Monthly Archives: December 2012

A Happy New Year? Lucy’s 2013 Resolutions

Wow, another year has nearly finished. We are all a year older, wiser and probably poorer (particularly those of us who are stupid enough to own horses and are finding the cost of their feed challenging the value of gold and their market value dropping worryingly close to the price of goldfish!)

In 2012, for the first time in my life, I managed to stick to all my new year’s resolutions (through the simple expedient of not making any to start with). I’ve decided to be braver this year and not only produce a list of ten resolutions but also to publish them on the world wide web so that I have no chance of “forgetting” them.

Here goes…

To keep the hound’s bed clean – my mum has a greyhound and a whippet and their bed looks and smells like it wouldn’t be out of place in the Ritz. I am not sure how often she cleans and vacuums it but I try really hard to keep Annie’s “shoe-cupboard bed” just as clean and hair-free but fail miserably on both counts. Of course, it could just be that my mum has a rare form of dog-bed cleaning OCD?

To send all of my children to school in matching socks. By this, I don’t mean that all five children’s socks will be the same (although that actually would make life much easier) but that I am going to do my best to overcome my (fully justified) “her children always wear odd socks” reputation.

While on the subject of my “school reputation” – I am going to open all school book bags and read (and answer!) all letters at least every other day. This does not stretch to allowing the school to have my real and correct mobile number – I much prefer that they shower Jon with 3 texts per day about school cake sales (he ignores them anyway, including the odd important one).

To lose another 7Ibs of unnecessary fat, largely from my bum. This will get me down to my “ideal racing weight” as described in the last issue of “Runner’s World” and will make me run considerably faster.  I have been trying to apply this theory for the last few months and have already lost a few blocks of lard. I was greatly encouraged when I finished in the top 30 out of a field of 2000 in my last race, along with my friend Vicky and brother Henry. “Santa runs” obviously only attract the fastest and most hardcore runners – or that is what I keep telling myself (and not every one of the 1970 people behind us was a small child, an over-weight middle-aged lady pushing a pram or an OAP dressed as a turkey).

To sell at least 5 horses before our 2013 foals are born. This will please me because I will a) have less work to do b) be less poor c) go some way to helping reduce my husband’s whinging.

Learn how to mend a puncture on my bike. It is amazing that I have got through 36 years of life without ever doing this (especially as triathlon is now one of my hobbies). I have no rational excuse for this lack of bike maintenance but justify myself by telling everyone that I have repaired at least 50 punctured paddling pools/mini-bouncy castles over the past 12 years. The fact that my front tyre exploded two miles away from home on Christmas day and I had to run home pushing my bike has nothing to do with this resolution whatsoever.

To pick up all dog poo before Jon gets a chance to moan about it and give me a grid reference (example “There are three separate lumps, four steps north-east of the climbing frame”). Ok, this one might require some good black out blinds in the living room (which overlooks the garden) and maybe some DVDs of hot women in bikinis (which I could put on TV as a distraction method ready for when Jon gets up in the morning).

To clean behind the fridge again BEFORE this time next year. For those of you who don’t tune into my Facebook, this year’s behind-the-fridge find included a pair of Troll’s trousers, a packet of Jaffa cakes, several cans of beer (one which had a hole in and was glued to the floor in a fermented slop) and, the piece de resistance, an old  (and thankfully unoccupied) mouse nest.

To delete unimportant/uninteresting emails after I have not bothered to open or read them.  My unread Yahoo email list now just says “999+” because it can’t be bothered to count over 1000… (don’t worry, if you are interesting, my friend in real-life or want to buy a horse, I will respond to your email within minutes!)

To reduce my Facebook, Twitter, Pinterest, Reddit, MoneySavingExpert, 220Triathlon, Donedeal, Iomoio and eBay web-time…by not logging on after 11pm…on a Sunday. That sounds fair doesn’t it?

I think that should do it. Happy 2013 every one!

 

 

 

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Filed under CELEBRATIONS, christmas, comedy, disorder, dogs, family, funny, grumpy husbands, humour, large families, married life

Children say the funniest things

Our youngest daughter, Marigold also goes by the name “Troll”. This nick- name was coined by my cousin Sam, after Marigold was exceptionally noisy and naughty at his wedding, when she was about 18 months old.  We obviously don’t call her it all the time but she does know that it is a reference to her and she thinks this is funny.

Since Marigold was given this name, I have been putting “Troll statuses” on to Facebook. My dad took the time today to make a collection of the best ones from the last month or two, I hope you like them.

Troll (3): “Me love you mummy” Me: “I love you too Marigold but you must say I instead of me, like this I am called Marigold, I have purple wellies, I am muddy, I have just been to the farm to pick up granny’s milk, I have a horse called Amber, I love you…do you understand?” Troll: “Yes, me understand, me just taking my coat off”

Troll (3): ” Me want some boobies”

Earlier today Troll (3) kept bothering/trying to sit on Annie Hound, so Daisy (9) put Annie out of harms way in her basket in the shoe-room outside. Troll not pleased with this, approached Clyde (11) and said :”me got a plan. Build den, kill Daisy”

Troll (3 years, making a passing observation of the fish counter in Tesco): “Ooooooooooo Fish! Big fish, real fish, dead fish!”

Daisy (9 years in the bath with Troll, 3 years): “Mummy, I think Marigold has wee’d in the bath!” Me: “Why do you think that Daisy?” Daisy: “Because she said ME NEED A WEE.. and then she said ME NOT NEED A WEE ANY MORE “…

Troll (3 yrs, whilst pushing a large wheelbarrow across the yard): “Me can’t push any more. It too heavy. Me wasted my batteries”

Troll (3 yrs, counting this morning): “one, two, three, six, nine, ten, oneteen, twoteen, nineteen!

When your three year old is able to inform you of her bowel movements using the phrase “me done a massive, gigantic pile of poo in my potty”, then surely it is time that she started going on to the toilet instead?!

Troll (3): “Me want those nuts with shells, moustachio nuts”

I have both a niece and a horse called Tess. Today I went shopping with Troll (3) and told her we were buying a Monster High doll for one of Tess’s Christmas presents. About 2 hours later, on the way home Troll said to me: “That doll.. are we getting one for the other horses too?”

Me: “Have you got your socks on Marigold?” Troll (3): “No, me got tights on, really warm tights. The weather is really, really bad – you must tuck me in to stop me blowing away”

Troll (3 years, caught muttering to herself after being told she has a one hour wait before going to visit her nanny): “Tut, me never going to go to Nanny Di’s house, gonna have to run away”

Troll (3yrs, after helping me clean the fridge for 10 minutes): “Me had enough. Me full-up of this”

Troll (3 yrs, when we were getting ready to go to School Christmas dinner, were running late and daddy wanted to shave but couldn’t find his razor): “Me think we should just go without him”

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Filed under children, comedy, cute, family, funny, funny things kids say, humour, kids, large families, sisters, toddlers

Christmas Hound

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December 15, 2012 · 9:08 am

Pile of sleeping girls

sleeping girls

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December 13, 2012 · 9:23 am

Why I wouldn’t swap my husband for Brad Pitt

Women often joke that they would swap their husbands/partners for their favourite movie star given half the chance. I’ve got to admit that at times, if I could click my fingers and instantaneously replace Jon for a less complaining model, I’d be tempted, particularly if a) Jon was, at that exact moment, moaning about the piles of paperwork in the kitchen b)I could be certain that the man I’d get in return was Brad Pitt.

I think that after the initial novelty (of Brad vacuuming topless) wore off, I’d be trawling the internet trying to find Jon again. This may coincide with me not being able to start my dumper truck or needing to deliver a foal to Newcastle but these things would merely be a catalyst to something that I know I would do anyway, eventually.

After all, I live in the UK where it is only warm enough for semi naked vacuuming three weeks of the year.  I like Jon’s rough ‘n’ ready mad professor in D.I.Y. clothes look – and am treated to it at least 300 days a year  – so it just comes down to simple maths – three weeks are not enough to justify a swap in my opinion.

I’ve come up with a few other reasons too, which I’ve listed below to stop me texting Brad, the next time Jon annoys me.

Brad looks hot in Levis but would he actually be any good with a Paslode first fix nail gun, a bucket of cement or a tile-cutting machine? Does he have any stable building experience?

Brad Pitt wouldn’t want to go swimming in Newark on a Monday evening and if he did, it would cause mass subscription in the weight-watchers water spinning class which occurs on the same night and it would be more difficult to park.

Brad is used to Angelina’s dress sense, It is unlikely that either my old horse-poo -coated clothing or lycra triathlon gear would do it for him.

Brad almost certainly is accustomed to five star hotels and Michelin three-star restaurants; he wouldn’t appreciate my hobbit-hole cottage or understand my smoke-alarm dinner gong.

Jon cannot operate a washing machine or oven, he’d probably die without me and a)I’d never want that to happen and b)I wouldn’t want Brad to have that on his conscience.

Jon has been extensively trained in the art of back tickling (and other similar activities). It’d take at least 7 years to train Brad up to a similar standard and he may never be as good as Jon even with all that training.

Brad may well have a similar amount of kids to us but he has never encountered a Troll. She’d send him running back to the Hollywood Hills in no time.

It is highly unlikely that Brad would want to go on £99 ski holidays and even if I were married to a multi-zillionaire, there would be no way I’d ever pay over-the-odds for something if I could find  it cheaper with a bit of internet searching at the last minute.

Jon is getting a bit deaf in his old age (although I suspect he only needs his ears syringing) – this is useful when all five children are singing Gangnam style during supper. Brad, with good hearing, would never cope.

At least I know what the triggers are for Jon’s whinging (piles of papers in random places, dog poo on lawn, dirty washing thrown in a pile on kitchen floor, baling twine-trip hazards on horse yard). Only Angelina knows Brad’s triggers and what if he turned out to have more than Jon does?

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Things that are more important than “doing my accounts”

I have not blogged for 4 days. This is because my husband has been whinging about me blogging instead of doing my accounts. At the moment he is safely within the boundaries of Newark Rugby club, so I thought I’d make the most of my spare time.

Now I know that my accounts are important but I collected and recorded all my receipts ages ago, it’s only a matter of adding it all up…it’ll only take five minutes…surely. The problem is, I can think of plenty more exciting ways to spend five minutes.

Five minute social networking breaks.  When you are surrounded by squealing children and have spent four hours in sub-zero temperatures dealing with foals with ice-induced cabin fever, then a few five minute breaks in the cosy virtual reality of cyber space are important for maintaining my sanity. You can’t do accounts when you are stark raving mad, can you?

Five minute coffee breaks. Everyone in the world has a coffee each time they a)come in from outside b)get off the sofa c)walk past the kettle on the way back from the toilet, this is a fact and is not interchangeable with doing accounts.

Several consecutive five minute exercise bike breaks (usually totalling 45 minutes). Justification – it is far too icy outside, I may fall off my road bike and then be squashed by a truck – If that happened then I’d never be able to do the accounts, would I?

Five minute Hound-stroking breaks. My hound could get depressed if I suddenly stopped doing this, she may think she’d done something wrong, hence importance of maintaining consistency.

Five minute attempts at beating my record on Word Mole. Word Mole, if played enough, must help to increase my vocabulary, which will subsequently increase the quality of adverts which I put out to sell my foals. Everyone knows that selling is the most important part of any business and if you don’t sell things the accounts look far worse at the end of the year.

Five minute fake tanning break. I like my body more when it is brown (except for that time when I let Violet do a spray tan for me, I wasn’t too keen on the tiger look). Anyway, tanning makes me happier and if I am happier I am far more likely to do my accounts, so tanning is working towards the accounts goal.

Five minute craft session with children breaks.  Children need to be allowed to express themselves through creative means – otherwise they have too much energy come bedtime and won’t go to sleep, leaving no “grown-up time” for you to do things such as accounts.  Arty projects in the past have included four foot long paper-mache dragon toy boxes, Fimo clay animals, giant black witches cats, stone/hazelnut painting, large tree pictures made with fallen leaves and  “Hound-Child pictures of the day” (which can often been seen on Facebook).

Five minute power naps. It is common knowledge that the human brain does not function to the best of its ability if its owner has not had enough sleep. For this reason accounts should always come AFTER power naps on a to-do list.

Five minute Christmas shopping on eBay break. Time and money-saving  – it’d take a full day of my time to go shopping in town, I’d have to fill the car up with petrol and would probably buy loads of unessential items that I wouldn’t  come across online. Also December the 25th is BEFORE the accounts deadline on my calendar.

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Reasons to be happy about being 36

It is my birthday this week and I will be 36 and, as Shania Twain once said: “that don’t impress me much”.

However, to cheer myself up, I have been trying to come up with a few reasons why 36 is better than 26.

 Things I used to do in my 20s that I can’t (or wouldn’t want to) do now

1) Go out on the town in winter wearing only a mini dress and no coat.

(I might still be seen out on the town in a mini dress but Jon would never, ever let me out the front door without a cardigan AND coat.)

2) Ride lunatic horses – bucking broncos, stroppy donkeys and even the odd surprised cow, I have ridden them all.

(Not any more. Was I braver back then or have I just developed some common sense?   Maybe falling off just hurts more when you are older – or perhaps it’s that missing disc in my spine?)

3) My uni friends and I used to buy vodka, wine, whiskey, hooch, lager and many other ethanol-based liquids, tip them into a giant dustbin and add coke or orange juice to make what we called “carbuncle juice”. Strangely, we didn’t use this mixture to strip wallpaper but, instead, we drank it.

(I cannot explain or understand why I ever did this but maybe hangovers hurt less ten years ago.)

4) We would also all go night-clubbing dressed as described in point one and stay out until 6am.

(Sundays are better when you have had at least six hours sleep.)

5) Put both ankles behind my head at the same time as a party trick.

I can no longer do this due to a stiff back. However, why would I want to? Fortunately, I am still quite flexible and can still perform useful tasks like biting my own toe nails. Jon wishes it was the other way round.

6) Tolerate grumpy husbands.

I used to put up with high levels of grumpy man syndrome when I was married to husband number one. This didn’t help our marriage in the long run and only encouraged him to become progressively grumpier. Unfortunately for upgrade husband, I learnt from my mistakes and so I now maintain a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to grumpiness. Of course, this does not stop me getting a grumpy husband occasionally but he knows I won’t talk to him until he has cheered up. The alternative way of looking at this, as put forward by Jon, is that I have become a grumpy old cow in my old age.

Things I do at 36 that I could/would not do in my 20s

1) Run a marathon, race in a triathlon, swim front crawl  – although I ran the occasional 10k when I was younger, I would have much rather gone out on a Saturday night drinking than have to stay in and drink tea because I had a race in the morning. Plus, young women are such wimps aren’t they?

2) Wear shorts. All that running and swimming has made my bum smaller.

3) Multi-tasking. Like most mothers, I am well practised at simultaneously cooking, answering the phone, bouncing a toddler on my hip and constructing a Playdough and tinfoil T-Rex. Before having children, multi-tasking meant downing two shots of two different spirits at the same time.

4) Don’t have an overdraft. When I was in my 20’s my overdraft was an essential part of my life.  I have got better with money (I think only one horse buying error this year is an improvement, don’t you?).  Upgrading husbands has obviously helped matters significantly.

5) I can now walk well in high heels……..ok, that was a lie – I still walk like John Wayne after 48 hours in the saddle.

6) Go out the house without makeup. Makeup? Seriously? Strictly for going out  or special occasions – only because I can’t be bothered and, besides, you look stupid all done up when you are covered in horse poo don’t you?

 

 

 

 

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