Whistle while you work..

I've spent my weekend with Snow White's dwarves, plaited around thirty two french plaits, watched my son finally accomplish riding his bike, scraped the contents of my daughters exploding nappy off a trolley and had a heart attack when I went swimming and forgot to take my watch off. The fact that I've since learnt the watch is waterproof is irrelevant, I nearly died.

Saturday: My son was involved in the performance of 'Disney Dazzle', a stage show extravaganza whereby the students from the local Musical Theatre group performed (you've guessed it!) songs from Disney. Cue me plaiting hair like my life depended on it (not his but the girls in the show) and attempting to keep what seemed to be the population of a small all signing all dancing country under control.  He was cast as a dwarf (not so cool by his standards) and spent the duration of Heigh Ho completely hamming his part up in a comedic fashion, pulling his beard everywhich way and generally prancing across the stage. For the whole school number he was Robin Hood (cool) which he managed to get through without drawing too much attention to himself until the final bit where he thought that jazz hands were appropriate. Everyone else had their hands by their side.

Sunday: The babys bottom exploded in a rather grand fashion halfway round Tesco. As I lifted her into the car I was confronted by a rather nasty sight. The nappy had failed to contain last nights dinner and there was poo ev-er-y-wh-ere. 'Wipes!' I choked, rummaging around in my large bag to locate them...'Oh bollocks' I stated  (much to the dismay of an elderly couple who had  previously been gooing and gurgling over my now poo soaked babba and commending me on having such a well behaved little one) I was down to one wipe. One wipe! 'What kind of an idiot leaves one wipe in the packet?' I moaned, until I remembered that idiot was me and I'd forgotten to stock up on wipes the past week, despite having been shopping four times. So now I was faced with a quandry...do I wipe the seat of the trolley OR my daughters hand, covered in poo, moving at an alarming rate towards her mouth? I did what any self respecting mother would do. I panicked. Then I improvised. My poobaby was wiped, wrapped in a muslin and bundled into her seat.

The trolley was wiped down with a t shirt found in the boot. I don't know whos t shirt it is, so I apologise now should anyone have left it with me for 'safe-keeping'.


Last weekend jet setting off to Marbella - this weekend? Life. And I wouldn't change it for a thing.

Just a bird. No bees.....

A bird pooed on my sister. Not a little neat streak of inoffensive white poo but full on smelly sloppy poo, all over her head and weirdly her hand too. Now just for the record this seagull has had it in for us since we arrived at our hotel. Every morning I see him staring at my through the window with his beady little eyes. He then watches us have breakfast and had the audacity to sit at the side of the pool as we swim. It's like he is mocking us, he has a bit of a cock sure swagger about him that I just don't like, and I think he knows it. Today at around half three I noticed him in the palm tree next to our sunbeds. He had a few of his mates over and they insisted on making a racket-clearly attention seeking. My friend pointed out he was hovering a bit near to the beds, I agreed he was mugging us off as I'd made it quite clear I didn't like him hanging around. He did a few swoops of the area and at that point decided to open his squawky little bowels and deposit last nights tea on to my poor unsuspecting sister. Through the tears of laughter I managed to reassure her that I'm sure he was aiming for me, as Sam shrieked (loud enough to wake the dead) 'Smell it, smell it, smell my finger it smells of fish!!!' This drew a fair bit of attention from the sunworshipers around the pool as I tried to point out a bird had pooed. Turns out the lady across the way had too felt something warm and wet on her back and had assumed it was my over zealous suntan lotion application, until she smelt the stench of rotten fish. 'Oh well' she cheerily said 'Its lucky!' Lucky? Really? Rather than holding out for lady luck to fix a lottery win I'd suggest a trip to the shower. And quickly!

The Birds and the Bees....

Today I took my little girl for a spot of lunch with one of my oldest friends. Oldest as in I've known her forever, not like she's eighty or something. We decided to go to a local garden centre which has a lovely restaurant attached, serving local produce and yummy cheeses. I think the loveliness of this eaterie was somewhat lost on D as she slept through it entirely! Anyway I was actually ten minutes early ( unheard of on planet Kate) so I grabbed a table and took some time to do a spot of people watching. My attention was taken by a little girl of about four who kept smiling at us then hiding behind a rather large napkin. 'Look' she said to her mummy as she pointed at my daughter 'a baby'. She proceeded to coo over and stroke D's face for a few seconds before turning to her mum in a very matter of fact way and asked 'Where do babies come from?!' I was instantly propelled back in time to when my son (nearly eight) asked me the exact same question. He'd come out of school one day laughing his head off with his little mate, looking like he was dying to say something. He waited until we were home before announcing 'James said he came out of his mummy's front bum - how ridiculous is that??!!' It was only when he realised I wasn't agreeing with that fact that he began asking questions, somewhat panicked. 'Mummy' he began 'Pllleeeaasseee tell me that's not true? Please tell me I didn't come out of yours, please mum??' I thought I may aswell get it out the way so I explained that's how most babies enter the world, however I'd had an emergency c section with him so he'd come out via the more 'scenic' route. The look of relief on his face was clear, then the question 'Id been dreading....'But how did I get in there?' I decided then was a good a time as any to have 'the chat' and spoke about a special Mummy garden, which needed a special seed from a Daddy so with love and the right care the seed could grow into a baby. I stupidly even secretly commended myself for how creatively I'd handled 'the chat' and how grown up my little man was. It wasn't until a few months later (me heavily pregnant) sitting in the same garden centre restaurant with my Mum that my son decided to share his infinite wisdom. 'Nanny' he declared 'I know how the baby got into Mummy's tummy!' My poor unsuspecting mum smiled and answered 'Do you?' He smiled as he proudly announced 'Yes Nanny. Mummy swallowed Shaun's nuts!' I nearly snorted tea out of my nose. My mum burst into a fit of shocked giggles. I think the seed conversation was totally lost on him.
So today, as I sat with my friend at lunch, all I could do was smile at the lady at the table and give her the 'mothers unite' sympathy face, knowing that in another few years I'd have to have the conversation all over again with my daughter. I've got a while to prepare, this time I think I'll leave the creative garden/seed/nuts element out and stick to the facts!

We're all going on a summer holiday...

This weekend I shall be committing one of the most massive mummy sins known to humankind. I am going away....Without The Kids. *gasp*
I am away to Marbella with my sister and friend, for four (blissful) days in the sun. Not the greatest choice of destination for my self esteem six months post baby, given that most of the women there are glamourpuss model types, with concave stomachs, thick glossy hair and pneumatic breasts. I'm still battling with the stubborn remainder of my gigantic baby bump, hair that looks like a stray sparrow has taken up residence on my head and boobs that may well have DairyCrest emblazoned across them with a tendency to spontaneously spring a leak. Glamourous huh? I remember the days when a girlie weekend away needed a bikini, toothbrush and slinky dresses....this one needs a breast pump, factor 30 (minimum) and extra cover travel insurance 'just in case'. I've had my clothes sorted for a week already and if I'm completely honest I'm a little excited at the prospect of wearing something without a trail if baby sick across my shoulder or a glob of snot on my chest. The next on my list of holiday 'must haves' are books. Plural. The only thing I've read recently was 'Easy Weaning' and my phone bill-neither of which were particularly pleasant, so have stocked up on chick lit and crime thrillers and I can't wait to get stuck in. For the OH and kids I've cooked enough meals to last until 2025, sorted out the kids outfits (the OH always manages to make the baby look like a refugee with choice of outfit combos) and left a list as long as my leg hair...that reminds me to book a wax appointment! I'll miss the school runs, bedtime stories and singing silly songs and I have visions of them wailing for me (cue feelings of mummy guilt-the worst kind) and I am wondering how they'll cope without me. Funnily enough I'm also I'm thinking how I'll cope without them, their laughs, smiles and cuddles. It's only four days I tell myself, I'll have my books, my not so slinky dresses and maybe even treat myself to a cheeky sangria whilst I'm there. I'm hoping maybe one eve I can go completely wild and stay up til 4am through choice and not because the baby decides it's playtime! With less four days until take off I suppose locating my passport would be a good idea.......

Mummy knows best?

My mum asked me about 'this blogging thing' that I like to do....I explained to her what a blog is and how people the world over can read all about my little life. 'What's with the title then?' she asked. 'Babies, boobs and (smelly) bottoms?' I told her I write about my kiddlewinks, will discuss boobs and general other body changes once pregnancy has taken its toll and ponder how such a small and pretty baby can make such a vile smell....turns out she just wanted to clarify that I wouldn't just talk about wanting a boob job and going to the loo.
Bless her.

Welcome to life as I know it....

I'm Kate, a twenty something mummy living in leafy surburbia. I say twenty something when in reality its nearer the big three (uh) oh mark. I am the proud owner of a couple of rugrats, a long suffering other half and a people carrier. I love the kids and boyfriend...don't have quite so much affection for the wagon.
I'm currently on Maternity Leave and mostly enjoying the ups and downs of being a 'Stay at Home Mum'. Hats off to all those SAHMs out there, its hard work. I will be returning to work.....at some point. I think I realised that it might be a good thing to go back (part time) when I greeted my friend in a tone usually reserved for excitable two year olds, set fire to the microwave by putting a solitary sweet potato in to cook for fifty five minutes and couldn't work out why my daughters car seat wouldn't lock into the base.....I had her upside down!
Hopefully writing this blog will get the brain ticking and entertain you along the way!

Kate x