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Little Miss E has been on pretty good form this week so though I’d share a few of the good ones with you on this weeks Wot So Funee linky uppy with the very funny Actually Mummy and some other lovely ladies,
go have a look. Go on… you know you want to.

Wot So Funee?

Miss E ‘Mummy, do you like butterflies?’
Me ‘I love butterflies, they’re beautiful…do you like butterflies?’
Miss E ‘I love *looks thoughtful* Trees… And… Bins… And… Pavements… And… And… And… And… Daddy… And Fred… And Mummy… And bins, and trees and butterflies… And discos

Miss E *sings* Humpy dumpy sat on a wall
Humpy dumpy had a great fall
All the kings… Men and kings horses
The kings men…
Put Humpty’s leg on his head

*Miss E wants to play skittles with mummy and nanny, runs off to grab the bag, runs back in and says*
‘come on girls, I’m getting em out!’

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What started as a wholesome family activity one sunny Saturday afternoon* with an enthusiastically proposed¬†‘Let’s make some jam tarts!’

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Turned into something rather less ‘enjoyable hour of family fun’ and more ‘gigantic sticky pain in the ass’.

Being an overdramatic, pre-menstrual witch on said sunny Saturday** probably didn’t stand me in good stead; when after carefully guiding Miss E’s gloriously chubby digits, and the spoonfuls of delightfully sugery fruit preserve*** into the precisely rolled and lovingly cut cases of pastry; mummy managed to fling the entire tray full onto the kitchen floor, just inches away from their preheated destiny.

Despite the red mist, photographic evidence was of course required, so photo moment there was.

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Days later when Miss E pipes up ‘What mummy do?’

I looked at her with a furrowed brow ‘when sweetheart, what do you mean?’

‘On the kitchen floor’ she replies

‘Oh’ said mummy ‘mummy dropped the jam tarts on the floor didn’t I!’

Cue Miss E’s confused face ‘no, after that’

‘I don’t know what you mean darling’

‘Why you take a picture?’

Mummy laughs ‘Oh! Because it was funny****’

Miss E’s wise response … ‘Thats just weird’ {toddles off confounded}

*an hours worth of something, anything, to distract the tiring two year old from her 3pm breakdown
**said with a big cheesy smile and a glint in my eye
***after she’d tried to shove her fingers in and scoop handfuls of the irresistable sticky stuff to thrust into her tiny chops at the speed of light
****for three seconds

Eeek, this is my first linky uppy with a blog hopping type thing a majig… Fingers crossed it works.

Right, I’m off to check out this weeks other funee’s, you coming?!

Wot So Funee?

Picture, if you will… a heartwarming, an endearing scene… Mother and daughter, lay on the bed chattering away, laughing and smiling, simply whiling away the time.

*suddenly, excitement turns to kicking from the small one*

Me: “please don’t kick mummy sweetheart, it hurts”

*she kicks again*

Me: “Miss E, mummy has asked you not to kick me because it hurts, if you do it again I will sit you in the naughty corner”

*she kicks again*

*off we go to the naughty corner*

Me: “mummy asked you twice not to kick and you carried on so you can sit here for two minutes and think about what you did”

Miss E: “ok mummy”

*two minutes of silence pass*

Me: “mummy sat you in the naughty corner because you carried on kicking after I asked you to stop. Do you have something to say to me?”

Miss E: “sorry mummy”

*gives me a kiss and a cuddle*

*after chattering to her teddies for a moment she toddles of and sits back in the naughty corner*

Me: “what are you doing sweetheart?”

Miss E: “sit naughty corner, kicking mummy”

Me: “but you have said sorry now so you don’t need to sit there any more”

*toddles over, kicks me, then runs back and sits the naughty corner*

Feckin Super Nanny

Me Naughty

Love you

Hearing my baby girl declare ‘Loorlu’, has for the last 12 months or so, been the one thing guaranteed to make my heart sing. Today, I was presented with the much more grown up {admittedly however, equally as powerful}, very clearly pronounced… ‘love you mummy’.

I have spent every moment since Miss E entered the world 2 years and 12 days ago {who’s counting?} getting excited about the things to come.

‘When will she be able to roll over?’

‘I can’t wait to hear her laugh’

‘I wonder what her voice will sound like’

‘Come on E, walk to mummy’

‘Can you say mama?’

And surely this excitement is natural? We all want our children to develop well, meet their milestones at the appropriate times, to teach them as much as we can about the world around them and everything within it. But do we risk forgetting about all the little things that have passed, once the next big milestone has been reached?

I have been emailing Miss E periodically over the last two years, and intend to continue this, well, until forever I guess. As much for my memories as for hers. She has changed so much in her short little life so far, and I am so excited to see what kind of young woman she will turn into, but equally as keen to remember all her little quirks, her stumbles and the way she corrects herself as she carves her way through childhood.

I am sure there will be a thousand little things that will pass by with nothing but the whisper of a smile in the history of time to record the moment, but some special ones, like ‘loorlu mummy’, will be forever etched into my heart {as well as the global blogosphere!}

What about your small people? Are there any quirks they have/had, that you never want to forget?

When I Grow Up Read the rest of this entry »

A Blog Is Born

Having never really written before, it feels odd… This compulsion to get things down on paper {or ponsey iPad if we’re being pedantic}.

I have always been aware of this barrier I have that makes it really difficult to actually verbalise how I’m feeling/what I’m thinking/what I want/need. Imagine taking a mouthful of water, clenching your teeth together then trying to squeeze it out through the gaps. Only part of it actually escapes and that which does manage to make a break for it, has no real angle. It goes in precisely the opposite direction to which you would have guessed, probably dribbles down your chin and is also quite likely to squirt some unsuspecting passer by in the eye. So you think to yourself ‘better to just swallow and avoid any embarrassment’ {and you can remove that disgusting image straight from your minds you filthy buggers*} than to risk things coming out all wrong and, well, hurting someone … Or their eye?!

So there we have it, it seems I am as about as capable of explaining myself on paper** as I am vocally.

So, when discussing on new years eve over copious amounts of alcohol*** with my Mr, what we would like to ‘do more of’ in 2013 {resolutions are an invitation for failure in our experience}, we had filled in our family wants, his personal wants … So then he turns to me and asks ‘so what about you, what do you want?’ My reaction was to crumble into a tear stained ball of snot. You can see why he married me.

I think this was the catapult… That made me face up to the fact that I’m a slight emotional retard so this could perhaps be something I could work on in 2013. And perhaps seeing as I am a regular sufferer of verbal constipation followed by regular bouts of diarrhoea {also of the verbal nature} I could explore my thoughts and feelings in this new fangled format of blogging****.

Who knows what direction this blog may take, it may even crash and burn with this lowly post the only evidence of its fatal inception. Nevertheless, I am biting the bullet, sticking my neck out and approaching it with both smiley eyes {they hide a multitude of sins} and an open heart.

*she types whilst sniggering at the mental image
**ponsey iPad
*** two glasses of fizz, but could well have been 1litre of meths for the effect it had on me – an incredibly sporadic drinker
**** I know, I know. Don’t say it.