No Self Control

My Mother in law is amazing. (I'm not saying she's perfect, she is after all a mother in law and they're supposed to be flawed, right?) Debbie is the only person I know who dedicates a whole day a week (even when she had little kids to contend with) to immaculately cleaning her house from top to bottom and actually enjoys it. Did I mention she has a sensor that knows which days we'll all be in our PJ's past noon and the house will be in a dreadful mess? Those days she always pops by to say Hi without fail. She never ever comments about the unpresentable state of my children, myself and my home but still I feel thoroughly deeply ashamed!

She's the only person I know who came through major surgery and chemotherapy looking incredible and almost sickeningly ten whole years younger!

She is a miracle worker with preschool kids, I mean truly amazing, when I was working in Relief Society we were having an enrichment evening on teaching our children to be reverent in Sacrament meeting, we decided to incorporate a panel of seasoned mothers who could offer us more clueless new-ish mothers advice and ideas. One of the other Relief Society leaders said 'we obviously have to have Deb, she's the only person I know who can simply entertain a child with just two fingers', so so true! My kids are vastly more entertained by Grandma than by me. She seriously has a gift which I wish was somehow marketable so that we could all cash in on it!

She has had six whopping babies (even more amazing considering she's the same size I was as a 9 year old, she's teeny tiny) but maintains the body of a teenager.

Amazing, right?

Well they're not even the most amazing things.

The woman has self control beyond belief. She can open a bag of chocolates and eat just one and never give the bag another thought. (I on the other hand had never considered before I knew Deb that there was an alternative to opening a bag of chocolates and devouring the entire contents immediately), she can eat half a small packet of crisps (like once a decade) and happily leave the other half for another day. She makes us the most delicious calorific desserts every Sunday and has a one calorie yogurt herself instead, but if she's feeling crazy she'll go all out and have a polystyrene-like rice cake too. She limits herself to one cream cake a year and contentedly sticks to it. If I made that goal I'd forever long for cream cakes and probably go so far as to dream about them repeatedly. The difference between Deb and I? (apart from the cleaning of course,which goes without saying) I have zero self control!

Well I do have some self control obviously, when it comes to most things I am fully capable of controlling myself. When it comes to food? I am not. I was a chubby little kid but then one delightful morning aged eleven I woke up thirty inches bigger than when I went to bed and the chub has thankfully never ever caught up. Thanks to a super zippy metabolism I have spent the last twenty years eating whatever I like without having to give it a single second thought. I remember frequently as a missionary for my church tucking into half a 'Sara Lee Chocolate Gateau' with a very generous splash of fresh cream for lunch (remember that Heidi?). I have thoroughly enjoyed myself I'll have you know.

I hear vicious rumours that in your 30's your metabolism slows down incredibly.

I'm hoping it's either completely untrue or that I grow another thirty inches overnight because my self control just can't be depended on.

My Newest Passion

Since I got called as Primary President I have discovered something that I quite completely love.....laminating.

There is something just so utterly satisfying about covering paper (or even card occasionally!) in shiny clear plastic. I like the warmth of the laminator as well as the slightly intoxicating smell of heated plastic. If only I knew this when I was still working at the hospital, as one of my minor responsibilities was the industrial laminator but sadly nobody ever ever requested anything to be laminated (which calls me to question why any radiographer would actually require anything to be laminated, you're hardly gonna laminate an x-ray are you? But that's the NHS, why focus on patient care when they can fork out for an industrial laminator that does nothing but collect dust) now alas I can only dream about how incredibly enjoyable regular use of the industrial laminator would have been. It would have made my working life significantly more rewarding.

But for now laminating everything I can will have to suffice, and it SO does.

These things come in 3's

It's probably slightly rude to refer to an infant as a thing but I guess that's just me. This baby girl is the very newest addition to our family. Thing 2 and Thing 3 will be arriving later in the Summer courtesy of Rob's two older sisters. My brother Colin and his wife Jackie welcomed baby Mollie Grace at 5am-ish on Wednesday 23rd April. She joins her siblings Stephanie, Daniel, Shane and Adam. (I know 5 kids, and they aren't even LDS!) I'm excited to meet her, hold her, give her back and come home and have a great unbroken night of sleep! Which frankly you can't do when they are your own. So, hooray for other peoples babies!

Cry Me a River.....

I never cried at 'Ghost',
I never cried at 'Titanic' (Rob wishes he could say the same!),
I never cried at 'Pay it Forward',
I never cried at 'Beaches',
I never cried at 'It's a wonderful life',
I never cried at 'Bambi',
I never cried at 'City of Angels',
I never cried at 'Saving Private Ryan' or 'We Were Soldiers',
I never cried at 'Homeward Bound' (which I'll have you know is incredibly sad, they totally lead you on to think the old faithful family dog is dead in a ditch, SO harsh!),
I almost cried at 'Step-Mom' (just when the mum is dying and the little boy says 'No-one loves you like me!' that touched me very deeply, but not deeply enough to cry.),

The reason for this lack of crying is two-fold:

Firstly, throughout my life I have always had in my company the type of friend who can cry about anything. Like my friend (she knows who she is!) who cried at 'Ten things I hate about you' and whenever someone leaves 'Neighbours'. I generally get so distracted by their emotional outpourings that I feel the need to relentlessly mock them and all emotions pass me by.

Secondly, I am dead inside. I just won't allow myself to cry at films. Mostly they're fictional and the ones that aren't just stun me beyond the point of crying or I'm too busy mocking and giggling at previously mentioned ultra weepy friend.

I'll freely admit the second time I watched Beaches I tried so hard to cry. It is a really sad film after all. Practically lifelong friends parted by an untimely early death. That is emotional hardcore at it's best. I sat there and tried to imagine how I'd feel if one of my closest friends died and I was left to raise her child all alone. I got as far as welling up with tears but I couldn't force a single one out so I ate an entire family sized bar of chocolate instead, which was far more satisfying I have to admit.

See, I'm dead inside!

Well, at least I used to be. Then I became a Mother. Something in my emotional make-up went on overload. I remember when Thomas came out of the special care baby unit and had his first night in my room with me. I was watching ER on my hospital monitor and I cried.....at ER!! (Now in my defence the plot line was this loopy mother who had mental issues and imagined someone was breaking into her apartment to kill her and her two kids so she just threw her kids out of the 10th story window to save them, it doesn't paint a pretty picture does it?) I had just had a baby three days previous so I decided it was justifiable to blame it on the emotional roller coaster of pregnancy, birth and post partum.

Three years on I wish I could say it was a one-off but I now catch myself crying at Reality TV (but in my defence it was at 'Britain's got talent' and the 13 year old boy who had been bullied for years for singing and went on to sing 'Pie Jesu' with the voice of a complete angel!), I'll shed a tear or two at any remotely sad movie, I even found myself holding back the tears watching the seven 3 year olds in primary at church sing 'I am a child of God'.

Needless to say I won't be watching 'Homeward Bound', 'Beaches' or 'Step-Mom' anytime soon.

Unbelievable!

Last Monday they were having a sponsored 'Bounce' (I'm assuming on a trampoline but they weren't too generous with the details) at playgroup ( yet another fundraising effort!) in preparation before Easter they sent all the kids home with a sponsor form which I immediately put in the Spongebob backpack and instantaneously forgot about.

The form gave sponsors a choice of paying 'per bounce' or just one 'fixed price total'. I considered the two options and went with the fixed price option (as did my mum who was his only other sponsor due to my forgetfulness and utter lack of diligence). Then I didn't give it another thought until 'bouncing day' came and I asked Thomas if he did any bouncing at playgroup. He confirmed he did, I enquired how many bounces he did, his reply, 3! Wow! Just as well I didn't sponsor him per bounce right? Playgroup would have been on the poverty line!

So today after playgroup he came out with a certificate (as did all the children) confirming he took part in a sponsored bounce and that in his designated three minutes he totalled 189 bounces. Is that even possible? What is he a flaming kangaroo? In fact do Kangaroo's even average just over 1 bounce per second? It's not that I can't revel in my son's apparent bouncing prowess, it just simply doesn't add up. I've seen Thomas on a trampoline. It goes something like this.

Clamber on.....bounce.....bounce......looks bored......gets off!

He doesn't have the concentration span required to bounce for 180 seconds averaging one bounce per second, he is after all a three year old. Somehow I just think his admission of 3 bounces is far more believable. My friends daughter attends the same playgroup as Thomas and only managed to achieve a mere 187 bounces in her designated three minutes. What an underachiever!!

I just thank my lucky stars that I went with the fixed total option and will happily pay my £5, I so nearly went with the 'per bounce' option and was gonna sign up for fifty pence per bounce which would have cost me a cool £94.50. Ouch!

Unless that's exactly what the playgroup committee was hoping the foolish sleep deprived parents would do. But maybe I'll check out if Bouncing is an Olympic event and sign him up just in case. You just never know!

Why You Should Always Think Before You Volunteer

I can only assume that yesterday I was delirious to the point where it was bordering on insanity.

At playgroup (preschool) they have a rota for the parents, the presence of one parent at each session helps to keep costs down. Now I am all for saving money when I can so I shouldn't complain, they take Thomas 7.5 hours a week so I can't really grumble about having to put in 2.5 hours work every 2/3 months. It is nice to see what he's doing while he's out in the big wide world by himself but still part of me really really loathes to do it. They are more than happy for you to bring younger siblings along when it is your turn but so far I have always managed to palm Eli off elsewhere and do my time alone.

Yesterday we were running late (as always) and we were some of the last people to arrive. I saw on the door they needed a volunteer for the session (it would appear I am not the only parent less than enthused about taking turns because they get let down frequently). I had been considering all morning how I was gonna keep Eli entertained while Thomas was at playgroup because I just had zero energy and wanted more than anything either to crawl back under the duvet (if only!) or take a massive hit of caffeine. Somehow my mouth started working faster than my brain and before I knew it I had volunteered to help with Eli in tow.

I knew the second that clarity of thought returned that this was not my best idea ever. Eli in a confined space with twenty something 2-4 year olds, with paint, glue, soil, pens and water at his disposal just made me totally nervous.

Was my feeling of dread justified? Absolutely.

Eli proceeded to continually turn all the paintbrushes upside down in the paint pots so that when an unsuspecting preschooler came to paint they would get in their palm instead of the stick part of the paint brush the brush part thickly covered in paint. Delightful!

Then he found some asparagus in the play kitchen and realised that was the perfect size to fit in the paint pot too and proceeded to complete a painting with an asparagus tip before I even noticed. Which leads me to wonder why paintbrushes were ever invented at all because an asparagus tip is a perfectly wonderful alternative.

Obviously the session wouldn't have been complete without Eli inflicting purple paint highlights on his inexplicable head of hair.

You imagine a one year old (almost two) would feel a little intimidated in the presence of these older kids. Did Eli? No. In fact he managed to make two 4 year olds cry like babies (that sounds more dramatic than it was he really isn't that much of a hooligan, one boy cried because Eli snatched something from him and the other because Eli laid on him while playing trains). Without exception the staff asked me when Eli would be joining them for playgroup and they all looked relieved when I informed them they had until January to brace themselves for his arrival.

So my turn on the rota is in a couple of weeks. Will I be taking Eli with me? Nope, he'll be going to Grandma's house instead, if only to help preserve the asparagus.

The Bad Parenting Chronicles: Episode 5

You know Thomas has always been an incredibly easy child (we actually thought this was normal until Eli came on the scene and clearly proved otherwise!) he's easy going, laid back, adaptable and regardless of whatever else is going on he tries to maintain a jolly demeanour. When he was five months old and the Siswick's hit Disney World in Florida en masse and he was thrust into the billion degree temperatures (in comparison to the UK anyhow) and forced to sit in his own sweat virtually naked for 19 days he did it all whilst looking ultra cute and with a big smile on his face. Even the change in time zones didn't phase this kid, he slept through the night whichever continent we were on. That's just Thomas.

The last four nights he's been waking up and whining/crying kind of in his sleep. I despise broken sleep more than anything so initially I wasn't so sympathetic. Firstly I tried to settle him but after the 4th time he woke me up in two hours I was incredibly nice to him but inside thinking 'GO TO SLEEP ALREADY!!!!!!', I thought it was most probably nightmares or something similar but amongst all the crying he never cared to elaborate so I never knew for sure what was going on. I just knew when he was sleeping, so was I and I was very happy!

Sunday night we continued with more of the same crying in a semi-conscious state, by now my sympathy was wearing even thinner (did I mention when I'm tired I am not a very nice person...at all?) and in an attempt to extract an explanation from him for his incredibly anti-social nocturnal behaviour I asked him if anything hurt. It did! His ear. Hooray! Not that I revel in the fact that my child is in pain but I do revel in the fact that there is some explanation for the lack of sleep I am getting. Pain after all is totally fixable. After administering a healthy dose of Ibuprofen he fell soundly asleep without a peep until the next morning. Yippee!!

Monday he said his ear was fixed and happily went to playgroup. I didn't give the earache another thought.

Then Monday night turned into a repeat of the the previous three nights. Except this time I had my ibuprofen to hand. He confirmed his ear hurt, one dose of ibuprofen later and a good nights slumber fell upon all in our household (with the exception of Eli, who decided to attempt to drive me insane). This morning again he said he felt fine but I made him an appointment at the doctor for 3PM just in case.

We went and had a fun morning at the play gym with our friends (apart from when a lady told me off because Eli pushed her daughter on two occasions, I really wanted to say 'well you're lucky he didn't bite her, lady!!' then I realised it was the mother of the girl Eli had previously bitten at this very play gym, so I just kept my mouth shut). So at 3PM I headed off to the doctor with my perfectly healthy child, feeling a bit embarrassed because he appeared completely well and I didn't want to be one of those mum's who harasses the doctor about every single sniffle. But also wanting more than anything an uninterrupted night of sleep. Is embarrassment such a big price to pay to be secure in the fact that a good nights sleep awaits? I think not.

So the diagnosis? A raging ear infection and Tonsillitis so bad that his glands are hardly letting any daylight through. How did I not notice? The lack of fever and the happy demeanour of my three year old certainly threw my motherly intuition off track this time.

At least I wasn't embarrassed for taking him to the doctor for no good reason, instead I was embarrassed for taking him to the doctor and appearing guilty of behaviour bordering on neglect!

But that's just typical Thomas!

Two by Two

It would appear we weren't content with our two most recent family additions, Spongebob and Patrick. So in celebration of keeping our two fish alive for a whole 8 days we (meaning Rob) went out and doubled our stock of fish. So now we are the proud owners of 4 fishes in total.

Inkeeping with our 'Bikini Bottom' theme we (again meaning Rob with a little help from Thomas!) obviously named them Mr. Crabs and Squidward, fingers crossed nobody wants to add Sandy to the gang in the near future.

Zoo Encounters

For Mother's Day back in March I booked my mum (and step-dad) a stay in a local hotel while Rob was away at a trade show for a couple of days so we could all head off to Chester Zoo and I'd have some company/help in his absence. (See a gift that benefited my mum and also myself...I am so selfless!)

So, how do you make Gee-Gee loving boy incredibly happy? You take him to see some real live penguins that's how! To say he was overjoyed is the biggest understatement in the history of the world. But I'm telling you the herd of elephants certainly gave those penguins a run for their money. They were swiftly entered in at the number two spot of things Eli thinks are just completely fantastic!

With the giraffe's taking the meagre third place spot!

Thomas wanted to have his face painted as a lion, my mum insisted Eli should too. She was paying so I wasn't gonna argue so I just handed him over. Having endured taking Eli for a haircut I had the feeling it was yet another experience inevitably destined for disaster. She chose a giraffe face for Eli and just to prove me wrong he sat there like a perfect angel. He especially liked the glitter on his nose, which I'm hoping is something we don't need to be concerned about as he gets older!

Thomas as a lion

Both of my handsome boys together, just prior to their beautifully painted faces being ruined by Thomas throwing a massive tantrum because he wanted an ice cream and Eli having a tantrum pretty much right after because he had walked a gazillion miles and was simply exhausted!

But it wouldn't be a proper day out with two toddlers without some tears along the way. I'm not complaining though they slept til 9:15 this morning. Now that really is the best Anniversary present ever!

Anniversary Tag

It seems very fitting indeed that my lovely friends The Limburgs would tag me to do this post on our 5th wedding anniversary. I'm grateful as I glance out of the window that we got married five years ago and not today, five years ago it was a sunny Spring day, today it is just another rainy day like every other day around here. I wish I could say that five years on I still look that rested and serene, but sadly I can't say that thanks to my two very delightful little terrors combined with five years of ageing. (Yes, I admit to having to pluck out the occasional grey hair at the very youthful age of 32!) Rob on the other hand looks pretty much the same just usually far less clean shaven.

Anyhow here it is:

Our names: Carol and Rob

1.How long have we been married? 5 years to the very day!

2.How long did we date? Overall 2 years and 4 months including a brief respite while Rob had to come to the realisation how lucky he was to have me.

3. How old are we? We all know I robbed the cradle, let's not do the numbers.

4. Where does he work? He works as an Area Account Manager for Velux (the roof window people) which he loves (and I do too except when he has to take the laptop with him while he is away and I have no way to update my blog!) but claims I don't really understand, but how much is there really to understand about windows?

5. Who is taller? Me by an inch, well at least until the osteoporosis kicks in anyhow.

6. Who eats more? Definitely Rob unless I am pregnant and then I could probably eat Rob I am so famished!

7. Who said I love you first? Definitely Rob.

8. Who mows the lawn? We have no grass in our garden but if we did it would definitely be Rob's job, sounds far too strenuous for me to even attempt.

9. Who sings better? I'd say we were about even, he would probably say me.

10. Who does the laundry? 99.5% me, he will put his muddy football kit in from time to time though so he definitely is capable. But if he did more then what would I do on Tuesdays with all the time I generally dedicate to my laundry mountain!

11. Who does the dishes? I wish I could say the dishwasher but we don't have one anymore. So I do the dishes in the daytime and he does them after dinner.

12. Who pays the bills? Mostly Rob, but then he earns most of the money so it's just out of convenience.

13. Who sleeps on the right side of the bed? Currently Rob but we have swapped from time to time. He jokes at the mo that he sleeps on the right because it's furthest from the door and if anyone broke in they'd steal me first. That's comforting!

14. Who cooks dinner? Me, Rob's interpretation of cooking dinner involves calling out for Chinese or Indian food or a speedy trip to KFC.

15. Who is more stubborn? 100% Rob (which sadly Eli inherited).

16. Whose parents do we see most? Without doubt Rob's parents, they live only 5 minutes away and my parents live 75 minutes away.

17. Who proposed? Rob again......he seems to be monopolising all the good answers, so far I just get the bonus of being tall and doing the laundry! Lucky me!

18. Who has more siblings? That would be Rob again....he's one of 6. I am one of 1 but I do have a couple of half-siblings. But that doesn't count really.

19. Who has most friends? That's a tricky one. I'd say it was too close to call we're probably just about even.

20. Who wears the pants? We're both far too laid back to really ever care.


So there you have it! I tag Amy, Erica, Allison and Shannon (not Shannon Limburg that would be just daft because she tagged me!) to answer these questions on their blogs right away!

Our Family Just Grew by Two Fish

Following my previous post we decided to take the plunge and invest in a relatively hassle free pet for the boys. Thomas was so excited when Rob told him we were gonna go get some pet fish "Yeah let's go to Tesco Dad!" (Only confirming he really doesn't realise the fish at Tesco are dead and destined for a future only in someones belly.) So we went out and got our 'Spongebob Square Tank' from the pet shop, set it up and had to wait overnight for the water to mature. We explained to Thomas that he had to choose a name for his fish, his reply? "Pet Fish".
We further explained that it would be a pet fish but it still needed an actual name, his reply? "Pet Fish".
We explained even further still how Nanny has a pet dog but his name is Max and they don't just call him pet dog, looooooooonnng pause, then his reply, "Pet Fish!".
We decided to wait until the next day before attempting to choose a name again because the boy obviously wasn't open to negotiations.

The next day he had realised that 'Pet Fish' wasn't the best choice of name after all, now instead he wanted to call the poor unsuspecting fish 'Pet Parrot'. Anyhow we went to buy our fish, Thomas got a white one with red spots and Eli got a grey one with multicoloured spots (I am telling you this because you can't see in the photo, apparently fish aren't all that bothered about maximising photo opportunities and prefer to hide in the plastic plants in their tank instead).

Once our new additions were happily settled in their new home we asked Thomas again what he'd like to name his fish. He now wanted to name his fish 'Red' and Eli's fish 'Black', I could have settled for that but Rob suggested calling them 'Spongebob' and 'Patrick'. They were after all residing in 'Bikini Bottom' so it seemed fitting.

Plus Rob got to name them what he secretly hoped Thomas would all along.

Letterland

I have been a very busy bee indeed attempting to teach Thomas the alphabet (sadly we don't have Sesame Street to provide that service here!) with the Letterland method. Letterland is a most lovely place (in case you didn't know) where all the Letterlanders live in scenes where everything begins with their letter. They don't get lonely though (worry not!) because all the other Letterlanders freely come to visit. To the left you'll notice Clever Cat and Bouncy Ben. My personal favourites are Harry Hat Man and Yellow Yo-Yo Man, but that's just me! He took to it really quickly and can identify the letters now without their characters.

Letterland has a phonetics approach so he's learning the sounds that each of these characters make. Bouncy Ben's sound is 'buh' for example not 'bee' this helps them learn to read later on by piecing the letter sounds together. Easy, right?

All would be well if it wasn't for the troublesome characters Eddy Elephant, Clever Cat, and Dippy Duck. Without fail when I ask what their sounds are I get a miaow, a quack and an elephant noise (no clue whatsoever how to type that!). He won't have it any other way no matter how much I insist or try to explain otherwise. The dear boy looks at me like I need institutionalising when I attempt to explain that although ducks do quack Dippy Duck just says 'duh'.

So for the next year we'll be working on this so he doesn't start school thinking quack, miaow and elephant noise are legitimate alphabet sounds, or else we'll both just look a bit crazy!

All Change

A few weeks ago at Church I got made redundant from my calling (in our Church everybody has a 'job', nobody gets paid but our assignments give us the opportunity to serve others and develop skills and talents) as 1st Counselor in Relief Society (the women's organisation) where my main emphasis was on teaching and education as well as the general welfare of all of our lovely ladies. I really loved it. I knew the end was nigh though as the current President was moving to China and I'd been in that position for three years and overdue a change of environment. Right after I was released from my position they asked me to fill in a position in the nursery for a couple of weeks while they decided on a person to fill the spot long term. Both of my boys are currently in the nursery and it took months and months (felt like actual years) to get Thomas to settle in there so I declined out of fear of him getting used to me being around and having to repeat the whole process all over again. I enjoyed my mini-break of zero responsibility.

Then three weeks later I got called as the Primary President. Now with my two counselors and merry band of helpers I have the task of taking care of all of the children aged 3-12 at church for 1 hour and 40 minutes of our 3 hour long church services. Suddenly the assignment in nursery didn't seem so bad. I am excited for the opportunity as I haven't really worked with the kids much before. Before my stint in Relief Society I was Seminary teacher (teaching the 14-18 year olds an early morning class before school) so kids are a totally new territory for me and well out of my comfort zone. Kids are just so honest (and lacking in tact) they'll tell you how it is, if they say 'You suck' or 'Boring' they mean it. That makes me a little bit nervous! I'll have to try really hard to not be boring or suck I guess!

Rob has been working in the Young Men's (youth) program for most of our married life which involves teaching them on Sundays and running the social group activities on Tuesday nights and he just got released too, so now for the first time in 4+ years I have a husband on Tuesday nights. Now he has no excuse not to join his Grandad's choir though, or else I'll have to!

Time for a New Addition?

Thomas loves animals. He inherited that from me and I in turn inherited it from my Mother. After all I am the girl who at the age of nine, took her favourite pet chicken (a big white one which we named Lips) to school for show and tell. The average nine year old isn't too thrilled by the aroma of chicken poop so I wouldn't recommend anybody else follow my example. Everybody far preferred the cute kitten that my classmate decided to bring the next week. A kitten will always eclipse a chicken in the cuteness stakes sadly, but that's life!

Whenever we visit my mum all we ever hear about all the way there and usually for several days afterwards is Max, Max, Max and more Max. Max is my mum's dog and yes he is incredibly adorable but Thomas was even in agreement when I suggested we take Eli to Nanny's house and trade him for Max. Such is the allure of a dog. The novelty is due to the fact that Max is the only dog they ever see. In fact out of a farm or zoo he is one of only two animals they ever see, the other being a rabbit. The rabbit in question 'Raphael' once attacked Thomas and bit his leg so he's not exactly fierce competition for Max.

The last three weeks I have had to take both boys grocery shopping thanks to the Easter break. These trips have been enjoyably uneventful compared to some so I am not complaining. But Thomas has developed a great interest in the Fish Counter. Now I haven't pointed out that those fish are actually dead. I don't know what he thinks they're doing laying there all still and dry. Maybe he thinks that's how fish sleep who knows? But as soon as we get in the Supermarket he keeps asking if it's time to see the fish. I oblige because it costs nothing and he seems to love it. Plus it saves us driving to the pet shop to see the actual live and swimming fish. Win-win!

So this last week we went to a different Tesco that has a larger Fish Counter, a huge array of fish corpses on display. He was overjoyed! I on the other hand was not. I am not a big fish fan and I find the smell of a fish counter deeply nauseating. The most adventurous I get with fish is opening up a can of tuna, that suits me just fine! I'm not bothered about Omega 3 anyhow, even an overdose of Omega 3 isn't gonna repair the damage to my brain caused by my two pregnancies.

The lady behind the counter was amused by Thomas oohing and aahing and exclaiming wow at all the different kinds of fish laying their in their icy mass grave. The lady asked him if he liked fish and he said 'They're so cute!' (Cute? Fish? Seriously. What is cute about scales and fins?) then he cupped his hands and reached out toward her and asked if he could hold one. She obviously said no because who wants to eat a fish that has been handled by a toddler? Nobody! He pleaded as he does "Please, Please!" but still she declined.

I'm thinking when your kid is begging to hold a dead fish at the supermarket it is time to branch out and buy him his own pet or stop taking him to the supermarket altogether.

A Massive Slice of Humble Pie!

In the last few days I have overheard these gems from the mouth of my three year old son,

1. 'For Goodness Sake!'
2. 'You're driving me bonkers' (though he pronounces it more like Bonters)
3. 'I'm a bit busy right now Eli'
4. 'You have got to be kidding me'
5. 'Friggin' hell'

Why the massive slice of humble pie? Simply because I am the source of all of those things, not The Simpsons, not playgroup and I can't even lay the blame for this at Rob's door. It's all just me!

I'd like to hastily point out that number 5 was a result of burning myself in the oven and not a common phrase I use, it only ever pops out if I burn myself or stub a toe and then surely it's justifiable? Right?