Mud & Mischief

By Matilda. Or her mom, Anna anyway.

Eight Things About Me

So here are the rules:

1) Post these rules before you give your facts.

2) List 8 random facts about yourself

3) At the end of your post, choose (tag) 6 people and list their names, linking to them

4) Leave a comment on their blog, letting them know they’ve been tagged.

My Facts:

1) I’m a blood donor. I’ve got my bronze badge and it’s one of those things I feel quite strongly about. If you can, you should. You never know when you might need it. As soon as I’ve finished having babies, I’m going back to donating twice a year.

2) I have dual nationality - I’m English and Canadian. Which means twice the normal number of dreadful passport photographs to have to deal with, but hey, it’s a price I’m willing to pay to be able go back here any time I want to.

3) I’ve turned into a fairly crafty kind of person over the past few years. I can knit, spin, crochet, sew, embroider, cross stitch, know the rudiments of weaving and a few other things. I’m also handy with power tools, hammer, saw etc. Which leads me to number 4…

4) I love putting flat-pack Ikea-style furniture together. ‘Nuff said.

5) I love languages. I’ve taught myself a smattering of a handful of languages, including Russian, Croatian, Spanish, Arabic and my latest interest, German. No idea what my accent is like though.

6) I have a little brother, who is actually 6′ something tall and pretty wonderful now, but I was fairly horrid to him on occassion whilst we were growing up. Just watching Myf with the little ones makes me cringe when I see myself in her general horridness. But I still feel guilty about the beach in Morocco, and if I ever get enough money, Rob, we’ll go back there and you can ride the horse.

7) I have aspirations of the Good Life. Those who know me will be rolling their eyes and going ‘no shit Sherlock’ or words to that effect. But my Good Life is not so much Tom and Barbara as organic earthship/cob/straw homestead - with a polytunnel!

8) I was born in the wrong era. Either that, or the last place I was was 1940’s Europe and I brought it with me - I’ve got the wartime mindset of waste-not-want-not and I know I drive James and my mother to distraction with my whole ’save it in case we need it’ attitude. That goes for food, outgrown clothes, stray bits of paper; frugality is not a necessity, it’s an artform. I darned a pair of Tea’s grey school tights and Mom was rolling her eyes about that for days. And I can make a chicken do three meals. Might be why I have a large number of wartime cookery books on my shelves - along side the clearing the clutter books, the ‘$50 homestead’ book, the zillion self-sufficiency type books… Did I mention I have a fair number of books?

So, I’m off to tag Sarah, Nikki, Jax, Tim and Bronwen and try to think of one more, as I’m quite sad and don’t read a huge number of blogs. Consider yourself tagged. Mom, go start a blog. Tag, you’re it too.

Dear Santa

I’ve been really good this year, even though it’s started out so horridly. I’ve done my best not to be too much of a dragon to the children, in spite of being so awfully sick for so long. And I’m keeping up to date with the washing and managing to feed everyone reasonably regularly, and healthily too. I’m hoping it’s not too cheeky, but I’d like to put my wish list in a bit early this year, as it’s a tad complex, and you might need a bit of time to get all the bits together. And if you’d like to drop any of them off early and save yourself a bit of weight on the Eve itself, then by all means, feel free.

1. A cleaner. Was going to put ‘cleaning lady’ but that would be sexist. A nice 6′ Polish male student would suffice as a cleaner, as long as he’s good with the vacuum and can unload the dishwasher without breaking anything. Things are getting a little out of hand round here, as walking isn’t much fun at present. Organising skills would be a bonus, as would an ability to see the wood for the trees. If he’s really good, he could also double as #2, which is:

2. A handyperson. Someone who can do all these irritating little jobs I’ve got that need doing, and that I just can’t manage myself. Emptying the garage, doing runs to the tip (which tends to be closed by the time James gets home from work), shifting the boxes of stuf around for me. There’d be bonus points if he could hang wall paper and gloss woodwork, as we really need to get this dining room finished before the Season is upon us. And preferably put the house on the market too.

3. That house we saw in Retford. You know the one. *sigh*

4. Some nice simple gold sleeper earrings, about 3/4″ in diameter, the kind with the discrete fastening and hinge, like the ones I used to have as a child. Let’s see if you can find gold hoops smaller than children’s bracelets and thinner than a pencil. They don’t exisit in Doncaster.

5. Prada perfume. A friend was wearing it and it smelled divine. Although, hold that thought until I’ve actually gone and tried it on, just in case it turns into Eau de Baboon on me. Just hide the name on the box though, in case my friends think I’ve turned into a chav.

6. An extra seat for the back of the G4. Not entirely sure how you’re going to manage that, as I haven’t figured out a way yet, but I’m sure you’ll come up with something.

7. A healthy baby. Don’t mind if this one is a bit late, thanks, although if you could arrange delivery by 12th night, I’d be very grateful. A few tips and ideas for names would be a bonus too, or this poor child is going to be born nameless and I don’t like that at all. If you could arrange for my hips to stay together during the process, I’d be forever in your debt.

I guess that’s it for this year. It’s not a lengthy list, and there’s one or two on there that should be manageable given your resources and abilities. I can’t think of anything else, although if you’re really stuck, Amazon vouchers are a winner every time.

The girls will be writing to you shortly, but remember to take what they say with a pinch of salt. Their letters will probably just be full of whatever was on the adverts on Nick Jr that day. From a mother’s point of view, I think bikes would suit them all perfectly - Myf can ride hers really well, but it’s a little small now; Tea is dying to learn to ride but we’ve misplaced the training wheels for Myf’s and the little one with training wheels has been left out in the rain too many times to be of much use to anyone. Piglet will be happy with pretty much anything as long as it comes in a big sturdy cardboard box that she can use to go on adventures in once the toy has been played with a couple of times.

Give my regards to Mrs Claus,

Sincerely yours
Kris Poledragon

To everyone for lovely comments and emails and cards. It’s feels good to know there’s so many people thinking of us.

The funeral is on Friday afternoon - my Mom is coming up to sit on the girls, as I don’t think it’s appropriate that they go to a funeral yet. They’re still way too young to fully comprehend what’s going on. Although Myf did show she has at least grasped the edges, by asking if we could go to Poppa’s this afternoon, as opposed to asking to go to Grandma’s. I think she does know what it means in theory, but it’ll probably take a while for the reality to sink in.

Piglet’s temper continues to amaze and astound me. Where does she get that hellion streak from? Terrible twos nothing - this is full on screaming, defiant rage. And her excema is worse, so it’s probably combined with that. She’s completely off dairy, so I have no idea what is making her arms flare up like they have. And her legs, the back of her neck, top of her buttocks… poor little mite. Although she did announce the other day that her left arm was her picking arm and her right arm was her scratching arm. Eurgh, revolting child.

She made me smile in the bath tonight though - I was leaning over the edge holding her yellow boat. “That’s MY pirate ship,” she states in that defiant tone that means she knows she’s being obstreperous. I just stare at her and say ‘manners’.

“Please may I, uh, this is MY pirate ship.” Clutching it to her chest.

I give her the raised eyebrow.

So she puts the ship back in my hand.

“Thank you Mommy, please may I have my pirate ship back please?”

All big blue eyes and damp curls. Little cow.

Tea and Myf seem to be enjoying school. Tea is delightful, whimsical, very hard on her clothes, has perfected the blank vacant blue-eyed stare, autistic-ly stubborn and uncommunicative at times, capable of babbling for 20 minutes straight without a breath at others, is by turns clingy and independent, and is actually perfectly lovely.

Myf is 6 going on 16, with her “Kevin and Perry” attitude and bullying manner towards her sisters. She’s also very loving, bright, smart-mouthed, eats everything in sight (except meals that involved potatoes that aren’t fried or rice - wants bread and butter instead), stroppy, opinionated, and bloody minded. And I don’t have a clue how she ticks. Still.

And Piglet (in addition to the previously mentioned temper) is adorable, selectively deaf, bolshy, rude, huggable, grey-hair-inducing, bad-tempered (had to mention it again), precocious, incredibly loud and still the baby. Just.

I remember reading about a book called ‘Raising your spirited child’ and think I’m going to have to search it out, as Piglet is developing definite ’spirited’ characteristics. ie, she’s too bloody minded for her own good. I have absolutely no control over her whatsoever. Which is depressing to admit, but I think I need help! And I’ve tried everything from the ‘naughty step’ to smacking her hands, to taking away toys, to ignoring her, to getting down on her level and ‘discussing’ it - I wonder if they do those electric collars you can get for dogs in Piglet’s size? As it might just be the only thing that can stop her in her tracks when she’s tear-arsing away from me towards a main road.

I have resorted to using a wrist strap, and she is oh-so-not-amused. Even patient explanations of ‘walk holding my hand and I’ll take it off’, couched in terms ranging from baby talk to grown-up Anglo-saxon have failed. One of those studded harnesses you see people walking Bull Terriers in would be useful.

Here’s a gratuitous Land Rover pic, to reassure you all that normal service will be resuming shortly. “Seeing Double”.

Taken at the Gaydon show a fortnight ago, ours is on the right.

Have noticed a distinct lack of anything remotely educational in this blog lately. So thought I’d try and rectify that, and list all the neat stuff Myf has been learning in the last couple of weeks.

A few new words added to the vocabulary.

Counting how many times in one day that Mom says ‘bloody’ about something.

Calculating the spread value of a box of lego 45cm long by 28cm wide and filled approximately 8cm deep, give answer to the nearest single decimal place, allowing for extra coverage under the rug as well as on top of it. If it doesn’t reach the skirting boards, factor in the addition of a box of cuisinaire rods, the Barbie accessories and the tub of pattern blocks.

Count how many times Mom says “bloody” when she sees the results of the experiment and calculate the percentage increase caused by said experiment over a standard day’s worth of “bloody”s.

Read the directions on how to assemble a 600mm wide kitchen unit. Collect (when Mom isn’t looking) all tools listed in the instructions and put them in a nice neat pile on Mom’s computer chair.

Start a bar chart for the “bloody”s when she can’t find her drill bits and screwdriver.

See if Piglet’s scream really is enough shatter glass by removing, at every available opportunity, which ever toy she is quietly playing with.

Test Mom’s patience to the limit by adopting a ‘Kevin and Perry’ style teenage attitude and do things whenever she is so buried under kitchen stuff that she can’t extricate herself in time to stop the bloodshed.

Ok - that backfired. Am now more pissed off than I was at the start of this. And the best bit? My builder just went to get his hair cut. He is so dead when he returns…

(edited to remove password - have cheered up now so thought I’d share)

Not often you see me around at 6.30am. However, as we’re (supposedly) getting a truck full of concrete today at 10.30,I thought I’d get up a little earlier than normal and start clearing a space or two.

Have shifted half of the remaining flat pack cabinets in out of the garage and into the kitchen - seeing as how I won’t be able to one there’s 6″ of concrete between me and my garage/outhouse. *sigh*

So I’m also doing laundry like crazy, put the last load onto tumble last night at 12.45, and swapped it all over at 6.25… I must be insane.

However, at least we won’t have an exposed gas pipe for people to trip over - it’s the yellow one that runs right in front of the back door, which is the one we always use. Safe, eh?

Oh, and I have no idea what’s in the blue barrels, as the builder dumped them there - possibly a petrol mix for the various stilsaw/tamper type things he’s been using. And yes, he’s the one who left those open bags of plastering compound out too. And it rained last night.

I think the wagon driver should have left the skip and taken the house - would have been tidier…

My Muglet

Kirsty’s Muglet

Anyone else want a go?

Don’t forget to animate them using the buttons on the left!