The Daphne Tree

Hey, long time no write! I have been quite busy lately, and it has led me to make a few decisions... My small Daphne duck is 3 now, and goes to nursery a few days a week. We need a new fence, and an MOT for the car, and I'm getting fed up of socks and pants with holes in (definitely not the kinky kind). I need to go back to "real" work. With real money, which can actually pay for stuff. I'm teaching again now, and it's fine, but it takes up a lot of time. And I'm knackered. I also happened to get a lot of orders this month, GREAT! My effort and marketing is finally paying off! However, completing these orders has been tricky. Stressful. I've even let a couple of people down, and I am not a fan of that at all. And if it isn't fun, I don't want to do it. Poor old Daph is having to cope with a lot of changes at the moment, two different nurseries, no mum at her beck and call every minute (phew!) and her sleeping pattern is all over the plac...

Well! You probably haven't noticed I've been busy, but if you have, I love you! We've been moving into our new house, only two hours, and yet what feels like a world away, from our "home".  I've got to admit, I really wanted to live in the proper countryside, out in the sticks, and we viewed some amazing places, but realistically we wanted to be in a town and able to walk to places.  Now we are here, I am not disappointed. We have the best of both worlds. And I feel a bit like I'm tempting fate saying that when we're only a few weeks in, but I'm truly chuffed. We are a stones throw from shops and parks and playgroups (oh and pubs) and yet tractors regularly bustle down the road and a five minute car journey will always involve field views and lots of sky! Is that weird? I notice the sky more...  I swear to god the people here are calmer, friendlier, and so damn nice. And I lived in a lovely place before, so here just seems crazy nice. But that coul...

At some point, roughly 20 minutes into hairdrying FiFi the soft doll (who had earlier been puked on) I laughed. This is just not something I realised I would be doing with my life. Especially more than once.And all of a sudden it was hilarious. Fifi is the perfect size to fit into the crook of a toddler arm, and therefore she NEVER leaves the toddler arm. Sometimes she is briefly forgotten, but then she is remembered in a wave of panic and yelling. WE NEED FIFI. FiFi is the 4th person at dinner. She tests most experiences for the child. FiFi go down slide! FiFi go on swing! Ahh swing safe. FiFi must be in crook of arm while we are reading books. FiFi sits on the edge of the table "watching" while we are cooking. She always wants one of whatever we make. FiFi sure is fucking annoying sometimes. She sneaks into all photos of my cute cherub and has taken over the role of the dummy in photos, you know, that embarassing thing that shows up in photos and proves what a shit pa...

It's no use, I'm going to have to admit that I love food and it is an emotional crutch for me. (That and wine) I'm sad, I eat. I'm happy, I eat.  Eat to celebrate, eat to commiserate. I eat when I'm stressed, and over stretched, and I eat when I'm bored or lonely.  I like to eat with friends, and insist on a meal out with the hubby once in a while. Love a BBQ.  I like eating out in restaurants and pubs, I like eating in the open air... I like takeaways...  I really like cooking (with a glass of wine) and being creative with ingredients. I LOVE trying new recipes and new dishes from foreign countries.  When I go into a supermarket abroad I just wander down the aisles fascinated by the different food and smells and awkward sounding names.  I worry that it's an actual hobby, an interest. I'm usually waiting for the next meal.  I'm the opposite of that Sam I Am character.  Yes I'll eat them on a house, yes I'll eat them on a mouse.  I WILL eat th...

It has started. Not the "Why?" yet, but the "What's that?" and "Who's that?" And I know she isn't the only one, as lots of her peers' parents look just as exasperated as I am. Every single book we read at the moment (we have to have three before bed, then have two "made up" stories, always!) ANYWAY, Every single book we read involves the Daph pointing at each character or thing and asking "Whoo dat?" Even when we have read this book FIVE MILLION TIMES and she KNOWS everything about ALL of it. I've taken to giving silly answers, just to prove to her that she knows, e.g. "Who Dat?" "It's a spotty unicorn with a swimming costume on" "No, mummy, it's a lion." "Oh yeh." "Who dat?" "It's your Dad" "Ha. No Mummy, it's a hairy monkey" "titter" So, I do that naughty thing of using sarcasm with my child, which ...

Don't have a kid if you object to the following: Severe insomnia (a given) Sharp-plastic toy-in-foot syndrome Deafness interspersed with supersonic hearing Continual diet and "support-wear" addiction Other addictions include caffiene (purely cold) and alcohol (purely warm) Bank account haemorrage Obsessive lego picking, and occasional fuzzy felt peelage Haggard appearance May become blind to most types of mess Constant elbow-in-boob-itis Heightened sense of smell Lop-sided hips/ arms/ back from child-wearing Incurable baby voice May develop ability to see 2 seconds into the future but be powerless regarding what happens Ability to go from fully reclined to completely upright while still unconscious Loss of memory (except when it comes to remembering to feed the family three times a day for the rest of your life, of course) Loud shouting when near a road Facial expressions which belie actual emotion (You really are very angry that Little Fred has put hi...

Pah. This isn't a negative post, more a resigned one.  It's been a weird old couple of weeks, not sure if I'm here or there. Had a job, tried my best, bent over backwards, go taken advantage of, left. Seems to be a pattern. Happens with people sometimes too. Make a friend, have fun, lend an ear, need an ear, nothing. People might describe me as "not very assertive", but I'd rather call it trusting and quiet.  I do wonder about "growing a pair" and telling people where to go, but if I ever slightly raise my voice they go all mock-shock and act like I'm insane.  And I may very well be, because arguing just ain't my bag, baby. I'd far rather bitch behind your back and not make the effort again, I'm afraid. Even when people are complete A-holes, I still make excuses for them and protect them, "maybe they were bullied", "maybe they are jealous", "maybe they're just not happy", and by always seeing the...