A Mummy Blog and Random Acts of Kindness

I have had a bit of  day, you know...one of those days where you have to do lots of responsible things. I had to take Josh to the Optician and the Doctor. My little Puddle Jumper (Car) has been consigned to that great cube in the sky and I am trying to get another on the road so, hideous amounts of responsible things are hard to deal with. Logistical nightmare or not, I still had to fulfil my parental responsibilities. God , she sighs, I hate all the miasma that clings to you when you are a parent.

Anyway our first stop was the Optician, where Josh had to have his eyes tested. He has been complaining for some time about things being fuzzy but I ignored this as all sensible parents do. I put it down to teenage hormones and an aversion to school work  - oops! Turns out that number two son needs glasses fast and I am a bad mother. Just as well I knew this already or I may have taken it personally. We decided (Josh and I) that we were not to blame, Grampy was...how dare he breed when he has the 'short sightedness gene'! Josh was a little star and chose some rather Nerdy Joe 90 glasses and looks Fab. He is only 14 and does not realise that this is a life long thing. I wore my first glasses at 16, switched to contacts in my early twenties, wore them for 10 years and ended up with such a bad eye infection in my 30's that I was advised never to wear them again. This of course was as a result of far too much partying and far too little lens cleaning on Ascension Island. The upshot of this is my glasses have become part of me and you have to take me as I am or not at all.

In fact, I feel a little vulnerable without them. As we were waiting a nice lady reminded me that I had had an eye test in November but had not chosen any glasses. I did, but had to go and pick Josh up so had forgotten about it. So here I am, trying to deal with the fact that Josh has to wear glasses for the rest of his life and trying to pick out a pair of readers and distance for myself. The readers were easy. Big strong black framed bottles that you could sit on, on a regular basis, cover with ketchup, run over with your car and give them to the cat to wear. The distance glasses had to be some that I could wear everyday. I was so flustered that I came out with a bit of a 'Jenny Eclair' pair. All thick frames in bright green that were far too big for my small head.

I clutched my miserable selection in my hot hand (why do I always feel a bit hot, sweaty and unattractive among those 'Optician Assistant Girls', in their air conditioned heaven?) and watched as Jo measured and fitted him with his new glasses. She asked me to try on my choice and when I nervously said "what do you think of these" she gently asked me to look in the mirror. Turns out that our Jo of Specsavers in Bodmin was not going to let me go out of the place looking like Jenny. I might be reasonably funny at times but realised what she was getting at. My problem was that I had NO budget....nada. My car is off the road and all pennies must be saved. Also Joshy has just started playing hockey ( he is rather good) and that's an expensive hobby! Jo took me through a lot of frames and made me stand in front of the camera and have my picture taken with four different frames on. Ewwww....hate having my pic taken as I am old and wrinkly now. Jo realised I had no budget and discounted  a pair of glasses for me as she was not going to be responsible for me walking out of Specsavers looking like a bad impression of Jenny. So this is a thank you to Jo, who was so very kind, attentive and realised that doing the parent thing had made me neglect myself. Thank you Jo. Even a Big Brand name such as Specsavers has a heart. I am impressed as it is usually me that does a RAK or two.

My day was not finished yet though. I had to take Josh for a check up with his Doctor. The Doc in question has been on sabbatical and we have really missed him. He realised how ill Josh has been and it turns out that he thinks Josh has had Glandular Fever and actually managed to get some blood out of Josh. Josh is very tight with his red stuff and always ensures that no decent medic can find a vein. He also realised that Josh was not using his steroid inhaler as he should and has prescribed another. The upshot of this Blog is that I am a bad parent and should believe my son when he says he is ill. The other bit is to say thank you for all the support from Mrs Phipps at Bodmin College, Dr Stead at The Carnewater Practice and of course Jo. Thank God, Allah, Buddah, Ganesh, I have some support! x

Boobs, Breasts and Botox.

I woke the other day, hair looking as tho' I had fought off half of the world with lots of sleep lines on my skin. I am not a vain woman, I accept that my skin does not bounce back like it once did.  My problem on waking and looking like a Spitting Image Puppet was that I had done nothing to deserve it. No booze, no fags, no mucking about with unsuitable men. Shame! I had been positively angelic for at least a week. Yet I looked like I had taken part in Woodstock.

I have something to tell  you Ladies 'of a certain age'. Unless you can afford Botox and fillers on a monthly basis, everything is gonna drop. If, like me, you are blessed with good genes (although I am a little thick of the neck) you can probably carry this off until you are 45. I am 48 now and my time has been HAD, ENJOYED and  BLOODY APPRECIATED! Read this as 'I am over the Hill' now! Yup, I could pull a 29 year old at the age of 45. Do I want to pull a 29 yr old now? No! (I was going through my Mid Life Crises at the time). Do I want to fill myself full of unnecessary things - nope! Do I want to fill my breasts with Silicone, Nah! they are quite nice as they are. Lovely soft fun bags that have fed babies.

So here I am. I have climbed that hill, been utterly gorgeous, and completely fabulous to the men in my life. You know ladies.....the men that you twirl around your little finger and wind them into your life. The fact is that you might be one of those women that lives her life on her own terms or perhaps fills her soul with fake tan and eyelashes. Whoever you are, just remember you are beautiful and if your heart and mind is in tune with your body, then you will be happy x

Fleas, Flu and Flagellation!

I am aware that I am supposed to be blogging about all things amusing such as handbags, contents thereof; and of course funny foibles on Facebook. Not in the mood, so not in the mood. We have flu in the House of Muse, also Cat Fleas (little evasive bastards) and a broken Kindle. Grumpy does not even go near how I'm feeling at the moment. Have a word with yourself girl and get on with it.

I watched a documentary tonight called 'No Impact Man'. Bit of a stupid title but respect to the guy, (and his long suffering spoiled brat wife) as he stuck out a year of sustainable living in the middle of New York.  Worth a watch.  I think he was probably naive at best and a bit daft at worst.

I've been thinking about Lent over the last couple of days. Twitter was awash with it. Stupid ignorant people twatting on about what they were going to give up. Now, am I a bit simple in the grey matter department (told you I was grumpy) or is this the endish of February? Have we all had Christmas, gone on diets/ given up alcohol, fags/ tortured ourselves at the gym or am I delusional? So WHY do we need to do it all over again? I have no problem with the 'God Squad' getting out a bit of rose bush and flagellating themselves with it. On a kinder note, if you have FAITH in yourself, others, God or someone else's God then good luck to you. I was brought up as a Catholic and how I hated it. All that guilt, I must have been 35 before I managed to get rid of it all. I digress, what I'm trying to say is Lent is a religious festival so why are you trying to give up chocolate etc... ad nauseum for forty days. Will we see 'Happy Lent Day' cards next? I am completely bewildered....

Oh dear....just a click and I found one. Deep breath. So we have two extremes here. Giving up your G & T for forty days and nights (that sounds much more challenging) or giving up your entire lifestyle for a year. The Muse household needs a bit more self control, a little less judgement and a tad more love. In the immortal words of Twitter #justsayin....

Those that can DO and those that can't TWEET!

I have a question. If your married or living together what do you do about Social Networking? I don't know anything about this because I live alone (well not alone, but with child) and have noticed that living together has changed rather a lot since my days of being tolerant of another. I know several married couples who are keen about social networking. There's nothing wrong with that is there? Actually there is. It's been troubling me for a while and a couple of conversations I've seen on Twitter recently have just underlined what I have been thinking all along.

I know a couple who have been happily married for 30 odd years. They both work full time and in the evenings they like to play games with each other on Facebook. Quite normal behaviour, you would think. Except its not because she sits in the living room, feet up with her laptop and he sits in the attic surrounded by PC paraphernalia. They constantly comment on their scores and on other friends pages, but separately. Great fun for the odd evening but they do this night after night. Can they be happy living together in cyber space? Maybe that's how they preserve their marriage. I'm not judging, merely pointing out that the dynamic of marriage or partnership in this Cyber age is changing rapidly.

The conversation on Twitter that got my attention was one about passwords, computer passwords. Two couples argued that it was perfectly fine to be on Twitter because they both knew each others passwords and god forbid that they would ever go to that dangerous place called Facebook. It just made me realise that both of these couples were on Twitter pretty much all evening and talking to various people on their phones and not each other. This also begs the question, do you do or do you Twitter? Or the old adage. Those that can do and those that can't Twitter. How much of the moment do you experience  and enjoy before spoiling it and whipping out your phone to Tweet thereby missing half the experience.

I think a few people will probably unfollow me on Twitter when they read this but I'm not trying to be critical, just trying to point out that's its easy to get too involved in social networking without realising it. Many Tweeters have decided that Facebook is the Devils work and Twitter is safe 'coz my missus is on there' Facebook and Twitter are just the same. Twitter just moves faster. Facebook is not going to twist your arm behind your back and make you have an affair - that's up to you.

Time for me to get off my soapbox. All I'm saying is think about how much time you spend in the moment and how much time you spend talking about it. I can't tell you how to run your relationship but ask yourself am I married or am Borg like and part of the collective? On a lighter note there is one couple on Twitter that make me smile. Andy and Niamh tweet to their friends AND argue in a tongue in cheek way as to who is going to make the tea. Now that's what I call a positive cyber marriage!

Bollock Drizzle and Snot.

Here I am at last. Honestly, the minute I get going on the Blog again the common cold has felled me like an Elm tree in Holland. I have very sneakily avoided a cold for the last four years. I have done this by having B12 injections every three weeks, doctors orders, and behaving in a belligerent and stroppy manner toward my fellow man. This involves interrogating anyone suspected of harbouring germs or shooting daggers of molten lava at anyone who dares sneeze in my direction.

I spent years being poleaxed by Other Peoples Germs (OPG's) and decided to fight back by making a conscious decision to avoid OPG's and keep myself well. The bad behaviour started with the purchase of many pashminas AKA scarves that you can use to open doors, clutch shopping trolleys and provide a barrier between you and the germs. I didn't care if someone sneezed near me and saw me cover my face , ninja like with my pashmina. Don't look at me like that I'm making sure you don't infect me! In fact don't even glance in my direction you snot filled disgusting plague carrier! Another handy tool I discovered was anti bac hand gel. I found this very useful when using those yukky, shit smeared, Ebola pools that we know as Cashpoints. Germpoints more like. I mean, am I the only one who sees a bloke in the queue in front of me adjust his nads and then proceed to use the cashpoint!!!!! How dare you leave your Bollock Drizzle all over the buttons.  So if you are behind me in the queue please be patient whilst I  scrabble in my handbag, produce gel, and smear it all over the cashpoint, buffing to a gentle shine with a clean hanky. Only then can I bear to use them.

I can actually be even more badly behaved than that. I went to the health food shop to buy some glucosamine the other day. The shop assistant looked like something out of Survivors. Her red nose dripped menacingly, her eyes pools of broken veins, a snotty tissue hung limply from her sleeve. 'Can I help you' she rasped. Quick as a flash I whipped my pashmina over my face and made like a ninja. She gave me a really dirty look. It was all I could do not to yell at her 'Unclean' and make a cross sign with my arms. I apologised saying that I would die if she gave me her cold. I was lying through my teeth of course, but how dare she turn up for work infested with germs and expect me to touch her goods. Blimey that sounds a bit rude but you know what I mean. She got the pills and tried to give them to me. Forgive me, but I couldn't do it, I couldn't take it off her. At that point I nearly bolted and ran screaming from the shop. 'Oh for goodness sake' she muttered. She opened her drawer pulled out some anti bac gel and smeared it all over the pill bottle and banged it down on the counter. I threw a fiver at her and without waiting for my change picked up the offending bottle (with my pashmina) and ran out of the shop to the nearest bin where I chucked it!  Erm...don't think I'll be shopping there anytime soon.

There is a flip side to this. I am not a hypocrite. Having my first cold in four years has made me realise that I am contaminated and I will do my utmost to ensure I do not infect you with my feculent fever. I will not shake your hand or kiss you or breathe in your general direction. I promise to avoid you and become hermit like until all bacteria has left my system. Now please do the same for me!

Donut Child finally grows up !

I spent the other night doing something very painful but horribly necessary. I had to switch to the new Blogger interface. Well I say 'new' but I've been avoiding it for a year. In order to make the new template work properly, I had to delete the side bar on Donut Child. There was no simple way to do this and I had to delete each post separately. It was like having two years of my life flash before my eyes! Deleting each picture, quote or words of wisdom caused me physical pain. I was so sad to see it all consigned to the great cyber space in the sky. But it's done now and I feel light and free, able to Blog about the important stuff and not spend an hour on the sidebar, stressing as to whether the bar aligned with the Blog okay. I know a lot of you loved the side bar but it just wasn't sustainable and if I 'm going to grow up as a Blogger I need to move on. I'll still Blog about lighthearted stuff (I need to finish up the A to Z of Facebook for instance) and I'm still mucking about with colour schemes etc... but with nearly 1,000 people a month reading this I'm trying to make it more user friendly and easier to read on a mobile. I want to include this old photo from the sidebar though as it was my favourite and I'm sure you will agree...

 Its a 10 year old Joshy with Amos on Folk on The Water learning to play a Dulcimer. Awww! I have also become a member of BlogHer and a very nice Graphic Designer has offered to design a Donut Child logo for me. Phew, its all happening!

I need to ask for  something from you dear reader. My old Blog interface made it very hard for readers to follow this Blog but the new version should be easier. So if you read this on a regular basis then please help me by becoming a follower. You can do this by entering your email in the box at the top right of this Blog. I'd be really grateful. I'm very proud to have been Blogging for two and a half years now, so thanks for reading and keep up the good work! x

The Chronicles of Ma and Pa.

I promise that I will finish the A to Z of Facebook soon, in fact I have already scribbled most of it into my lovely suede bound cream journal but I want to tell you about my day.

Mum and Dad have been away for the last 3 months, they have been visiting the Australian Rellies. These include my brother Greg and my sister Jax. Thanks to you both for giving them such a good time x.... Anyway they flew in from Singapore yesterday, where Greg now lives. They boarded a coach at Heathrow after a good flight (there were 200 spare seats on their Quantas flight home), rang me to say they were on the coach but going straight through to Camborne which is about 35 miles from where I live in Bodmin. They usually stop off at Bodmin but they were shattered and wanted to fall over gracefully when they got home. I knew the coach was coming through Bodmin and hurriedly put together a food parcel of Bacon, Eggs, Milk, Bread etc..., filled a flask with hot tea and wrapped a bright orange pashmina around myself. I went to meet the coach, hoping that it would stop at Bodmin and stood in the icy wind, my carefully styled hair blown to bits. The lovely driver did spot me and stopped, asking if I had a Cornish Pasty about my person. I gave them a big hug and a kiss and sent them on their way. They looked tanned and exhausted but promised to see Joshy the next day.

I had a phone call from Pa at 9.30am this morning. They got home to utter chaos. The car wouldn't start, slurry was backing up into the washing machine (they live in a Barn Conversion in the wilds of Cornwall) and the house was stinking of damp with mould up the walls. I said no probs, I'll drive down and we'll get the car started and everything else will follow. I duly drove down to find that Pa had managed to start the car with a neighbour, who (thank you Elizabeth) had also cooked them a hot meal the previous evening and brought a dehumidfier for them to use.

I followed Pa to Truro to buy a new battery and to make sure that he could restart the car whilst filling up with petrol. Job done, or so I thought. We drove to my daughters in Truro and I went to park the car. Oops, small problem as my passenger side electric window refused to close. I rattled it a bit and with a huge 'thunk' it dropped neatly into the door frame. Oh Bugger! I drove back to Siany's and summoned my father. Now lets just pause for a minute and consider the fact that my 70 year old dad has flown from Oz to Singapore, spent 5 days in Singapore with my brother, experiencing a very fast five days of fun and frolics, boarded a flight to Blighty, stepped onto a coach for 7 hours, come back to domestic chaos and is now blearily considering my broken window - WIBBLE!

I drove to Staples, in the hope they may stock some clear plastic to temporarily shut the window as it was raining quite hard. Dad sat shivering in the passenger seat as I ran into the store. I found a load of Muppets discussing their love lives at Customer Services. 'Clear Plastic, nah, the computer says no'! Arrgghhhh..... I resisted the urge to throttle them and ran back to the car. Next stop was Homebase. I fully expected to find more persons similar to Kermit but found a brilliant bloke called Robin and explained my predicament. We hummed and haaa'd over a few options and then I saw a big light bulb go off above his head - PING! He dashed through the 'Staff Only' door and returned with a huge roll of cling film 'pallet wrap'. It was the cling film equivalent of the stuff you use to wrap someone up if you are an East End Gangster! He proceeded to turf a stunned Dad out of the car and between them they "clinged up" my door until it resembled a well wrapped sandwich!

I have to say here that it is not often that I come across the 'Robins' of this world. I am one of the 'Robins' and was delighted to discover another. It doesn't take a moment to help someone and have discussed this before under the heading 'Random Acts of Kindness'. Thank you Robin for your RAK, it was so appreciated when I needed a little TLC during a long day.

Back at the daughters it was decided that Dad would drive me home in his car and Mum would drive my clingy motor back to Camborne, where Dad would spend the weekend mending my window. My heroic dad then drove me back to Bodmin and set off on a dark rainy night back to Camborne. So here I am explaining it all to you but it needed a mention because how many Dads would do that? Here I am riding in to help on my little Micra White Charger and my dad, despite his exhaustion and fuddled brain has dipped deep into his reserves and become (once again) my Hero.

I am such a Lucky Girl.