I am hooked on Pink Martini!

I've just heard a rather loud dragging sound and turned around to see TB pulling an empty suitcase into the living room. On asking him what he was doing he said 'I just want to pack all my things away'. Well, it's keeping him quiet.

On a completely unelated note, I'm going to attempt to make a baked chocolate orange cheesecake to take to Y's tonight. Wish me luck.

For the second part of our extended Christmas we shipped ourselves off to mum's for two days. Last year the three of us had flu and the year before TB had a stinking cold so it's quite a novelty to have him in a good mood at Christmas.
On Christmas eve we laid out a sock (his stocking being at mum's) and a chocolate muffin for santa. In the morning he'd forgotten about them in favour of cold orange juice but was happily reminded and ran off to check. He was so pleased that santa had eaten the muffin and left presents. 
He hated (just as we did as kids) the generations long tradition of waiting until after lunch and the washing up being done before he could open his presents. Mum did however put together a stocking for him and he delighted in showing off the remote controlled helicopter V had bought for him.

Lunch was a non-event as far as he was concerned. Why eat when there are presents to be opened. The tune changed slightly when he was presented with ice cream for dessert, but not for long. In between asking to get down from the table and picking at his food he achieved more with a Christmas cracker puzzle than any of the rest of us and sang the songs he'd refused to sing in the nursery Christmas play.

When he was finally allowed he happily delivered each present from under the tree to its recipient and sat down to open his own pile. (Silly mummy for buying the most difficult to rip paper ever!)

TB loved everything he received although there are a few things he's a bit wary of. Mum bought him a robot that walks and makes shooting noises which he'll only turn on if it's walking away from him. Yuri and I bought a version of pop up pirate (except it's a rat) and it took a few games for him not to be sacred of the flying rat. Mind you, I think he has a point!

He was an angel all day, except for bedtime when he staged quite a protest. That was, until I told him if he wasn't good santa claus would come in the night and take away all his presents. Then he was no problem.

All in all, a successful day I think.

Our rather extended Christmas started yesterday. It was due to span just two days, but lack of transport in London and overpriced Christmas day taxis sent that idea down the pan. We had to get TB back from V&C's so we settled on Sunday for our first Christmas.

In a moment of sheer greatness, I put all of TB's present in hiding, aside from a watch and a nightlight.

Our Christmas fun started with Y being incredibly late, and not going to be able to bring her food pre-prepared as planned. Then, on arrival in our car park/dungeon, grandmother fell and gashed her head open. At first it looked like it'd stopped bleeding nicely (no thanks to my lack of a first aid kit (tut tut, I know) and V's constant bashing of the supposedly forming clot in an attempt to clean it) so we carried out. Days ago TB had already found a few of his presents (suspicion is that he was led to find them by V) and he wanted to show them off. But, as Y arrived, it seemed that a trip to hospital to get Grandmother's gash checked out was necessary.

So C (driver) and I (GPS system) bundled grandmother into the car and headed off to St George's. Considering it was two days before Christmas, A&E was surprisingly empty and Grandmother was checked out fairly quickly - stitches were needed. The nurses were checking people amazingly quickly, but it seemed that nobody was actually making it as far as getting treated. We waited for almost three hours for Grandmother to get treated, and then another hour for the stitches. We finally made it home at just after 12. And still had dinner to eat.

We all had a lovely haul of presents. TB's mainly consisted of remote controlled vehicles: a helicopter; amphibious tank; a monster truck that jumps; a funny whirry thing with a horrible rotor that has tried to remove digits from three of us already. I happily received a blender and a new pair of trainers from my boys. Yuri was happy with his new bag and more t-shirts.

All of us, TB included, finally fell into bed at about 2:30. Unfortunately, TB woke at a not so respectable 9:30 this morning, and is happily playing with his new toys, some of which are in his 'secret' box (the box from my trainers). Now, just over an hour later, I've pretty much joined the land of the living. Shame no-one else in the house has!

I have pleurisy

nuff said.

I love this picture. To me it says normally we're so awful we know you won't believe a word we say, so here's photographic evidence.

The big dress dilemma!

In January we'll be in Salvador, Brasil, for Y's wedding. Finding the appropriate dress has been an absolute nightmare, but I've now found two! The trouble is, I can't decide between them! So I'm going to ask you!

In Brasil people apparently tend to dress up quite a lot for weddings. This one starts at about 5:30 and the expected heat will be about 40 degrees. However, I'm not exactly one for standing out in the crowd - especially when that crowd and I don't speak the same language.

Answers on a postcard please!

And this is what was on the train this evening...

Sorry about the rotation - I did it the wrong way round on my phone and can't figure out how to sort it!

Last weekend I recieved a rather random text saying

Secure Mail plan to deliver item *****
between 9-5 on 4/12
your ID & sig reqd
pls confirm by TEXT with Y or N + new date NOT before 4/12

In my suspicious mind I figured some unscrupulous company had sold my number and I was now destined to be the recipient of a large amount of text spam. And, because I have no desire to increase the frequency of said spam, I ignored it.

I got the same text the next day and got curious. I googled the text and saw that someone else had
received the same and they were also waiting for a passport. However, I just couldn't believe the passport service would send such random texts that give no indication of what you might be about to receive.

Yesterday I recieved a letter. Guess what? i should've responded to that text. But how was I to know?

It sounds like monsters on the roof!

The people in the flat above ours have bought a treadmill. We found out at about 8:30 this evening, when we started to try to put TB to bed and it sounded like the ceiling aboive his bed was about to cave in. Needless to say, Yuri went to complain.

I asked TB what 'that noise [sounded] like'. He said 'it sounds like monsters on the roof'.

Christmas is here!

On Thursday, seeing as I was battling with enough shopping bags to floor an elephant, I decided to add a Christmas tree to my load. Having wrestled my bagged delights onto the crowded tram and back from the tram stop I thought I could collapse at home and forget about Christmas. Not so. Yuri took one look at the boxed tree and decided it had to come out there and then. So I spent all that evening protesting that we couldn't have the tree up until December.

As a child, and even till this day, m and d get a tree a week or two into Decembe, and it sits outside looking miserable until maybe the 22nd or 23rd, when it finally gets dragged in and B goes into military operation style decorating frenzy. All I ever wanted to do in the first half of December was decorate that tree and get on with the party season.

So, having had that 3ft tree sitting on the coffee table all day, loo0king sand and undecorated, I decided last night was the time to bring Christmas into our house. We picked TB up from school and took him off to pick decorations (this is the first tree we've had in our house since he's been born) and he decided on silver glittery stars and presents. Ok, there was a little persuasion from me - gold just wouldn't have gone with the lights on that tree. We brought them home and spent the evening decorating.

This morning, when I went back into the living room to check on TB, I found each of the ribbon wrapped presents lying in a pile of unwrapped ribbons. Well, Tommy thought it was amusing. I, however, feat that my threat that if he plays with the decorations again the whole lot will go away, will not be anough to stop him.

We're picking up the remainder of the presents this afternoon, once they're wrapped and the cards are sent, the whole lot's done. I wrapped every present we've got so far last night.

I don't think I've ever been so organised!

This morning we were playing with the train set. The entire living room floor was covered in an intricate maze of multicoloured track, bumps, bridges and switches.

Then Tommy changes his mind.

Mummy, you tidy this up and I'll carrying on playing with this (pointing to something else).

That kid's got cheek!

This week I've been training to be a first aider. I can bandage wounds, wounds with embedded objects, burst veins, head injuries and burns, I can even deal with a person whose intestines are hanging out, if this should ever happen in our non-eventful office! Yup, I can make most things look pretty, although not do a lot to actually sort them. It seems the answer in most cases is 999. As a good point, I actually passed the exam (not sure how I would've explained it to work if I didn't).

Also finally managed to find a dress to wear to Y's wedding. A bargain in Primark! And an indecently sized pair of shorts. Yes, they are already introducing thei summer wardrobe! Pretty much finished Christmas shopping, and even came home with a tree which Yuri promptly put up, despite the fact that it's not even December yet. There's just no reasoning with some people.

Yesterday morning, as I was leaving for work, Tommy came out of the kitchen carrying two crushed eggs in his hands.

"Mummy, I was just making eggs" he said.

He'd removed a box of 18 eggs from the fridge, taken out half of them, and they were lying in a mess of broken shell across the cooker, worktop and floor.

The things the young will do for a bit of scrambled egg!

And so, to the unnamed person in hiding that thought it would be a smart idea to load the entire database onto disk and send it off with a courier, why? Why did you really have to be so stupid?

Of course it's almost expected from the government really.

What you don't expect is for your employer to keep your personal details in a safe so insecure that when they're broken into, the thief can make off with enough details to quite easily and thoroughly 'become' each member of staff. That's right. Our company's northern office was broken into last night,and the culprit made off with the entire staff's personal data.

To say I'm not feeling at my most secure this evening would be a slight understatement.

Yesterday was a challenge.

I went to the doctors to get some more meds and took the opportunity to explain exactly how much I was struggling with my eating at the moment. 
I guess I was expecting the doctor to come up with some idea I'd not thought of yet, some sort of cure, anything. Instead, he came up with nothing I hadn't tried already and couldn't seem to understand my frustration that these things didn't work or couldn't practicably be carried off.

It also appears that he's leaving at the end of the month. I asked who I should look to for a replacement and he only page that all of the doctors at the surgery were perfectly nice and understanding. All I could think of was the first doctor I saw there, whose only suggestion was to 'pull [myself] together'.

Needless to say, by the time I left I was feeling thouroughly demoralised and upset.

I didn't want to go to OA after all that, I didn't have the energy for it.

Last night's topic was acceptance. It's so frustrating the way people make acceptance seem so easy. But I have trouble with acceptance.
To me, actually being able to accept has a lot to do with being able to give things over to your higher power, relinquishing control of yours actions, and more especially your emotions, to something or someone greater than yourself.

But what happens when you and your higher power are having issues and you find that you just can't give over that control. What happens when that first step of 12 depend on the relationship between you and your higher power and the two me you just can't pull it together?

Why do bus drivers stop so far away from the bus stop because they won't wait for the traffic to move on, and then refuse to stop at the actual stop. Even when they have a half empty bus.

I'm sure there must be some kind considerate bus drivers in the world. They just don't seem to show their faces in London.

And the thunder just clapped so loud the floor shook!

And as for today's update, I'm talking to Yuri's aunt (a doctor), discussing the intricate details of gastric banding/balling/bypassing, breast reduction and liposuction.

I live in hope.

Sushi, shoes, coffee, late arrivals, 15 fabric shops, christmas shopping. Searching for a road that doesn't exist, nasty hovel, day spent in casualty. 44 dresses, getting soaked in freezing pouring rain, Tommy choosing cheese and garlic and mushrooms and king kong (tomato ketchup) for his pizza topping, Shrek 3.

And, to expand on my weekend adventures:

Sushi because M works at a sushi place and can get it for cheap.
Shoes because V wanted more comfortable ones.
Coffee because we were waiting for B.
Late arrivals because B was late.
15 fabric shops because we were looking for material for Y's wedding dress and me and V's dresses to wear to the wedding.
Christmas shopping because I was in town anyways.

Searching for a road because I was told the wrong place.
Nasty hovel because B's place is. Trust me on that one.
Day spent in casualty because V was taken ill. She's home and much better now.

44 dresses because I still hadn't found any material.
Getting soaked in the rain because I was in search of an illusive fabric shop.
Tommy choosing his pizza toppings and Shrek 3 because we were in need of a feel good evening!

You know what I hate about Christmas...

...the magazines.

It's only November, but as far as any magazine I pick up is concerned, I should be obsessing about what to eat (for the next three Christmasses). And/or, if I'm not obsessing about what to eat, I should be obsessing about what dress to wear, or style of make up to try out.

Well I have news for those magazines. It's business as usual in this household till the very last minute. And even the, I will not be worrying about the sparkliness of my outfit or eyeshadow. And I most certainly will not be worrying about the correct way to stuff a turkey.

Thank you for listening to today rant. Please tune in later for the next episode.

What a weekend!

Saturday we headed off to the Lord Mayor's Show and Fireworks, running late as usual. Tommy was quite happy to watch the army men, army vehicles, horses and dogs, but not incredibly fussed about the rest of it. He seemed to be at his happiest when given a lollipop by a passing soldier. Then he decided his favourite part was the truck that bore a passing resemblance to bonecrusher (think Transformers).

His favour soon headed towards lunch at Pizza Hut where he happily helped us to devour a rather large pizza before trying to wander off on his own to wash his hands.

By the time we headed off to watch the fireworks, we were struggling to keep him awake. He woke right up when they started, and spent the entire show with his hands clapped over his ears because the fireworks were "too noisy!" He watched some of them, watched a few more reflecting off of a coach window, and burried his head in my shoulder for the really loud ones. Nevertheless, only a few minutes after they'd finished, his favourite part of the day was the fireworks!

Then the lightsaber. Of course, how can you resist buying cheap carnival toys to keep him happy!

Then we headed off to Y & M's for dinner, and more importantly, for Tommy to repetitively kill M with his lightsaber. Until he fell asleep. He wouldn't wake up to go home, so I made the mistake of carrying him. Like a baby. All the way to the bus stop. Then from the bus to the station. Then all the way home. I'm still feeling muscles I didn't know I had!

Sunday we had Y & M, V & C and B & A over. I cooked and M ate all his vegetables! The guys went out filming. The boys played on the playstation. Us girls looked at dresses for Y's wedding. Despite the trauma of having to try and find something that a) fits, b) looks good, and c) hides a multitude of sins, I am really happy with what's going to be made. It sparkles!

I have become an...

...adsense whore!

The things I'll do for money...

And the moral of the story is...

when on the night bus, never try to change a sleeping boy who's wet himself!

More adventures from yesterday to follow soon.

The bag, as modelled by Tommy

And Tommy, who we all know takes a much better photo than the bag!

This morning I was not a happy bunny. The carrot sticks I normally have for lunch were out the window. Along with the salsa I'd normally have with them. Or the salad I'd have instead. There was nothing in the kitchen to take for lunch so I'd have to buy something.

It was only on the way to work, when I realised what that meant: free reign with cash to buy whatever I wanted. Also known as panic.

What to choose, what to buy. Anything could tip those delicately balanced scales. And what about the points of it all. How could I pull it all together now my carefully crafted routine and plan ice been so carelessly broken. The mindfield me choice was enough to start the tremblings of a panic attack. So I got hold of Y.

She was kind enough to talk me through it; enough to get me through lunchtime.

We talked about obsession; that maybe using weight watchers as my food plan is another way of acting out my obsession with food. That as long as I'm putting in a moderate amount it suitable times each day, that's enough. While I see Y's point, I don't think I'm ready for that. I still have too many stones to loose.

I bought sushi. It was five points too many. But I did it. I got through.

I win!

Last month my sister-in-law and I went to a magazine event in a high street store. The basic premise is too many twentysomethings in a small shop with clothes and booze, all queueing for hours for manicures and goody bags. Sounds like hell? You're possibly right. But I'm not exactly the type to turn down free stuff.

This evening sister-in-law backed out at the last minute and I was just contemplating leaving the manicure queue when the prize draw was announced.

I am now the proud owner of a very expensive handbag and I'm nearly at the front of the queue.

Thankfully, though, someone invented mobile internet.

Money makes the world go round...

... or at least the office anyway.

There's a copy of London Careers floating around and as you can guess, those jobs do have to be looked at in hushed meetings with other hard done by secretaries. Of course there's a page for IP.

I've always been under the impression that my salary level is significantly below the others because of levels of experience and the amount of time we've each been go the job. But, it appears that even the senior secretary is earning less than £30.

Suddenly my £26 doesn't seem quite so bad.

Scratch that - we're all just bad off.

I've been thinking now I've started to read about the steps and wondering how I can do it on my own, whether I'm ready to start that next phase. And I just don't know.
I think I need to find a sponsor.

Attempt!

Here goes.

--
Sent using a Sony Ericsson mobile phone

I'm back. Hopefully. Completly inspired by an old friend to blog agin, I thought I'd get my thoughts down as and when they happen (and definately before they're lost forever) by setting up my phone to blog from there.

Little did I know the extreme technical abilities required to implement such a change!