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.....

I'd like to thank.....

There's a scene in Bugsy Malone when a young Bonny Langford sings in her high pitched voice "Show business is in my bones." Well, it appears it's rattling in Little P's too.

An example of her drama queen antics. Never has one given a more convincing "ohhhhhhhhhhh", when refused something. This is swiftly followed by a hand up to the mouth, head tilted down sniffle. If refusal still persists, I, The Boy and anyone within a ten mile radius may well risk losing their eardrums as she treats us to her best scream. It could shatter glass. the scream will continue, and continue, and continue until suddenly she says in a calm, quiet voice:

"I'll stop screaming now mummy."

And she resumes her day.

I have Oscar glory in my sight.

Perfecting the "out shopping 'Paparazzi' pose"

It's been a while...

...It's not that I haven't been thinking of you. My in box is full of half written posts. Problem is a little thing called life has prevented me from finishing them.

The last month has been a busy one. Forging my freelance career has taken over my time and my energy. Just when I think things are slowly down and I can breath, another job comes in. Don't get me wrong, I am not complaining - far from it -  but it does mean that other things have had to take a back seat - this blog for starters (along with cooking, cleaning, washing, erm, getting dressed...)

Two little things that could never stay on the back seat (far too wriggly) are Little P and The Boy. The apples of my eye and the ringing in my ears.

So whats new? Hmm, where do I start?

About three weeks ago I gave up breastfeeding. I promised The Boy that I would feed him for as long as I fed Little P. And that's what I did - nine months. It has left me a little in limbo. For the first time in over three years I am not growing a baby. You see getting pregnant with one followed swiftly after breastfeeding the other. How do I feel? Well. I've drank wine. And as much as I have enjoyed the cool crisp Pinot Grigio, one glass often results in a heavy head and a "was it worth it" tut. Pathetic. The Boy, I hasten to add, doesn't seem bothered. He takes his bottle with enthusiasm and at least now we can isolate allergies in his diet (which are still prevalent in both my munchkins).

He is mobile. Very. He drags himself along the floor commando style. He can crawl on all fours but his laid back attitude prefers the lazier option. He puts everything in his mouth, he likes the outside step, he eats wires, enjoys sucking the ends of phone and laptop chargers and of all the books he likes to rip, his sisters precious fairy tales are his favourite.

But most of all he is defending himself against his sister.