So it turns out that the thing that I thought was a part of a coffee machine (and spent fairly considerable lengths of time in trying to locate the rest of it so I could increase my already high caffeine intake) is, in fact, a part of the vacuum cleaner.
I'm going to gloss over the fact that I wasn't too worried about not having a hoover.
Having now got one (but still missing a good coffee maker) I gave it to the boys and let them lose in the car. I feel we had a constructive afternoon; the car is no longer a health hazard and the boys have a new love. Long may it last.
***********************
While I'm at it, the latest British Mummy Bloggers Carnival is up at NixdMinx, get over there!
And if I'm in a bossy mode and telling you to go places (just be pleased I haven't waved a hoover in your face), have a look at the Great Toy Guide for reviews of toys written by real Mums having actually let their children lose at them. We contribute occasionally, and, you can be assured, my boys can give the toys a real testing.
Showing posts with label housework. Show all posts
Showing posts with label housework. Show all posts
Wednesday, 5 August 2009
Friday, 24 July 2009
Postcards to my family*
Dear Boys,
Please leave my laundry alone. In particular please do not do any of the following:
1. post a felt tip pen into the laundry basket which will then leak bright orange all over my favourite skirt and the only decent white shirt that I have left.
2. Pull over the clothes horse when there is clean drying laundry on it. I know it makes a great den. But I need the laundry clean and dry.
3. Pull it over again when I have already told you not to do it.
4. Throw around clean and dry laundry that is folded ready to be put away.
Thanks for listening to me, I will appreciate it,
Love,
Mummy.
*******
Dear Boys,
If you want to go and play with the sprinkler I think this is a great idea. However, you do need to put on swimming stuff if you are going to get wet. This is not a trauma. Moreover, once your swimming stuff is on, do not to take it off before we even get outside, it just makes me cross, particularly if you then run around laughing dementedly.
Love,
Mummy.
*******
Dear Jess,
I know that you a are retriever and therefore predisposed to pick things up. But, please don't invade the clean laundry pile to do this. In particular please stop taking guests any of my underwear, or take my underwear outside and scatter it in the garden. Please also stop leaving one sock outside, the Bosnian tradition of taking your shoes off means that I do need to pair socks and I can't do this when one is buried in the flower bed.
Thank you,
The one that feeds you.
*******
Dear Boys,
Mummy is not a climbing frame. Really. I also have a really bad back. So, I'm really not joking when I say that I'm not a climbing frame.
Thank you,
Mummy
*********
Dear Boys,
Sometimes I can't do the same conversation more than 10 times in any given 15 minute period. So I apologize if my eyes glaze over and go a bit squiffy. When you are an adult you will understand.
Love,
Mummy.
**********
Dear Dave,
There is no magic fairy who picks up your clothes and puts them in the laundry basket. It is me. I appreciate this may come as a shock. I'm also the fairy who picks up the stuff that has been dumped in the middle of the floor and puts stuff in the rubbish bin.
Your ever loving wife.
*******
Dear Boys,
Cooking is hard. Cooking dinner that you will both eat is even harder. Cooking a dinner that you will both eat whilst at least one of you is whinging, hanging off my leg and the other is waving the wrong end of a mop in my face is near impossible. Managing to stay calm in this situation is never going to happen.
Love,
Mummy.
******
Dear Luke,
Please stop switching all the buttons on the washing machine. It is on its last legs as it is. And I don't think I can take another boil wash with clothes that aren't able to do it.
Love,
Mummy
********
Dear Boys,
I am not as obsessed with laundry as it appears. At least I don't think I am.
Love,
Mummy
*********
Dear Boys,
When I tell you not to do something it is generally because someone is going to get hurt if you carry on. Whilst I appreciate that you need to learn the boundaries and limits, I would prefer it if we didn't need to take trips to the hospital to do so. Also, I'm your Mummy, I love you and I don't want to see you hurt. So, when I say don't do something, don't do it!
Love,
Mummy.
PS - for extra bonus points, it is also best not to look at Mummy whilst doing whatever it is that you have just been told not to do. That will really send me off on a whirling she banshee like rant.
*******
Dear Boys,
Carrying on a theme here, when I say DO something, best to do it. Preferably straight away. Certainly I'd prefer it if I didn't have to ask you 30 times before losing the plot to get you to put your shoes on/clean your teeth/sit down for dinner.
Love,
Mummy
********
Dear Adam,
When you deliberately set out to wind up your brother it has the effect of also winding your mother. Better all round if you don't do it in the first place.
Love,
Mummy
*********
Dear Luke,
If you wake up at 3.30am and insist that Mummy comes to see you and insist that Mummy also stay awake with you until 5.30am then please don't expect Mummy to be happy, bright and full of energy the next day. Particularly if the day is 40C plus. Mummy doesn't get the opportunity to nap in the middle of the day. Best to go back to sleep yourself, 3.30am is the middle of the night whichever way you look at it.
Love,
Your very tired Mummy.
*********
Dear Boys,
I'm sorry if I get very grumpy, cross and shout quite a lot. I honestly do try my best to be a good Mummy. I love you both ever so much, you are both the sweetest, cheekiest, loveliest little boys I know. I wake every morning promising myself that I will and do my very very very best for you, be the best Mummy that I can. Some days I succeed, other days I fail miserably. All I can promise is that every day I will keep trying.
All my love and for all time
Mummy.
**********
Dear Dave,
Thank you for everything you do. Even if I don't mention it at the time every time you cook dinner, come home early to rescue me from insanity, take the boys out for an hour to give me a break and doing their bathtimes pretty much every day I deeply deeply appreciate it. This bringing up children lark is tougher than we thought, but I love that we are doing it together and think we are not doing too badly. It is all the more fun for having you as the partner on the ride.
I love you.
PS - I still mean it about the laundry though. x
**********
*with a big acknowledgement to the amazing Kat at 3 Bedroom Bungalow who has a regular Dear So and So feature that I just love. As an aside she is also running a giveaway to celebrate her blogoversary (terrible word that, or is it just me?) which, unlike most bloggy give aways, has something that I quite like - so if you are looking for some really nice diaper/nappy bags then click here and enter.
Please leave my laundry alone. In particular please do not do any of the following:
1. post a felt tip pen into the laundry basket which will then leak bright orange all over my favourite skirt and the only decent white shirt that I have left.
2. Pull over the clothes horse when there is clean drying laundry on it. I know it makes a great den. But I need the laundry clean and dry.
3. Pull it over again when I have already told you not to do it.
4. Throw around clean and dry laundry that is folded ready to be put away.
Thanks for listening to me, I will appreciate it,
Love,
Mummy.
*******
Dear Boys,
If you want to go and play with the sprinkler I think this is a great idea. However, you do need to put on swimming stuff if you are going to get wet. This is not a trauma. Moreover, once your swimming stuff is on, do not to take it off before we even get outside, it just makes me cross, particularly if you then run around laughing dementedly.
Love,
Mummy.
*******
Dear Jess,
I know that you a are retriever and therefore predisposed to pick things up. But, please don't invade the clean laundry pile to do this. In particular please stop taking guests any of my underwear, or take my underwear outside and scatter it in the garden. Please also stop leaving one sock outside, the Bosnian tradition of taking your shoes off means that I do need to pair socks and I can't do this when one is buried in the flower bed.
Thank you,
The one that feeds you.
*******
Dear Boys,
Mummy is not a climbing frame. Really. I also have a really bad back. So, I'm really not joking when I say that I'm not a climbing frame.
Thank you,
Mummy
*********
Dear Boys,
Sometimes I can't do the same conversation more than 10 times in any given 15 minute period. So I apologize if my eyes glaze over and go a bit squiffy. When you are an adult you will understand.
Love,
Mummy.
**********
Dear Dave,
There is no magic fairy who picks up your clothes and puts them in the laundry basket. It is me. I appreciate this may come as a shock. I'm also the fairy who picks up the stuff that has been dumped in the middle of the floor and puts stuff in the rubbish bin.
Your ever loving wife.
*******
Dear Boys,
Cooking is hard. Cooking dinner that you will both eat is even harder. Cooking a dinner that you will both eat whilst at least one of you is whinging, hanging off my leg and the other is waving the wrong end of a mop in my face is near impossible. Managing to stay calm in this situation is never going to happen.
Love,
Mummy.
******
Dear Luke,
Please stop switching all the buttons on the washing machine. It is on its last legs as it is. And I don't think I can take another boil wash with clothes that aren't able to do it.
Love,
Mummy
********
Dear Boys,
I am not as obsessed with laundry as it appears. At least I don't think I am.
Love,
Mummy
*********
Dear Boys,
When I tell you not to do something it is generally because someone is going to get hurt if you carry on. Whilst I appreciate that you need to learn the boundaries and limits, I would prefer it if we didn't need to take trips to the hospital to do so. Also, I'm your Mummy, I love you and I don't want to see you hurt. So, when I say don't do something, don't do it!
Love,
Mummy.
PS - for extra bonus points, it is also best not to look at Mummy whilst doing whatever it is that you have just been told not to do. That will really send me off on a whirling she banshee like rant.
*******
Dear Boys,
Carrying on a theme here, when I say DO something, best to do it. Preferably straight away. Certainly I'd prefer it if I didn't have to ask you 30 times before losing the plot to get you to put your shoes on/clean your teeth/sit down for dinner.
Love,
Mummy
********
Dear Adam,
When you deliberately set out to wind up your brother it has the effect of also winding your mother. Better all round if you don't do it in the first place.
Love,
Mummy
*********
Dear Luke,
If you wake up at 3.30am and insist that Mummy comes to see you and insist that Mummy also stay awake with you until 5.30am then please don't expect Mummy to be happy, bright and full of energy the next day. Particularly if the day is 40C plus. Mummy doesn't get the opportunity to nap in the middle of the day. Best to go back to sleep yourself, 3.30am is the middle of the night whichever way you look at it.
Love,
Your very tired Mummy.
*********
Dear Boys,
I'm sorry if I get very grumpy, cross and shout quite a lot. I honestly do try my best to be a good Mummy. I love you both ever so much, you are both the sweetest, cheekiest, loveliest little boys I know. I wake every morning promising myself that I will and do my very very very best for you, be the best Mummy that I can. Some days I succeed, other days I fail miserably. All I can promise is that every day I will keep trying.
All my love and for all time
Mummy.
**********
Dear Dave,
Thank you for everything you do. Even if I don't mention it at the time every time you cook dinner, come home early to rescue me from insanity, take the boys out for an hour to give me a break and doing their bathtimes pretty much every day I deeply deeply appreciate it. This bringing up children lark is tougher than we thought, but I love that we are doing it together and think we are not doing too badly. It is all the more fun for having you as the partner on the ride.
I love you.
PS - I still mean it about the laundry though. x
**********
*with a big acknowledgement to the amazing Kat at 3 Bedroom Bungalow who has a regular Dear So and So feature that I just love. As an aside she is also running a giveaway to celebrate her blogoversary (terrible word that, or is it just me?) which, unlike most bloggy give aways, has something that I quite like - so if you are looking for some really nice diaper/nappy bags then click here and enter.
Wednesday, 15 July 2009
Laundry Life
At last, summer has really begun. Having had weeks of unseasonal rain (the endurance of which is made worse by constantly hearing about the unseasonal heatwave back in the UK), we are now on full scale sunshine, temperatures in the mid 30s and a confidence that tomorrow will be the same.
In this household the arrival of serious sunshine also marks the arrival of serious washing. We don't have a dryer (never have actually, even in England) so I need to make the most of the ability to get stuff dry fast. The past few days the washing machine has been humming. Quite often it has been humming with nothing in it, as Luke has discovered how to turn it on. This is not a good thing; although I'm obviously encouraging his ability to separate whites from delicates and load them up, I am now living in fear of the unexpected boil wash.
Anyway, I digress. The washing. Or, more accurately, the washing basket. Readers, let it be known, I've seen the bottom of the washing basket! For quite a long time I thought there was no such thing. I mean, I haven't seen it for years. I had started to believe that the laundry basket is a bottomless pit. Worse, it is some weird Dungeons and Dragons portal thing, where new bits of material are constantly being fed in the basket to ensure its mysterious depths lie untouched. But today, as I type, it is bare and incidentally, a rather grubby white. Can I just mention here in a rare moment of housewifely proudness (I don't have much to proud of on this front so allow me just a touch of self congratulation) not only have I washed all the bedding and sofa covers, I've even washed the curtains. And that weird thing that no one knows what it is that has lived in the washing basket for years. I've washed the lot.
The only problem? If I believed in ironing, the ironing pile would be it. Fortunately I don't so I'm just trying to put all the clothes away. Turns out that we don't have enough cupboard space. Seems we need the laundry basket to maintain the household equilibrium. Better get back to my more usual slovenly ways quick sharp. Clearly I need to read more of There's More to Life than Laundry, who has decided to forsake the bottom of the laundry basket to sail from the UK to Brazil in the Round the World Clipper Race. She has young kids too. I have no excuse!
On a different note, I have to give a talk to the best and brightest of Tuzla's university and final year high school students. I can talk about anything I want. Any ideas? What would you talk to seriously bright young people, who will help shape Bosnia's future about? A big part of me wants to stand on desks and shout carpe diem! but I don't think my oratory talents can match Robin Williams, and the talk is in the Medresa school so requires a modicum of decorum. Suggestions gratefully received in the comment box.
In this household the arrival of serious sunshine also marks the arrival of serious washing. We don't have a dryer (never have actually, even in England) so I need to make the most of the ability to get stuff dry fast. The past few days the washing machine has been humming. Quite often it has been humming with nothing in it, as Luke has discovered how to turn it on. This is not a good thing; although I'm obviously encouraging his ability to separate whites from delicates and load them up, I am now living in fear of the unexpected boil wash.
Anyway, I digress. The washing. Or, more accurately, the washing basket. Readers, let it be known, I've seen the bottom of the washing basket! For quite a long time I thought there was no such thing. I mean, I haven't seen it for years. I had started to believe that the laundry basket is a bottomless pit. Worse, it is some weird Dungeons and Dragons portal thing, where new bits of material are constantly being fed in the basket to ensure its mysterious depths lie untouched. But today, as I type, it is bare and incidentally, a rather grubby white. Can I just mention here in a rare moment of housewifely proudness (I don't have much to proud of on this front so allow me just a touch of self congratulation) not only have I washed all the bedding and sofa covers, I've even washed the curtains. And that weird thing that no one knows what it is that has lived in the washing basket for years. I've washed the lot.
The only problem? If I believed in ironing, the ironing pile would be it. Fortunately I don't so I'm just trying to put all the clothes away. Turns out that we don't have enough cupboard space. Seems we need the laundry basket to maintain the household equilibrium. Better get back to my more usual slovenly ways quick sharp. Clearly I need to read more of There's More to Life than Laundry, who has decided to forsake the bottom of the laundry basket to sail from the UK to Brazil in the Round the World Clipper Race. She has young kids too. I have no excuse!
On a different note, I have to give a talk to the best and brightest of Tuzla's university and final year high school students. I can talk about anything I want. Any ideas? What would you talk to seriously bright young people, who will help shape Bosnia's future about? A big part of me wants to stand on desks and shout carpe diem! but I don't think my oratory talents can match Robin Williams, and the talk is in the Medresa school so requires a modicum of decorum. Suggestions gratefully received in the comment box.
Wednesday, 1 April 2009
nirvana.. or close to it
As I type, we are a picture of domestic bliss. One boy is sweeping. The other is following with a mop. If I can just keep this up for the next 18 years I (and any future daughters-in-law) will be laughing.
The realistic chances of it lasting for much more than the next 5 minutes are close to zero but I'm enjoying the dream.
So whilst I have 5 minutes, I'm going to add a link for the Best of British Mummy Bloggers Carnival which publishes the best posts from British Mummys every two weeks. This week it includes me (small cheers and a bit of a jig performed from a seated position). And then I'm going to go and read the other blogs (more cheers, more jigs and a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure that the mopping is still going strong, ah yes, they are now tackling behind the sofa, I'm training them well).
The realistic chances of it lasting for much more than the next 5 minutes are close to zero but I'm enjoying the dream.
So whilst I have 5 minutes, I'm going to add a link for the Best of British Mummy Bloggers Carnival which publishes the best posts from British Mummys every two weeks. This week it includes me (small cheers and a bit of a jig performed from a seated position). And then I'm going to go and read the other blogs (more cheers, more jigs and a quick glance over my shoulder to make sure that the mopping is still going strong, ah yes, they are now tackling behind the sofa, I'm training them well).
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