Babysitters and Cereal....

So our Singapore friends left yesterday - I took them all to Gatwick and we waved them off.

The children loved the airport, although at £10 for parking and £14 for 3 drinks we are not going too often!

Suddenly the house seems really quiet. We have gone from having a busy household with 3 children and a toddler to just the three of us again. Although TJ is happy as he can now get back into his playroom and play his football game on the wii... which is lucky as today we have seen the first really rainy day of the summer holidays so far. Lea is glued to the TV while I catch up with work.

The children don't know that we are going to make the most of the damp day this afternoon as I have them both booked in for haircuts and they both did their maths homework this morning. We have been doing times tables. I have purchased a cd that they can sing and dance along too whilst singing through the times tables - TJ was even heard singing it in his room this week - whether or not it actually goes in is debatable but it makes me feel like a better parent - so there is definitely an upside.

Whilst Papa was away my friend and I booked our Turkish cleaner twice - not to clean but to babysit - as the children all know her she was an obvious choice - and we got to go out and have a good catch up over dinner without constantly having to entertain 4 kids. We were a bit nervous the first time - mainly for the sitter, as we thought the kids might play her up. But we came back and she told us they had been good as gold, in fact the kids were eager for her to come again, so we decided to go out for the second time on Friday night.

I had just stepped out of the door when I realised that I forgotten my phone so I nipped back home. We had literally only just left the house yet when I came in there was the baby sitter surrounded by the kids pouring out huge bowls of sugar packed cereals - "What's going on?" I asked. "The children are all so hungry," she told me, "Just like the other night - they have not had any food so I am feeding them with the cereal as they are all so hungry. You can't let the children go to bed hungry..."

I stood there stunned. The kids had just had a huge fish finger and chip supper - as a treat if they would be good for the sitter, they even had cakes! The kids were all staring at me with huge eyes and open mouths....

The kids looked at me - I looked at them , the sitter carried on serving cereal. "They have been fed," I told her, "but I guess they are still hungry - however, once they have eaten that they must all go straight to bed." The kids looked suitably guilty and I decided to play this opportunity.

I collected my phone and went back out the door to tell my friend what had happened. We quickly both agreed that we were sill going out - and fast! As long as the kids were happy then we felt less guilty about leaving them and this way we knew there was no way we were going ot be called back as the kids would all be as good as gold! And sure enough they were - we even had time to go to the pub! (see previous post!)

Oh well.... at least everyone had fun!

Papa is back from his Singapore trip this week and he is off to New York on Sunday, the day after Nan's 90th birthday party - its going to be another busy weekend.

Holidays, Friends and Stories....

It's been one whole week since the summer holidays started - that means we only have five more to go! (not that I am counting or anything!)

This first week we have house guests - one of my best friends from my teaching days in Singapore and her two young children - they have been weathering the Singapore school holidays here in the UK and are finishing their trip with us before I whisk them off to sunny Gatwick on Monday to return to Singapore via Dubai.

Papa is currently in Singapore on the first of his many travels over the summer holiday period - he returns tomorrow morning - ifn fact as I write this he is in the air. We have spent the entire day getting the house back into shape for his arrival tomorrow. Papa is usually in a bad mood when he gets back from travelling - he doesn't cope with jet lag very well and he will instantly start channelling Captain Von Trapp the minute he walks through the door - 'Why are these shoes out,?' 'What's all this mess?' 'It's time for the children to march around the garden!' - that kind of thing. So today my friend took her kids up to London to meet her family members for a last farewell whilst the children and I tidyed up - even cleaning their rooms - we can now actually see TJ's bedroom floor!.

It has been lovely having my friend here though - we have had lots of days out in the beautiful sunny weather and we even asked the baby sitter to come in for two evenings so we could go out and catch up properly.

Last night we went for a lovely meal and then ended up in the local pub regailing stories of our past drunken youth (there seemed to be a lot of alcohol involved) and our experiences of family life and her tales of child birth....

She told this great story that I just had to share (I did ask permission - so I won't get into too much trouble).

Her husband had wanted to video the birth of their second child - she had strictly forbidden such things during the birth of heir first and he wanted to be able to share the 'joy' of the arrival with her as she hadn't been down the 'birthing end' and seen the miracle that was their children - she had been otherwise engaged apparently...

After weeks of badgering and the purcahse of a new video camera she reluctantly agreed that he could video the baby's arrival - but not the actual birth, the video could be there after the birth. Here there was obviously some confusion as in her mind she saw a Doris Day style presentation of the child to her by her adoring husband - whilst she was in full make up wearing a bed jacket. He had other ideas and as soon as the midwife shouted 'Its a boy!' he whipped out his camera and videoed the entire remaining event - cutting of cords, stitching up of lady bits etc etc.... (not pleasant)... my friend was not aware of any of this as she had quite happily accepted all the drugs they could offer her - apparently that happens with the second child - the first birth you insist on 'experiencing it' and feeling the moment - the second she just wanted it over with.... I guess by the third you give birth clutching a gin and tonic....

So no more was said of the event and baby was taken home and much love followed them...

Then one evening they had friends over for dinner and the husband was showing off his new video camera and was showing their friends a video of their older daughter doing her first ballet class - my firned went out to the kitchen to prepare the dinner and suddenly heard a scream from the living room - she popped her head around the door just as her husband's friends turned to his wife and said, "What is this?" "I've no idea," she replied staring transfixed at the screen - although the TV was no longer showing an image of a 3 year old girl spinning in a tutu - it now held a picture of my friends lady bits being stitched up by a midwife as the cord was being cut and my friend was in the background crying 'Am I dead yet?"

As my friend said - it wasn't quite the image you wanted to share before you sat down to a lasagne dinner.... particularly as she had told him he wasn't to video the birth - although as hubbie later pointed out - he didn't actually video the birth, as requested.... I'm not sure my friend was entirely convinced.

It turned out the hubbie had simply added the birth onto the video's hard drive - it was one of those fancy HDD recorders and hadn't then copied it onto the computer - so the machine simply carried on playing the next film...

Luckily they are all good enough friends to joke about it - and when she told the story in the pub last night - I spat my wine out I laughed so much!!!!!!!!

I'll miss her when she goes......

Summer holidays... The beginning!

It's been a busy start to the summer holidays.

We decided to go up to see Granny in the North. There are those who would say we were daft to travel on the British motorways on the first day of the long summer holidays... Those people are right! It was madness... We sat in traffic for hours so I decided to take the expensive toll motorway and pay for the privilege of not having to sit on the M6 in a traffic jam on the hottest day of the year...

We decided to stop off at the service station on the toll road... The children wanted a burger... It was as we got to the burger counter that I realised that I didn't have my wallet... Which also meant I couldn't pay the toll and I couldn't turn round as I didn't have enough petrol, not the money to buy petrol... I called the customer services on the toll to see if I could pay later... But customer services were closed... So I did the only thing I could do... I called my Mum!

She agreed to drive down to me and pay the toll, she would meet me at the service station. So we waited. Luckily, I had plenty of water and a banana cake that I had made for my Nan... The cake didn't make it out of the station, it was completely devoured using an expired gym membership card as a make shift knife... There's an irony there I'm sure...

Then Mum called, she was now stuck in a traffic jam coming the other way... She eventually got to us after 2 and a half hours... She only lives 45 mins away.... She wasn't happy... We eventually got back to her house at around 10pm... 8 hours after we left.... 

But it was a lovely weekend. We spent Sunday with my Nan who is turning 90 on Wednesday... She alternated between telling me how well behaved the boys were and how scruffy I was! But a least the boys got a good review.... 

Then my sister and her new husband came to see us. And my new brother in law taught TJ how to turn on the hose... Much to my mum and Lea's annoyance!

We came back yesterday and the children were a nightmare... I don't know if it was saying goodbye to mum or the worry about being stuck in traffic again but they were truly horrendous all the way home... I spent the entire drive down shouting or stressing or both... Awful!

Today though we have been joined by one of my best friends from Singapore and her two children who will stay its is for the next few days... As my friends daughter has her eyes on TJ we shall see what happens over the next few days....

End of Term - again!

Well, this is it.

Its the end of another school year and the end of Key Stage 1 for TJ. He now gets to be a big boy and wear a tie in Year 3.

The year has flown by.

Yesterday was TJ's end of year assembly with parents invited to come and watch. I went into school in the morning to help with the staging of the 'musical number' - Daisy Daisy mashed into 'The Bicycle Song' by Queen as the theme this term has been the Tour de France, which the school have used to teach geography and French.

It was as the song was playing that we realised some of the references in the verses to Coke and Caine - might not be suitable for 7 years old to be singing. So ingeniously (well, I think so) we removed half of the year group and they entered throughout the school hall coming in from all directions during the verse making as much noise as possible in order to block out the offensive lyrics and then join in on the fun bicycle bit.

It went really well - the children really got into it and the Year 6, who watched the dress rehearsal were suitably impressed and the Year  2 children beamed when their older counterparts applauded and whistled.

At the end of the assembly the children reprised the song and TJ was given the special job of leading his group of children down the middle of the aisle through the audience and inviting the parents to come and follow the kids through to the year 2 classrooms for refreshments and to have a look at their work. Inrehearsals it went really well....

On the actual performance TJ decided he didn't want to do that - so he led his group out of the side door. When other children and a teacher told him he was going the wrong way he simply said, "I don't want to go that way!" and led them the other. Strangely they all followed him. He may be diminutive but he is certainly authoritative as not one of them argued with him or went the correct way. I think he may well be a commander in the armed forces... either that or a traffic warden!

Later in the classroom I asked him to show me his work - he pointed at a wall - "It's on there somewhere," he said - and then raced outside to play with his friends.

To be honest I couldn't find any of his work - I'm not even sure if he goes to that school - there was no evidence of any of TJ's wok anywhere. Well, he may imply have told his teachers that they were not allowed to put them up... I guess he would charge them a royalty fee!

Hot Days, Hot Tubs and A & E!

This weekend we had a lovely time.

On Friday morning my phone alarm went off - it simply said, "Dinner Tonight Chinatown."
I called Papa and asked him who we were due to be having dinner with?
That's one thing I have noticed since becoming a parent - you simply don't remember anything as you are so caught up in packed lunches, after school clubs, school trips etc etc.

Papa couldn't remember either - but that was probably because he hadn't made the arrangements - I had!

Then I had a message through on my Facebook - 'What time are we meeting for dinner tonight?' and it was from a lovely Singaporean actress/director friend of ours who was over for the week and with whom I had planned this date months ago!

Yes, it all fitted and rather than worrying about what was supposed to be happening we were excited again. I picked the boys up from school and we left straight for Chinatown - they love it there, well, TJ is half Singaporean after all - as he delights in telling everyone (wait till he learns he has to do national service if he wants to get that Singapore passport!)

It was a lovely evening, both of our familes got on really well and their little one and TJ were soon happily playing games and watching TV on the ipad while Lea regaled us all with her conversational skills.

Then on Saturday morning we headed off to Brighton to stay with some other lovely friends - and boy was it hot!

It also seemed as if the whole world had chosen to go to Brighton today - but we made it down there in time for a stroll and late lunch of chips and ice cream on the beach and then headed back to our friend's place for an evening barbecue and a soak in their hot tub... which was what the children were most excited about.

So we went back to our friend's house avoiding some of the less savoury and rather 'fragrant' crowds that were lining the promenade by the evening. The kids literally stripped down to their underwear and jumped into the hot tub whilst we sipped pink bubbly and watched our friends fire up their barbecue.

It was an idyllic scene which was suddenly broken by Lea crying out, "Daddy, TJ's bleeding!" I turned around and sure enough TJ had blood pouring from his chin down his chest. "Its just a little cut," I said knowingly, "It probably looks worse than it is." It was at this point that TJ, who had been silent till now, lifted back his head and screamed - as he did so his chin opened up revealing a layer of skin and flesh and I'm still convinced that I saw bone (although that maybe my mind overly dramatising the event - either that or I've seen too much Casualty). Resisting the urge to vomit I calmly looked at Papa and said, "I think we need to go to A & E." It was at this point that we realised that I was the only adult who could drive - I was also over the drink\drive limit but luck was on our side. The Brighton Children's A& E was only a short walk away.

So I picked TJ up and went with our friend to the A& E. For those of you that don't know the A & E in Brighton is up an incredibly steep and long hill - by the time we got there both TJ and I needed medical attention as I was sure I was going to have either an asthma attack, a heart attack - or both.

They say never get sick at the weekend or on a public holiday and they are right!

We walked through the entire hospital and didn't meet a single member of staff - no-one to tell us where to go. Luckily my friend is a calm and knowledgable sort (he'll like that) who worked out from the incredibly complicate map where we should go. So we went up to the 5th floor to a special A & E dept for kids and from that point on they were brilliant. It was a lovely atmosphere and TJ was seen and 'glued' back together within 90 minutes - the NHS at its finest, even dealing with the drunk 14 year old in the bed next door whose parents obviously wanted to get back to the pub and the 'birkenstock wearing' middle class Guardian reading family who wouldn't let their child watch the TV as it was showing nasty working class 'football' - which unfortunately TJ was glued to!

After all this adventure we headed back to our friends lovely home and had a delicious barbecue washed down with far too much wine - but at least the walk back was downhill all the way!!!!!!!!

Of Rabbits and War....

So the children were playing outside with their rabbit and guinea pig when the lady from next door pops her head over the fence to have a chat.

My first concern was that the kids footballing antics had upset her. Usually she is lovely but occasionally she can be upset, particularly after spending all day planting her borders only to have her pansies crushed by a 'booted' ball.

But today she was in a good mood, chatting with the boys about their football skills, their bikes and eventually their pets.

She chatted about how lovely the rabbit was, how well behaved and sweet, just like its owner Lea! (I stifled a laugh)

She told them how when she was a girl that she had three little bunnies and about how much she loved them and how she played with them everyday,even during the war when they kept her and her big sister company during the German bombings of the Blitz in her home in East London.

She told them how one by one her rabbits escaped and ran away and how heartbroken she was and how she sat cuddling the last bunny as bombs hit her street, just before she was evacuated.

The kids sat open mouthed as she talked... And to be honest, so did I.

Then came the clanger. After the war was over her sister explained to her that the bunnies hadn't run away, but that due to the shortage of food, each rabbit had been served to her for Sunday lunch. They had spaced the bunny slaughter out so she wouldn't notice and so that she still had something to comfort her during the bombing raids.

She told them how seeing their rabbit had brought back all those memories of her own bunnies.... To which Lea said, "You are not going to eat mine!" 

The lady laughed and said, "No, I've never eaten a rabbit since." To which TJ replied, "Well, you can eat my guinea pig if you want... Guinea pigs are rubbish!" And he then went back to kicking his ball.

But something must have sunk in as TJ today pulled out a copy of War Horse, the excellent book, and said, "Daddy, do you think that lady would like to read this and tell me more about the war?"

I think she probably would.

The Mouseketeers...

On Saturday it was the school fair.

The hottest day of the year so far and I had been 'volunteered' to don a full Mickey Mouse suit and parade around the school field for three hours waving and entertaining the kids. Alongside me was my long suffering 'dress up' partner... Whenever there is dressing up to be done she and I always seem to head the list.... Either that or nobody else will do it.

This obviously stems from some form of insecurity as we must both have agreed to do it early on when our children first joined the school in an effort to be liked and since then we are always dressing up... Fat elves. Mice... Whatever.... 

I now totally respect those poor guys at Disney who wander around the park... Those costumes are bloody hot! Although at Disney, I am informed, they have a time limit as to how long they can stay in the costume... We did a full hour at one point, as I desperately tried to wipe sweat out of my eyes (which involved pushing Mickeys fist in through his mouth and to a small child it must have looked as if the said mouse was scratching his brain) the Head Teacher said, "You'll be alright, just stand here for twenty minutes more then you can have a break"... It's a good job the characters aren't allowed to talk...

I am also told that each character has a human 'guide' to help them around. This is especially important as, due to the hugeness of Mickeys head, you are unable to see anything that is directly in front of you and this is incredibly hazardous as most of the children who want to hug you are usually only waist height... Which means that should your 'guide' wander off to chat to the cute football coach then you are left standing in a hot field, sweat dripping into your eyes, with thousands of little hands trying to grab your legs whilst an older child hits you on the head with the 'blow up' hammer they have just won on the 'hook a duck' stall....

Still, on the whole it was great fun and Mickey and Minnie got to help draw the raffle... "And third prize goes to...." The head teacher said... Yes it was me! But I was being Mickey... 'I wonder where he is?" The head teacher joked.... As the prize was the alcohol hamper there was no way I was going to allow her to re draw it... I was just in the process of whipping off my head and causing immeasurable upset to many a small child when the Head Teacher gave me a wink and said, "don't worry I know where he is."

My favourite moment was after I was de-moused and helping to put away the stalls. One of TJs friends came  up to me and said , "it's such a shame you came late.... You missed Mickey Mouse!"

Disney will thank me for that....

So on the upside Papa and I spent yesterday watching Andy Murray's amazing victory with Pimms, lemonade and crisps all courtesy of the school hamper! 

Why don't we have a mum?...

Why do children always want to talk about the most important things when you are rushing to do something else?

In our case we were late for school - as usual. We only live over the road from the school so why we always leave it to the last minute to get out of the door amazes me. Today was just the same as any other day except that as we were crossing the road TJ suddenly says, "Why did you choose my name?"

"Well, to be honest, we didn't choose your name," I replied, "Your birth mum did.. but we chose you." and I smiled re-assuringly (as all the adoption manuals recommend). "Anyway," I went on, "we chose your middle name together, remember?"

"I don't like my name." TJ replied simply.

Immediately all my psychological warning bells went off (guess what I am studying for) and I know that usually when a child says they don't like something as fundamental as their name then it usually shows they don't like themselves - self esteem issues are high on the agenda for many adopted children.

We walked a little bit slower now as I felt a conversation was about to come on - a conversation that had to be raised by TJ, not led by me (even though I was desparate to).

"Why don't we have a mum?"

Great, we have five minutes before the school gate is closed and he asks me this. Oh well, if we are late then so be it - this needed to be discussed.

"Well," I said, "You do have a mum but she couldn't look after you and so you went into care while the social workers found you a new family. Daddy and Papa also wanted a family and we chose you. So you are very lucky, you were chosen, not many children can say that."

I breathed out after giving what is pretty much my standard reply to this question when it ever comes up. But then came his retort, "But we didn't choose you, nobody asked me what I wanted."

"And what did you want?" I asked. As soon as this came out of my mouth I knew that I was not going to like the reply. But it was quite insightful of him - they do say that children are usually a little bit older before they realise that in order to have be 'chosen' you first have to have been rejected by another family. Rejection is probably the wrong word to use but I can't find one that sums up how they would feel. In many ways I was glad that TJ was able to feel safe enough to have this conversation even though I knew I wasn't going to like what came next.

"I wanted a mum." he said, "I think I would have liked to have a mum."

" I know you would sweetie," holding his hand, "I know you would have liked to have a mum, but lots of children come from different families - some have one mummy, some one daddy, some have two mummies and some two daddies - like you."

"I know all that," he replied knowingly, 'I'm just saying that when I get older and get to choose my next family I'm going to have one with a mum."

"Well, unfortunately, this is the only family you're going to have mister," I said, probably a bit too strictly, "so get used to it... besides, this family loves you and I would be very sad if you went somewhere else."

He thought about this, "Do you think my birth mum was sad that I had to leave her?"

Where had all this come from?

"I think she probably was," I said, "But she knew she wasn't able to give you the love and care you needed to she knew it was better for you to be adopted and we told her we would love you."

"Do you think she would get me a new football?" he asked, "A blue one?"

"Well, maybe we could get you one this weekend," I replied.

"Good," he said with a smile, "because I want one of those."

And with that he rushed into school just as the gates were closing.

I was left standing there in a slight state of shock. Had my youngest child just used his adoptive story to manipulate me into promising him a new football? Possibly, but either way he was sharing a deep feeling with me - whether he knew it or not and I think that deserves a new football....

Nearly Forty....

It all began with an innocent text message.

This weekend was the Sprog's godmother's birthday (she is the fairy godmother, her hubbie is TJ's 'furry' godfather) and late last week I had a sudden panic that this year was the big 40 celebration. This was understandable as last year she had a 'not yet 40' party which involved a shed...  (It's a long story but a great party). I was a little embarrassed that I didn't know so I thought that a quiet little text message to her hubbie would ensure that we had the right gift on Sunday.

The message read 'just a quick question, is it Fairy's 40th birthday on Sunday?"

The reply was a simple, 'Yes! We are all heading to Camber Sands for a birthday tea and horse riding on the beach." The Fairy Godmother loves horse riding so this was an apt present and one that she would love.

We went into panic mode. Where I had intended to send a lovely bouquet and a card I now had to sort out a present suitable for a milestone birthday. We also had our nephew's graduation celebration on Saturday so any shopping would have to be done on Sunday morning.

The graduation on Saturday was lovely, Papa's sister and brother in law were on good form and the little Prince had a great day... We came home very late but I knew we had to get up early to organise the fortieth birthday present on Sunday.

We got up early, I pre-cooked lunch and got all the laundry done in the morning, then we rushed off to Bluewater to get cards and a suitable present. The boys wanted to give their Godmum a picture frame with a picture of themselves in their suits which was taken at my sister's wedding earlier this year (it's not often they look smart) So we sorted that out and then headed to Papa's favourite jewellery store.... An hour later we had selected the right gift, bought paper, cards, ribbon and a fab birthday cake shaped like a handbag (a last minute request from Furry as he had forgotten to pack a cake. he requested chocolate but I thought a fancy handbag shape was much better for such an important birthday) and then we headed home. Whilst I prepared a cold Sunday salad Papa and the boys wrote their cards and wrapped their gifts.

We then headed off to Camber Sands on the coast. The sun was shining and it was a beautiful day for a picnic on the beach. Except Furry then dropped me a line to ask if I could get some paper cups for the wine he had in his picnic basket, oh and some paper plates and cutlery. As we drove around the countryside looking for a convenience storePapa was getting exasperated. "Why is this so last minute?" He said, "Surely Furry knew it was Fairy's 40th, it's not like its a surprise!"

"In his defence," I said, recalling Papa's own reaction to his 40th birthday, "it may well be that Fairy doesn't want to celebrate her 40th, it's a birthday a lot of people have a problem with, hence it's a low key affair with just family and close friends on the beach doing something she loves - I think it's very sweet."  "Well he could have called me," Papa sulked, "I'm good at organising parties." (Which is very true)

So we went to the little shop at the concentration camp that is the local holiday 'resort' and purchased plates, cups, cutlery and napkins and headed to the beach.

Unfortunately, there was a strong sea breeze... Well, sea gale to be more precise and the dunes resembled a scene from Lawrence of Arabia with people rushing from the beach as sand gusted in clouds around them. The children and I got out of the car and were immediately exfoliated, we all said our hellos and wished Fairy a happy birthday before jumping back into the car and heading back into the little town of Rye to meet other friends for fish and chips by the quayside.

We all sat down and Fairy started opening her cards and gifts. "Happy 40th" we all shouted. "But I'm 39," Fairy said. "Yes,"I replied, "I've been 39 for fours years now, its called denial," And we laughed.

Then she opened her first card which was from the kids and featured a monster clutching the numbers 4 and 0.  Fairy looked blank, "I am really only 39." She said. I laughed in disbelief as she opened our tastefully decorated fortieth birthday card. 

"She really is only 39," said the friend.... 

I went cold.

"Born in 1974." She went on.

I quickly pulled out my phone and traced back through the text messages with Furry. There it was, plain as day...Fairy is 40!

Luckily everyone saw the funny side and were soon rolling around laughing as Furry explained he had only half read the message as he knew he had to tell me what was happening for Fairy's birthday! Misunderstanding explained... As was the lack of fortieth birthday organisation... She wasn't 40...

Then I suddenly saw Fairy about to open the present from Papa and myself... A present that was now completely inappropriate and bordering on the ridiculous.... I grabbed it back. "You can have this next year," I said. I know it is awfully bad form to take back a present but a replacement will be sent forthwith and on top of that I can't tell you what the original present was as that will spoil the surprise for next year... When it really will be Fairy's 40th.... If we are invited of course!!!

Oops!

Sports Day

Its been a busy week. What with having our nephew to stay, helping out at school for a couple of days and then yesterday beeing Sports Day its been full on.

Mind you, its good to show Papa that being a stay at home, studying while trying to write a blog based book can be pretty frantic - I'm sure he thinks I sit at home all day watching daytime soaps and meeting friends for long lunches before collecting the boys from school for a fun trip to the sun kissed park chatting with the Mum's while the children frolic in the sand pit before returning for a leisurely tea in the nursery followed by a splash in the bath ready for Papa's arrival home so he can give them a quick kiss and tuck them in before sitting down to the lovely meal I am preparing for him. Then of course, I am happy in my relaxed and pleasure filled state, simnply grateful to be provided for and prepared to sit and listen to how hard his day at work has been, looking at spreadsheets, going to meetings in Madrid and sorting out his flight intinerary and business trips for the rest of the year - most of which seem to fall over the holiday periods... I am so blessed!

(The lack of punctuation is completely intentional as sometimes I don't have time to take a breath!)

Oh wait, that seems to be someone else's life. Mine consists of trying to keep TJ tidy - just long enough for him to get into school whilst ensuring he doesn't impale himself on yet anther 'stick' that he has found and wants to use as a javelin. Trying to squeeze my entire life into a five hour window whilst the little darlings are at school before they race home and in three minutes trash my tidy house, spill sticky juice over everything, fight with me over why they don't want to do their homework that evening before I run them to whatever club it is they are doing next. Then trying to ensure they have food that they like - which at the moment also doesn't seem to be enough as both kids could eat for their country - then have another do his dyselxia on line exercises whilst the younger one is in the bath - where I know he will succeed in soaking all four walls and using every towel that he can before reading to him the same story I have read for the past three months but of which he never seems to tire before getting the older one to bed in time for Papa to walk through the door. At this point Papa will moan about his long journey home and how he needs a shower before he can possibly read a bedtime story - and can't  I do it as he is tired. Then I will do it, then get TJ back into bed as by now he is on his third toilet trip in 30minutes and KC has just realised that he hasn't packed his 'show and tell' for the next day. Finally,  Papa will come down and give each child a quick kiss before telling them to go to sleep and coming down to ask what's for dinner... he has learned not to complain if its something he doesn't like and he no longer raises an eyebrow if I have a cheeky g and t. Although he nearly wore his dinner last night when as we sat down he said, "So have you written much today?"

That's my version of events....

Yesterday was Sports Day. This year I had to attend both the KS1 sports day, as TJ is now in Year 2 and the KS2 sports day, for the older children which includes KC. Parents were also invited to share a picnic lunch between the sporting events. So it was all shaped up to be a lovely stress free day.

Except, Papa had to work -  so, yet again, he missed out on their day. I do think thats a shame as both children are very sporty and it is nice for them to show something that they can do well - rather than be constantly reminded that they are not that academically gifted.

But not to worry - I would be there - although that didn't seem to really excite them - although TJ was looking forward to the picnic side of things.

Unfortunately, yesterday was also to be the highest pollen count of the year so far and within two minutes of stepping outside the door I could barely see through my streaming eyes, couldn't stop sneezing and was generally not much fun to have around.

Then I went to sit in a field...

TJ's day consists of lots of 'team' activities - a sports carousel where every child gets a chance to do something - there are no losers at our school. Which kind of makes cheering parents redundant - as the parents soon found out and ended up chatting amongst ourselves whilst the little darlings ran backwards and forwards sharing bean bags and filling little jugs with water.

Then came the competitive bit - the running races! The parents soon got involved in that - some more so than others...

TJ set off like the clappers - his legs going like little pistons. Now TJ has Noonan's syndrome which means he is much smaller than the rest of his peers but despite that he loves football and running and he is determined to be an Arsenal player so it is very important that he wins - at everything. At the last minute as he raced down the 100m track another boy passed him and TJ came in a worthy second. Which is amazing. Everyone chhered. Everyone except TJ, who took his baseball cap off and threw it at the teacher, he then stormed off in a hissy fit that would have had the best drama queens in awe - beleive me I have thrown a few in my time. I stormed out of a dance class whilst at college complete with hair flick and door slam and it wasn't until I was standing outside in the college car park in the middle of winter that I realised that at some point I would have to go back into the dance studio and collect my clothes, my choices were simple, to stand and freeze until class had finished then sneak back in and collect my stuff or to storm back in, grab my things and storm back out again. I decided on the latter, only this time my second storming out was met with huge laughter from my fellow classmates. So maybe TJ does take after me.

Anyway TJ's sulk went on for a good ten minutes - he stormed off the field, he stood in a bush shouting, he threw his hat back at the teacher when she tried to pass it back to him. He was on form. It was as I was hiding my head in the programme that I noticed that there would be extra points awarded for 'good sportsmanship' - I figured that they wouldn't take points away so TJ should be ok.

By now, my hayfever was unbearable. So I popped home to get some more hayfever medication and also to check that The Little Prince (our nephew) had finally arisen and gone up to London to meet his friends - if he hadn't at least I could get him up and get him to the station. I got back took extra medication and sat down for a few minutes. I think I must have dozed off as I missed the picnic lunch but later learned that Lea sat with her friend's mum whilst TJ ran around the field. I had sent the children in with their own packed lunch so I hadn't left them unfed (in case anyone was wondering).

I then pulled myself back up and returned to the school field for the second round of hayfever hell - known as sports day part 2!

Lea was already overly excited. As I walked onto the field she was busy running up and down the length of the field waving his arms madly - apparently this was part of her 'warm up' routine. I didn't question it as I was too busy sneezing. Her teacher came over and handed me a packet of tissues. That's how bad I was!

Again we were treated to a sports carousel - this time with added features such as bouncing a ball on a net and rolling a ball through a tube whilst running to the other end to catch it, well at least you were racing something, even if it was only a ball.

Then came their running races and Lea set off like a rat out of a trap. She was gone, easily in the lead, powering ahead as the crowd cheered him on. It was at this point that she stopped, seemingly to see where this cheering noise was coming from, although she later denied it, and two other girls raced past her, leaving her in third place. But she was happy. Lea is not really competitive - she was just pleased to be placed and to get a sticker.

We came home and TJ was happy again. Mainly because he placed second whilst his sister only placed third. This then resulted in an argument as to who had the tougher opponents and all was back to normal in the house again....

Climbing Walls...

Well, its actually been quite an uneventful week.

Both kids have settled back into the school routine and this week we have our nephew - their cousin - staying with us having a post exam break before his graduation next weekend up in Cambridge. He has offered to take the boys punting... I don't think he has any idea what could happen... nor have I!

TJ has returned back to his normal cumodgeonly self - he has agreed that he will go back to school - but he is not going to learn anything. So I was nicely surprised when he came home yesterday telling me all about the 'healthy' food he has been learning about - its healthy to eat fruit and vegtables (he named most of them) and chicken - but not KFC (which disappointed Papa who loves the stuff) - lots of water and chocolate... and cake... and sweets. I was a bit shocked by these last three until I overheard him chatting with Lea - their plan was that if they told us these things were healthy then we might let them have it more often. I'm not sure which of them was the architect of this fiendish plan to fool the parents but it did make me smile and hats off to them for their ingenuity. I shall be giving them double brussels sprouts this weekend!

The school are organising a sponsored climbing wall today - we were asked to sign the consent forms and send in the sponsor money 'before' they actually did the climb. I dug my heels in and refused to send in the cash unless I had evidence that these two actually went up the wall. (Despite being professionals at driving me up it!)

Lea has already said she won't be doing it - she didn't even want me to sign the consent forms. She is terrified of heights. Something I have noticed recently is that Lea is becoming more and more fearful of things - I don't know if its just a stage or if it points to a further drop in self esteem. Of course, she could just be scared of heights!

TJ also refused to climb the wall - I told him it would be fun and we should all try new things - besides, I added, it was to help raise money for the school. "But I don't like school," was his considered reply, "so why should I raise money for it?"I really couldn't argue with that.

Then this morning he decided that he would be climbing after all - I sent in the forms but wrote on them that I will not be parting with any money until I know they have both at least tried to climb the wall!

Papa has gone to Madrid for a business type conference thingy and the cousin is off to a friends birthday party tomorrow - so it will just be me and the kids this weekend. Although TJ was quite disappointed that I hadn't gone to Spain with Papa and left them in the capable hands of their cousin. Apparently, he is a lot more fun than me and, I quote, "He would have to let them do what they wanted!"- Needless to say as much as I shared my youngest child's sentiment that I would love to be in sunny Spain with Papa sipping sangria while he attends a dull meeting, I simply couldn't be quite so mean to their poor cousin - it might scar him for life!!!!!

Father's Day

Well, I couldn't let the day pass without letting you know what happened could I?

I don't know when Father's Day became such a big deal. I had always considered it to be one of those 'Hallmark' holidays - you know, made up to sell cards. Here in the UK Mother's Day is a religious holiday, which is why its on a different day to the rest of the world, so I guess it has some justification but Father's Day always had that feel of being the sort of holiday made up so Dad's didn't feel left out. That was how I always considered it anyway, until I became a Dad of course.

Naturally that brings with it loads of guilt. We never remembered Fathers Day as kids - it just wasn't really celebrated - you rarely saw Father's Day cards and school definately didn't do anything for it. So my Dad was used to us forgetting and now when I recall his shrug of the shoulders and him saying, "Dont' worry," when we remembered we had forgotten - I do feel a certain pang of regret.

We lost my Dad when he was very young - only 53, to a particularly virulent and unlucky cancer, unlucky in that you didn't notice it was there until it was too late to be treated and I think since his death over 10 years ago I have subconsciously avoided Fathers Day - it wasn't a day that really involved me.

Last year, whilst we celebrated Father's Day with the children - they gave us presents from school etc - but at that stage the adoption had been legalised and so there was always a chance - no matter how small, that the adoption may not happen. So possibly we held back slightly as well.

This year we didn't....

This year the kids are adopted - they are ours and we are their Dad's - whether they like it or not (hopefully they like it most of the time - althought I'm sure there are times when they want to be somewhere else - but thats normal and its a feeling I sometimes share!)

So this year I got breakfast in bed - we did debate as to whether we should both stay in bed (as Lea requested) and let her loose in the kitchen - but the thought of clearing up after an 11 year old has done her culinary best did not fill me with confidence. So it was duly decided that I would let Papa stay in bed on Saturday and on Sunday it would be my turn.

Papa got the kids up and they went downstairs to prepare breakfast. I couldn't sleep listening to the clattering of pots and pans as it seemed the entire kitchen was emptied out onto the floor. So I turned on the TV. Five minutes in and the children turned up in my room. Papa had sent them upstairs as they were interfering with his breakfast masterpiece... So they sat with me. My Sunday breakfast show was turned over and the children sat and watched Kung Fu Dinosaurs (it does exactly what it says on the tin - its dinosaurs that do Kung Fu) Obviously a cartoon created by a committee of toy executives... but they love it.

A few minutes later and we were joined in bed by the dog and the cat, I felt like a cross between Snow White and Mary Poppins (although she would never have allowed the tv on)... I got up and went downstairs.

Papa and I sat down and had a really peaceful Father's day breakfast whilst the kids and the pets sat contentedly upstairs... I heard the next cartoon show come on. 'Pokemon' - brilliant that gave us another 22minutes to sit, have a coffee and read the paper.

I know too much TV is bad and we don't encourage it - but this was heavenly!!!!!!!

Afterwards we headed into town for Father's Day dim sum in Chinatown - a restaurant we go to so often we don't need to book a table, followed by Taiwanese desserts around the corner - which are full of sugar and colourings and are a real 'one off'. Finally we walked down to Hamleys to treat the kids to a toy each - after all, without them we wouldn't be fathers at all - and that's the real joy of this 'hallmark' holiday....

Bad jokes... Where do they get it from?

This is the very question I am sitting here asking myself.

I think I am probably to blame as Papa isn't known for his sense of humour.... Although I think he would have found this morning funny.

So I thought I would share it with you before I get to work on Part 3 of our Road Trip trilogy....

This weekend we had to pop over to Bluewater, "Europe's largest shopping destination", and we lost TJ... I panicked and we ran around the shop for a couple of minutes, only pausing to test a few fragrances, that's how serious it was... We found him standing and chatting... To an electric fan! "What are you doing?" I admonished him, "We've been looking everywhere for you!"

He looked at me with a twinkle in his eye and said, "But I was here, chatting to my fan!" He then erupted into laughter and spent much of the rest of the day muttering to himself about his 'fans' and erupting into spontaneous laughter... At least he was having a good time and can entertain himself.

This morning whilst getting ready for school both kids noticed the dog was limping, we think she might have pulled something and is off to the vet later, anyway, there was a huge commotion and I turned around to see the children hobbling around the kitchen... "What on earth are you doing?" I asked... Same twinkle in TJ's eye... "We're having a limping race with the dog.... We holding our own 'limp'ics!! Then both kids fell about laughing!

Finally, as we left for school, the kids were getting their stuff together when TJ said "Daddy, what do call a bird with asthma?' (This is a joke I told him yesterday whilst administering his asthma pump as TJ suffers quite badly so I try to keep it light)..."erm, I don't know," I replied, "What do you call a bird with asthma?" "A penguin!" He said and then rolled around the floor laughing as the Sprog and I looked on...

"Erm, the answer is actually Puffin," I tried to break the news gently, after all I'm sure even the best comedians have fluffed their lines....

He stopped laughing and looked at me with a deadpan stare. 

"Actually," he said, "I don't know what a puffin is and I think penguins are funnier. And anyway, your jokes aren't very funny but mine are...." He then went back to putting his shoes on...

He obviously takes after Papa....

Road Trip 2 - Dinner, Cameras and the Innocence of Youth!

... so we headed off to the boys' Godparents a little before lunch. My heart was heavy as I knew this as going to be a long, long trip...

As we took to the country lanes that link Kent with East Sussex the nephew suddenly announced that he suffered from motion sickness... "Don't you dare be sick in my car." I jokingly said, thinking he was being 'humorous' in that way only teenagers can be.
"I'm serious," he replied, "I really get car sick."
'Then don't you dare be sick in my car!" I shouted, "Seriously, that smell is one that can never be gotten rid of. If you are going to be sick, let me know and I'll pull over."
We spent much of the rest of the trip to East Sussex with the nephew looking slightly green whilst TJ gazed at him in awe desperate to watch a grown up throw up.

Well there was actually very little traffic and after an hour and a half we pulled up the drive to the Godparents, one furry and one fairy as we like to call them, (I'll let them decide which one is which). Everyone had a good stretch as I unloaded the boys' plethora of belongings, sleeping bags, cases, teddy bears, blankets - it looked as though they were staying for a week, not an overnight sleep over - but I was to learn later that they ran out of clothes anyway! We had a cup of tea and a chat and after much hugging, kissing and 'be good's later we got back into a much roomier car and headed back up the A22 towards the dreaded M25.

The journey to the motorway was actually uneventful but we hit the M25 at 3pm and stayed there until 5pm... "Can you imagine how bad it would be if we hit it at rush hour," I said. "You mean this isn't rush hour?" the nephew asked. Inwardly I smiled knowingly, after all I did try to warn them and now we were going to join the queue of traffic heading down the M4 towards the nicer side of London.

But I was proved wrong and it actually wasn't that bad. We ended up arriving at the hotel just before 6pm (after a detour as some woman in a 4x4 cut me up on the roundabout and I ended up going the wrong way). So we had an hour to freshen up and then head over to the Fat Duck.

we were just going up to our room when the nephew suddenly said, "We'll leave a bit early so you can park." I looked at him with a cold hard stare that would have impressed Paddington Bear. "We are getting a cab," I said, "There is no way I am driving again tonight and besides I'm going to have a drink."Yet another fun part of the trip was that of the four of us in the car I was the only one who partook of alcohol and the only one who could drive my car - which is ridiculous. Whenever Papa and I go out and driving is involved we both end up drinking fizzy water - much to everyone's amusement. The amount of times people say "You mean Papa doesn't drink and doesn't drive - you certainly got that the wrong way round!" My, how we laugh!!!!  Again, Papa's reasoning is that if he learned to drive he would essentially be a taxi everywhere for me and my drunken friends - I guess he does have a point...

So we arrived at the Fat Duck, an unassuming little restaurant in the picturesque village of Bray - it really is lovely, just like the villages you see on Poirot or Miss Marple - straight out of the 1950's.

We went in and nephew asked about his reservation. They couldn't find it... I saw the look on his face and immediately wished I had brought my camera.... Then suddenly they found his name on the list and all was good. If they hadn't have found it he would have been walking home... to Singapore!

Which brings me on my next topic. Taking pictures of food! I may be old fashioned but I really don't understand the need to photograph everything that sits on a plate in front of you, however,  I can forgive the occassional snap with a sneaky little mobile phone - although being ridiculously old fashioned I put my phone in my jacket and gave it to the waiter. Again, I don't really understand why you need your phone when you are having an evening out with friends and family - unless of course you are a brain surgeon or dreadfully important - which none of us are, but who am I to judge?

However, nephew took it one step further and pulled out the biggest camera I have ever seen, complete with zoom lens and popped it onto the table next to him. The inner snob in me shuddered and Papa looked at me furiously as I had told him on no account was he allowed to do anything as uncouth as take his camera to dinner. I noticed the other tables looking over (I think some of the more famous clientele were worried nephew might have been a member of the paparazzi - in which case he was pretty bad at it as he wasn't hiding anything!) The waiter winked at me and I knew that either they were quite used to this or I had pulled... I think it was the former.

So the first courses arrived and as I'm sure you already know most of  the menu due to the amount of times it's been on TV - If you havent just check out my nephew's facebook page - its all there in glorious digital technicolour!. I won't go through it all but I can tell you that despite my initial misgivings about it only being the sort of place people went to 'be seen', it was actually an amazing experience - and there was an impeccable sense of theatre, each course accompanied with a presentation on how to eat it, how it was made, the inspiration behind it - it was a brilliant evening. Of course, we had to stop every time the plates were put down in order for my three Singaporean companions to take photos of their plates and then each others plates - to be honest the only thing they didn't take a picture of was me!!!!  But everyone was having a good time and that was the main thing.

After about the third course though I noticed a change in the atmosphere - instead of being a bit snooty - as everyone was when we came in (apart from the staff - oddly enough), nephew had set a trend - suddenly people were taking pictures of their food quite openly - the lady behind us who had snuck a couple of shots on her i-phone was now standing up and taking distance shots of her and her footballer husband (don't ask me who he was, I just know a footballer when I see one and more importantly a footballer's wife) and the staff got involved too, encouraging Papa to put the seashell from the seaside fishy dish to his ear while everyone took photos. Then the waiters posed for a shot - suddenly it felt like we were in TGI Fridays as opposed to one of the most exclusive restaurants in the country. And it was great fun!

The innocent camera work of a young man had loosened this place up and everyone was having a great time. 'Well done' nephew -and a big pantomime 'boo' to snooty old uncle!

One thing that did impress me though was the level of service and for me great service comes from making all of your guests comfortable - and they certainly did that. They even laid my cutlery out left handed between each course without making a fuss. My mother would have been horrified - she never let me eat left handed at home as 'I wouldn't be able to eat like that in public' so I learned to eat right handed, apart from spoons which I just switch over - but here, here they practically encouraged me to eat left handed - I felt very naughty!

Four hours (and one massive bill - thank you sis) later we got back in the cab after a fantastic evening and headed back to our lovely hotel for a night cap before bed and the drive back the next day.....

It was then that I thought about the kids... were they ok? Had they been good?.. Oh well, we will soon find out! But until then I was going to enjoy the rest of the child free evening with a brandy... or two!

Road Trip 1

As promised here is the delayed post about our lovely road trip last week. Its the first of three parts.. the Road Trip Trilogy!

To recap we had Papa's sister and nephew staying with us (The Singaporean Queen (SQ) and her little Prince) and it was lovely getting to know them both so much better.

Prior to their visit and after the nephew's 'misdemeanours' at his fancy public school - which left him suspended for a week and us with an unexpected house guest (as his UK guardians), SQ had made a reservation at Heston Bloomingheck's restaurant The Fat Duck over in Bray. Very nice - we obviously accepted straight away - or at least Papa did. When he came home and told me I was very excited and then a sudden thought struck me - I quickly pulled out the AA Routefinder and found out where Bray is... Berk 'bloody' shire.

Now I have nothing against the inhabitants of Berkshire, or indeed Bray - I'm pretty sure I have a cousin or two over there... but thats the point. Berkshire is 'over there'... way, over there! I looked up form the laptop and told Papa we couldn't go.

He was incandescant with rage. 'What do you mean we can't go?" he yelled, "Do you know how hard my sister worked to get this reservation (we later discovered it was the nephew who had worked hard), Do you know how disappointed she will be if we say we are not going? She has gone to a lot of trouble! Make it work!" Papa is a huge Trekkie and often quotes Patrick Stewart... or whichever of the captain's it is..... (I put that in just to annoy him...)

"But what about the kids?" I asked, "They can't go, what will we do with them?"
"You can get the babysitter in."
"The meal takes over 4 hours, the table is booked at 7. That means we won't finish until 11pm at the earliest, Its a four hour drive there and a four hour drive back - we will be getting home at around 3am - I don't think the babysitter (we use our mad Turkish cleaner with a penchant for European house music) will be willing to stay for that long."
"Call your Mother, then."
"Ok, but she has to come down from Cheshire and we can't put her up."
"Why not?"
"Because your sister and nephew are staying."

Yes, the conversation was really that nonsensical.

Papa was about to go into his "I don't know why we ever had kids" routine (I get that a lot when he can't do what he wants) when I had a brainwave. "I'll ask the children's' Godparents if they can have them for the night," I said.

'You do that, " he replied, "Because I am not telling my sister to cancel this trip, she's gone to a lot of trouble and she will be very offended." It's wierd, as the eldest sibling I'm not usually scared of my younger brothers and sisters (although my brother has had a few moments) but there is quite a large age gap between Papa and his older sister - so I saw a side of him I hadn't before - he was actually scared of her.

So phone calls were made and it was arranged that on the way to Bray we would take an hour long detour down to East Sussex and drop the boys off before heading back up to the joy that is the M25.

Papa then went ahead and made reservations for us to stay the night at The Compleat Angler in lovely Marlow - as we were going to spend all day driving it was only fitting that we should get to sleep over as well - and I was making sure that he paid for that! (Did I mention that Papa doesn't drive - apparently some people are born to drive and others to be driven - he falls into the latter catagory)

So the big day came and the nephew was very excited about his culinary trip (he's a big fan of Heston's) and after I had explained the journey he suddenly said, "Oh I also had a reservation for the Mandarin Oriental (another of Heston's restaurants) for the same night, but I gave it away when you said we could do the Fat Duck."

I stared at him with a stunned look.... the Mandarin Oriental would have been infinately easier - a trip on the high speed train into town, a lovely meal and home again before midnight. Why, dear nephew, had you not mentioned this before?

I glanced at Papa, who simply shrugged his shoulders. As he later pointed out when you come from a country as small as Singapore, where you can drive from one side of the island to the other in roughly half an hour, the concept of 5 hours in a small compact car really doesn't compute. Let alone the amount of traffic we were going to meet on the motorway.

With that in mind, I wanted to leave as early as possible to get ahead of the traffic on the 'Road to Hell', as Chris 'whatshisface' called it, but Papa and his Sis were adamant that we couldn't check into the hotel before 3, so to leave before 10 was foolish... It's funny how someone who doesn't drive knows how long it will take to get around London so much better than someone who used to have to commute to Ealing once a week to teach in a Catholic School. But I was talked out of leaving early and we eventually left at 11.30 with an overloaded car, packed with four adults, two children and enough luggage to fill a truck. "Why is the car so full?" the nephew asked innocently, he had obviously never travelled with children before - they take a lot. It's strange that the younger the child the more luggage they need - newborns practically fill the car!

We were just about to leave when I spotted the dog... The dog!!!!!!! I had forgotten to book her into the kennels!!!!!! The bloody dog! I gave the kennel a call - they were booked out as it was half term but because they love our dog (who doesn't?) they agreed to take her into their home for the night. I rushed off to the kennel with her...

So we loaded everyone into the car... again... and set off on the first leg of our long journey to Bray...

Singaporean Royalty....

Firstly apologies for the absence this week. It's been a bit frantic, we had my sister-in-law and nephew staying with us for much of the week, an occurrence that even Papa took a week off work for, so it was a momentous occasion in more ways than one.

Papa and his sister haven't spent a night together under the same roof since she got married. There was no falling out or anything like that, it's just the way the world works sometimes. So after nearly 20years the siblings were finally to be in the same place for a considerable length of time. This involved preparations that took on a life of their own. The way Papa was carrying on you would have thought that the Windsors were popping over for a few days. Rooms were decorated, new bedding that matched the decor was purchased, cleaning was to be immaculate, even our lovely Turkish cleaner commented on how tidy the place looked, and that was three days before the big arrival.

I jokingly posted on Facebook that the house was now ready for the arrival of the Singaporean Queen. I don't think Papa took it too well, I'm not sure if he was worried that his sister would be offended or if he likes to be known as the Singaporean Queen in our house, so I left it at that. Although the nephew later took great delight in pointing it out to his Mum and even asked where the red carpet was... 

Anyway, our nephew arrived on the Saturday and his mother on the Monday, which was a Bank Holiday here in the UK. Most surprisingly she took the train down from London. Papa was convinced that she would take a chauffeur driven car from her swanky London hotel, so we headed off to Sainsbury's to get some last minute groceries and have the car washed (God forbid we should have a dirty car) when we suddenly got the call that she was at the railway station. We dropped the groceries and raced off, only to have to wait ten minutes as the little Eastern European chap hadn't finished polishing the car. But once that was done we jumped in and headed to the station and sure enough, there she was.... carrying her own luggage! I now knew that Papa had maybe exaggerated the demands of his sister and we might not have had to polish the saucepans and I might not have had to have been quite so nervous about the whole thing....

But, it turned out we needn't have worried. Papa's sister was lovely. They had a lovely time catching up and it was good for the children and I to get to know the other Singaporean Queen (or SQ as I shall now refer to her as Singaporean Queen is a lot to type) as normally we would only see them during the hectic frenzy that is Chinese New Year and its very difficult to get to know people properly when they are in the midst of entertaining their entire family themselves. Of course, our nephew (I guess he is the Singaporean Prince) had already spent some time with us earlier this year after his little misdemeanour at school, so the children were excited to see him again.

So much of this week has been spent getting to know Papa's side of the family better and on Wednesday we all headed off on a family road trip... of a regal nature of course.... 

But that's another blog entry!

Neighbours, Everybody Needs Good Neighbours....

Another song to start today's blog entry.... Maybe that should be my theme for the next year's series of entries, I've been looking for something...

Of course, I could also have used 'History Repeating' by the great Dame that is Shirley Bassey but that might have been too obvious, or not obvious enough.... 

As you know, we moved house in September of last year, out of our beautiful Georgian townhouse (beautiful but not very kid friendly... Apart from the ghosts who were far too kid friendly... Oooo, there's another story there, remind me to tell you later)  into a far more family friendly property which overlooks a river, is near to the park and the school but which has a comparatively small garden, hence football is banned and all budding young soccer players have to make the two minute walk to the park... Of course most children don't want to walk anywhere no matter how close so balls have already gone awry after being kicked in the garden.

What is strange though is that our new neighbours are carbon copies of our old ones. To our left we have an elderly couple who live for their garden, exactly the same as our previous neighbours and, like the previous couple, they are lovely and indulge the children. On the other side we have a younger couple with no kids who are barely at home, I assume they both work late, and consequently their garden is left to its own devices. I think we are somewhere in the middle of the two, literally. I don't mind gardening but it doesn't rule my life.

Yesterday it was a lovely sunny day and the children were in the garden while Papa and their cousin who is staying with us, fired up the barbecue. Since we have had the slightest hint if summer the barbecue has been in constant use, Papa even suggested using it to bake a cake, I don't think that will taste too good but Papa wants to find out if charcoal is cheaper than electricity... 

As in our previous home TJ's version of weeding was to pull any offending weeds up and throw them over the fence, onto the elderly side not the young side who probably wouldn't even notice. I told him off and the two children and I sat down to make paper aeroplanes. Great fun. I was called upstairs and went to see what Papa needed. In the time it took me to get up the stairs and onto the balcony all of the paper aeroplanes had been lost and were to be seen poking out of next doors miniature trees and shrubs where my two had been lobbing them over the fence. Another telling off, then we went out for a walk to get rid of some energy and also to prevent TJ from putting his head into the barbecue to see 'if there was fire yet!'

On our return the kids rushed in from the garden to show me the most amazing aeroplane made out of paper, it really was a work of origami. "Wow," I said, "The neighbours must be back in and you have to say sorry and thank you now." "Why do I have to say thank you?" Asked TJ. "For the paper plane," I told him. He looked at me disparagingly and said, "But the plane came from the tooth fairy, I know because I saw him!" (Our tooth fairy is called Frank and TJ is expecting him any day now, hence we have had many 'sightings').... So I duly went over to thank the neighbours who were very nice about everything and asked if the children liked the plane they had made for them.

We had our barbecue and the young couple from next door had theirs. They  had friends over and were all sitting and chatting on their balcony, not offensive at all... Well, not to us.... TJ on the other hand finished his food and then said, very loudly, "Well, I would have enjoyed that if the people next door weren't quite so noisy!" Cue a sudden silence from everyone next door and much  hushing and 'TJ, you can't say that." from me....

Our neighbours went in soon after that and haven't spoken to us since.... They shall probably start throwing their weeds into our garden next....

Leaving on a Jet Plane...

I'm loving the song analogies this week... a bit... ok, it's a pretty poor link...

Last night the boys asked if we could go and live in Singapore. KC wants to see his Godfather - whom he adores, cousin Marcus is coming to stay tomorrow, whom both boys adore, and TJ wants to join the Arsenal soccer school, of which there are three in Singapore.

This of course led onto the question of why we left Singapore in the first place.

Obviously, we explained that is we hadn't have left then we wouldn't have been able to adopt the two of them and they would never have met us, but that didn't seem enough - so we went on to chat about how they were only babies when Papa and I returned to the UK and how we wanted to come back and Papa had been offered a great job and I had decided I wanted to try something new.

"You were an actor" KC said, "But you only ever wanted to be an actor." KC currently wants to be an actor - or a vet, or join the army, maybe all three. "Ah yes," I said knowingly, "But an actors life is short lived and anyway, I wanted to come back for a while". Obviously the full story was a bit more complex and we did question whether coming back would be a good idea - although at that time becoming a family wasn't particularly high on our agenda..

We eventually decided that it would be silly not to come back. My career was in the wane in Singapore, the last press articles had referred to me as being the worst thing at British Fashion Week, where I was only the host. Apparently, according to the fashion press, my clothes were so tight that you could see every roll of fat and it was just horrific – in my defense, I had turned up in a suit and the designers wanted me to wear their own stuff, fine if you are a tiny Asian chap, which I am not. I don’t believe I’m fat by any means but a white guy wearing the equivalent of European kids clothes is not going to look good. 

However, being the consummate professional (and because they said they wouldn’t pay me if I didn’t do it) I went on stage and introduced the beautiful models wearing the stunning clothes using my best Judith Chalmers type accent but wearing a tiny outfit and looking not unlike ‘Daffyd, the only gay in the village’ from ‘Little Britain’. I knew how bad I looked and had tried to hide behind the lectern, but that was just a piece of transparent plastic which probably acted as a magnifying glass.

Worse still the day after I had to attend a luncheon with the British High Commission to look at the hosting schedule for the IMF meeting that was to happen later that year. When I walked into the restaurant everyone hurriedly put away the newspapers and started talking nervously about other things. “It’s ok,” I said, “I’ve seen the article” (it was hard not to as it was a full front page colour shot of me in the offending outfit with large red arrows pointing to my rolls of fat, or ‘fats’ as they were referred to, under the headline of ‘The Lowlight of Fashion Week” I was standing next to the 'Highlight', some skinny bitch from the Ukraine I think – she wasn’t even British!) There was a sigh of relief around the table, “Thanks goodness,” the High Commissioner said, “We were worried how we could broach it.” “Don’t worry,” I replied, “ I’ll wear a suit for Gordon Brown” and everyone laughed – inside though I died a little.

So leaving Singapore wasn’t that tough a decision to make.

Going back would be just as tough.... but at least TJ could take his Arsenal kit....

The Arsenal Cavalier

"I've got fleas - they're multiplying and I'm losing control...."

So sang Lea this morning whilst getting ready for school - I didn't want to correct her as she was showing me the dance she had made up to go along with her favourite song from the musical Grease. It consisted of her scratching under his arms and jumping around like a monkey. I thought it was fairly creative so let her get on with it (such a tomboy!). TJ was suitably impressed giving Lea an 8 out of 10 - believe me, anything above a 5 is good from that little critic! (I did get a 10 for fish fingers once - but that's another story!)

We are coming now to the half term break and both boys are getting excited. Today it is dress up day for TJ and, for once, I remembered. But I couldn't recall what the theme was, I knew it had something to do with their recent trip to Dover castle - TJ's favourite part of the trip was running up the stairs from the dungeons to the top - "What about the rest of the castle?" I asked him. "I don't remember that," he replied, "But I was a really fast runner up the stairs."So much for an educational day out - they could have just as easily taken him to a local high rise and asked him to run to the top and back again - he would have remembered just as much. Although, to be fair, I did get a picture of him from school today sitting on a throne dressed as a King, so he must have stopped running at some point.

Anyway, back to dressing up day. "Do you remember what the teacher said?" I asked TJ. As anyone with small children knows asking them to remember anything is like pulling teeth. "I think I can wear my Arsenal kit," came the reply. "really?" I asked, "Its a sports dress up day is it?"TJ thought just a few seconds too long before saying, "Yes, yes, it's a sports dress up day." Warning signals had gone off. A, he had paused to think and B, there was a mention of Arsenal. TJ has had his Arsenal and football privileges suspended for urinating over another child... when I say urinating he didn't just wee on the other boy's shoe or leg, no, my son sprayed the child from head to foot completely drenching him... the reason? TJ told the other child he wanted to wee on the floor and the other child said he would 'tell on' TJ if he did that - so TJ wee'd on him instead. Great. I was back in school and spent about 20 minutes apologising to the teachers, the boy and his Mum whilst glaring at TJ.

Needless to say this week TJ has been on a tight leash - literally! He has to earn back his football club and kit - and it does seem to have done the trick. Normal rewards and consequences (stickers or the naughty step) just don't work with TJ, so in a way I am secretly pleased that we have finally found something that he really cares about.

So the Arsenal kit was not an option. I quickly gave school a call, yes it was dress up day and the theme was 'Castles!' That made sense and we had bought TJ a Cavalier suit a little while ago. "Its too small." He cried as we tried it on, "And the hat's too big. Can't I wear my Arsenal kit.""They didn't have football kits in the old days, I said, "They wore stuff like this." "But I hate it!" he cried again. "This is supposed to be fun!!!" I yelled at him, "Now get dressed and have fun!"

"Can I take my sword then?" he asked once we had calmed down, "No, school said no swords." I replied. "How can I have fun without a sword!" he yelled at me... this was not going to be an easy morning.

Eventually, we all toddled off to school, TJ clutching his dressing up clothes for after lunch and Lea led the way practising her song to show her teacher. I hope the teacher likes the song and I pray that TJ keeps his clothes on....