It's a boy!

Frederick James Mitchell-Johnson was born at 10.11pm, weighing 9 pounds 2 ounces. Mum is fine, wincing at her stitches and threatening never to have another one. Dad is handing out cigars to complete strangers and, according to Lydia, crying rivers over "my lad, my boy, my son". The midwife informed Lydia that "all being well" she'd be going home tomorrow. Lydia immediately pleaded with her to either let her stay "for a little bit" or "give me a midwife to take home with me".

I hope Janey has another girl, I went mad buying pink stuff because the ring and her hair told me Lyds was having a girl!

Is half term over yet?

Is it? Please say it is. Not that I haven't enjoyed my week with Mac but come on, I've done my bit....I need to have a lie down at least until next weekend. The reasons for my weariness (and need to have the tin of Roses no more than five foot away from me at all times) are many and varied and look a little bit like this:

Monday

Woke up to freezing cold bedroom and David looking puzzled draped in a towel, his face covered in shaving foam. "We've got no hot water" he said, tentatively touching the radiator in the bedroom. The boiler had decided to choose that particular time to break down, stop working, give up the ghost or, as the boilerman put it "refuse to power up". Suffice to say it took three phone calls to secure the boilerman's attendance. Mac was not happy as he wanted to go to "the park and chase leaves and things". At the mention of the word "park" all three dogs started running round the house excitedly knocking over a pile of newly ironed clothes and my yukka plant. Charlie rang and, on hearing my tale of woe, offered to take all four off my hands. She returned an hour later looking like she'd been dragged through a hedge backwards and as if she couldn't wait to get back to work the following day. I was on the Baileys (purely to keep warm you understand) at 4pm. Three separate lots of trick or treaters tonight: I told them they were early. I wanted to tell them to bugger off out of it.

Tuesday

Amelia rang to ask if Mac was invited to any Halloween parties this year. I lied and said no: she is convinced that he will become a Master of the Black Arts if he so much as touches a pumpkin. "Good, I'm pleased you've seen sense" she said. "Yes, he definitely isn't going to any Halloween parties this year!" I chortled. I should have realised that this comment would bite me on the bum. Which it did. Twice. Mac was distraught because I had cancelled his attendance at Queen Bee Mummy's party. It took me half an hour to convince him that I had only said that for "Granny as she doesn't like you going to parties like that so please don't tell her". He gazed at me mournfully and sulkily for the rest of the day. Ye Gods. Two separate lots of trick or treaters (one gaggle from last night) - I didn't open the door, just peered through the window.

Wednesday

David has a cold. No, scratch that. He has flu and if he's not careful it could turn into pleurisy. This latter comment was because I asked him to get the washing out of the machine. Naturally he's at home on the sofa, demanding Lemsips, tissues and chicken soup. His office keeps ringing up with queries and he put on a "sick" voice each time. I hope to God no-one from his company read this blog. Amelia rang to double check I hadn't relented on the Halloween front and I was able to lie comprehensively as Mac was out at his friends for the day. David looked puzzled but was distracted by Loose Women. Amelia rang back while I was basting the chicken for dinner and David informed her that Mac was looking forward to his party on Friday night. She has denounced me as a liar and someone who is happy for her child to consort with evil. Four batches of trick or treaters, including one "child" who was six foot tall and had a deep baritone voice. Bea rang: So Thin Now You Can See Bones Au Pair has informed the family that she's returning to Argentina for "zee wintair months". "She's booked a flight for Saturday" Bea shrieked.

Thursday

Lydia was due to give birth on the 28th. Two days on and Matt is worried for her sanity. "She's talking about suing the midwife who worked out her dates" he said in a worried tone of voice after he'd deposited her on the sofa. David hadn't wanted to move from his supine position but she gave him A Look. "Is that normal, this aggression?" he went on as we made tea. I assured it him was: I threatened to punch the stick thin nurse who told me that I was only four inches dilated when I'd been huffing and puffing for six hours. Charlie rang to see if Mac wanted any blood for the party: "I can get hold of loads". As she works in a hospital, this worried me slightly but she assured me that Fat Reg, one of the porters, could get me some at cost from a theatrical costumier. I declined. No trick or treaters tonight but I had to clean eggs and flour off of the front door.

Friday

Mac in a state of hyper excitement. He requested a mobile phone for Christmas so he can talk to his friends. I laughed, he refused to eat breakfast. I refused to give in and he went hungry. David, rallying from his sick bed, offered to take him out for a McDonalds lunch. Queen Bee Mummy rang (how did she get my number) and requested a prompt arrival at 4pm and a prompt pick up at 7pm. "Three hours of the little darlings is more than enough!" she tinkled down the phone. Dawn rang to check if it was still okay for Jonathan to stay over, swiftly followed by Red Haired Mummy who rang to check if was still okay for James to stay over. Had forgotten my rash promise of the week before but couldn't back down. Went out for child friendly food and witnessed a mass frenzy in the Seasonal aisle of Sainsburys, one child was so weighed down with Halloween props she could barely walk. David deposited Mac at the party and returned to find me with my hands in the Roses tin. "You promised you'd save them for trick or treaters!" he said. "I lied" I replied. I did in fact run out and resorted to giving the late trick or treaters apples, grapes and satsumas. This did not go down too well, as you can imagine.

David returned with a hyper Jonathan, a shy James and a subdued Mac. After polishing off cheese, beans and jacket potatoes we sat down to watch Eastenders, Mac still dressed as Frankenstein (somewhere along the line he'd lost his green face paint but his checked shirt looked so sweet), James in his dusty black suit and Jonathan in his Scream mask and hooded cape. I attempted to draw conversation out of my unusually quiet son but all he would say is "don't like it". Subtle attempts at getting Jonathan to tell all were met with "sssh, am watching this!". He is addicted to Coronation Street. James bobbed his head down every time I spoke to him.

Bedtime at 9pm and the boys wanted the bedroom light left on, and the one on the landing and "you won't go out and leave us mummy will you" was uttered about fifteen times between teeth brushing, bath and bed. I found Queen Bee Mummy's number on my mobile and asked her how Mac was at the party. "Oh fine, he had a whale of a time, they all did!" she breezed "Must dash, just going out with hubby!". Found three small boys in the marital bed at ten past one. I rearranged them neatly and David ended up squashed in Mac's bed and said he "scared himself shitless" when he woke up at half past five and came face to face with the giant Scooby Doo stuffed animal that Mac sleeps with.

Saturday

Mac brighter but still clingy. Rang Queen Bee Mummy again and got Malinka the au pair from Romania. "All went good, lots of fun and scream and spooked things in dark" she informed me. Dawn arrived to collect Jonathan and the previously self assured four year old threw himself into the arms of his step mother (he usually treats her with disdain) and pleaded with her not to leave him again. When Red Haired Mummy arrived James burst into tears and asked if the ghosts had gone home yet. It doesn't take a genius to work it out, does it? Queen Bee Mummy had buggered off and left thirty children enjoying a Halloween party in the care of Malinka from Romania who was dressed as "a red witch" and her boyfriend named, we think, Vlad who was dressed as "Drackleear" and there was "all dark and no lights on and Billy was crying and Erica was eating all the food". We all three resolved to tackle Queen Bee Mummy about this on Monday. Amelia rang. David was told, on pain of death, not to reveal what had happened.

Today

Bea is interviewing a new au pair tomorrow "Flavia from Milan, she sounds excellent" who used to au pair for a "titled family". Bea has recruited a team of cleaners to do the house from top to bottom. Lydia's waters broke just as the Eastenders omnibus started and, as I type, she's puffing and panting in a hospital bed and threatening Matt's "dangly bits" with some violence. The Grandfather To Be keeps checking his mobile phone every two minutes, the Uncle To Be (it took me a while to work it out too) is asking what it's like to have a baby, does it hurt and Granny Joanna?

Well, I'm eating a Roses orange creme and plotting my revenge against the woman who has, just possibly, made Amelia right for once.

Mwahahahaaaaa.........

That was my evil laugh, in case you're wondering. And it's been an evil week this week. I can cite broken down boilers, Amelia, Lydia four days overdue, David with Man Flu and trick or treaters every night this week. I've told them all to come back tonight and am bedding down for the siege of small children (and some not so small.....what are 12 year olds eating to make them so tall?) from dusk. Mac is ready for his party at Queen Bee Mummy's house - David is manfully struggling up from his sick bed to take him and pick him up and I'm ready for the last night of Most Haunted. I tell you, I've been gripped, scared and irritated by Yvette Fielding's bossiness.

So, until I get longer than ten minutes to dip in and out of Blogland, I'll leave you with this.

Happy Halloween!

Pretty in Pink

It's arrived. My prize, Much thanks to Dulwich Mum providing the caption competition to enable me to win my yummy picture from Porcupine Prints. It has, however, caused a few problems. Mac doesn't want it in his room, not because of the pinkness of it, but because of the "green cupcake issue". David thinks it should hang in the kitchen because of the "cooky type theme" or the bathroom because "it matches the walls". Janey wants it for Scarlett's room and had to be forcibly restrained from taking it off the premises and Bea has decided that she simply must get a similar print for "my precious angels" and requested the web address for PP. I'm getting a frame for it this weekend and then I shall take time in deciding where my "number 3 of 100" should be hung!

Village of the Damned

Most Haunted are in North Wales for the next seven nights, in a former mental asylum. Live. I want to watch it but David is out, Mac is naturally asleep, Senior Dog is sprawled out on the upstairs landing, Middle Dog is in the kitchen and Junior Dog is watching me fearfully because I've just watched Yvette Fielding get all jumpy and skittery and have squealed like a girl.

Dare I watch it?

Decisions: reached

Mac will be going to Queen Bee Mummy’s son Oliver’s Halloween party as Frankenstein. Well, this is the current favourite guise, others include a wizard “but not Harry Popper mummy” and a ghost “a really scary one” but who knows what it will be tomorrow. I’ve given him a deadline: I need to know by end of school on Friday so I can spend the weekend amassing equipment/accessories and panicking that I’ll be given two out of ten and nil for effort by Queen Bee Mummy.

Lydia has decided against a natural birth after seeing a childbirth video at her parenting class. “It was awful” she kept wailing as she shredded tissues on my sofa. “Blood and guts and…..gunk and stuff” she added as I handed her a bowl of homemade vegetable soup. Neither of us ate it.

Auntie Ivy has decided that valium and driving do not mix. “I’m trying the herbal tablets now, I can’t keep me eyes open!”. Her driving style is best described as kamikaze and she is the scourge of lollipop ladies in the area. Uncle Jim has refused to get in the car with her and I thought Janey was going to expire when Ivy suggested that she take Scarlett to Bluewater on Sunday.

David is trying to convince his sister Ginny that she should have Amelia over to hers for Christmas. “I couldn’t face her continuously asking you if you’d basted the turkey ever again” he said on Monday morning as he left for work.

Unbeknown to him, Ginny has decided to grace us with her presence for Christmas Day and Boxing Day this year as “her gang” will all be with their families over the festive period and she can’t face a “solitary turkey leg and stuffing”.

Also unbeknown to him, Amelia has already been onto Giles and has ordered us two turkeys for Christmas “I’m assuming you’ll have the usual suspects for dinner” she said when she rang to tell me, oooh, half an hour ago.

Marjorie is planning on a ginormous Christmas tree for her front garden and to cover it in enough lights to cause the National Grid to go into meltdown. “I’m not having some Johnny Come Lately swan around as if she’s It” Marjorie sniffed as she popped in to ask me if I needed anything knitted. “Mrs Mellish wants to know if Mac needs a school scarf?”

Matthew has emailed me with a request that we invite him “Lyds and the baby for Christmas dinner cos Lyds won’t feel up to doing it and I’ve never stuffed a turkey in my life”.

Bea has decided that she will once again host the “Bonfire Party to end all Bonfire Parties” on the Saturday after the actual day. “It means a lot of work darling but it’s so enjoyable – just please remind David not to tack any Catherine wheels to my apple tree, it hasn’t recovered yet”.

I’ve decided that I’m going to let everything just wash over me and try to maintain my sanity by eating copious amounts of satsumas (don’t you just love it when they come into the shops), extraordinary amounts of Quality Street (buy now for trick or treaters AND Christmas) and blogging all about it!

Horrors

Queen Bee Mummy caught me at the school gates this morning, dressed to kill in a Juicy Couture tracksuit, blinging shades (even though it looked like rain), her bouncing brunette mane tamed by a huge silver clip and smelling of the best that Giorgio Armani has to offer. I, on the other hand, was dressed to maim in tatty old jeans, threadbare (under the arms only) fleece and hair that I’d only just managed to threaten with a brush before I shot out of the door and reeking of Weetabix. However, thanks to my recent addiction to Philosophy, my complexion was clear and clean. It was little compensation though.

“I understand that Mackenzie hasn’t got a costume yet” she said in clipped tones. Clearly someone had been telling tales in school. “I’m making it next week. With Mac. During half term. Sooooo important to get the little ones involved in creative play” I said, tongue firmly in cheek and fingers crossed behind my back. “Excellent” Queen Bee Mummy said, swishing her mane from one shoulder to the other. “Erm, when you say homemade, you actually do mean……?” I said in strangled tones. My brilliant idea was to buy a supermarket costume and customise it. “Homemade” Queen Bee Mummy said, shooting Dawn and a clutch of other cringing mummies a stern look. “One little poppet was boasting about how his mummy had bought him the best costume in the shop, and that simply won’t do will it? How on earth will prizes be won with mass produced rubbish?” Queen Bee Mummy pirouetted on a high heeled boot and bounced off to her Qashqai, calling “I’m reinstating my coffee mornings ladies, invitations to follow!” over her shoulder. A gaggle of mummies hovering on the sidelines all but curtsied as she passed.

Single Mummy loped up, tugging ineffectually on the lead of the dalmation attached to it. Snoopy was insistent that he visit that yonder lamppost immediately. “Prizes for the best costume include one of those kids digital cameras, 50 quids worth of Toys R Us vouchers and more books that you can shake a bookmark at” she said gloomily. I suspect she was the mummy who had shop bought.

“Buy a sheet, cut some eye holes out and there you go, one ghost” Lydia said unhelpfully as she waddled into the house an hour later. I’d already rung Charlie in a fit of panic and she promised to get on the case immediately, emailing me ten minutes later with a suggestion that she borrow some theatre greens, a stethoscope and buy some fake blood so Mac could go as a Killer Surgeon. I promised to think about it – while it would appeal to Mac I’m not entirely sure that Queen Bee Mummy would appreciate it – her husband is general surgeon. Heaven forbid she thinks we’re taking the piss.

“Just buy an outfit from Asda and like, jazz it up a bit.” Jane Opposite advised when she dropped off her Littlewoods catalogue – I love a good catalogue. “You can get some really good stuff these days” she went on, checking her lipstick in the hall mirror. David was even less help. As he’s witnessing businesses go under daily thanks to the credit crunch he suggested that Mac wear the suit he wore to Janey’s wedding with a ripped shirt and tatty old shoes and go as a failed business man. Pointing out that a group of children would fail to understand it I suggested that he put his thinking cap back on.

Still, I’ve got a fortnight. If I think really hard this week and leave all of next week to actually make/create/buy the costume it’ll all work out fine. Mac wants to go as something "really really really scary mummy" which isn't a great help.

All and any suggestions welcomed!