Getting our Christmas ON!

There are 2 things that Braai Boy and I do not agree on.  The first is rugby, he supports the Springboks and anyone who plays against England.  I support England and Scotland.  The second is Christmas.  Now, I absolutely love Christmas.  Braai Boy does not, Braai Boy is totally and utterly Bah Humbug.  But guess what?? It’s December so it’s time to get our Christmas on!

The good thing is that Braai Boy has been away on Exercise for the last few weeks and only got back yesterday.  This has given me time to find the boxes of decorations, get them out and get them up.  Its easier to decorate the house when he is not here (this is the third year) because I’m not distracted by his huffing and puffing as I turn our house from magnolia married quarter into sparkly, glittery, all things Christmassy amazingness.  So, you see, Braai Boy being away is not always a bad thing, especially at this time of year. 

At the weekend I left the kids with my Mum and I went out to get the tallest widest tree I could find.  The kids requested a real tree that is taller than me, as I am 5ft 10ish that’s a fairly tall tree.  Much to Braai Boys despair we always have a real tree.  My argument is that we don’t have enough storage space for a fake tree because he has all his military kit in the garage, before you ask no we have never ever parked a car in any of our garages because they have always been full of his kit.   Of course, Braai Boy moans about the pine needles on the carpet and having to water the bloody thing, I smile and nod and say something like ‘well maybe if you got rid of some of your kit you would get your fake Christmas tree’.  That’s when the moaning stops, because I know he will never get rid of any of his kit.

So, there was me and my Mum getting the tree into the stand, as I lay on the floor Wee Man thought this was the perfect opportunity to play horsey, whilst Miss Sassy decided to do a full rendition of all the songs from her school Christmas Play.  After some jiggery pokery with bits of branch and coasters the tree was standing up straight.  Miss Sassy then opened up all the boxes of decorations and emptied them on to the floor, helpful? Not really.  The lights were not tangled so I cracked on with getting those on the tree.  The strings of beads on the other hand were in a massive red and gold ball, not going to lie it took Mum, Miss Sassy and I ages to untangle them, but that didn’t matter we had Christmas tunes on and we were feeling festive.  Meanwhile, Wee Man was decorating his garage with baubles, well why not?

Once Miss Sassy lost interest in the beads I was left to untangle the bead ball, I have to say it was surprisingly therapeutic.  As I was untangling, Mum and the kids decorated the tree.  We have lots of different baubles and decorations for the house, some tasteful, some not so tasteful, but you know what? they all have memories.  So, if you come to our house and you see something that is not to your taste please keep quiet because it’s there for sentimental reasons.  You know what?  When the kids went to bed I didn’t redecorate the tree, why should I?  they decorated it and made it their own, they well and truly got their Christmas On.

There’s lights in the windows, lights around mirrors and lights on the mantlepiece.  I think we nailed the fairy lights this year.  It’s not quite Santa’s grotto but I think as far as Christmas goes we’ve done a good job.  Hector the hat hook has his Santa hat on, I can’t wait to see Braai Boys face, then again maybe not.  The silver jock, which needs his pre Christmas clean, has his teeny tiny Santa Hat on and looks very festive indeed.  The advent house is full of chocolates and Miss Sassy has made her very own Snowman disco snowball scene.

Wee Man has taken to throwing his rugby ball cushion at the tree, ‘it won’t catch mama’, ‘really son?  That surprises me’.  Then when the baubles fall off he shouts at me and Miss Sassy to put them back on, yes it’s his new favourite game, I am hoping he will get bored of it within a week, who am I kidding this is going to go on until I take the tree down. 

0645 yesterday the doorbell went, Braai Boy was home and didn’t have his keys.  If I’d known he was going to be that early I would have been up at 0600 to get the Christmas lights on to welcome him.  I needn’t have worried, Miss Sassy flew down the stairs demanding he closed his eyes so she could walk him to the lounge and show him the tree and this and that and everything.  As well as not liking Christmas and the English rugby team he also dislikes early mornings, good job he likes his daughter isn’t it?

And there we have it.  The house has been Christmassed up, Daddy is home and now we can start Silly Season.  We are all in the Christmas mood, well me and the kids are, but I am sure even Braai Boy will start to feel less Bah Humbug when I give him mulled wine in his Christmas mug. 

Sorting the Mop

I do not like going to the hair dresser, never have, never will.  I don’t find it particularly relaxing, I could be doing something more productive with my time rather than sitting drinking coffee under very bright lights in front of a very large mirror making small chat with a stranger.  Just me?

Thanks to a home dye kit and the summer sun I have been rocking (or not) an orangey, grey striped, brown rooted look for the past few months.  Crunch time was the other week when I had my hair scraped back in a pony tail and Miss Sassy informed me that my hair was a weird colour and I looked really, really old.  Honestly if you ever need an instant confidence boost just come on over to our house.  I told her that it wasn’t grey or white it was silver sparkly hair, that seemed to make her happy, I went from old mama to magical mama in one sentence, boom!

It was all well and good me wanting to sort the mop out however I had no clue where to go.  If there is one thing that I dislike about this military wife life it is finding a hairdresser.  I last visited the hairdresser in June before we moved here.  You see finding a doctor or dentist is easy, I say that I still haven’t registered for the dentist.  Finding a hairdresser……bleurgh that’s comes under can’t be ars*d until the situation is desperate.  With the Mess Christmas Party round the corner I would say that is was getting pretty desperate.  Luckily my neighbour, Double H, had done some research and found a hairdresser.  Taking one for the team she booked an appointment and it was a success.  Not only did she get a lovely shiny new hair do she also got a recommend a friend discount, yes thank you very much I will have that. 

I didn’t phone to book an appointment because I had no clue what I wanted.  To be honest I’ve never had a clue when it comes to hair.  So, one morning after the school run I popped into the salon to ‘have a chat’.  For once I wasn’t in my active wear with my hair scraped back, probably a good thing, first impressions and all that.  Well, if I said the receptionist was well groomed that would be an understatement.  She gave me that look, you know the one, oh here we go harassed Mama who has let herself go, a paid-up member of the Bograt Society.  With an overly sympathetic look she asked me if I had an appointment.  Looking back my response may have been just a little bit over dramatic, I sighed and simply said I need help.  Well, that’s when 2 stylists whisked me off to sit in front of a very large mirror under very very bright lights to scrutinise the mop.  They brushed and parted and tugged at my hair as they discussed how to ‘fix this’, come on people I can hear what you are saying just because you give me a strong coffee it doesn’t stop my ears working.  Anyway, after what felt like forever, they came up with an action plan.  Like a deer in the headlights or rather a desperate mama in salon lights I agreed to it and booked an appointment.

On Monday it was the day of the appointment.  You will be pleased to hear that the mop has been well and truly sorted, the orange has gone, the split ends have been snipped off and the hair styled.  Despite the mirrors and the bright lights it was a fairly enjoyable experience.  This is mostly because they didn’t talk to me and I was given coffee and those yummy biscuits in the red wrapper, don’t know their name but bloody love them.  I used Double H’s discount card which would have given me a fair whack off the bill but then the stylist mentioned Black Friday deals.  Yep, you guessed it I was sucked in and ended up buying colour maintenance products.  No more orange here people, nope none at all.

Anyway, after over a decade (wow that’s a long time) of dying my hair, I’ve decided enough is enough.  Now that the mops been sorted, it’s about time I stopped dying it.  I am always telling the kids to be themselves so it’s about time I listened to my own advice.  From now on it’s all about the silver sparkly hair, after all, we all need a bit of sparkle in our lives.

Boot Camp

Forget eating excessively at Christmas let’s talk about excessive eating during school holidays.  Every time the kids wanted a snack I had a little something too you see Wee Man is a feeder.  ‘Mama try’ he says, I do protest, sometimes, but then his cheeky wee face gets me and I end up eating whatever he is squashing in his grubby little hand whether it’s been in his mouth or not (that’s love right there).  To be honest, it’s amazing what you will do for a bit of cake or piece of chocolate when you’re meant to be watching what you eat.

So, after the excesses of Half Term it was back to Boot Camp last week.  Not going to lie, it hurt, it really really hurt.  But, I survived last week so went again this week.

It was bloody freezing this morning so I layered up, short sleeve top, long sleeved top, fleece and then a jacket.  I found my woolly hat which has the most ridiculously large bobble on then put on my crappy old leather gloves,  I was snug as a bug in a rug.  I may have been lovely and warm but I was also very very tired.  You see, Wee Man has taken to sleeping in our bed most nights.  And before you ask, yes I do take him back to his own bed but he’s like a boomerang and just keeps on coming back.  I will do anything to get some sleep so I give in and Wee Man stays.

I threw several cups of strong coffee down my neck hoping the caffeine would kick in and make me feel less zombie like.  Then after the usual rush to get the kids out of the house and then the dash (ok, shouty dawdle) down the hill to school I went to Bootcamp. 

The woman who takes the Boot Camp is another military wife let’s call her Boot Camp Girl, she has endless energy which I wish rubbed off on me.  After we had dropped of our kids the Boot campers all congregated by the tennis courts which is the usual meeting place, but Bootcamp Girl had other ideas and led us to the playing fields, the very soogy, very muddy playing fields.  With her usual cheery smile Boot Camp Girl announced we were going to be doing  ‘Winter Challenge 1’, she was really very excited, we were not quite as excited.  As she explained what we were to do I already felt exhausted.  Hill runs combined with intervals in which we were to do hurty moves.  What fresh hell is this?  Do I actually pay money to do this?  The hill running was more plodding, I blamed the muddy field for my lack of speed, in reality I am just sh*t at running.  Then we had the hurty things to do like burpees.  I am sorry but really?  Burpees are horrible and, standby for an overshare here, weirdly they really make me need to pee.  Maybe that’s where the pee bit of the name came from, who knows?

There were other hurty moves which quite frankly nearly broke me.  I mean how is it that I can lift and carry not-so Wee Man for a long time but I can barely do a press up?  I can carry all of the weekly food shop from the car to the house in a oner yet I can’t lunge walk with 4kg for 5 metres without piling in? 

Boot Camp Girl kept telling us to scoop in our abs and control our breathing through the hurty moves.  That’s all very well but I have no abs to scoop in and there was no controlling my breathing, I could barely breathe after the hill plodding.  At one point Bootcamp Girl tried to have a conversation with me and she laughed when I could only say three words at a time before gasping for air.

But I did it, an hour of my kid free time put to good use.  For Braai Boy exercise is part of his job, he’s expected to be fit, he has fitness assessments to pass.  For me it’s about how exercise makes me feel my head is clearer and I am happier when I have done something, anything, even if it is a slow plod, it’s better than nothing. 

I suspect I will hurt tomorrow, no pain no gain and all that.  One things for sure I will go back next week, after all I’ve pre-paid for a term of pain.  Also, Boot Camp Girl added me to her Whats App group ‘Hardcore Wednesday’ there’s no going back now!

Not Another Pumpkin

I survived half term! I’m totally and utterly Halloweened out but I survived.  It was a solo parenting affair as Braai Boy was with his Mistress.  Don’t worry he’s not traded me in for a younger, svelte, less nagging model.  When I talk about his mistress I mean the other love of his life, the Army.  I will give him his due he did try to take one whole day off, he even put his out of office on.  Unfortunately this did not stop emails and phone calls.  Good job I didn’t cancel the catch up with friends that I had organised otherwise I would have been a teeny tiny bit p*ssed off.

I really wish I could be one of those parents that has a gazillion ideas of how to entertain their kids.  You know they type I mean, the organised ones that have jars filled with little bits of paper with activities and day trips on  ‘Go on kids pick from the jar and we will have a lovely day and post pics all over social media of you being smiley happy kids’.  Well that’s not me I’m more ‘If you stay in bed and go straight to sleep I’ll think of something fun to do tomorrow’ I then spend the evening with a glass of wine scouring the internet for stress free stuff to do with the kids.

So, what did we do this half term?  Well, it was Halloween week so obviously there were pumpkins involved.  On Braai Boys non day off we left him at home answering calls and furiously tapping the keyboard.  We went to visit friends.  The activity of the day was pumpkin carving, the kids lost interest in scooping out the slimy insides after about 2 minutes so it was left to 3 very enthusiastic Mums to get the job done (we obviously still had patience and enthusiasm as it was the start of the half term).  The kids requested that we carve the  meanest, scariest, weirdest pumpkins.  Once the kids had ‘drawn’ their desired design on the pumpkins we did our very best to decipher the scrawling black pen.

In the car on the way home Miss Sassy and Wee Man proudly sat with their (MY!) carved pumpkins on their laps.  They were desperate to see them lit up in all their glory.  When we got home I put a candle in each pumpkin and it was at this point that Wee Man totally lost it.  I’m talking snot, tears, unintelligible shouting, all I did was put a candle in a bloody pumpkin.  I finally worked out what he was shouting, apparently that the cyclops I had carved for him, which I thought was pretty scary and a fair representation of his scribble, wasn’t scary enough for him.  In Wee Mans words ‘it’s not MAAAAAAAD Mama, I wanted MAAAAAAAAD’.  So, the next day off we went to get more pumpkins.  Pumpkin carving Round 2.  With a sigh I asked ‘What do you want me to carve?’ both Kids decided they wanted Ninjago (Lego Ninjas for those of you who don’t know).  It took me a while but I did it.  Quite pleased with my Ninja like pumpkins I popped a candle in them, turned off the lights and called the kids through to the kitchen.  Ta Daaaaaaaaaaaa!!!! I shouted with a big smile on my face, feeling smug that we had 2 Ninjago pumpkins.  Wee Man burst into tears, it wasn’t MAD enough.  Mummy fail for the second day on the trot, so I put a bottle of wine in the fridge and the kids in front of the TV.  When they went to bed I sat in the kitchen drinking a semi cold glass of wine with all 5 pumpkins lit, if they weren’t going to enjoy them I bloody well was!

The next day was the day of the Patch Halloween Party.  I set about making pumpkin crispy cakes which were a disaster, they ended up being orangey peachy coloured crispy cakes.  The kids decorated cupcakes which they then ate for lunch.  Then it was time to get ready for the Party.  Miss Sassy was a zombie bride, she asked for me to make her look fierce, I painted her face silver and drew cobwebs on her cheeks.  Wee Man wore a skeleton onesie, and of course he wanted his face painted because Miss Sassy had hers done, I got as far painting his face white then he got bored and ran off.  Basically I made Miss Sassy look like a robot zombie bride that had been got at by spiders and Wee Man just looked ill.

The kids were desperate to get on with the Trick or Treating so once Braai Boy had escaped work and found us at the Patch Party off we went.  The rule was ‘no light or pumpkin no knock’, of course this did not stop the sugar filled kids trying every door they could looking for their next fix.  All we could hear as we went around was parents shouting ‘just take one’, ‘say thank you’, ‘you can’t eat that now’, ‘where’s your brother’, ‘watch out for the step’, ‘do you need a wee’, ‘no I won’t carry you’ and so on.  By half 6 we were done, Miss Sassy’s bucket was full, Wee Man was beyond tired so we headed home.  The bucket of sweets we had left outside our door had been decimated much to Braai Boys disappointment.  Our pumpkins were intact, the kids were tired, wine was in the fridge.  On Halloween we definitely had a winning day!

Half Term week finished as it had started with a Soft Play birthday party.  The first weekend we went to stay with Curly Locks, it was her little girl’s birthday party. The clocks changed on Saturday night, we decided to drink through the extra hour, we didn’t really think that through given we were up at stupid o’clock with the kids who were super excited to go to the soft play party.  The party started at 0930, ouch my head.  Braai Boy was there in body not spirit you see he was plugged into his phone watching his beloved Springboks playing in the Semis of the Rugby World Cup.  The last weekend of half term was pretty much the same story.  This time I took the kids to a birthday party at a dinosaur soft play, I have to say it was brilliant.  I say that, it was brilliant apart from the dance floor which flashed non stop, causing most of us to feel dizzy and slightly sick.  Braai Boy missed out on the flashing dance floor he was in a bar drinking beer watching his team win the Rugby World Cup.  In all honesty I am glad I wasn’t watching the game with him, I am not a great loser and his is not a gracious winner.

And there we are, some winning, some losing and definitely some wining!  Half Term holidays survived, now let’s get to Christmas. 

It’s a tough job but…..

Braai Boy has been to some really very interesting places since we have been married, me?  Not so much.  I do not count the Worlds Food section in Tesco as seeing the world and I definitely do not think that suburbia can be classed as interesting.

As you may have gathered Braai Boy has travelled a fair bit for work.  He does get the occasional night or weekend off when he is working away.  Over the years he’s had fresh seafood in California, hot wings in Texas, cold beers in Chamonix and drank wine in a marina somewhere or other, I chose to forget where as it looked amazing and I was jealous.  I could go on but I will just get very jealous then be a right cow to him when he walks through the door tonight.

We always have the same ‘discussion’ about when he goes out when he is away for work.  I say that it must be fun to go to see all these places and experience different things.  I then get told,  it is work Charlie, so it is not time off and it is not fun time, it is work.  Oh I’m sorry, is it relaxing? Has someone else cooked for you? Have you had to do the dishes? More importantly have you just had to chase a naked Wee Man round the house to get him into the bath then spend the best part of 2 hours trying to get Miss Sassy to go to sleep (she is up and down like a bloody jack in the box, sore finger, spiky hips, pins and needles in her tummy and so on, you could write a book about her night-time ailments).  No, you have not!  So it may be work but I think it is slightly more relaxing that my evenings can be. 

Ah, but when I am away in a bar with an ice cold beer or eating delicious food we talk about work, so it’s really like being at work.  Is it?  Is it really?  I don’t see a marina outside the Mess here, and I definitely don’t see a bar in your office.  And whilst you are enjoying your ice cold beer in a bar surrounded by adults talking about adult stuff, albeit work, the kids and I are discussing Paw Patrols and LOLs. 

And while we’re at it have you had to do any cleaning whilst you have been away for work?  No?  Can we talk about the sh*t tip that is the house at the end of the day because the kids think that chucking glitter over all the toy cars is a great idea, Look Mama we’re washing the cars………..deep breath, walk out the room and go and make a cuppa. 

Then we get on the actual travel element of his work trips.  Travelling to these places is so tiring, the early starts, the long journeys and the lack of sleep.  No wait. Early starts you say?  Yep I hear you, Wee Man stumbles through to our room most days at 0500, Miss Sassy is frequently awake through the night with bad dreams or random questions.  Early starts you say?  Broken sleep?  Yup happens at home too.  Not being funny I would take an early morning plane ride to anywhere if it meant I got to watch a movie without interruption and not have to google the answers to Miss Sassys many questions.  Last night was evolution…….Alexaaaaaaaa???

Don’t get me wrong, I know when he goes away it is work, and it is long hours and it is tough being away from the family but surely there must be some fun.  I know he thinks about us when he is away because he brings home a fridge magnet after every trip.  How thoughtful of him, every time I go to get the milk I see all these places I have never visited taunting me from the fridge door, oh well maybe one day. 

The Interior: Marvellous Magnolia

If any of you have ever stepped inside a military house you may have noticed a few things such as, magnolia walls, sinks in bedrooms and interesting colours of curtains and carpets.

Oh, the carpets, the thread bare, worn, stained carpets.  You know what I am talking about don’t you?  When you March-In to a Quarter and the Housing Officer tells you the carpets are beyond life and with 2 kids you jump for joy.  Yeeeees! No need to buy industrial quantities of carpet cleaner these carpets will be replaced when we March-Out, phew!  We’ve had cream carpets, green carpets, pink carpets even some weird blue-ish-green carpets.  Our last Quarter had the pink carpets, really very pink carpets and we have maroon sofas, I used to feel like I was watching TV sitting in a womb. 

The walls are always magnolia, every single wall in the house is magnolia.    To be honest I don’t mind magnolia, I grew up in military housing so there is something homely and comforting about magnolia walls.  I remember when we were dating, Braai Boy took me to his bosses for dinner.  It was one of those occasions when you are surrounded by Smug Military Marrieds and you are ‘girlfriend of’.  One of the ‘wives of’ took great delight in telling me all about her Quarter.  She told me about the best Laura Ashley fabrics and incredibly expensive pots of paint containing gold leaf (really?  What the actual?) which would transform any Quarter.  As she droned on I drank wine, lots of wine, you know what they say? that you drink to make boring people interesting, well by the end of dinner she was the most fascinating person at the table. 

Don’t get me wrong for those who do repaint their Quarters I absolutely take my hats off to them, they make their Quarters look fresh, modern and welcoming with a splash of colour here and there.  Unfortunately I am inherently lazy when it comes to decorating our home, we will move in 2 years so why bother?  I say that, but I like to decorate the kids rooms, decorate is probably a little generous a description, I buy them wall stickers.  In our last Quarter it was safari animals for Wee Man and fluorescent stars for Miss Sassy.  I stupidly stuck the stars to the ceiling thinking it would be like staring at the sky at night and it would be soothing for Miss Sassy and help her go to sleep.  What was I thinking?  More light emitting crap in her room, it is no joke when I say that at night her bedroom is light up like the Blackpool Illuminations, how she gets to sleep I’ll never know.  Ha! No wait, she doesn’t go to sleep.  This time round its looking like dinosaurs for Wee Man and Miss Sassy is still trying to decide but I can tell you now that the stickers will not be fluorescent and they will not be stuck to the bloody ceiling.

I think the feature that most of my friends have found the most bizarre about our Quarters is sinks in bedrooms.  Honestly, a sink with a mirror and sometimes even a strip light.  Well, why not?  Makes sense right? It frees up the bathroom for people to shower and you can stay in your room fannying about doing your teeth, hair and so on without people shouting at you to get a move on.  Have any of our visitors even puked or peed in the bedroom sinks? I dread to think, maybe? Probably? If you have please don’t tell me! 

I hate the kitchen light.  In every single kitchen we have had the light has been a 1 metre long tube light.  When I say tube light I don’t mean in the super trendy Grand Designs kind of way but in the hospital corridor kind of way.  They are very bright and a pain in the ar*e to clean.  As ugly as they are beasties are attracted to these tube lights.  I have no idea how they manage to penetrate the plastic cover, I find it nearly impossible to it get off.  In fact I only empty the light fitting of beasties when Braai Boy comments that it’s getting a bit full or before my Mum comes to visit.

Don’t get me wrong I’ve loved every single one of our Quarters in a different way, after all you make them your home. What I can tell you is that when we finally get our Forever Home, as opposed to our Just Now Home, I have lots of ideas of what I do and don’t want.  Don’t worry I suspect magnolia paint may make an appearance, just to make us feel at home.

The Potato and the Pirate

The weather yesterday was pretty miz.  The kids did arts and crafts in the morning, I say arts and crafts what I mean is Miss Sassy chucked glitter round the dining room and Wee Man stamped Play-Doh into the carpet.  To prevent further redecoration of our house and to save my sanity I decided we had to get out of the house.  So we headed in to town for a shoppette.

Now, here’s the thing Wee Man had been wearing a pirate outfit all weekend.  This pirate outfit has a top which has foam padding in the shape of pecs, it make Wee Man look like he’s stacked, it’s a bit odd to be honest, but he loves it. Anyway, he outright refused to take it off, there was no amount of bribery that was going to get that damn outfit off him. Don’t worry though as we left the house I was told by Miss Sassy that he’s a pirate mama, and pirates wear a uniform, just like Daddy.  So, if Daddy can leave the house in uniform so can my brother, Ok mama? Well, OK then that was me told!

Braai Boy was in desperate need of a suit, a shiny new suit to wear to work when he wasn’t in uniform.  Whilst Braai Boy looked for a suit I had Miss Sassy teaching a headless mannequin how to do the Cha Cha Cha daaaaarling, she is obsessed with Strictly and has started to impersonate Craig Revel-Horwood, give me strength.  As she was dancing with the mannequin singing the Strictly theme tune at the top of her voice, Wee Man was protesting at being strapped into his buggy LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! I WANT TO WALK NOOOOOOOW!   Erm, no son you can stay right where I can see you, not touching anything, not pulling anything just sitting shouting that will be just fine.  Needless to say we were that annoying noisy family in the store.

Before we were kicked out of the store I decided we’d better leave.  Braai Boy stayed to find his perfect post deployment suit and I headed to the M&S Food Hall with the kids.  There was me marching through the Food Hall pushing the buggy with Wee Man protesting at his incarceration and Miss Sassy doing her best Oti impression.  All we needed to get was a potato for the Roast.  I know I know, who was I kidding?  Its M&S for goodness sake, I never stick to my shopping list in M&S, I end up with all the yumminess I can carry.  I say carry because I never get a shopping basket or a trolley that would be far too dangerous.

Wee man was trying to escape his buggy, so as I wrestled him back in I sent Miss Sassy off to get the biggest potato she could find.  She came back and proudly showed me a potato with 2 stickers , it must be special mama it has 2 stickers. It’s all about the stickers in our house at the moment.  With Wee Man potty training he gets stickers as a reward.  To be honest it doesn’t matter what the sticker is of as long as he gets it.  So a potato with 2 stickers on is the best thing in the whole wide world for Wee Man.

The potato was now the most wanted prize for the kids.  Miss Sassy kept waving it just out of Wee Mans reach, then putting it on his lap and grabbing it just before he could get it, then she started donking him on the head with it.  I got down on one knee and quietly tried to resolve the situation my reward was being hit on the head by the prize potato.  Oh My days, give me strength! Its a bloody potato, its not like they could eat it.  I had to find a distraction. 

So with my 2 lovely kids shouting at each other about the prize potato I stomped off down the aisle.   Miss Sassy then requested everything she saw; Can we have prawns? Can we have some ham? Can we have that stuff there? Can we have a sweet? Can we have that? Can we have a pudding? No, no, no, no, no, YES! Yes you can have a pudding, give the potato to your brother, and you hold this. I placed a delicious looking cherry pie in her hands and told her under no circumstances could it be damaged (or used to hit Wee Man) as this was our pudding after our roast.

And that was that, our Sunday afternoons entertainment.  You will be pleased to hear that Braai Boy did indeed get a lovely new suit, which he is wearing today and that our cherry pie got home pretty much intact.  I’m now off to boil up the roast chicken bones to make stock for some homemade soup just like my Nanna used to make it. 

Note: I would have written this yesterday but Wee Man has the cold and needed a bit of TLC last night.