Problem Solved!

I no longer have to worry about the annoying bird waking me up by six am.



Our back fence-sharing neighbors have acquired a rooster... a really early rising (3am) rooster.
The squeaky bird at 6am doesn't seem so bad now.


Perspective.

 Looney Tunes and Merrie Melodies cartoons, Warner Bros.

Which kinda reminds me about a conversation I had with the husband the other day.

"I have a confession... we need to chat."

He smiles, "That's the kind of thing that leads into an 'I've cheated on you' conversation."

Isn't it great how lightheartedly he approaches this? Does he think no one would be interested in me????

"That would be bad, wouldn't it! That would really suck to get news like that!"

Smile slips slightly, "Yes..."

"Or if I told you I smashed the car, that would be bad, wouldn't it?"

"Yeah, that wouldn't be great news..."

"So in the grand scheme of things, you probably don't really care that I've been using your razor to shave my legs."

He thinks I'm crazy.

"I'm only telling you now so that you don't cut yourself on the dull blade."

In my world, that makes me a good, caring wife.



That stinking rooster is still crowing and it's 3pm. Surely he'll sleep sometime and I can go shout in his ear for a couple of hours. Do roosters have ears? Am I just bringing on something worse by posting about it?

Friday's Song

Apparently I will continue to wake up before the sun because of some dawn-challenged bird that sounds like the squeaking, rusting wheel of a tricycle.

I groan out of bed to face the usual tedium of the day... but wait, it's Friday! I'm filled with extra energy.
Lunches: three regular sandwiches (2 cut into squares) and one special order--which is insane since I have found past special-ordered lunches in the bushes outside and in the laundry room trash can.
2 kids will have cheese in their lunch boxes, 2 will not. They will all get fruit, but some have bigger portions than others. No reason to bid a sad farewell to the crackers since they will be coming back in the door after school.

The 8 year-old starts practicing his trumpet. His self-set practice schedule is as follows: Any hour.
I'm really beginning to hate the Cancan.

I start the load of laundry that I meant to start last night-before I discovered Man U was on the telly. I just want to watch them lose. It rarely happens.

I push the washer's start button. Grind, grind, grind, begins the drum. Sprinkle, sprinkle, sprinkle comes the energy saving 10 oz of water (I keed), "Hey Mom, is my rugby kit ready yet?"

"Wha...? You don't have rugby on Friday."


"Yes I do."

Well cuss. Brilliant me thought I was Mom-of-the-Year by dumping out his PE bag Wednesday night to wash the cussing thing.

I point at the washer that has just begin to slosh muddy water up on the door...

His frowny face is reflecting mine...

"Can't you wear your brother's kit?"

I know it's pointless. How can two boys only 18 months apart be so greatly different in size?

Trumpet Player wanders into the conversation sporting shirt, socks and underpants. "I have no trousers".

"Seriously?!"

So my leisure Friday was spent pushing a wash cycle to finish in half the time, swearing at a dryer that kept kicking itself off rather than tumbling said Rugby kit dry, hand washing trousers and staring at a clock ticking away precious alone time.

There might have been a woman in a large people mover going a little fast into town... she may have looked a little perturbed that there were NO parking spots to be had at the school, but rest assured Karma bit her in the backside for parking on a double yellow line. The ding in the door from opening it into a concrete pylon will forever remind her of this glorious day...

Anyhoo, Happy Weekend everybody, it's Friday! Can't stay grumpy when faced with a weekend of lying in...

Wait, do birds take Saturdays off?

Britain's Got Sites

The Husband is happy to announce that he has no announcements to post on this blog regarding my premature death by treadmill.
Yes, I survived, and bless them, I had the BEST medical staff EVER (no snickering at me or making feel foolish for not exercising in a year). They were brilliant. Thanks for the moral support everyone.

I have ENGLAND photos to share!!

Remember, I am determined to see a lot of England in this next 16 months and even asked you all to suggests places for me to go.
Well, because my husband has a more exciting life than I do, we went back to a place we have already been, the midlands, so he could run in the Hell in The Middle race.

Our hotel and the lovely view:

oooooh, aaaaahhhh...

pretty...

We took a little drive out of the way to see the Iron Bridge because the maps and guidebooks seem to think it's important- including a little sketch of it at every chance.

The world's oldest Iron Bridge

and from the other side...

River Severn. Yes, the sky WAS this gray

Best part of their day was running up and down the curve of the bridge.

We didn't regret the diversion. The landscape was gorgeous. Coming from farmland Norfolk where flat is where it's at, I was so pleased to see hilly terrain.

gorgeous building that has unfortunately been converted to flats

a pub

 We walked around the little village by the bridge until the kids were tired and then headed back down to....


Cadbury World!

Look at the size of those chocolate footballs!

If you've been once, I can't imagine you would ever feel the need to go back again, but since Miss Ky was too young the first time and they give you so much chocolate as you tour around, we figured it would still be a treat for the kids. Well I was wrong.

Poor boy had another lesson on how competitive his momma is- I STOMPED him in Connect Four!!

Apparently there is a need to go back again because we all had a really good time. How could you not like a place where everything is purple?

The kids are pleased that for the first time in a lot of school half-term holidays, they will be able to go back to school and say they went somewhere.  

I'm just pleased because the week wasn't just about THIS:

Bless him. Isn't he a nutter? 

If I didn't hate running so much, 

I might've joined him for the one he's planning for November.

 
You've got to admit, this does look like a fun group of people...
 

Master of Ceremonies. Have to give the guy credit, it was -7c and he was walking around on the icy ground on stilts!

Yes, I did say -7c

Yeah, they're nuts. I think I'll stick to being the warmly dressed photographer of the group.

Getting a Little Testy

I look at the six pony tails on the back of my head in the mirror. For a five year-old, she's done a pretty good job on my hair. I can't complain. It was a chance to give her one-on-one time without having to really commit myself. I'm too distracted for that.

I've been scattered all day, my mind whirling and swerving around what I really don't want to think about.
I'm stressed. I'm freaked out. There's a doctor appointment in the morning that has me in knots. The irony of it is...



it's a stress test. A cardio stress test to be exact.

My body has not been herself lately. I think we all know when something isn't right, but most of us are afraid to stand up to the uniform holding the degrees to say, "No, I'm telling you, something isn't right!"

I never stand up to that uniform.
It's not because I'm not assertive enough, it's just that my wicked body has a cruel sense of humor. I might drag myself to the phone to make the appointment, but it never fails that the day of, I'm turning cartwheels in the parking lot. So instead of looking haggard, pale and poorly, my cheeks are rosy, eyes are bright and I'm stammering about what used to be wrong with me. Every. time.

But on this rare occasion, the doctor knows I'm not crazy. The few results in her office sends me off to the lab to donate for more extensive tests.



The stress test is one of the last tests left. It's meant to clear me to start exercising again.  I want to prepare for a half marathon. That's a lie. Just wanted to see if you were still reading. I hate running. If the marathon was set up for walkers? I'd be all over that.

Husband wants to go with me. He thinks I'm going to die on the treadmill which I find funny because if I die on the treadmill, there's not much more he can do by sitting in the waiting room while I'm gasping my last breath than he can if he's at home with the kids. This will teach him for marrying an older woman. I know he still secretly wishes I would drop a few years and start running with him, but I didn't run when I was 24 and I won't be running now at... older than 24.

He's not alone in his worry about tomorrow's test, but we're worrying about different things. He's worried about single parenting, I'm worried about saving face.
I'm incredibly stressed-not that I will keel over because my ticker quits before the doctor lets me stop, but because I am so out of shape that I will flop over and humiliate myself.

Just how many people sit in on these tests? Do they gather at lunch and discuss how their jello jiggles like the big lady at 10.30am? Do they snicker about how their 75 year-old grandmothers can run longer than jello-jiggler lady?

I have to take my ponytails out for bed. I realize that 9.30pm is a little early to be going to sleep, but a part of me believes that more rest will increase my stamina. Stinking treadmills. Who invented them anyway?

Rest.
Hugely funny that I thought it would come and exact opposite of what I really get. I'm plagued by weird dreams of people I haven't seen in 30 years and I mangled the bedding with all of my flipping around.
I'm awake before the alarm goes off.

After my shower and extensive leg shaving (if I'm going to die, I'm going to look good), I begin the contortionist moves required to squeeze all of me into my sports bra. I'm trying not to exert myself so there's no energy wasted off of the treadmill, but I must resemble a pretzel by now and know that I may begin sweating if I don't sort it soon.  Surely these things aren't true to size?!

Finally dressed and mentally prepared for my impending humiliation, The Husband comes into our room, "Are you sure your test is today? The white board says it's tomorrow-the 17th".

Ahhh flip.

Maybe they can do a memory test on me while I'm there.

Happy Valentine's Day Eve!

The winners of the free copy of Chris Kyle's book, American Sniper are: (and yes, these photos have been altered, but only to hide the clutter in my kids' room)

Ladies, if you will email me your mailing address, 

I will make sure your books start heading your way!

Thank you to everyone for commenting and coming by for this great giveaway and a huge thanks to the folks over at William Morrow for giving me the opportunity to share!!

And So, The Cookie Pop Crumbles

After very little sleep, I woke up highly unmotivated today.

The eight year-old came in sometime in the obscene part of the night (where it's not night anymore but still too far away from morning to call it that) (not long after I stopped reading) to proclaim that he "couldn't go back to sleep."

"And you come to me because?"

I didn't really say that.

No, I may have mumbled a few words before lifting the blanket for him like I do when his sister comes during the incoherent hours-but, here's where I made my first mistake...I scooted over.
Next to the radiator I call "Husband".

It wasn't long before I was using the flannel sheets to swab the sweat off of my chest while desperately trying to disentangle myself from the child's squid-like limbs.
My escape route was straight to the bathroom where I opened a window and hungrily gulped the delicious, cold air. Frozen nostril hairs actually felt like Heaven.

Refreshed, I crept back into the bed, one leg at a time (habit, it's not like waking the husband would be any danger with an 8 year-old in between us). I managed to get most of my body on the mattress when the Husband's alarm, always set to hours that no one else in the world wakes to, started rattling and bouncing on the nightstand.

I gave up and just finished the book I had been reading.

So, after very little sleep, I snail-paced my way through the afternoon highly unmotivated.

Unfortunately, yesterday I was full of ideas and had stocked up on things-that-will-make-my-family-bow-down-to-me-as-the-Most-Wonderful-Mom-ever. 

The Oreos and lollipop sticks sitting on the worktop taunted me. I'm pretty sure they were chanting, "loser!" at one point.
Sigh... no rest for the sleep deprived.

Channeling Martha Stewart, I set up the double boiler and began preparing the best-thing-to-have-after-school-to-make-my-family-bow-down-to-me-as-the-Most-Wonderful-Mom-ever treats I saw on Pinterest.

Here's what I set out to make. Aren't they gorgeous? How hard is that?!

I found this here

Reality:

In my head, I can do anything.

What's on my kitchen counter at the moment tells me there's a reason I buy things made by the people who can actually create those fun-things-that-will-make-my-family-bow-down-to-me-as-the-Most-Wonderful-Mom-ever-for-buying-such-cool-treats.

And just for the record, if I never see white chocolate again, it will be too soon.