Astonishing. My younger son is 10. Both of my children are in double digits. I can hardly believe that. It seems like only a few months ago that we brought SB home from hospital, a bouncing, healthy, hungry and chubby boy who was nicknamed "Humpty SB" for ages due to his generous proportions. That said, he now has the physique of a fitness-mad whippet (although that may not last long given he blew £5 of his birthday money on an absolute mountain of cut price Easter chocolate today - big Lindt Easter gold bunnies for £1!)
I think I have been irritating SB just a little bit this last week, repeatedly grabbing hold of him and wailing "My baby! My baby is going to be 10! Don't leave me, my baby!" His eye-roll is now worthy of the most jaded teenager, but at least he still lets me hug him. For now.
SB was given the option of where to have his celebration dinner on Friday and he chose a little italian restaurant close to where Husband and I work. Despite being a petite soon-to-be-10-year-old with the aforementioned pipecleaner physique, he managed to pack away calamari, followed by pepperoni pizza followed by vanilla ice cream with hot chocolate sauce. The boy must have hollow legs or a Tardis stomach or something. Even FB, the dairy allergic boy, enjoyed the outing - the kind staff spirited away the lump of dairy-free cheese substitute I brought along and produced a creditable milk product-less pizza for him. Dessert stumped them, but then desserts always stump restaurants when faced with someone who cannot partake of the juice of the cow, and I can't blame them for that. Fortunately I had come prepared with a bag of jelly babies in my handbag.
On Saturday, the day of The Birthday itself, Granny and Grandad came to visit and partake of tea and cake. SB had requested that his cake this year bear a "flaming skull" motif. Which is why I spent part of Friday night searching Google Images for "flaming skulls: how to draw". The list of my talents grows ever longer, and slightly weirder. I would post a photograph of the finished item but I don't really want to risk attracting that sort of traffic.
The cake went down well and SB enjoyed forcing his grandparents to play him at various Wii games including golf and boxing. In a memorable boxing match, SB and his granny managed to simultaneously knock each other out. We decided to declare that one a draw.
SB is now enjoying the aftermath of his birthday revels, contemplating what he is going to spend all his newly-acquired cash on. I hope to goodness he comes up with something other than chocolate.
Sunday, 11 April 2010
Tuesday, 6 April 2010
Did you miss me?
I'm back! What do you mean, you didn't know I was away? Did I not mention that Husband and I were off to Prague for a wee trip sans children? Whoops, sorry. And then we got back and there was stuff to do, hospital appointments, last week of school..........
So! Husband and I were in Prague a couple of weekends ago! Husband's annual Czech-based judgely huddle was taking place on a Friday so we decided to extend the trip a little and leave the children to look after Granny and Grandad for a few days. Last time we went to Prague we flew out on a Monday and back on a Thursday and I have to say that is preferable by far to the arrangement this time whereby we flew out on Thursday and back on Sunday. Why is that, you may ask?
Two words: stag weekends. We found ourselves sitting on a plane in the middle of a group of very loud Scottish blokes wearing wigs. And one of them (the groom, presumably) was also wearing a dress. And a string of orange wooden beads. The sight of anyone's cleavage looming over one is a bit hard to take first thing on a Thursday morning. When that cleavage is pasty white and hairy to boot, off-putting doesn't begin to describe it.
Prague was lovely as ever. We stay in an absolutely wonderful hotel - this one - which is located right in the centre of the city, a couple of minutes on foot from the Charles Bridge. Our room this time had two huge windows which opened out onto a view of the river, the Bridge, Prague Castle and a row of yellow light-up penguins. I would show you all a photograph but we didn't bother to take the camera with us, a decision whichwas curiously liberating - there is something rather nice about just enjoying a scene rather than fretting about trying to capture the perfect photo of it.
We did take one photo. I insisted that Husband take a snap on his phone of one of the many market stalls selling Prague ham - huge lumps of pig roasting over open wood fires. I suspected that First Born, the World's Greatest Carnivore, would be drooling at the sight and I was right.
Prague is a carnivore's playground. In addition to the aforementioned Prague ham, in the course of 4 days Husband and I also managed to consume duck (and duck liver), venison, smoked pork knuckle, smoked pork sausage and wild boar. And dumplings. Lots of dumplings. Which aren't technically meat but since they are often served with a gravy boat full of the roasting juices from the accompanying meat to pour over, they soon become pretty meat-ish. I am getting hungry just writing this.
So Prague was great and we enjoyed the child-less nature of the days, being able to wander down a street because we felt like it without a chorus of "Where are we going? Why are we going down here? What's down this street? What are we going to do when we get down this street? I'm hungry/thirsty/bored" Not that we don't love our children, but it is nice to behave in an unadulteratedly adult manner once in a while.
And since we got back we have had the usual whirl of work, school run and so on. The Easter holidays began on 2 April so we have the pleasure of the boys' company for more of the time. As I type, Husband is upstairs completing the putting-to-bed ritual, which in his case seems to involve a lot of prodding, tickling, screaming and general mayhem. The kids are almost as bad.
I will try to do a little more updating soon. Promise.
So! Husband and I were in Prague a couple of weekends ago! Husband's annual Czech-based judgely huddle was taking place on a Friday so we decided to extend the trip a little and leave the children to look after Granny and Grandad for a few days. Last time we went to Prague we flew out on a Monday and back on a Thursday and I have to say that is preferable by far to the arrangement this time whereby we flew out on Thursday and back on Sunday. Why is that, you may ask?
Two words: stag weekends. We found ourselves sitting on a plane in the middle of a group of very loud Scottish blokes wearing wigs. And one of them (the groom, presumably) was also wearing a dress. And a string of orange wooden beads. The sight of anyone's cleavage looming over one is a bit hard to take first thing on a Thursday morning. When that cleavage is pasty white and hairy to boot, off-putting doesn't begin to describe it.
Prague was lovely as ever. We stay in an absolutely wonderful hotel - this one - which is located right in the centre of the city, a couple of minutes on foot from the Charles Bridge. Our room this time had two huge windows which opened out onto a view of the river, the Bridge, Prague Castle and a row of yellow light-up penguins. I would show you all a photograph but we didn't bother to take the camera with us, a decision whichwas curiously liberating - there is something rather nice about just enjoying a scene rather than fretting about trying to capture the perfect photo of it.
We did take one photo. I insisted that Husband take a snap on his phone of one of the many market stalls selling Prague ham - huge lumps of pig roasting over open wood fires. I suspected that First Born, the World's Greatest Carnivore, would be drooling at the sight and I was right.
Prague is a carnivore's playground. In addition to the aforementioned Prague ham, in the course of 4 days Husband and I also managed to consume duck (and duck liver), venison, smoked pork knuckle, smoked pork sausage and wild boar. And dumplings. Lots of dumplings. Which aren't technically meat but since they are often served with a gravy boat full of the roasting juices from the accompanying meat to pour over, they soon become pretty meat-ish. I am getting hungry just writing this.
So Prague was great and we enjoyed the child-less nature of the days, being able to wander down a street because we felt like it without a chorus of "Where are we going? Why are we going down here? What's down this street? What are we going to do when we get down this street? I'm hungry/thirsty/bored" Not that we don't love our children, but it is nice to behave in an unadulteratedly adult manner once in a while.
And since we got back we have had the usual whirl of work, school run and so on. The Easter holidays began on 2 April so we have the pleasure of the boys' company for more of the time. As I type, Husband is upstairs completing the putting-to-bed ritual, which in his case seems to involve a lot of prodding, tickling, screaming and general mayhem. The kids are almost as bad.
I will try to do a little more updating soon. Promise.
Saturday, 20 March 2010
Vampires beware
The Loth clan are trying an experiment this year in preparation for the annual Canadian Hoopla. Whilst we love Canada dearly, and the Maritimes in particular (that noise you can hear is XUP and the Ottowa Tourist Board collectively grinding their teeth) there is one aspect of our holidays that tends to be less than ideal.
The wildlife. Specifically the winged, bite-y, "Oh look! Scottish food!" wildlife. SB, Husband and I tend to get repeatedly nibbled upon by hordes of invisible and sometimes not-so-invisible-but-I-sort-of-wish-I-HADN'T-seen-that-actually insects. The bites would be bad enough but our tender Scottish systems are unprepared for the onslaught and go into complete allergic overdrive leaving us with angry, red itchy lumps the size of soup plates all over us. Combined with the pasty white Scottish skin, it's not an attractive look.
Oddly, FB doesn't tend to get bitten. The only explanation we can come up with for this is that he doesn't taste nice. He is the dairy allergic member of the family, which leads us to suspect that mosquitos must really like the taste of butter, cheese and chocolate ice cream.
Anyway, my mother used to also be the sort of person who only had to bare a tiny part of her skin for hordes of flesh-eating midgies to descend and chase her indoors. But no longer. She can now brazenly walk abroad in summer (or the closest Scottish approximation thereto) without being eaten alive.
And she puts this down to...........garlic. She started taking those odourless garlic capsules a few years ago and since then she swears she does not get bitten by mosquitos. It sounds a bit unlikely, I know but if mozzies are fond of the taste of milk, who is to say they don't recoil at the tang of garlic? They are bloodsuckers after all, and since we would look a bit odd trying to fend them off with teeny-tiny crosses, garlic it is. I'll let you know how we get on.
The wildlife. Specifically the winged, bite-y, "Oh look! Scottish food!" wildlife. SB, Husband and I tend to get repeatedly nibbled upon by hordes of invisible and sometimes not-so-invisible-but-I-sort-of-wish-I-HADN'T-seen-that-actually insects. The bites would be bad enough but our tender Scottish systems are unprepared for the onslaught and go into complete allergic overdrive leaving us with angry, red itchy lumps the size of soup plates all over us. Combined with the pasty white Scottish skin, it's not an attractive look.
Oddly, FB doesn't tend to get bitten. The only explanation we can come up with for this is that he doesn't taste nice. He is the dairy allergic member of the family, which leads us to suspect that mosquitos must really like the taste of butter, cheese and chocolate ice cream.
Anyway, my mother used to also be the sort of person who only had to bare a tiny part of her skin for hordes of flesh-eating midgies to descend and chase her indoors. But no longer. She can now brazenly walk abroad in summer (or the closest Scottish approximation thereto) without being eaten alive.
And she puts this down to...........garlic. She started taking those odourless garlic capsules a few years ago and since then she swears she does not get bitten by mosquitos. It sounds a bit unlikely, I know but if mozzies are fond of the taste of milk, who is to say they don't recoil at the tang of garlic? They are bloodsuckers after all, and since we would look a bit odd trying to fend them off with teeny-tiny crosses, garlic it is. I'll let you know how we get on.
Friday, 19 March 2010
On being obstructed by random popstars
My to-do list was interfered with by Lulu yesterday. I was in Waterstones (SPOILER ALERT IF YOU HAPPEN TO BE MARRIED TO ME AND ARE ABOUT TO HAVE A BIRTHDAY: Don't read this until after Sunday). Ahem. I was in Waterstones looking for a particular book for Husband's birthday and as I walked up to the first floor, I wondered why there were quite so many people milling about on a Thursday afternoon. A sudden passion kindled in the bosom of the Scottish populace for Politics, Psychology and Military History? No. I soon discovered that the reason was Lulu doing a signing session for her new book "Secrets to Looking Good" (Hint: have no money worries and access to professional hairdressers, stylists and make-up artists 7 days a week).
Annoyingly, she was sitting right in front of the section I wanted. There was a Waterstones employee standing by the stairs, directing the crowds. I automatically went into mildly outraged Edinburgh wifie mode. "Does that (gesturing towards Lulu and adoring fans) mean I can't get to the Biography section?"
The boy smiled wanly. "Not today, I'm afraid". I turned on my heel, muttering to myself. But not before I had a wee peek to see if she really looked that young in real life (she does but in a sort of plastic not-quite-real sort of way) and to check which version of her accent she was using today (the Glasgow keelie version, for the home fanbase).
I went back today and got my book in peace.
Annoyingly, she was sitting right in front of the section I wanted. There was a Waterstones employee standing by the stairs, directing the crowds. I automatically went into mildly outraged Edinburgh wifie mode. "Does that (gesturing towards Lulu and adoring fans) mean I can't get to the Biography section?"
The boy smiled wanly. "Not today, I'm afraid". I turned on my heel, muttering to myself. But not before I had a wee peek to see if she really looked that young in real life (she does but in a sort of plastic not-quite-real sort of way) and to check which version of her accent she was using today (the Glasgow keelie version, for the home fanbase).
I went back today and got my book in peace.
Monday, 15 March 2010
That was the weekend that was
It warms the cockles of my heart, it really does, to see how righteously irate my dear readers become in the presence of a misplaced apostrophe. I like to think that in an ideal world we could all get together at a carefully selected restaurant (the kind that describes its vegetables as "dew-picked"), get pleasantly tipsy and annihilate the menu with a red biro. That would be pretty darn close to a perfect social event in my book.
Rest assured I will bring to your attention any further massacres of the English language which I happen to spot. (Isabelle has already seen the photo I carry around in my phone of the maintenance department sign in my office which asks "Do you know of anything in the office that need's fixed?" I think I may have shoved said phone in her face when we were in the audience waiting for a Fringe show to start, such was my outrage.)
Anyway, how are you all? Did you have a nice weekend? For those of us in the UK, Sunday was Mothering Sunday - I don't think you North American types celebrate this until later in the year. I was awakened by two small boys and one slightly larger, bearded one, bearing a large mug of tea and a plate of buttered toast. Proper toast, thank you very much, allowed to cool slightly and then thickly buttered. I also received a card which, according to the hand-crafted labels on the envelope had been all over the place, including "Baron Fronkensteen's Castle", "Punxsutawney" and "Lionel Twain's Manor House". There may be some clues there as to which films we have been watching with our children recently.
I would write more but my laptop just freaked out as I attempted to beat XUP at Word Twist and this is a sure sign that it is time for bed. Night all.
Rest assured I will bring to your attention any further massacres of the English language which I happen to spot. (Isabelle has already seen the photo I carry around in my phone of the maintenance department sign in my office which asks "Do you know of anything in the office that need's fixed?" I think I may have shoved said phone in her face when we were in the audience waiting for a Fringe show to start, such was my outrage.)
Anyway, how are you all? Did you have a nice weekend? For those of us in the UK, Sunday was Mothering Sunday - I don't think you North American types celebrate this until later in the year. I was awakened by two small boys and one slightly larger, bearded one, bearing a large mug of tea and a plate of buttered toast. Proper toast, thank you very much, allowed to cool slightly and then thickly buttered. I also received a card which, according to the hand-crafted labels on the envelope had been all over the place, including "Baron Fronkensteen's Castle", "Punxsutawney" and "Lionel Twain's Manor House". There may be some clues there as to which films we have been watching with our children recently.
I would write more but my laptop just freaked out as I attempted to beat XUP at Word Twist and this is a sure sign that it is time for bed. Night all.
Thursday, 11 March 2010
Words fail me. Almost.
Just had to pop in to vent some spleen. I was driving home with FB this afternoon when we drew up alongside a van owned by one of those companies that walks your dog for you when you are at work. I can't remember its name, but I do remember its strapline:
"We can be their for your pet's when you can't"
Painted! On the van! By a (presumably) professional signwriter!
I am proud to say that I pointed this out to FB and he snorted in disgust. "A superfluous apostrophe! Those really annoy you, Mum".
Too right, son of mine. (He spotted the other error too, but his Superfluous Apostrophe Alarm had gone off first.)
Oh, and did I mention that Every Word Had A Capital Letter Too? Grrrrrrrr..............
"We can be their for your pet's when you can't"
Painted! On the van! By a (presumably) professional signwriter!
I am proud to say that I pointed this out to FB and he snorted in disgust. "A superfluous apostrophe! Those really annoy you, Mum".
Too right, son of mine. (He spotted the other error too, but his Superfluous Apostrophe Alarm had gone off first.)
Oh, and did I mention that Every Word Had A Capital Letter Too? Grrrrrrrr..............
Tuesday, 9 March 2010
Reassurance
Just in case you are worried that I am deliberately neglecting you, dear readers, I waft in to tell you that my Google reader currently has 442 unread entries. 442!!! I'll have to give up housework (that will save 2 minutes a day) and feeding my children to give myself enough time to work through those!
So sorry if I have not been round to yours to comment on your words of wisdom. I have been playing Petville on Facebook with my niece and nephew in Australia instead. Oh and removing dead and dying mice from my house. But that is another story.
So sorry if I have not been round to yours to comment on your words of wisdom. I have been playing Petville on Facebook with my niece and nephew in Australia instead. Oh and removing dead and dying mice from my house. But that is another story.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)