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!