The kids are alright

So, I've just had another "weekend", two days of rest and am here on this glorious Monday morning feeling refreshed and spritely....ahem.

To me, a weekend should be relaxing and fun after a flipping hectic week. But in my world, a weekend can often be harder work because the Husband works every other weekend. That's the entire Fri, Sat and Sunday wiped out. And my family are miles away.

I have a wonderful set of friends here, some I've only gained in recent months, who tell me they are always around if I need help and support but I am too proud. Plus its their weekend with their husbands to do family things. I could never trouble them and I guess deep down I feel I achieve a lot on my own without extra assistance (still don't have a tumble drier or dishwasher either!) My lovely next door neighbour even offered to come in to do my ironing while I rested.....she is a busy mum of three and I was so touched but said I was OK (the truth is, I don't iron anyway. It's my big failing in life, call it domestic sluttery).

It's all the more harder now because of the nearly 35 week baby bump. I can't really bend down (or step into my mammoth-sized underwear), so my kids tend to refuse to pick their clothes off the floor just to watch their weeble of a mother moan and groan and she bends over and struggles to get back up.

Yet when they look like this, my heart melts:

Of course they are so much nicer when asleep

It's also frustrating that I can't chase after the Prince when he calls me a "git face" which apparently he has picked up from watching a scene in Matilda. (Has anyone watched this? I don't remember the phrase "Git face" being in there...........) I'm not proud that he calls me this. Sometimes he will hug me and then say "I love you, you fat git face" and cover me in kisses (which makes me think he doesn't understand what he is saying). Other times he will shout it at me when cross. If I could run and pick him up and chuck him in his room I would.
(oh and he says the "Face" bit of "Git Face"  in a strong Yorkshire accent for some reason, no idea why. So occasionally I have to control my smirk...)

Saturday mornings always start well. I take the children to the pool for the Princess's swimming lesson and then we head to my Bumps meet up group in a cafe. I adore this cafe, it is the hub of the community.

My kids delight in having their own private table with drinks and cake, while I loll around on a sofa with other oversized-bellied women discussing pelvic floors, maternity pads and chocolate addiction. They are all first time mums and think my children are wonderfully behaved. Which they are. Until I get them home.

This weekend has been particularly tricky as they have pretty much squabbled non-stop for the entire two days which is exhausting in itself. I put it down to the extra E numbers from the epic trick or treating we did on Thursday night when they brought more sweets home than Wonka could dream of producing.

I'm surprised they weren't sick (I discovered that while I had been rationing them, they'd found my secret stash and helped themselves).

I hoped the Princess would do a
far more attractive one

"This is the best day of my entire actual life," the Prince squealed with gusto on Hallowe'en, as it finally dawned on him that you can just knock on a front door where ever you spot a lit pumpkin and be given free sweets all night.

So they've fought this weekend. The Princess is nearly ten and should know better. But apparently while I was chatting to my mum on the phone, the Prince pretended to be a puppy and licked the Princess's arm as she tried to watch TV. It eventually drove her mad and she pushed him and his saliva drool away...a bit too hard and it resulted in his bonce meeting the wooden floor and creating a beautiful red bump.

Then a bowl of cereal was swept across the floor. I was told I am a "horrid old woman" more times than I care to remember. Horrid, yes, but old? 38 isn't exactly a pensionable age is it?

Then there was a meltdown at a birthday party, a scrap over what TV show to watch ("I hate Surprise Surprise, turn it over you git face") a battle at bath time, refusal to do a bedtime story and by 9.30pm I had to sit down and do my freelance work. I just wanted to drink gin and rock forwards and backwards. But alas....today they've gone back to being lovely. Hmmmmmph.

So, adding a third into this crazy mix shall be interesting. I am certain my blog will suffer, although no doubt there will be some interesting material to write about.

Anyway, I feel tired today, a little hoarse from shouting more than I should have but have some nice things to blog about too.

Firstly, I was in Somerset last weekend to pick up my children (my brilliant parents had them for three whole nights in half term for the Husband and I to rest...this did me the world of good. Shame it didn't last!) and came across these beauties all in one Oxfam. Another mum reached the children's book shelf before me so I'm ashamed to admit I had to do a rude swoop, grab, pay and run.

I am also the proud owner of these boots which I picked up from my local Scope.

These boots are made for stomping

They had been in the window for £35 which I thought was steep but really loved them. Then I discovered they were Bertie boots. Then I got home, googled them and discovered they are £140 brand new.

So I rushed (OK, waddled) back to Scope to buy them. And they'd gone. They weren't in the window. I hate losing a bargain. I went home defeated.

A week later I was in the shop again looking for treasures and lo and behold, the Bertie boots hadn't sold at all! They had just been removed from the window display and were in the shop on the top shelf with all the other boots. And were reduced to £30.

I had a good look at them. Took them to the till, and was allowed to have them for £25!

So I did. And I feel no shame. I think charity shops charge far more than they should and I donate everything to that particular shop. I love these second hand boots but I feel £25 is reasonable for both parties.

Trouble is, I have cankles and swollen feet at the mo so can't even get the boots on, but they will fit in the new year. Indeed.

Steve models them better than I can at the mo!

In other news, I crocheted a hat for the Princess. I love it. I am rubbish at crochet but did this all myself and she is a happy girl.

And as I have also made a baby blue hat with matching blanket in case we have another son, I also felt I should make a baby girl's hat just in case.

And if it's a boy, I can then donate the smaller hat to Scope.

Karma for the Bertie boots, see?

Next weekend the Husband is off and we are decorating our bedroom. More on that next week. At the moment we are sleeping in our tiny lounge, our bedroom is in bits around the house and it's AWFUL!