Friday, April 9, 2010

You macaroni cheese boy

Here's some more knitting. Isn't that lovely? All my own work.

Peaches looks very sweet, but she can snap. In her frustration she comes up with fantastic insults and swear words.

On various occasions, she's told Recaro that she's 'not his kicking football!' and that 'ugh... you macaroni cheese boy!'

Last night she told him, 'I'm NOT your raspberry'.

When I told her that she couldn't paint her nails, she told me the following story:

'I don't want a mummy. I just want my daddy.

'When I was a little girl - in Africa - my mummy DIED. I just had my daddy. His name is Scrotley. He has big muscles and he paints HIS nails with BOY VARNISH.'

I have no idea what I should learn from this, but at least she's not reading my mind and picking up all the bad words that run around my head when I'm the one feeling frustrated.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Moving story starts here

It's so long since I've written here, that I barely remember my way back into blogland. Life has been moving fast (even if house moving is sloooww) but at last I've started to think 'I should blog that' again.

Like when Peaches told me about dialling 999 and asking for the hairdresser. I'm sure some people have their stylists on speed dial but I don't. Maybe that's what she was trying to tell me.

While we are on the subject of hair, I should confess that I have been reading a few blogs. Which led to me cutting a fringe into my hair like a particular West Coast blogger. No photos, that's all I'm saying. I've put the scissors away now. It's safer that way.

Somehow I've managed to cut my fringe (that's bangs to some of you) in a way that emphasises how much hair I have on the rest of my head. I look like an out of control Farrah Fawcett according to Recaro.

To bring anyone who's interested up to speed with the house move, the provisional date is 14 May. We've not exchanged contracts yet though we think things are moving forward well enough. (Though our vendor's solicitors have lost the deeds. And breathe. Relax. That's what the Land Registry is for.)

Since Recaro and I are both control freaks (seemingly relaxed but actually with a checklist a mile long) we are packing ourselves. We are beginning to surround ourselves with boxes. I'm already regretting this strategy. I should listen to Working Mum who told me to let the removal company do it. The thing is - I can't bear the thought of leaving it until the last week. I'd be terrified that we'd get to the moving date and the removal company cancelling on us.

Bring me another box now! Must pack more stuff.