Silent Sunday


Silent Sunday


Well there you go

I’ve spent seven days staring at my sparkly shellac manicure on my sun lounger in Spain whilst sipping sangria and deciding exactly what in my life needs to change on my return to a less than sunsoaked Scotland. You know the way you do on holiday.

So far on my list I have ‘buy a new shower curtain, viagra sales get an orchid for the windowsill in the bathroom’ and ‘start eating quinoa.’  That’s it. This year I’m not sure if I’ve made a subconscious choice not to embark on a mammoth life change post holidays or if I’m purposefully avoiding the Big Stuff.

My usual sun lounger plans tend to involve fabulous diets which result in next years beach body being hotter than hot, thumb  keep fit regimes which do the same, taking up a new hobby which expands my thinking, social life or bank balance  or some other mad cap plan that’ll be a flash in the pan within a month of my return. But this year I approached holidays with a slightly different mindset.

One Saturday waaaaayyyy back in April I woke up next to Super Daddy who was snoring in that comforting way that he does, I could hear the kids giggling in one or other of their bedrooms signalling that even at this early hour they had started their day with gusto.  Whilst closing my eyes and dozing would have been my preferable option, or mooching downstairs and bringing a hot cup of tea back to bed , I felt, well, odd.

My stomach was churning – proper washing machine spin cycle stuff, and I felt scared, nervy, edgy and uncertain. I mulled over whether I’d had a bad dream that had shaken me, but nothing I could recall. I quickly ran through our plans for the weekend in my mind to see if something was triggering this feeling. Again, no, all the usual lovely weekend plans with friends and family lay ahead. My stomach ploughed through its washine washing spin cycle. I felt sick, uncertain and worried. And it hasn’t stopped feeling like that since.

I look back over the last 12 weeks still wondering what happened. Several doctors visits, lots of illogical thinking and starting each day with a gut wrenching whirl of uncertainty, fear and worry, it transpires I’m trying to manage Generalised Anxiety Disorder. Oh. My. GAD. It’s awful. And apparently it’s really common. One in three people feel like this on a regular basis.

I don’t know where to start in writing about it,  or if indeed I will write anymore at all on the matter, but anyone who has checked in on Super Mummy now and again will see that for some time, I’ve simply not been writing at all.

I’ve been selective in who I’ve told (until now), this feeling being so at odds with the person that others think I am. The person I think I am. Always in control, got it all together, how does she do it?

I’ve consulted various books, friends, websites, leaflets, spoken to people who’ve been there themselves, some I knew had, others I just discovered, and yes, it is very common.  I have constantly looked for the ‘trigger’; initially I thought I’d found it, delighted that I was back in control, I thought I was better. Then it turns out, no. It crept up again, or rather just hit me out of the blue like a truck. How I got through that particular day I do not know. But I did.

So for this week, buying my orchid and shower curtain and eating quinoa is about as big as it gets, and thats just fine with me.

On Strike


Yesterday I caught up with a friend who I haven’t seen for nearly five years. We worked together nearly five years before that and spent many a Friday evening drinking wine, seek eating nachos and texting our husbands to say we’d missed the train home.

Geography got in the way of our regular catch ups as she moved off to Dubai and then back to her home, viagra canada Australia (with her Scottish husband in tow).

Yesterday we met one another’s children for the first time.

We ate lunch. She washed the dishes in my kitchen, picked raisins up off the floor.

We moaned to one another about the things friends moan to one another about.

She borrowed a cardigan of mine.

We went shopping for tights.

We stopped for coffee.

We did school pick up and we sat in the garden.

We did as true friends do.

We picked up as if it were yesterday.

Simon Jubilee

I didn’t plan to blog about the jubilee festivities as we were all out of bunting, online had no plans for a street party and the little monster still confuses HRH with the wicked queen from Alice in Wonderland.

Then I saw my twitter feed filled with Jublieeity and felt a little left out.

So we decided to maximise the free Jubilee events happening in our area.  First was the HobbyCraft ‘25% off  this weekend’ and free Jubilee face painting and crafts event.  The kids randomly had their faces painted with a Union Jack on one cheek and a Scotland flag on the other, and made ladybird, princess and cow finger puppets. Very Royal! We purchased more glitter glue to continue with the handmaking of birthday party invites, and in my Jubilee frivolity I conceded and allowed the princess to choose the bumper £11.99 pack. I then proceeded to purchase them without using my jubilee weekend discount voucher as I got slightly distracted by the little monster grabbing his crotch and shouting “there is something yellow coming out of my willy that goes in the toilet” as we stood waiting at the cash desk.

A quick trip to the ‘out of order but you can pee in them if you want to’ customer toilets and we were clear and good to make our way to Dobbies for the Jubliee Jamboree. We were too late for the complimentary strawberries, the band were just finishing up and I managed to spend nearly £10 on reduced baked goods since it was the end of the day.

Not so much on the ‘free’ after all.

Still we had a lovely time, and when Super Dad Skyped us from Holland just before bathtime, the kids were keen to tell him all about their day.

“We had our faces painted, we had jubilee biscuits, I made a cow, our balloons went flying to the sky when Mummy opened the car door, we had garlic bread for dinner!” they trilled manically.

“But, do you know what Daddy?” pipes up the little monster.

“Even though you weren’t here, we had  the best Simon Jubilee  ever!”

Bless, a weekend of celebrations, an extra bank holiday and some face painting, and they thought it was all in honour of their Daddy!




Truly Tropical

I’ve become a bit of a weather bore. It’s always a faithful ‘go to’ topic when having to make small talk with the man I speak intermittently with at the school gates but just lately I’ve become a bit of a weather freak. Not quite in the Michael Fish stakes yet, search but close.

Last week it was the rain. How wet is it?! How miserable for May?! Can’t believe it’s still welly season!

This week I’ve annoyingly taken to tweeting (daily) photos of the temperature gauge in my car. There are many reasons for this, viagra notwithstanding that Twitter is the place that we share innane photos like car dash temperature gauges and our attempts at homemade tzatiki turkey burgers.

There’s sheer disbelief. Why it’s mediterranean, nay Tropical around here! We’re not used to temperatures in double figures never mind in the twenties here in Scotland.  The change in my mood has been immense, I am in a positively great mood when the sun shines, affirming my suspicions that I am indeed solar powered. The change of activities the arrival of the sun has allowed us to participate in after school has been welcomed and gotten us out of a ‘home, snack, homework, dinner, telly’ rut. Trips to the park,  strolls to the shop for  ice creams, leisurely glasses of wine in the garden when the kids have gone to bed, weekend BBQs in plan.

It’s got me all excited about our summer holidays too, the coconutty smell of sun cream, the feel of the warm sun on my shoulders (of course, I’m wearing sleeveless things, it’s sunny.) I even decanted shampoo, conditioner and shower gel into travel size bottles for holidays and packed our toiletries. We don’t go for another 7 weeks.

It’s meant lots of outdoor time and fresh air for the kids which leave them with rosy glows on their faces and sleep patterns spanning 12 hours. We’ve slept with the windows open, and kicked the duvet off.  Bliss.

It feels like a proper summer.

The wellies haven’t yet been relegated to the back of the cupboard, and dusting off the BBQ is maybe a little premature as there’s a bank holiday coming up at the beginning of June, so it’ll rain no doubt! Still, that’ll give me something to talk about next.

Tsk, rain in June. Imagine.


Silent Sunday – night out with Super Dad


Supermarket Sweep

Little Princess hates coming to the supermarket.  It’s boring. I tend to agree, cialis generic but I refrain from shielding her from the harsh reality that its one chore that needs to be done with some degree of frequency. Especially if her and her brother continue to eat us out of house and home and get through toilet paper at an alarming rate. Yes of course there are online grocery delivery services to take advantage of, and I do as frequently as I can book a delivery slot. However my faux pas with the Tesco man in the kitchen*  has put me off the delivery route for the time being.

Here are my snippets of wisdom on the supermarket shop with kids in tow:

Do remember to fasten the little buckle on the trolley seats.  Whilst a toddler perching precariously on the wobbly seats provides much entertainment for other small children in the vicinity, it’s no good for the oldies and can contribute to heart failure.  Fact.

Don’t bribe them with sweets or snacks. The resulting sugar rush in the checkout queue and their increased desire for yet more chocolate, i.e. one of everything that’s on offer at the cheeky ‘buy some chocolate on the way out checkout stand’ is not worth it. Neither are the gawps and gasps from other (non-parent) shoppers as they watch open mouthed whilst your kid can seemingly throw sweets and chocolate bars in your trolley quicker than you can take them out.

Do remember to take a changing bag, particularly when your offspring has just been toilet trained or is in the throes of going through the process. Super Daddy once had to do a mad trolley dash from one end of the supermarket to the toilets at the other after then 2 year old needed a poo.  Unfortunately for many people that day he was too late, and had no changing bag.  Yet, in his wisdom continued to complete the supermarket shop with a 2 year old who’d been wiped down with toilet paper and had no clean pants to speak of.  A friend has twice recently had her salad vegetables peed on by a small child. Her own sitting in the trolley obviously.

Do let older children write or draw their own lists to take along and involve them in the shopping process.  Do however ensure their list does contain items actually required for your shop and not just the things they’d buy if left to their own devices.  Try also to ensure there are things from nearly every aisle on the list, otherwise once they’ve ticked off bananas, apples and pears, they’ll be back to bored and sulky again. Another hint is also to ensure drawings are clearly labelled so as they can’t be debated whilst in the supermarket. We’ve mixed up eggs and marshmallows on occasion.

Do play finding or spotting games …’the first person who can see a yellow fruit gets a point’ or ‘who can spot a vegetable we might put on our pizzas?’ Be cautious of I Spy however as the little princess once pointed emphatically and guessed ‘fat lady’ when I was really looking for ‘flowers’

Don’t go down the cleaning products aisle.  Small children getting excited about seeing Cillit Bang (Look Mummy, Bang and the dirt is gone!) or Finish Powerball tabs (The Diamond Standard) really does just draw attention to how much Nick Junior they watch. The same applies to the wine aisle, five year olds recognising the exact wine mummy drinks or pointing out to their younger siblings ‘that’s cider, not beer’ is just plain wrong. Oh, and passing by the flavoured condoms “Mummy can I have this juice carton please?” should be avoided, as explaining its not juice (Well, what is it?) with be infinitely funnier to the good looking guy perusing the range than it will be to you.

I guess the best advice is leave them at home. With a responsible adult of course and not just Nick Junior and the chocolate biscuit tin.

Do you have any supermarket tips you can share? Any ‘why did I think this was a good idea?’ moments.  Do share, and happy shopping if you need to brave the aisles this weekend.

*I said ‘Love You’ instead of saying ‘That’s, lovely, thank you’. He just said ‘Thanks’ back. Cringe.

Say what? The things mums say.

Did you brush your teeth?
You missed a bit. Is it jam?
Pick the towel up off the floor please.
Can someone switch that tap off.
The money for your school trip is in your bag.
No, ed your school bag.
In an envelope that says ‘school trip money’
No you can’t have a chocolate egg you’ve just eaten breakfast.
We’re leaving after Peppa.
Shoes on please.
There are no strawberries.
How did those shoes get so filthy?
Shoes off please until I clean them.
I’ve not see your cow. Isn’t it in the farm box?
Why would I take it to work?
I don’t have your cow. I promise.
We’re leaving after THIS Peppa.
Here you go, put your shoes back on.
I’m just putting bags in the car.
What’s going in in here? Can I not leave you for a minute?!
Pick the popcorn up.
We’ll have some after lunch.
No, it’s not lunch time yet.
I don’t know what’s for dinner yet, you’ve just ate breakfast.
Don’t drink your sisters milk.
She doesn’t have germs, she just needs to drink her own milk so we can leave.
Switch off the tv.
Put your cup by the sink.
Two hands please. Careful!
Walkings not boring. It’s good for you.
Go in the buggy then.
Are you going in the buggy?
You just got in the buggy! I thought walking was boring?.
Watch the puddle.
Walk round the puddle.
ROUND the puddle not through the middle.
It’s in your bag. Envelope says ‘school trip money’
Why didn’t you go before we left the house?
You’ll just have to wait.
Macaroni Cheese.
You liked it last week.
I’m not joking.
Shoes off please.
Don’t leave them there.
Where they always go.
Put. Your. Shoes. In. The. Box.
What do you mean ‘you broke the radiator?’
Sit nicely, feet off the sofa.
Did you do your maths homework?
Bring me your book.
Excellent reading. Stop chewing your plaits.
No, you can’t play a game on my phone.
Why is your cardigan screwed up in a ball in your bag?
Put it in your wardrobe.
It’s not dirty.
That’s dirty, pick it up and put it in the wash basket.
Wear the grey one instead.
You’ll freeze, it’s bitter out there.
Cold. Very cold.
Give me a kiss. Love you.
Close the door.
Don’t run. Walk please. WALK IN THE HOUSE PLEASE.
Choose a banana instead.
I’ll think about it.
If you eat your dinner.
I said I’d think about it.
Slow down and tell me again.
Who is ‘she?’ that’s your sister you’re talking about.
Sometimes things aren’t fair.
I don’t care who started it. Cut it out.
Use your fork please.
Use your fork.
Careful you don’t spill….
Don’t worry, here’s a cloth.
Three more bites.
Another one.
I’m still thinking about it.
Don’t call from the other room. Come here so I can hear you.
Yes, that’s fine.
Yes, really.
Go, before I change my mind.
Where’s my phone?
Who has my phone?
Ask Daddy.
Put it in the wash basket.
Underneath the towel on the bathroom floor.
Guys! Stop that, it’s dangerous.
It means someone could get hurt.
Again? You are always hungry.
You’ve never tried it.
It’s good for you.
No, that’s bad for you.
Because I said so.
Did Daddy wash your hair last night?
With what?
The green bottle? I thought it looked greasy.
Close your eyes then and it won’t sting.
Right, scrub til they are gleaming.
Yes, very good. Shiny.
It doesn’t need a plaster. I can’t really see it.
He was last on your sisters bed.
Have you seen the Dinosaur?
Stop it!
I said Stop it!
It doesn’t smell.
Cuddle up here then. Move over.
I’ll sit in the middle. Save any fighting.
We did your book first last night.
Well, ask Daddy instead.
Don’t make me count to five.
Fine, but move over.
Stop picking it.
It’s fine.
Right, go wash your hands. I told you to leave it.
Here, give me a cuddle.
It’s fine.
I love you.
Put your book away.
In the bookcase.
You’ll slip on it.
I love you.
Ask Daddy in the morning.
Ready Brek?
Well see how you feel in the morning.
Five more minutes.
Sweet dreams cherub.
Who’s up?
Just remember to flush.
Get back to bed.
UNDER the duvet.
I’ll leave it open a little.
Back to bed.
Sweet dreams.
Did you hear him snoring?
She’s out for the count.
Angelic girl.

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