A fairy's woe....

No one, it seems, can come to my party.

Want a flawless face?

So I'm yapping again....

note to self: Get your fringe cut girl. Your hair looks rubbish.

He came, he saw, he conquered!

Oh Pants!

You are getting your child ready to go to the childminders house. You realise there no clean knickers in the drawer. You put her dress on and decide you will grab her a clean pair from the laundry basket when you are back downstairs.

You get the Boy dressed. You get yourself dressed. You get out the house.

An hour later you get a polite but firm phonecall. It's the childminder with news of my knickerless child and her overactive bowels.

The shame.

N.B: I collected Little P via M&S and the florists.

In a fashion tizz.

This morning Little P and I had a bit of a tiff. Over fashion.

As I got her dressed for the childminders she pulled out her new embroidered skirt, Opar (my dad) had brought back from Hungary. The things is, she wore it yesturday in the garden and it was a bit grubby. I picked out a lovely pair of billowing embroidered harem trousers. But no she wanted a dress. Not wanting a scene I showed her a white broiderie anglais skirt. Her face lit up. Bingo.

Problem is, she did not want to wear a top, preferring the Belearic topless hippy look. Hmmm. By now my patience was a thin as paper. Rather than argue I plonked her in front of Beebies and got myself dressed. I brought in to her a t shirt I know she loves and with a twirl, and spin and a beaded necklace she was happy.

Except she then did a huge wee all over the sofa. All over her skirt, top, even the shoes. It was one powerful protest.

My blood boiled. Stripped and showered, and running very late, I put her in the trousers. She was not happy and tried desperately to pull her Hungarian skirt on over the top. It had become a battle of the wills, and I didn't want to lose. And I didn't.

I dropped my little trouser clad girl off. The childminder opened the door and said, "my how beautiful you look today."

Little P whispered back with a look so sad it would melt an iceberg, "I don't feel beautiful. I want to wear a dress. I just want to be a Princess."

And with that my heart went splat.

a spin

a twirl

a curtsy

Pre-pee

How to waste £10

There is a shop on my local high street called Tiger Tiger (its a chain apparently). It sells lots of stuff that looks amazing in the shop setting - bowls with cute designs, tiered cake plates, bright and funky napkins, tweezers, chilli flakes and bike bells - all for mere pounds. You enter and within minutes your basket is full and you are ten pounds out of pocket. Once home you realise you should and could live without everything you have purchased.

Problem is I can't walk past without a glance.

Here's how they seduced me to part with a tenner today.....

that's two tubes of bubbles, a couple of packets of beads, some elastic, a packet of herbes de provence and a pair of gardening gloves. None of which I need.

Will I ever learn?

Better than Botox?

I've a stubborn blighter of a frown line that makes an appearance when I have deadlines, when my kids play up, when I have no chocolate and when The Apprentice is on.

I don't want Botox because that seems a ridiculous idea to me, but I want it gone.....so this is what I did...

NB: this is my first vlogging experience and I am shocked at a) how tired I look (its the hottest day of the year and I am melting) b) how funny my voice sounds c) I do annoying little shakes of my hands and head like I am 'all that'  (I'm not, nor do I think I am) d) my eyebrows are wonky and e) my room is a tip.....please be kind!



Fast forward 2 hours.....