I have just done ‘super angry gruff’ voice in a last ditch attempt to get the night stroller to bed (yep, the Ezza saga continues) and I now have a proper sore throat. And to top it all off, it didn’t even chuffing work-she’s running around again. I need help…mentally, but with Ezza too, if anyone could??
Sitting here typing, cooking rice-SH*T, f**k, hang on *sprints like bat out of my own house to kitchen*… It’s burned. Take 2 on dinner and back to blog, I am in 2 pairs of socks, trousers, jumper and 2 tops beneath it. WITH the heating ON. IT IS JULY THE 21st for God’s sake. You know what I think? I think this is the beginning of the end of the world, we have survived several already, thanks to Nostradamus, Harold Camping (for example), for their pearls of b*ll*cks. So, my prediction I have faith in, and am hoarding tinned food and mars bars. Tomorrow I plan to get the kids in on it too, and make them dig an under ground bunker, with their sand castle spades, that should keep them amused all summer…Well, all the rest of their lives in fact. Alright, maybe I won’t. But I really do want to know the answer as to why the weather is so pants. I went to the beach, because ‘oooo, wow, look kids, it’s NOT raining! Come on, out, all of you, I don’t care that you’re naked and have no shoes on, we’re off to the beach’…So I thought I’d make the most of it, and do something outdoors. Any way, we were in coats, scarves and socks and sensible winter shoes. How’s that right at the end of July in France? Hey ho, at least the fooking rain stopped for a bit.
|this time last year (almost) Esmie turns 2...|
|Yey, the candles are blown...|
Yesterday morning, Monty had his best mate Enzo show up at 11 am for the day. He was sporting a rather large back pack, and I became a little suspicious, so I question him, ‘so, you brought some toys in your back pack to show Monty then?’ ‘Erm yeah’ cames the response, ‘and my pyjamas’ Oh, OK, maybe this was normal…although my suspicions were rising, then when his dad turns and says, thanks loads, what time shall I pick him up tomorrow? I realise we have him for the night. How did I get myself into that one? You know what, I didn’t, it was my son, that got me into that one, fully stitched up. After Lola had had her 2 friends round to sleep for her birthday (never again) Monty asks if he can have Gorka (I know, popular name in France though) and Enzo to sleep. I say yeeas, one day. He takes it upon himself to invite them to sleep on the 20th of July, gives them our address, explains how to fins us, and says see you then…In his mind he has done nothing wrong, I fully get his POV, but, at the same time, I fully get my own POV too…! Luckily, he’s brilliant, and the 2 of them were so happy, they played like angels all day, went to bed, chatted for ages, then at 10 pm the chatting starting dying out, until a few drones, and nothing, zonked. Great for Monty, I’m pleased he got a boy to play with for the day (and, not forewarned, night…!).
|Monty, last Summer.|
Everyone has their own inight time routines/sayings…in this house followed by lots of cuddles and kisses, and last cuddles and kisses, and the cuddles and kisses not felt, do me again, and then the last cuddles and kisses that were not felt, and this time IT IS THE LAST F******G time you get one, we then always say to each other, night night, sleep tight, hope the bed bugs don’t bite, god bless, I love you, see you in the morning…this is a huge mouthful, especially if you have had a post-kids-in-bed glass of *thank f*k it’s bedtime in an hour* wine. I really have no reason what so ever for telling you this, I s’pose I was just wondering what you all say? I find it interesting anyway…
See you tomorrow, Tamsyn x