Swordfights and Screaming Matches

Our rescue cat has an obsession with peeing at the bottom of the stairs by the front door. (We live in a first floor flat so it’s dark and damp there with one way in and out) We have tried everything-from newspaper and plastic bags (cats aren’t supposed to like the feel) to enzymatic cleaners to shift her scent. We thought we’d cracked it last week with a stairgate blocking her access, until Cat realised she can squeeze through the bars. Our victory dance was curtailed as we tried to find yet another solution. We chopped up the box the gate came in (“told you it might come in useful” crowed Husband) and weaved it through the bars of the gate with a big overhang at each end where the big gaps are.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to feed Cat until she gets too fat to fit” asked husband. I had to explain that animals do not gain weight like Princess Mummy after a fourth slice of chocolate cake.

Anyway, the point of the story is that there were lots of cardboard strips left from the box cutting and so we did what every self respecting individual does when faced with tidying up to do - we started a sword fight. Princess Mummy started very strongly with two “swords,” but it all went downhill as Husband acted the most dramatic death scenes since Hamlet and Son took advantage of my hysteria to “stab” me with his “dagger.” Then it all ended like Hamlet with Princess Mummy and Husband dead on the floor and Son couldn’t be left out. I suspect there might be a career in acting for him as he’s never actually seen a person die, even on TV, and yet was better than PM and Husband put together.

And Cat can no longer fit through the bars of the gate and sits next to her litter box glaring balefully as we pass.  So we can do the happy dance again!

NB-Cat has been checked by the vet and there is no reason she can't use the litter box, she'd just rather not!

Better than expected

Today we went to meet and welcome the newest member of our family.  Little Niece made her appearance in the world on 13th November but we felt maybe Sister-in-Law and Brother-Almost-in-Law would appreciate some time to settle in and for Big Niece to get to grips with her new sister.

Husband and my relationship with the In Laws can sometimes be slightly... um... tense so we decided to go in like diplomatic relations.  Gentle approach, soft voices, kind words and gifts.

We grabbed the gifts as we reached the house, ready to lead with the (literal) peace offerings but Son has never heard of diplomatic relations and charged ahead screaming for his grandparents.  The soft voice referred to yesterday was temporarily forgotten!

So instead of a strong, gentle entrance, Husband and I made a slow, cringing entrance, hiding behind a large stuffed bear and a Minnie Mouse colouring set, visions of Little Niece, rudely awoken and screaming dancing in our heads.

At risk of putting a huge burden on teeny tiny shoulders, Little Niece might well be the olive branch the family needs.  Absolutely adorable, she's a tiny mite who can sleep for Wales.  Father-in-Law would be very excited if she does anything for Wales so she's already fulfilled his dreams.  Son and Big Niece were very noisy playing and she barely stirred.  Princess Mummy was allowed to feed her and Husband burped her.  Some of the burps produced were most unladylike and Husband was very impressed!  Maybe she could do that for Wales?!

After an hour's visit, Princess Mummy and Husband very perceptively noticed that the new parents were looking tired and departed in a flurry of kisses and handshakes.

Princess Mummy is getting broody although she daren't admit it to Husband-he was also seduced by the new baby smell.  No babies for us until PM is working and well medicated!  It's my rule but very hard to stick to sometimes!

Son's take on babies?  "Quiet now isn't it mummy? Shall we lets have a chocolate lolly?"

Chocolate or babies?  From the mouths of babes as they say...

Feeling Festive

Yesterday we put up our Christmas Tree.  I always insist on waiting until at least December but this year I was outgunned.  Son was excited from the moment we bought the damn thing and Husband came home from work feeling festive.  With a combined age of 30 they insisted that they were older than me and so got to choose!  I feel a bad precedent coming on here. 

Anyway, if we were doing it, we were doing it properly so we put the Christmas music on and away we went.  We bought baubles and tinsel and lights from a more reputable shop this year so we didnt have to spend hours tying the strings back on etc and it was decidedly more fun than in years past.

The tree looks lovely and i feel truly festive now so i can justify the early erection.  It's our tree and we can do what we want and if we want to put it up 3 days early then so be it! As a child I remember my mum insisting the tree goes up in the last week before Christmas and it never feeling really festive until then.  Mind you, by 25th December, I probably will be sick of all this "festive" malarkey and be wanting to tear the thing down.

Then last night we realised the chav family from Coronation Street were being mocked for the exact same thing. Ho hum!

I still maintain that it is simply organised and not anally retentive to have written my Christmas cards already. That way we don't send last minute cards to those we may have forgotten!

***

On another note, I have been trying to watch my language around Son.  Any parent will tell you, a 3 year old is better (or worse) than a parrot for repeating things, especially those you'd rather not have repeated.  The result for Princess Mummy is becoming a nicer person. (at least in Son's presence)  The result for Son is that he's started to talk in a soft voice.  Bonus all round!

I was slightly taken aback yesterday when Son, sitting at the table with his cheese sandwich came to look at my ham sandwich, put his head to one side and said in a soft voice "shall we share this buttie mummy?"  I found myself agreeing because he asked in such a nice way. 

I wasnt even aware of the "shall we lets" sentence construction Ive apparently fallen into - "shall we lets go feed the duck-ducks?"  When I mentioned it to Husband, I was informed it's a bit of a regular of mine. Oops.  And I know it wont have come from my burly Welshman.  A soft voice and the word "shall" dont enter his repetoire! 

I shouldn't complain, the only phrase Son has ever picked up from Husband was "hell yeah" when offered something.  That phrase, along with most of Husband were trampled out pretty sharpish.

Off for lunch with the In Laws today.  Don't mention the Christmas Tree!

first of many

I've never actually written a blog.  I could barely keep a diary but this is a way for me to share the trials and tribulations of bringing up a son, handling a hubby who works shifts and taking care of myself.  A feat most women manage every day but never get credited for achieving.

I know I'm not the only first time mum feeling the isolation.  Feeling that some adult conversation is better than none.  Looking forward to phoning BT to dispute the bill just because I'll get to speak to someone who doesnt finish an arguement with "kiss Geoff"

The Geoff in question is a small yellow giraffe who has been through the washing machine so many times he now has no spots, prompting an elderly woman at the bus stop to start an arguement with my son about how she thought he was a llama and she was older and deserved respect.  The arguement (predictably) ended with my son holding up the giraffe shouting "kiss Geoff" as the woman told me that my son was very lovely but needed to learn to be told.

I admirably restrained myself from telling her that if she was so much older, then she should maybe know better than to argue with a toddler over something so petty. 

Maybe I'm not the only one starved for human interaction sometimes.