
c. Glance at it briefly, give a kiss and pass a band aid.
d. Eugh, blood? I am so glad that the nanny was there to take care of it!!


5. Your favourite place to shop for your children is:

a. Wherever I can get a bargain.
b. Baby Prada of course!
c. Wherever I've not been caught nicking.
d. I never shop, unless it's fair trade, I make all our clothes.


So, what category do I fit into?

Well today I yelled at them again to leave the house - probably fishwifesque, putting me in the scummy mummy category AND.......I forgot to brush their hair until I got to school, I took my rather large 4 X 4 and parked it (not totally yummy mummy !) then went to have a pedicure (hanging head in shame!). After picking up Little Miss Beehive, I abandoned her to play outside on her own (slack parent!) climbing the tree whilst I made her lunch (more slack mummy because it was all I could do to find stuff that wasn't blue or slimy as the fridge STILL hadn't been fixed), swore at the repair centre who had failed to call me on my cell AND turned up in the morning, despite the appointment being scheduled for this afternoon. I didn't threaten to torch their home OR let the air out of their tyres, but I probably would have given a Scummy a run for her money (oh and my hair is delightfully greasy and pulled back off my face as I am getting it cut tomorrow! all that was missing was my tracksuit!). Finally after lunch the Little Miss showed her artistic skills AND cleaned and washed up her pots after she had finished (Smug mummy!). Dali it was NOT, there is no element of early genius in her paintings, in fact when she pointed me out in the middle, I had to REALLY squint to make out any kind of recognition! Oh and she is now watching some TV (but it is in Chinese, so does that exonerate me?) so I can write this. Shoot me now!

Must Try Harder!

I hate mornings! I think I may have mentioned it once or twice before. I don't know what it is with mornings that makes all my "positive parenting" comments and thoughts turn and flee henceforth into the woods!

Each morning, despite my crib sheets on the fridge and cheat sheets in the car, always turns into verbal meltdown with me begging, nagging, persuading and bribing all three Beehives to get themselves together and get into the car:

For example:

1. Give the ten minute warning: well, we do that AND the five, the three, the one and the thirty second.........I can still guarantee one or other won't be down. "Tell them" and I quote "the car leaves in 2 minutes with or without you"........okay, so the person that wrote that smart ass comment, tell me what you do at 2 Min's and 30 with a 5 year old still in the house wearing his pyjamas........leave???

2. There is always a breakfast calamity: spilt milk, spilt orange, the wrong cereal, the right cereal but finished, the wrong bowl, the wrong cup, the fact that x laid the table but didn't get y a glass or bowl or whatthefeckityfeckever!! I am always, pretty much without fail, on my hands and knees under the table with the dog at some point or other during breakfast. So, the guru suggests I allow THEM to clean up.......okay, if I then desire to stick to the kitchen floor for the next couple of days until I get around to washing it entirely, by then having walked nice sticky black footprints around the perimeter! I am from the old book: if you want a job doing.......

3. A bathroom calamity: naturally! Little Miss Beehive is a wonder at hanging on until the last possible second, normally then attempting to get herself down from the table bent in half and unable to actually operate her legs in a contrary motion to get herself to Mr Armitage Shanks! First change of the day!

4. A lost lunchbox (if I have been slack in my motherly duties the night before) or a mislaid reading book that was "definitely on my bed last night!" or a note that was signed and put into the appropriate school bag, only for it to then be extracted and put to an alternative use hence causing knuckle rapping from one or other of the Beehive's teachers! Organise the night before, encourage them to pack and prepare their own school bags and lunches. Technically in an ideal world, this works, however, my fridge has been out of operation since last Friday. Yumm!! What can I prepare for dinner? Slimy carrots, mouldy tomatoes and soggy cheese! If I leave their lunches in there overnight, they will send the DHA around to condemn me. Luckily the repair people have me down as an emergency - only not THAT much of an emergency and I am "on hold" until Thursday at the moment!!!!!!!

5. Give them selected choice when dressing, but allow for choice and independence. What happens then when, despite the discussion as to not dressing up in Snow White and Power Ranger costumes before school, your child
a. goes commando!
b. Wears his interpretation of a Samurai costume UNDER his school clothes and causes me to be collared by his teacher and presented with wooden pizza cutters and wooden toy sushi cutters in a small holster after school.
c. Wears cotton skirt, thick sweater, vest, wellies and sun hat all in the same day.
d. Insists that pyjamas are what they are going to wear today and thus reduces me to downright begging to get her to change into something more appropriate.
e. arrives on the front step when we are running late, whilst the car engine is running in 40 degree temps (Fahrenheit that is!) wearing ..........wait for it.............SHORTS!!!!!!!!!!!and THEN have the audacity to tell me that HE will get a tardy mark because I made him late! Pah!!!!!!!!

Did I say I HATE mornings???????????????????

4 States, 24 hours!

Last Saturday evening, sat on the computer reading the news on Yahoo, an article on the leaf forecast in New England caught my eye. We have have this very slowly diminishing list of things we must try to see or do before our time comes to an end over here, so.......two hours later and we were booked into a hotel in Vermont the following weekend. So Yah-Boo to those of you who think I am predictable and steadfast.......I can do spontaneous things (really!!!!)

We left on Saturday morning, driving up through Mass and then Vt, we came back through New Hampshire (Yes, it was disgusting, the whole touristy thing - just to say we did it!)

We were staying in a ski resort in Southern Vermont so the journey wasn't going to be too long and it was made easier (in the first instance!) by the acquisition of a story CD for the kids. By the third back to back rendition of the author droning on, (she is no storyteller however good a writer she may be!) we were ready to hunt her down and personally perform a total laryngectomy. Still, the colours of the trees were nearly good enough anaesthetic.

It was actually pretty amazing to see how green things still were in Massachusetts, yet by Vermont, only 30 miles further north, nearly 70% had turned. It must be so difficult as a visitor to actually capture the leaves at their utmost best. There must be a really fine line between the leaves all being the most colourful and then the trees actually losing them. There were already many bare patches on the mountains.

The rest of this blog entry will be pretty drivelly in words and I won't be able to do it justice, so as usual, I will let the pics do the talking.

Look at the size of these pumpkins?? Old Deerfield, Mass.

Flea market shopping in Vermont. Master Beehive looks sooooo happy to be there! Mind you, it was bitterly cold.

Some random farmhouse on Route 100, Vt, but I loved the contrast of colours in the house and that one old tree.

Back to Historic Deerfield, Mass.

This was the view from our window. The trees were pretty red, but at the time in the morning of the photo, the sky was also red too so the whole mountain blazed like the rocks in Sedona, Az.

In the words of Little Miss Beehive "Awww, pwitty"

That was Internet shopping at its best!!

Yours, all leafed out!

The Beehive

Pull up your stockings

Father Christmas is trying to get a head start this year.......or so I have been told!

This evening, after only 8 Christmasess of trying to get the right things, it has finally dawned on me that the loot list needs to be in production a little earlier than December 12th as FC has done all his bargain basement shopping by then. So tonight after dinner, they were instructed to sit and create a 10 item goody list.

1. Star wars figure - not just any specific - Padme?
2. A snorkel kit -In DECEMBER!
3. A drum kit - You have GOT to be kidding me!
4. A guitar - See above!
5. A Star wars figure - I see a theme running here! Unfortunately Master beehive the younger has been lent the latest"Star Wars Encyclopaedia" by his friend so now we have ALL the names of ALL the characters!
6. A doctor's kit - not just your bog standard bag, this has to come on a cart with wheels!
7. A gumball machine - yup, he tries THIS one every year!
8. A lazer tag game - this sounds fun!
9. Harry Potter characters - not the easy ones, but Ginny and other obscurities!
10. Candy - Yeah, problem is, FC is in league with the tooth fairy, so candy tends to get overlooked!


I on the other hand tried on the most cute and devine leather coat today - apparently (according to the sales rep??!!) the season's "must have" and the feel of "butter".

I was VERY smitten. It did look good - apart from the price tag but unfortunately when I suggested the idea to Mr Beehive, he reminded me that I had actually asked for a goat (from Oxfam)

He isn't buying it that he misheard goat for COAT!!!

Hmmmmmmmmmmm

My very own Caucus Race!

"It's been rather a surreal kind of a day" sighed Alice wearily as she settled down in the armchair.

"Firstly my day was shortened by two minutes. Before I went to bed last night I supped from a bottle of darkened ale that definitely said "DRINK ME" ! and when I awoke in the morning I was twice the size (or at least my sleeping partner had shrunk again!) and I found myself missing two minutes! The miscreant stole into my room in the early hours and altered the time on the pocket watch given to me by the white rabbit. I'm sure it was that darned bunny, determined I wasn't going to be late, or perhaps that tike of a boy, Master Beehive the elder, to whom time and order is of the essence? It is most perturbing when one is always looking for a 27 hour day, 2 minutes is highly necessary. Think what it could have been - time for a shower, time for breakfast, a cup of coffee, time to do four puzzles, dress three children, feed a dog, prepare lunch AND have an extra minute in bed!!!"

"So this was the start of the day. It then continued with a car driving into the pillar outside the building where I was at a meeting with a potential client. We were so engrossed in the discussion of birth and suchlike, we didn't hear or feel the impact! It made for a worrying couple of moments, but indeed I, my client, and more importantly my caffeinated beverage were safe."

"Later in the day, I was getting decidedly twitchy in the rabbit hole and decided to de-bunk. So the Hatter, the March Hare and the Dormouse were all bundled with buckets and spades, into the Moose Muncher for a trip to the beach.............in October. The weather was simply devine!"

"So really," concluded Alice, picking up her bottle of pills on the way to the door ;-))

"that was about it......oh except that the March Hare ate an apple for dinner..............I think it was probably the most stupidest day ever!!"

Donald where'sya troosers?

My mother is currently recovering from shock! Yesterday, whilst on her way to church (that really bears no relevence to the story.....), she was visually assaulted.

Her route to the church takes her through the allotments and past the local primary school. Whilst passing she was hailed by a small boy (apparently no older than Master Beehive the younger - and by all accounts - just as mischevious!). Politely he attracted her attention:

"Excuse me!"

Now my mother is never one to refuse the request of a miscreant young boy (having a handful of grandchildren of that nature!), particularly such a polite one, and dutifully stopped.

"Would you like to see this?"

Now for poetic license, I like to believe that at this point, she smiled sweetly, bent down and whispered "of course!"

To which he then pulled down his trousers!!

I am, now, rolling about on the floor in hysterics, having a child of my own who is only now getting over the "whopping the willy out phase!" but I think my mum was more shocked than I would have been and I thank heavens that it was her and not me whom he decided to delight. This way, he was only delicately reminded of his inappropriate display of tackle on strange biddies, I on the otherhand, may have reminded him that if he didn't keep things tucked away, the birds might confuse it for a worm and come down and eat it (insert *evil laugh)!!

God you have to love little boys!

Time to go and find my own little testotot who has been sent to his room for redecorating the lounge in packing peanuts (feck, if I were 5, I would do that too - what fun!) and is now reminding me that he is there by his gradually increasing wails, I wonder how long it would take before he would fall asleep there (insert second evil laugh*)???

To mother - no offence!

Come on baby, light my fire!

There are in fact, advantages, apart from the obvious of course, of having ones other half work for an alcohol company. This evening we decided to dig out from the depths of our cupboards, our fondu set. Very retro I know, but this thing has not been used since my college days and tonight felt like a great time to drag it out. Foolishly I assumed that we would have the necessary equipment to run the burner underneath the fondu, I mean, who doesn't have bottles of meths kicking around the house for occasions such as these? So this evening, after a careful controlled test, we are going to sit down, in our flares and listening to Abba of course, to our meal, gently cooking with the help from a bottle of Tanqueray 10 at 47% alcohol this one comes up trumps (wasn't that a game of the 70's too?) burning the best and the longest.

This week has proved particularly hellish what with Master Beehive the elder ending up being admitted to hospital last weekend with a nasty asthma attack (first one ever and pretty scary by all accounts, albeit, once the meds kicked in, he was very enthused about staying the night, watching tv from his bed and ordering what he wanted for breakfast!). Then from Monday through Thursday, Mr Beehive has been living it large in Vegas - apparently at a conference, but I suspect playing the slots with an elderly lady named Ethel May Lou from Bunkie!! During which time, my client went into labour.......this has called for all emergency childcare procedures to be put in place and has proved ultimately stressful. Still, calm has resumed............for some.


As to the rest of the troops, well, Master Beehive the younger, has discovered a passion for mint. The green plant variety!!!!!! Yes, you read that right. Tonight he has eaten a courgette muffin AND half my mint plant outside!! I don't want to assume too soon, but the novelty of eating "the toothpaste bush" is actually pushing him towards leaving the days of vegephobia behind him - hoorah!!

Little Miss Beehive, on the otherhand, has an itchy bum! I know this may be too much data for some of you (I would love to apologise, but.......we are all in this together you know!). Last night I offered to rub some cream on it for her to soothe the itch, only to be reminded:

"You can't mummy, I have this hole, it will get lost!"

Riiiiiiiiiiiiggggghhhht??!!!!!

And lastly, as an ode to us mothers everywhere who juggle life, kids, work, family and which alcohol burns the best:

http://www.anitarenfroe.com/video_clips_main.htm

Kick off your heels, pour yourself a glass of .........well, Tanqueray obviously, and enjoy! remember, tomorrow IS another day after all!

Bee-nanas in pyjamas

Weekends never go according to plan - and now I can say that with a smile on my face!

I am kind of trying to write this with wet hair, just out of my pyjamas, having had around 3 hours sleep and knowing that I have another night of that or less coming up very soon as I am on call, but my clients are very obligingly staying pregnant at the moment!

Yesterday morning, Master Beehive the elder started the day by not wanting to get up. He was a little short of breath and his legs felt wobbly. He sounded a little chesty, so I told him to stay in bed and we kept an eye on him. By around lunchtime, he had eaten a teaspoon of soup and brought it back and crawled away from the table refusing anything - very unlike him. He didn't have a temperature, but his chest was sounding more rattly and I didn't like the way it was heaving whilst he seemed to struggle to breathe. To cut a long story short, we ended up in the ER and then he was admitted overnight so that they could stabilize his oxygen levels which were pretty low.

He was psyched about staying in overnight. I think he had some vision of the Ritz Carlton, room service, tv in his bedroom, all the juice he could drink and..........apparently, the best bit........ you could order breakfast - this was evidence the cocktail of anti-inflamatory steroids and antibiotics (in case it was pneumonia again!) were working, as his mind was back on his tummy again!

So we are now home, it turns out this was an "asthmatic episode" triggered by perhaps an infection and possibly some "walking pneumonia" alongside, (what the heck defines"walking" pneumonia apart from the obvious I don't know, except I wonder how they classify the other forms? sitting pneumonia, sleeping pneumonia?? or perhaps it isn't a description of the patient's condition at all because Master Beehive should surely be diagnosed with talking pneumonia!)

We have the same nice cocktail of drugs to give him over the next four days - one of which turns him into a jibbering heeby jeeby who can't stop talking for about 3 hours solid and a couple of outpatient visits to help us manage the asthma on a daily basis.

Mr Beehive, expecting us back after ER, was requested to pack up and bring over, a bag for us for the night.........of course, I probably should have made a list. He brought most stuff, toothbrushes, IPod, Master Beehive's sleeping groupies and a book that he wants me to read lol! - but no clean underwear! So on discharge, both Master Beehive and I decided we would stay in our PJ's to go home and shower there, the better of two evils -forgetting, on my part, that I had promised him a treat from Toys R Us for being so brave over his blood tests and IV ................

So there I was......................

Being the dutiful mother............

in my pyjamas..................

in the toy store trying to act normally, and not like someone who had just escaped from the institution..................

with pink plaid PJ's and matching pink sneakers........

at 2 in the afternoon!

Oh well, I can tick THAT off my list now too!

Equity calling?????

It is no use. There are no amount of creams or gels or cow innards on the market that are going to help the bags under my eyes. The nightly goings on in the Beehive are starting to be nearly as active as the daytime ones.

Take last night for example: By midnight I am awoken by the chorus of coyotes who have decided to make our back yard the next venue for the Gilbert and Sullivan auditions ! Three times they were howling over that nice piece of venison (okay, this is where someone corrects me and tells me that they are like cats and howl when they are getting a piece of the action!). Of course, by now, my mind is well awake - BLING! Am I hot? Am I cold? Why is he snoring when I am awake? This way, that way, toss, turn........eventually I start to feel like I am falling.........falling........falling - PING! That was LMB! Although she is not talking, I am sure, in my subconscious I have heard her door open. I creep out to check and yes, lo' and behold, she is sat cross legged on the boundary between her door and the landing!!!!!

The story is that LMB has just moved into her own big bed!!!!! I know, scold away! She is nearly three, but we have been trying believe me. The interest has not been there. With this development however, has come a few hiccups, namely the visitation rights of LMB to our bed at any hour of the night. Only.........being LMB, she doesn't just crawl into our bed quietely and fall back asleep, she sits and stares from the periphary or sits, as per last night, just waiting , making no sound, rather like Damien in The Omen (not that I have actually seen this in full, but this is how I imagine him, to stand and just ..........watch!).

So, after a lot of coercing on my part and lots of resistance on hers, to get her back to her bed, she is, once again, in her favourite place............Daddy's warm spot and Daddy has been henceforth banished to the realms of pink sheets, butterflies, fairies and lots of stuffed bed partners.

But it doesn't stop there. LMB then has to get it all just........... "so"......This involves several rounds of forcing her feet with their sharp nails (note to self - cut the buggers!) under my body to keep them warm, intermittent slapping of my face to ensure I am still there! Scratching, pulling the covers off, sitting up and trying to climb on top of me. By all accounts by 3.30am I am exhausted, debating whether getting up to make a cup of tea will actually wake her (yup, NOW she falls asleep!) when finally the sandman comes.........and then it is 6.20 and I am awake again staring at two pairs of eyes very close up! aaaaaaaaaaagggggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!

Yesterday I went to a class night for Master Beehive the younger. Each year the school has an evening with a social and then information about the running and layout of each class. Of course with three of them, these all fall on different nights, different weeks etc and this year I managed to successfully get to 2 of the 3 (I totally forgot about Master Beehive the elder's classnight and found myself having to write a grovelly note to his teacher about my complete incompetence as a parent and begging her not to put a blot in my copybook just yet! Master Beehive, however, has still not let me forget!!).

Master Beehive the younger's classnight was always going to be the stickler of the three. For starters one of the dads in the class has a child with the same name as my own. Everytime he calls her name sharply in the corridor I find myself jumping, checking my shoes are tied and my coat is on the right way around, it doesn't help that his wife and Mr Beehive work for the same company so there is always that desire to talk shop and wine! (Oh life you treat me soooooo bad!) But this year..........we started with a song!!

For those of you who know me a little better than some, I am never one for sitting back in the karaoke or not taking the lead role in a few school or university musicals...........but put me in an ice breaker situation where I have to sing my way out..............The embarassment always takes a hold......I feel the need to crack a shitty joke or fart out loud and blame it on my neighbour! Somewhat like a 7 year old kid really.

So, my question is this - why do group events feel the need to do such ice breakers. Just stick to the name telling games - really - that is fine, we are all happy with that. If anyone feels the need for a rendition of Tit Willow from the Mikado - well, I hear that some Coyotes are looking for participants!!!!!!!

Yours warbly

The Beehive

The world according to..........

............... Little Miss Beehive is...............well, quite simple and agreeable really, but does consist of the need to put up a fight before hand. This may just be the rule of all two year old girls.

We are on our way out of the door to pick up the boys from school. As usual, we are rushing and so I am explaining to LMB that she needs to put on the boots she has chosen quickly (yes, don't even GO there as to the attire - summer sun dress, thick winter cardigan, short socks and long boots hmmmm - Vivienne Westwood can only be the closest comparison!) otherwise we might be late for them.

LMB: Are we going to be early for my boys?

Me: No, it is nearly 3.15 already, we will be late if we don't hurry.

LMB: No, we are early.

Me: We aren't, we are going to be a bit late.

LMB: NO! We are EARLY mammy

Me: We were early this morning, this afternoon, we are late.

LMB: Early!


Okay - so maybe THIS is the point I should have given up!


Me: Early means before the time, late means after.......

LMB: Are we early mammy?

Me: *sigh* - No, we are late!

Silence

LMB: Oh ! O-Tay mammy

Silence

It's like the Twighlight zone!

The difference between men and women part deux

Mr Beehive is always keen to remind me about the differences between male and females and the need of the male for the "direct question".

For example:

When a man says:

"Would you like a #11 tonight" (simmer!............... from the Chinese takeaway )He means exactly that.

When a woman asks:

"Would you like a #11 tonight?" She may mean -

a. Do you want Chinese - or would you prefer Indian - I actually am bored stiff of Chinese and will feign a headache if you don't give me the correct answer to the question that you actually don't know!

b. I do not want to cook - if you make me cook I will divorce you/run off with the mailman/tell your mother that yes you DO have a large todger, her profiteroles ARE awful and taste like armadillo dung and yes you are WELL aware she has had a nose job!

c. Will you feed the dog?

d. Would you like # 11 tonight?

This being the case, however, when Mr Beehive asked me this afternoon what I would like him to do with the old printer (**&^$%#^&???!!) as we couldn't freecycle it as it is a UK one, I said I didn't know.

If you think that he would realise by now that that does not mean " place the bugger right outside the bathroom door for said wife to fall over each time she goes to the bathroom" then you would be SOOOOOOOOOO wrong.


AAAAAGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!

Mind your T's and Pooh's

Today we have been to visit some relations on the Old Man's side, once, twice or three times removed, who only knows - or cares, however, they live on the banks of a lake and the mini Beehives are always fascinated by this. Not just for the usual appeal of small boys and large expanse of water that always tends to lead to nakedness and a real sense of no fear to throw themselves henceforth into the deep, but the fact that this lake is home to snapping turtles.

As we were discussing the idea of swimming with these little critters, Master Beehive, the elder started to drop his t's -very English and this hasn't been the first time since we got back.

After explaining to him that it is TurTle not Tur-ull, Master Beehive the younger piped up;

"No it isn't they are Turdles"

Well I guess he has a point on pronunciation over here - but feck me, the images right now are not exactly pretty..............

(Yeah - sorry, the best I could come up with a google search of "pooh swimming"!)

Odd socks

Toys, toys, toys.

Whenever I go to visit friends and family with kids, I am able to reassure myself that we don't have the world's largest toy mountain, that there are children who have as many and..........more! However, when I live beneath the bottom of it and birthdays and Christmas loom I once again find myself drowning.

As the boys get older, the toys get smaller, more indistinguishable, wrapped in more plastic when they arrive as gifts and generally require a PhD not only to open the fecker, but to put it together, install the intricate lithium size AAAAAAA batteries which, despite being round, are "assuredly" going to fit into the square hole! This is all before they have even taken them to pieces, in Master Beehive the younger's case, to find out how they work - then there are even more unrecognisable bits lying undiscovered to the naked eye, only to be found embedded in one's left heel when trying desperately to tip toe, without waking anyone, to the bathroom in the middle of the night.

All the Beehives, despite wonderful imaginations so they CAN play for hours when the mood takes, have an apptitude for starting one game and moving to the next like Tuesday nights at Speed dating! This means there is a trail of toys in their wake that I fall over and where pieces eventually get lost. I seem to spend my life searching for bits of a puzzle that one or other child wants to do, or fishing legos out of the U-bend or pirate pieces from the food mixer.

This morning I have already searched for a piece of a jigsaw to no avail, a story book on CD (I asked Master Beehive the younger to put this away the other day for his sister, admittedly he is as sick of Charlie and Ebola as I am, hence it can no longer be found anywhere), a doll and ALL her clothes - what a hussey! picked up all the superheros for the second time today, put away a plethora of building blocks after following a trail that started in LMB's bedroom and ended up in my office and removed Barbie from the rather X rated clinch of Action Man!

A few years ago, I decided to keep an "odd sock" box where all the lonely ones go for time out until they can be partnered up again (mind you, 'tis incredible how many of them remain lonely - but that's another tale!), now I am debating an odds and sods toy box, where all the bizarrely shaped pieces of toy that are left lying around, the odd puzzle pieces, the one doll shoe etc remain until claimed. This sounds great in theory, but I envisage ending up with my own division of UPS in boxes of unclaimed sad toy parts.

So I will just continue to trail around after the Beehives, referring to my book of "How To Identify The Crap Kids Have" to know where pieces go, putting things back in the right box, on the right shelf or doll.

Life's a Beach!

If Master Beehive, the younger, were an animal, he would be a seal.


Why?

They laze around all day, belch loudly, poop, and undoubtedly make jokes about it and only eat fish and meat!



Or perhaps that is just "man"?


But they are cute!



What would YOU be??

Curious incidents of The Beehives in the Night Time

I have these little kids, The Beehives,

They are small and very funny.

Bathtime is a vaguely amusing ritual in our house and Master Beehive the younger doesn't ever never fail to disappoint!

I say:

"I would like very much completely for you to stop being a Bang Head Dinosaur and put on your pyjamas."

He says:

"But I LIKE being a Bang Head Dinosaurs and I think my pants look really, perfectly, absolutely silly stuck on my head."

Master Beehive the Younger has a passion for being a bit of a clown!

So I say:

"You may take your pants off your head and wear them on your legs, then you can put on your vest, go upstairs and choose a book."

Master Beehive the Younger removes his pants from his head and puts them on his legs, then he wants a drink of milk.

But he has just had his teeth cleaned and mum would prefer him to have water.

"But I won't ever never drink water, I want milk, milk, MILK............ please? "

He is quite good at manners.

"Okay!" I say, "but then you must clean your teeth again okay?"

"Okay!" he says

"Mmmm, that's yummy" says Master Beehive the younger taking the longest time E V E R to drink a glass of milk. Finally he finishes and goes off to clean his teeth. After about ten minutes I realise that I haven't seen him for a while, so I go off to find him.

Master Beehive the younger is sitting under the table -

"Look! I am Indian Scumpton and this is my teepee - do you want to come into my tee pee? That's a funny word isn't it, tee PEE - get it? It is like Tee Poop!"

"Not really!" I say in a solemn voice

"Master Beehive, please come out from under the table and clean your teeth" I say, handing him his toothbrush.

He sits there, silently.

I ask again

"I'm not Master Beehive, I am Indian Scumpton!"

"Please Indian Scumpton or whatever your name is, will you come out and clean your teeth or I will not be able to read you a book tonight"

"Read me a book! A Book!" he says jumping up and banging his head on the underside of the table.

After I have nursed his head and wiped away his tears and surreptitiously cleaned his teeth each time he opens his mouth to howl, he gets down from my lap and proceeds to go upstairs to his bedroom.

He then returns

"You are coming to read me a book aren't you? You absolutely totally promise after you have read to my naughty little sister?"

"Yes" I say "Go and choose a book, stay in your room until I come through, do not pass go and do not collect $200".

As I sit down in Little Miss's bedroom, Master Beehive the younger pokes his head around the door with a pile of books.

"Which one do you think will be the best? Do you prefer this one on animals, or this one on Pirates?"

"I don't mind" I say "I just need you to stay in your room so I can finish here and come to you."

"Okay, then it will be the Pirate one"

"Great choice" I say

I settle down to continue reading.

"My vest is making my back itch" he has returned this time vest-less

"Okay," I say "Put it over there and I will cut out the label tomorrow, now go to bed"

I resume my place in the Charlie and Lola book that LMB has an obsession about, she has them all, including one on CD and likes to read them or hear them at least 5967 times per day.

"I'm cold!" Back again

"Well find another vest or a t-shirt without a label, or wear the label at the front"

"Okay!" he says

10 seconds later he is back

"Are you coming now?"

"If you just let me finish this book and sing your naughty little sister a song, I will be with you."

"Promise?"

"I promise" since when do I ever never NOT do this same routine ever single night without fail?

Finally I finish the book, sing a song, tuck up and kiss LMB goodnight and go through to Master Beehive the younger.

He is fast asleep!

Feeding time at the Zoo

I despise mealtimes. Harsh, but true.

I spend all week trying to think of inventive menus for the week, walk my arse off round supermarkets buying the weeks groceries only to get home to find I have forgotten the rare enzyme free, sugar free, salt free thickener that a particular recipe HAS to have, ensure all dietary issues are covered - no lactose, little wheat, no artificial colours or flavours, use all my cunning to find ways to disguise broccoli as beef and carrots as chicken and slave over a hot stove during the worst time of the day - the witching hour! THEN I have to sit and watch them eat it!

Today I cooked bangers and mash, which, for those British lovers of the boggo cuisine, goes with Gravy. Often when cooking the evening meal I am supervising homework and answering questions right left and centre without really (*insert shameful emoticon) paying much attention to anything other than not burning the bacon (or the dog for that matter whose favourite game is "pretend to be a mat" right under the stove or the sink). Hence the fact when questions such as

"Muuuuum, can we have HP sauce instead of gravy please?" are asked, I tend to hear

"Muuuuuuuum .......get out from under my feet dog...... HP ooops, the spuds are boiling over.......LMB please don't choose to paint tippex on the table...... please ?" instead.

Hence the fact that I got it wrong!

I was then subjected to at least 5 minutes of Master Beehive the elder remonstrating that I always forget things.......(well yuhuh, when you ask me in the middle of the scientifics of banger burning) and how gravy doesn't go with sausages........**** this is where I stick my fingers in my ears and rather loudly sing "la, la, la, I can't hear you!" at the top of my voice, Master Beehive the younger showing me that he really CAN vomit back sweetcorn, despite my masterly plan of hiding it under the mashed potato "I told you it made me sick mummy!" and Little Miss Beehive shovelling it in her mouth as fast as she can, whilst holding herself in the nether regions, juggling up and down in her chair and simulaneously spraying most if it, in the masticated form, over me and the boys by struggling to tell me that "I don't actually really need to pee pee mummy, but my belly hurts!"

This week I decided to organise my freezer a little better. I freeze extras so that we always have SOMEthing in reserve should we be late back from after school activities, I burn the casserole, or I go on strike (I do threaten this a lot!). Over the course of the year though, I have become somewhat slovenly in my efforts to label the stuff so that it can actually be identified at a later date. Admittedly I didn't have things dating back to 1976, but that probably wouldn't have stood up in a court of law. I am really not sure what I had/have. It is amazing how many UFO (unidentifiable food objects) actually look the same when frozen. They may have started life as a rather nice chilli, casserole, tikka masala, bolognese etc, but when allowed time in the same deep freeze they all end up looking like each other, I wonder if this is a form of Deep Freeze cloning that goes on or perhaps, it's like dogs who seem to take on the form of their owners........who knows!

It is nearly all now labelled apart from a few UFO that look like a cross between a year old whitening dog turd and a breeze block that I may save for a REALLY desperate day. That said, it does make for honesty when asked "what's for tea?" I can say, in all seriousness, "Wait and See". It truly IS a mystery until defrosted (and sometimes beyond!)

Ah well I guess Mr Beehive will be home soon and I bet he'll be asking what's for dinner -Hmmmmm........ I wonder how I could pass off the frozen dog turd??? The picture at the top is food for thought................

Yours from the depths of a frozen abyss

The Beehive

Bibbidi Bobbidi Return of the Jedi!

Once upon a time in Far Far Away Land there lived a little boy, let's call him Bill.

Bill had a very active imagination, which was lucky because he lived in Far Far Away Land!

One day Bill had a friend over to his castle, let's call his friend Phil. Bill summoned his coachdriver and ordered her (well all males are females really in pantomime, otherwise the tights look SO wrong boys!!!) to pick up him and Phil and bring them back for lashings and lashings of snacks and frivolity (only he didn't really use those words because he can't quite pronouce the latter just yet!)

So on that wet rainy day in September, the coach driver took her coach and horses and sighed a huge sigh of relief that today and today only, she would be relieved of her job of having to entertain Bill as he and Phil could play together, and drove to Montessorianaland to pick up Bill and Phil who had spent the morning at this enchanted land learning how to tie their shoelaces to each other!

On the way back, Phil and Bill began to chat about the day's events.

Provoked slightly by the coachdriver's interest in their second morning back after the ever so long summer holiday spent with a shrivelling witch who started the 13 weeks as a princess but due to some evil reverse of fortune and whhhhhaaaaay too much time breaking up spats between Bill, Jill and Till was kissed by a frog and turned into a witch, they began to disagree as to whom had the longest timeout that morning (great start boys!!!)

Bill turned the conversation toward Star Wars, a film series about a group of 1970's yuppies ( a princess, a handsome stud who is really only 10 but playing a 23 year old and the American version of the "cockney wanker"! Oh and a couple of battery operated, all singing all talking Curry's own Brand Cyborgs) saving a planet from being blown up by the Plastic Helmet wearing Man in Black (Dark Vader - according to Bill!) which they failed to do, but after finding a planet full of teddy bears, drinking lots and learning that they were all long lost relatives thirty five times removed so snogging wasn't really incest, it was all okay!

Anyway, back to the plot:

Bill: Isn't it cool when Dark Vader goes up the mountain and then WAAAHHHHHAA (insert high volume scream at this point to which the coachdriver nearly bucked in her seat and issued a sharp hiss of reprimand!)

Bill : Isn't it cool when Dark Vader goes up the mountain and then WAAHHHHAAA

Coachdriver - Bill! Volume Please! You're giving the pumpkin blight!

Bill: Isn't it cool when Dark Vader goes up the mountain and then WAAAHHHHAA!

The Coachdriver at this point opened up a pot of headache pills and swigged a couple down with her bottle of grog stowed away under the saddle for times like this.

Phil: Yeah - in the video game.......(pauses!) ..........you have the video game right?

Bill: Yeah (indignantly)

Coachdriver: Yuh huh!!!!!!????????

At this point it becomes apparent to you dear reader, that the coachdriver is more than just a simple driver to Bill and is infact his personal servant, PA, cook, cleaner, teacher, nose and bum wiper and master of inventories, in particular unbelievably small pieces of plastic playmobil that hide themselves away in every orrifice known to man!! Therefore she is well aware that Bill is once again talking out of his hat.

Phil: In the video game...........yadda yadda yadda .................

This is interspersed with Bill's enthusiastic interjections such as:

Woah!!! What the...???!! etc etc ad infinitum at 5900 decibels.

Later that afternoon after having made 65 snacks, poured copious drinks, taken numerous small beings to the loo, turned on CD players, turned off CD players, scrabbled around looking for immeasurably small items of games, broken up screaming, yelling and stopped the throwing of toys around in complete over excitement, and wiped tears, the coachdriver realised she had made a HUGE mistake when she hadn't taken up Cindy's offer to have her godmother turn her into a mouse.

Only 2 more sleeps!

My sister sent me a photo this week of my niece, beautifully kempt and neatly presented in her brand, spanking new school uniform. She starts in reception. Both her and my sister were so nervous before the big day.......oh how I remember it well! I haven't ever had the full uniform thang to think about, but I do remember the hazy and distant past back in 2004 when I had my son dutifully prepared for his first day at school, hair cut short and neat, clothes clean and pressed, face clean and beaming, shoes shined (okay, so that's a lie, on the right feet though with matching socks!!). I joined the nervous groups of new mums hanging around tentatively in the shadows just in case their small would break down in floods of tears and realise that they didn't ever want to go to school but wanted to stay home with mummy FOREVER !!
That little image of my tiny boy with his little school sweatshirt standing so small with a huge grin about his new status of "schoolboy" sticks in my head so clearly!


This week has been somewhat foggy. After arriving back in the US on Tuesday relatively late, we have all been struggling with early, early wake ups thanks to the time difference (body clocks are not quite back in sync) and a military style phase in to the start of the school year. This phase in is, in the minds of all the parent participants, purely designed with our kids in mind - not us!!
My week, therefore, looked something like this:

Wed - LMB in from 9 until 10am
Thurs - LMB in from 9 - 11, MB the elder in from 9 - 12
Fri - LMB in from 9 - 11.45, MB the elder from 9 - 1
Mon - LMB is not in AT ALL! MB the younger 9 - 12, MB the elder 9 - 3.15
Tues - LMB 10 - yes, that's righ 10 - 12, MB the younger 9 - 1 MB the elder 9 - 3.15 - so that'll be a 9 am start, an hour hang around, a quick manic workout at the gym before returning for a 12 pm pick up......an hour hang around then a 1pm pick up........oh and then if I remember him from all the frenzy - a 3.15pm followed by a piano lesson - breathe deeply!

I often wonder how on earth I would ever manage to get back to a regular fulltime job. I did think about it this year, but unfortunately the job I looked at was at a different school to the children, therefore on a different holiday schedule, that alongside swimming lessons, piano lessons, tae-kwon-do and ballet, not to mention cooking the meals, laundry and sorting and running the house......I think I need a PA to run me! So for now I am sticking to the title of Home Goddess (which I think quite suits me lol!) and Taxi service.

The garden has survived our trip, thanks to my dear friend and Mr Beehive's automatic watering contraptions. I wouldn't quite say we have a glut of tomatoes yet, although the potential is there, we may well have a glut of green tomato chutney if they don't start to turn soon. We have now had our first crop of Okra and squash, plenty of herbs and the melons are all there, if not a little on the small side. I have currently hung them in stockings off the ground after reading that this is supposed to help them stay round and not rot........watch this space! In my new raised beds I have just planted some lettuce and cabbages and am awaiting a delivery of garlic bulbs and seeds for bracchias. I think this year will be an experiment with the later crops. Apparently things I read say that I can plant in Sept and the weather will be good enough here to grow until late Nov. Next year we are planning big stuff! We intend to have a potato bin and are going to buy a greenhouse so that we can get stuff off earlier and hopefully have a more successful harvest with a continuous flow of stuff from July through the end of the fall.

So fast forward to Academic year 2007/8:

I am going to stick that little picture on my dashboard to remind me of Summer 2007, our jaunts to the beach, to the Cape, to the UK and with our friends and family, as my rugrats with their long shaggy hair, sleepy expressions, odd socks and marmite around their mouths (how COULD I have missed that!), already slightly late but with an attitude of nonchalance (me that is, not them!) climb into the Schoolmobile ready for another year and mama settles down to finally find her mojo once again!

There were five in the bed and the Mummy said.........

Today the short fuse is alight!!!!!!! Humpty and Hamble are at loggerheads, she apparently wants to fraternise with the competition on Noggin and Humpty isn't having any of it!

"You can't dance to the Lazy Town CD anymore, it's boring and you can't dance cos you is plastic and wearing Laura Ashley and you don't have pink HAIR!!"

" You can't come to England and you are a big fat EGG, wear stupid trousers and have a cotton ball NOSE!"

"WAAAHHHHH"

"I don't want to play All the Kings Horses anymore it's not a fun game, let's play something else"

"Okay - let's bounce on the beds"

{{{{{{{{{{{{BANG}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}

"WAAAAAHHHHHH......... Hamble's head fell off!"

"He's not letting me have the rope."

"I need the rope to climb the fort"

"I don't WANT you in the fort, you cloth muppet!"

"Get off the fort you eyes-won't-shut-made-in-china-probably-lead-painted-Plastic Head "

AAAGGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I thought it was too good to be true after my near perfect parental management of five yesterday.

Deviation tactics are needed. Time to find a telephone box to change in.........

"Let's all make musical instruments????" said Mary Jane from CBeebies

"YAAAAYYYYY!!" Five screaming toys all head directly towards me at fast speed.

Okay, so shit, should have organised this before I called them in, after all, I didn't get my Blue Peter Badge and manage to squeeze into those tight red pants with a nauseous grin for nothing.

Now I need to set up paints, rice, pasta, lentils, bulgar wheat and empty water bottles without Jemima and little Ted painting each other, Humpty and Hamble conducting an experiment to see if Humpty's eye is glued or sewn on and Big Ted hating my guts forever because I have made him give up one empty water bottle from his prized collection just so I have five!!

Well - that wasn't so bad - all Playschool toys are being pretty patient and gracious with my lack of Tikkabilla skills !

Improvise, improvise, we need funnels to pour rice into the containers as thus far, it is all over the floor - paper towels - yay - I think I still have it!

Five minutes have passed in relative P & Q - wahay for art and craft.

"Finished!"

"Me too!"

"Done!"

"Get Down"

"Where shall I put it?'

Did I say five minutes had passed?

Back to the drawing board..............quite literally!

All toys are washed or sponged down and hanging on the line by their ears or relative body parts - apart from Hamble who is lying naked on her back in the kitchen sink trying desperately to stop the water coming out of that handy little hole that all plakky dolls have and I am left with a bombsite of lentils, pasta, rice and the likes, paint, dirty paint pots, a very confused Shep, who has been showered with titbits from the table and yet - yuk! it doesn't taste nice and Big Ted wants me to help him pick BEANS from the garden for dinner! Feck - no one told me there was a cooking part in the script!!!

Where is Floella Benjamin when you need her?

Five little speckled sprogs

Five little Speckled Sprogs
Sat on a Speckled Log
Eating some most delicious fruit - yum, yum
One jumped up from the fray
Said "I'm going off to play"
Then there were four pink speckled sprogs - hooray

Four little Speckled Sprogs
Sat on a Speckled log
Eating some most delicious cheese - yum, yum
One jumped down from the seat
Came in to find some meat (betcha can't guess who that one is!)
Then there were three pink speckled sprogs - hooray

Three little Speckled Sprogs
Sat on a Speckled Log
Eating some boogers from their nose - yuk yuk
One jumped up from the perch
Ran off to sit in dirt
Then there were two pink speckled sprogs - hooray

Two little Speckled Sprogs
Sat on a Speckled Log
Poking each other in the eye - ouch ouch
One had enough of that
So went to torment the cat
Then there was one pink speckled sprog - hooray

One little Speckled Sprog
Sat on a Speckled log
Feeling alone and rather sad - boo hoo
She stood up on the tree
Yelled "COME AND PLAY WITH ME"

Then all the little sprogs came back - yay yay!


Number of noses wiped: 45 and counting
Bums changed - 2
Broken or bleeding body parts - 1 (but that wasn't on MY watch lol!)
Breakfasts eaten - 4 out of 5!
Number of times I have heard - "mine!", "no!", "not fair"- very few!!!
Number of times I have been growled at - a fair few - he scares me!!
Number of baskets of washing hung out: 2 - are you impressed?!
Number of cups of coffee - 1 (still impressed?!)
Valium taken - none (so far!)

So far, so good! All children are accounted for and still friends and it is nearly halfway through the day! I have dinner prepared, lunch on the go AND am managing to find a slot to write my blog!!
Today I am in charge! I have five smalls that I am responsible for - no, there has been no secret babies born overnight, I am looking after my sister's children for a couple of days, she has gone to NYC. It has been filling me with dread for the past two weeks actually. There is a difference when you are looking after your own - you know their foibles, they know the ropes and the boundaries, you also have them aged apart (well unless you have multiples!) but when you have others that you are responsible for 24/7 and two are pretty small....it can be a little scary!! However, now we are in the throes of it, they (touch wood!) are doing well together. Fortunately the weather has been kind to us and we are going to go to the park for a while this afternoon to wear them out!! Mr Beehive has been put on red alert to be home by 5.30pm tonight if he values his genitalia but all in all, things are currently smooth........................



...........................To Be Continued................................................................................................

The Vibes........natch!!

Ahhhhh... Man versus woman part 1

I don't suppose there are many out there who haven't heard of the book " Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus" and/or know about the differences of men and women. The man being the hunter/gatherer type, tunnel vision, but also spatially aware of his surroundings (that makes me laugh - ask Mr Beehive to find a pint of milk in the fridge that is anything outside his peripheral vision, it'll have turned to cheese first!), the desire to provide for his family through finding food and procreating (that sounds like a new sitcom - Sex and The Stomach!)

The woman, on the otherhand, the nurturer, at home, taking care of the 3,000 small cavebabies, preparing food, having the needs of her children and family come first (that sub-reads as: takes no shit from no one ' bout her babies!) and couldn't find her way home from the end of her bed without pictures (not having a flounce here but, honestly!!!!!!!!!humph!)

Mr Beehive is a man who, despite having definitive male tendencies, is occasionally aware of his more feminine side. One of these characteristics is the fact he likes to dwell on things, take time to think things through before giving his well thought out answer or asking for advice. I, on the other hand, am hot headed, I have to talk things out right there and then until they are done.

Last night we went out to the movies (this has become a habit in recent weeks lol!) and this morning, despite chatting in the car on the way home, he blurts out about something that is bothering him at work.

The long and short of it is that he has been asked to give the green light to putting hired tuxedos and ladies dresses on expenses. It isn't something he is happy with, AND technically it isn't his jurisdiction, but he is also a mediator in personality, so has returned with a policy that basically says it is up to individual management to decide for each event.........blah - pass the buck!!!!!! This same person who pose the original question has retaliated saying that women "don't hire dresses" - technically - true I suppose, but then if a company was paying the wonga for me to hire a Vera Wang over buying a Macy special at $bargain basement, - I think I know which I would go for!!

That said, the point is all about choice, surely. If a woman chooses to buy from personal money rather than hire on the company, that is a decision she has consciously made (isn't that why we burnt the bra - so we could work, stay home, buy a dress or hire a dress, ultimately have choice!!!???) But what Mr Beehive has to realise is that if he doesn't implant a hard and fast policy, he will have this same question asked every time the company puts on an event. They have this same issue every year at Christmas, some departments allow their employees to hire limos to the events, others (the bean counters lol!) don't!

You see, let me in there for half a day and I will iron out their policies as I have told him many times before, they need organising but someone who isn't close to the fold, someone hard nosed and with a "couldn't give a brass ****" attitude. I have given him a cheat sheet of answers to go back with...........!! I could get intouch with my Alpha male!!

So fast forward a couple of hours and I am driving the Beehive tribe and Master Beehive the younger starts asking about hunting. We have just stopped for a deer to cross the road in front of us. He wants to know why people hunt? Are hunters real? Are hunters cavemen? Why do people hunt when there are markets to buy food from etc.

You can hear his little head processing the information and then the best question:

"Is caveman another word for husband?"

I'll let you be the judge of that!!

Camping for Softies, Wetties, Wimps and Muggles alike!

Here it comes again! This weekend we are off to the Gathering of the Vibes again. This time the weather forecast is looking a little more optomistic than last year, so hopefully we can put behind us thoughts of being washed out of our tents again.




I am not a huge camper, I do like my creature comforts, but for this weekend, I will forgo most of my luxuries and enjoy life as a true treehugger embracing nature and *nearly* all her elements (but the rain best stay away!). We have packed minimally and gotten hold of a Radio Flyer trailer to transport Little Miss Beehive around the site should she decide to lose the will to walk and want "uppie" all the time or I get too hot to wear her in the Ergo. This can then be converted to a cool bed for the evenings when we go down to the stage and she loses the will to stay awake and dance with us (mind you, that is an oxymoron where LMB is concerned). Camping with kids is never a true minimalist, back to the elements experience though for those of us half-breeds. However far out of babydom they are, there is always the need for cuddlies, certain clothes, books, eczema creams, Sponge Bob Square Pants Bandaids AND Barbie Bandaids (well you never know which child will want which if they fall over!) snacks for the inevitable snack-a-thons and a far more sophisticated selection of food for the fussy ones amongst us. Maybe one day we will teach them to actually go out and gather their dinner from the wild, this time, pasta, tofu and veggies from Whole Foods will suffice!

My best friend in the UK is camping this week too for the first time. She is taking her kids and heading off to the New Forest with a friend. If I don't fall into the over enthusiastic camper category, she is about as mad about camping as you would be if you found a dead rat in your best Jimmy Choo! The thought of not having a flushing loo, having creepy crawlies in her smalls and nowhere to get a wax, straighten her hair or apply some lippy..........well a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.
Fred, this tent is for you chick! Have fun, wish us luck and watch this space !!

Pot Veg

I love this time of year when the harvest final starts to ripen and we can eat from our garden, albeit we have to reap from grobags rather than the soil - one of the downers of living in rented accomodation. On the up side though, our tenant in the UK is behind with his rent and has offered us a plot of land in Argentina as compensation! Of course, we have refused (I am married to an accountant - he hates risk lol!) but the idea tickles me. I wonder what fruits and veg we could yield there, I've always fancied exploring a bit of South America?


Isn't it colourful???


Anyway, here are a few pics of the garden, in which we have tomatoes, squash, beans, okra, melon, plenty of herbs and some alpine strawberries. You will have to excuse the deer proofing all around the periphery but the buggers really will eat anything including harsh squash leaves with their prickles. This has worked pretty well this year, also keeping out the rabbits and mice, however we have had to do the occasional bird rescue when one has found their way in. Over the next few weeks hopefully we will have good crops and I can start working on freezing some or preserving so that we will have some for the winter too. My big plan one day when we have our own house is to have enough space to pretty much live off the land during the summer and fall with veg and fruit and eggs. Perchance to dream.........


The tomatoes.

Beans, squash and Okra

The melons are just in the right hand corner of the picture. We actually manage to grow these undercover in the UK a few years back until something got in and ate the fruit!!!!!!




Little Miss Beehive picks the first crop of beans which we had last night with salmon and rice - yummy!