Monday, 30 September 2013

It's not rubbish, it's a metaphor.

Do you know what this is?

It's a metophor.

It's a metaphor for the double standards that exist in the WM house.

You see, it's the wrapping and envelopes from my birthday presents and cards.

My birthday was on 18 September, this photo was taken yesterday.

Here's the thing:

On hubby's birthday he opens his presents and cards in bed and then leaves all the rubbish for me to put in the recycling bin because, and I quote,

"I don't have to clear up on my birthday"

Fast forward two months and I open my presents and cards in bed and leave the rubbish where it stays, for weeks, because, and I quote,

"It's your rubbish from your presents"

How long do you think it can stay in a pile in our bedroom this year?

Sunday, 29 September 2013


On Friday morning I woke  up with a cold.  You know, coughing, sneezing, headache, aching bones, etc.

"Well, it's Friday", I thought, "I can make it through one day"

So off to work I went and managed to get through the day.

On Saturday morning I woke up to find we had no water.  

Can't have a shower, can't do the washing, can't even make a cup of tea.  A quick look at United Utilities website showed that there was a burst water main nearby which they were trying to fix.

So what do you do when life gives you lemons?

You make lemonade.

"Come on, Izzy", I said, "We're off out for breakfast"

Her eyes lit up.

Off we went to a local cafe where someone made me toast and marmalade and a pot of tea.  Bliss!

We went to the butchers, the bakers and the greengrocers to get some lovely food for lunch and then we toddled off to town where daughter withdrew some money from her savings account to buy some playmobil.  We had a quick flirt around WHSmith where daughter spent her voucher on two novels and I got two books for presents.

Home again and the water was back on.

Another cup of tea and Friday's "Strictly" on i-player.

Not bad for a weekend of lemons!

Thursday, 26 September 2013

A Decade of Juggling

I think my current malaise is due to a decade of juggling.  A decade of trying to be a working mum.  Of trying to have a job, if not a career, or just a hobby as well as a family.  Sometimes it just seems too hard.

Take 6th November:

I have a Parents' Evening I need to attend at work from 5.30pm to about 8.00pm

Hubby has Speech Night he has to attend at work from 6.30pm to about 8.30pm

If I can get a babysitter who will give Izzy her tea (which I prepare the night before) and put her to bed, I can dash from school at 4.30pm to home at 5.00pm, deliver Izzy and rush back to school just in time to start at 5.30pm.

But then this week I got this bombshell from Izzy's piano teacher:

"Izzy's Grade 2 Theory Exam is on 6 November from 5.00pm to 6.00pm"


How can I do that?

I think a working mum needs a wife!

Sunday, 22 September 2013

A Breakthrough?

So this week hubby had the following engagements:

Sunday afternoon:  City match
Monday evening - Saxophone lesson
Wednesday evening - Info Evening at work
Thursday and Friday evening - away on a trip with work

On the calendar for Tuesday evening he had written "City" (when I have a choir rehearsal).

"I assume you're not going to the match on Tuesday", I said.

"Ah, yes", he said, "I am; I need to organise a babysitter".

I knew who he meant.

"Well", I said, "I don't want you to ask Pam every time because we need to ask her when we're both at work in the evening, you know, when it's important we have a babysitter."

"Oh", he said.

"Also, you're already at a match on Sunday and out every other evening, so when will you see Izzy?"

"Ah", he said.

"I think you can miss just one match"


Saturday, 21 September 2013

Birthday Cake

It was my birthday this week and now that Izzy has become a proficient baker (wonder who she takes after?) she decided to make me a cake.

After an hour or so in the kitchen when I wasn't allowed in (even hubby was only allowed in to take the cakes out of the oven and out of their tins) this is what she produced:


Wednesday, 18 September 2013

Birthday Wish

This week it is my birthday.

Hubby asked if there was anything I wanted for my birthday.

"Yes", I said, "I want you to come home and look after your daughter so that I can have a job and a hobby"

Do you think the message is getting through?

Tuesday, 17 September 2013

Not Funny Any More

This Saturday is my school's Open Morning.  

I have to attend.  

No ifs, no buts.

I wrote it on the kitchen calendar as per our arrangement.

Hubby had written on the kitchen calendar that he had school football, as usual.

I thought about various possibilities for what would happen to daughter and in the end I arranged that she could come to work with me and help with the bubble demonstrations that I do in our department.

Last night I told hubby that she was coming with me on Saturday to my Open Morning.

You know, in case he was wondering what was going to happen to his daughter.

"Actually my team don't have a match on Saturday, I just thought I would go and watch the first 11 play at Chester"  he admitted.

Of all the sneaky, underhand, unhelpful things....... writing an engagement on the calendar that doesn't actually exist and leaving me to sort out childcare so that I can go to work!

Sunday, 15 September 2013

Too clever for her own good

Last week I had an Information Evening to attend at work and on the same day hubby was in Shrewsbury with a football team.  My evening started at 7pm and so we arranged that hubby would pick daughter up from me at school at 6.30pm when he got back from Shrewsbury.  (We didn't have time to both get home and then me back to work).

So I told daughter that I would take her out for tea, we would go to the local Pizza Express as a treat, but as we had to be back at school for 6.30pm there would only be time for one course.

I could see the cogs whirring, then she asked:

"Can I just have pudding then?"

*    *    *    *    *

(Just for the record, hubby arrived at school at 7.45pm, I was not happy)

Saturday, 14 September 2013

Don't mention Qatar

So that was the summer holiday been and gone.  I've been back at work for a week and a half and it's like I've never been away.

Of course, the day I went back to work the shower decided to leak and pour through the hall ceiling.  Eight weeks I've been off and able to get things fixed, but no, fate waits until I go back to work and dumps on me.  Hubby tried silicone around the tray but no joy.  He then went into a deep depression because he doesn't do DIY.

Anyway, last weekend hubby was absent (football tournament) so I decided to fix it myself.  Three attempts, five hours and one tube of silicone later I had done it.  I did find that the best way to use silicone is to use the official 'gun' to pump it into a piping bag and then pipe it along the shower tray a la cake decorating.  You get a much neater finish.

So this week I was also back at choir.  Busy busy busy.  Lots of concerts coming up including an illustrious one with Karl Jenkins again in the Bridgewater Hall.

That's when hubby dropped his bombshell:

"Can I go to Qatar?" he asked.

"Qatar?!" I repeated, unsure whether I had heard him correctly or  not, "As in .... the Middle East?"



"October half term"

"We're supposed to be going away then"

"Yes, well....." he continued, "That's the inspection visit.  We then go back for a week in December for the tournament"

"December?"  I cried, incredulously, "Just before Christmas and when I'm busy with concerts on top of work?"


"Well, no, I don't think you can"  I said, still not believing he would consider leaving me with daughter at half term when I have one concert and again a week before Christmas to go to a football tournament when I have two concerts in that week.

 (And remember, last year he left me to go on a jolly to Munich just before Christmas, daughter was ill and my dad got up at 6.30am to come and babysit so that I could go to work) 

(Remember also that he has a season ticket to City and attends nearly all games whether I'm working or rehearsing necessitating babysitters or missing rehearsals.  It's always me fitting around his hobby, never the other way round)

A few days later he tried again,

"So can I go to Qatar, then?" he asked.

"You're going to go anyway, aren't you?" I said.

Funnily enough, he seems to think I said "yes, you can go".

So I've pulled out of two of the concerts and need a babysitter for the third.

Seems he's allowed a hobby and I'm not.

Between that and the shower debacle, sometimes I wonder why I keep him!