If Only

Friday night I found myself at a loss.

I had nothing specific I actually wanted to do.

My choices were these:

Tackle the ironing pile, this I hasten to add isn't my actual pile of ironing mine is at least neatly-ish folded awaiting it's date with the iron (my house doesn't contain an unhealthy collection of pictures of Roses either I assure you, floral and I just do not gel).

Or watch this movie which was taking up precious space on our Sky+,
It shouldn't take Einstein to figure out I chose the latter.

I just want to say that should my marriage to Rob come to an untimely end either through some tragedy or the fact that he scarpered with Catherine Zeta Jones or Liz Hurley when the opportunity presented itself I want to marry Matthew McConaughey next.

Due to my lack of diligence in the ironing department he'd no doubt be forced to exist in a shirtless state.

But I could live with that. It's not a big deal.

Seriously.

Wanna Hear a Good Joke?

What's a pigs favourite snack?

Popcorn.

What do you mean you don't get it and you're not laughing?

Apparently you have to be about 3 and three quarters to fully comprehend the true hilarity of this joke.

Also Thomas finds the joke can be endlessly revitalised by swapping the word pig for just about any other type of animal imaginable should the laughter start to dry up using just pig.

Yes it is a chore to force out a sincere laugh to a non funny joke 213 times a day.

Fortunately he is always guaranteed a laugh in this house because Eli thinks finds the word popcorn highly amusing indeed.

Too bad he has no clue what popcorn actually is.

The Best Money Ever Spent

At Thomas' school they have a book club where you can buy really lovely books for discounted prices and the school makes commission on their sales. So when I indulge in my book purchasing addiction really I am just helping his school raise funds. See, I am totally selfless like that.

I ordered this one with the Christmas season sneaking up on us for the discounted price of £4, reduced from £12.99. You gotta love a bargain like that right?

I have really fond childhood memories of watching the short movie adaptation of this book at Christmastime and feeling fully festive.

The beautifully presented hard bound version of the book in it's super snazzy presentation case I bought also came along with a CD reading of the book.

Tonight after their bath we read some stories and then I asked Thomas if he'd like us to read the Snowman book (Eli and I had read it earlier while Thomas was at school) but he was so impressed that it came with a CD of his very own that he wanted to listen to it.

So I took the CD player in their room, tucked my boys up in bed, switched off the light and pressed play.

Silence followed, as did sleep.

And that my friends is priceless.

What a Charmer

In a recent post I mentioned Thomas in connection with the words 'chronic constipation'. Thankfully those days are long long gone. They were not happy times.

My (maybe vain) hope is that my boys will have such incredible senses of humour when they're older that they will see the very funny side of my having shared such intimate details of their bathroom habits years previously.

If not? Well I guess it'll just be too late and they'll either have to live with it or else legally change their names and move far away from me and my Internet ramblings.

You can see now why I'd prefer the first option. I am pretty attached to my little chaps after all.

But anyhow, very occasionally for old times sake Thomas will take a walk down constipation memory lane (so to speak) and take himself off to sit on the toilet for an hour or so. I'm not complaining my life is pretty low maintenance while one of the kids is on the loo watching the day go by with no real intention or need to poop. Eventually boredom sets in and he gets down and returns to whatever he was doing before the urge took him. I consider it a gift of sorts. Like a self inflicted time out that he gives himself.

Recently before boredom had the opportunity to set in I had to use the bathroom and for those who are mothers you'll no doubt sympathise that bladder control sadly isn't what it once was. So I asked Thomas is he would temporarily take a break from his non-pooping so that I could quickly use the toilet.

No!

But I'll only be a minute.

NO!

(More urgently) Please Thomas I'll be really quick.

My said no. You go outside in the park like those dogs do.

Can I just take this opportunity to apologise to whoever has the good fortune of marrying my firstborn because apparently a boys toilet is his castle and there is just no parting him from it.

Even in an emergency.

Obsessed. Strictly Speaking.

I have added yet another addiction to my list.

Joining the ranks of chocolate, Pepsi, Blogging and laminating is my current obsession, Strictly Come Dancing. (That'd be Dancing with the Stars for my US readers. Pretty much the same show even including Len & Bruno but much more traditional in format, you know us Brits we love tradition.)

I got slightly engrossed at the very end of Season 4 back in 2006.

I was an avid viewer of season 5 last year.

This year I admit I am a truly obsessed super fan.

Phew, feels so much better to say that out loud. Well in type anyhow. I watch the show on Saturday, I watch the result show on Sunday and every week day I watch the behind scenes show to see who is dancing what on Saturday and how they're getting along.

See I really wasn't exaggerating when I used the word addicted, was I?

Looking back to how this addiction may have started I can look back no further than my first ever viewing of Dirty Dancing, at the tender age of 11 I got to watch it at the cinema despite being 4 years too young for the age 15 certificate. Lucky for me the light of good fortune favoured me because my mum worked there so I just sneaked in the back and stood completely enthralled watching the whole thing. What girl didn't want to be Baby? And who didn't want to marry Johnny? Patrick Swayze you will always have a special place in my heart (and probably a few billion others).

After the first viewing I was totally hooked. I remember watching it on video over and over and over again. Even attempting to write all the dialogue down in script fashion (though I got bored on about scene 4, I was lazy it would appear even then). I wanted desperately to be a dancer.

But I was missing one particularly vital thing.

Any sense of coordination.

Being somewhat statuesque in build, well maybe that's too generous, a more apt term to describe me would be gangly.

It's true, I admit it. I am gangly. At 5' 10'' I have arms that are longer than most women's legs and hands that truly are bigger than most boys.

I was never gonna be a dancer. Aerobics is too challenging a feat for my level of coordination let alone actual dancing where you're supposed to look refined and elegant while you do it.

But still in my heart I want to wear those divine gowns (even the really immodest ones) and have gorgeous hair and make up and wear those dainty heels.

But in reality even one of those gowns wouldn't distract from my truly hideous varicose vein on my left calf (courtesy of pregnancy number 1), even if I managed to get my pig trotter type feet into dainty heels there is no chance I'd actually manage to walk in them, never mind dance. I don't even remember the last time I wore heels, at least 10 years, I have none in my shoe collection. Victoria Beckham would be utterly appalled.

But that is why Strictly Come Dancing brings me such tremendous joy. Ordinary celebrity people get to fulfil my fantasy. Some are excellent and some are appalling (which entertains me to a completely other degree I have to tell you) but they are dancing and every week I feel a little bit fulfilled just from watching them.

Oh and the eye candy in tight pants and shirts split to the waist really doesn't hurt either.