The One with the Songs from the Shows

After the Bali Hai incident the other night we have discovered that it's not just Rogers and Hammerstein that calms the boy, he's partial to a bit of Lerner and Loewe too! "I Could've Danced All Night" from "My Fair Lady" did the trick today when we were waiting for a feed to cool down and his dad swayed around the room with him as a distraction.

Armed with the new found knowledge that the lad likes his musical theatre I thought we'd give Gershwin a go as well.

So with the last bottle of the day here's the new lyrics to "Summertime" from "Porgy and Bess":

Suppertime

And the drinking is easy

Milk is pumping

And the ounces are high

Your bib is on

And your muzzy is ready

So hush little baby

Don't you cry.

Just Bernstein and Cole Porter to mess with now and we've done them all!

The One with the Magic Song

Yesterday was a big day out. We visited friends in North London for an annual BBQ and it was their first meeting of the boy. This involved packing a lot of feeds, changes of clothes and nappies and an hour and a half drive there and back but the lad, apart from pooing for England causing a three change of outfit strategy, did us proud!

It was just on the way home he had a moment!

It was way past his bedtime, he'd had an exciting day, met loads of new people and woke up in the car a bit chilly due to the air con being on full blast. We were so close to home, literally minutes away, so we tried a few songs to soothe his nerves.

Hickory Dickory Dock. Three Blind Mice. Ring a Ring a Roses. All to no avail so we started on more random tunes.

And the one that worked?

Bali Hai from South Pacific!

Not an obvious choice for a baby but then given his Mothers theatrical leanings I'm not surprised. I always wondered if, as he grows older, he'd prefer sport like his dad or the arts like his mum. I hope he loves both but you never know. So......

One nil musical theatre!

Get in!!!!

The One with the Pillow Fight

The pillow fight in question being the hour long struggle we are currently having with the boy at bedtime!

He used to go down like a lamb but now he's scrapping like a lion. Once he's gone he's gone bless him it's just getting him to go that's the problem.

I blame the heat. He's just in a vest and the windows are wide open and the fan on but we can't seem to get the house down below 24 degrees. I'd have him sleep in just a nappy but he's worked out how to undo the tabs on his Pampers size 3 and I fear carnage would ensue!

You get a bit obsessed with temperature when you have a baby. I've got thermometers in almost every room. Is he too cold? Or too hot? What's the temperature? How many layers has he got on?

In the end you just have to roll with it. It's hot. I can't physically make it any cooler. What can you do? Just strip off and wave your nappy in the air like you just don't care!!!

Tonight could be interesting.....

By the way I'm off out and hubbie is doing bedtime on his own tonight!

Best of British babe!

The One with Listen Again Killed the Radio Star

I was on the local radio last Friday! They sometimes ask me on to put my four penneth worth in on news issues of the week on the mid morning show. In a fun way you understand, it's not investigative journalism or Sky News (Breaking News - We're all going to die!!!!!!!) it's just light hearted banter with another female guest and the presenter.

I do love going on the radio. I get to talk and make people laugh (these are a few of my favourite things) and I've always fancied myself as a bit of a broadcaster.

So I've just heard myself on the listen again function on t'internet. Common as muck I sound and with all my years on the stage (don't you know darling) my diction was appalling.

Must try harder Random Woman. Now all together.. The rain in Spain stays mainly on the plane....

The One with all the Anticipation

So tomorrow is the big day. Make or break. England expects and all that. You can almost feel the anticipation in the air. Either that or it's resigned defeat that we're rubbish and going home.

I do hope not. I have too many England inspired pieces of baby clothing for the boy that have barely been worn and if we go out tomorrow, well frankly he'd look foolish wearing them! So please Mr Fabio play Joe Cole and get us through to the knockout stages because my baby looks really cute in red and white!

You know after Algeria I thought that's it, we're not going to make it but something changed today. Andy Murray is the last man standing at Wimbledon after an easy first round match and the England one day cricket team just beat the Aussies (which always feels good). This has given me hope. This has restored my faith in English sporting prowess.

But you know what clinched it?

France!

To see them sent packing with their tails between their frogs legs was the lift this country needed. Never have I laughed so much at a sporting event. I've spent all afternoon and evening taking le wee wee out of the petulant, spoilt, ungrateful cheaters that are the French team, who seem to have the mental age of two given their temper tantrums this week.

If nothing else and whatever happens tomorrow we'll never be as bad or act as disgracefully as the French and that makes me proud to be English.

"Vive la difference" indeed....

The One with the Cook, the Beef, her knife and some others.

I've been a bit grumpy. I can't explain why and I can't justify it. My darling husband could do no right and bless him he'd done no wrong (his name has been, ever since we first got together, prefixed with "Poor Old" by friends and family, mostly in reference to having to put up with me. This was something I used to question but of late I can understand why!)

So having spent large portions of last week with a face liked a smacked arse (I blame Fabio myself. For god sake man just play Joe Cole) I needed to cheer up. And fast!

This was provided by a top weekend (England's result and performance to one side). An unexpected and impromptu meal and afternoon with friends on Friday, another friends baby's christening on Saturday (which did include one smacked arse moment when I got really cold in the garden. I'll call that a one cheek wobble) and then hubbies first Fathers day on Sunday.

My first Mother's day was a bit of a blur. I'd only had the boy two weeks previously and was still in a mild state of shock but yesterday we all really enjoyed. My boys played together all day while I roasted a huge piece of beef, chopped veg, tossed salad and made bread and butter pudding. My parents arrived and when we all sat down to eat I realised this was the first time since having the lad that I had cooked a meal for, what we like to call in this neck of the woods, "company".

Once you've done something once you know you can do it again. Next time it might not go as swimmingly as it did yesterday afternoon but I know I can do it. And that's what matters. I can cook for people again. I can entertain. And that's cheered me up no end.

That and having a fridge full of leftovers.......

The One with the Strawberry tea and the Calpol

I've spent a lovely afternoon in the garden with a friend, her baby and of course my baby, eating scones with strawberry jam and clotted cream and drinking white wine spritzers (before you call social services they were mostly lemonade)

You can keep your going out to work for a living, maternity leave rocks! Idilic bliss!

Well it would've been if the boy hadn't screamed all afternoon with teething/gum pain and needed me to give him Calpol for the very first time! I discovered that Calpol is strawberry flavoured and the lad lapped it up from a plastic spoon. I think he saw our strawberry jam and didn't want to miss out. He certainly gets very interested when we eat (he followed every spoonful of lasagne into my mouth the other night, it's his Italian heritage coming out - I hope).

It must be odd when all you've ever tasted is milk to suddenly get a fruit flavour but he seemed to like both the taste and the sensation of the spoon.

So all in all I fear weaning won't be far away. I know I shouldn't wish the time away but I can't wait...

Mind you remind me of that statement in a few months time when my dining room is covered in orange butternut squash stains!

The One with the Glasses

For the last couple of days I've been wearing my glasses instead of my contact lens. It's amazing how different this not only makes you look but feel about how you look.

Glasses are no longer the specy, specy four eyes face furniture that kids use as an excuse to pick on the short sighted kid nearest the blackboard. Celebrities, TV personalities, sportsmen and women and even rock stars all wear them. They are designer, they are cool they are individual and of the moment.

So I hoped that wearing my glasses would lend me an air of quiet sophistication, even mild intellectual superiority. I thought they'd give me a look of authority yet with a trendy edge.

I've just caught sight of myself in the bathroom mirror.

They make me look like a cross between Nana Mouskouri and Olive from On the Buses!

If you're too young to know who they are look them up on Google images. Just don't do it before you go to bed. You'll have nightmares!

The One with The World Cup, the Wall Chart and the Calendar

Unless you've living in a cave (so Osama Bin Laden basically and the rumour is even he's having HD installed) you'll have heard that the World Cup is on.

I've had to have all the England World Cup fixtures and possible fixtures once the group stage is over, on our kitchen calendar for months. I can't risk a clash of social event and football match so early preparations were wise. I think I'm some kind of wife to look up the dates and times of the matches from the internet and write them all down but that could just be me blowing my own Vuvuzela!

I'm not as fond of football as I used to be. Not since I discovered cricket. A much more civilised game where both teams confusingly wear white and they have proper breaks for food! Genius. Football is not and never has been, a gentlemen's game. You only need to look at the collection of adulterers, felons and granny fudgers that make up the England team to realise that.

But there I was Saturday night. Family gathered. Beer chilled. Chinese ordered. And at the end of the match hopes, slightly, dashed. Well if not dashed certainly slipping through our, and Rob Green's, fingers.

The England result, like many others, didn't match the carefully filled in wall chart my husband has lovingly prepared and swears by (or swears at!) And if we don't win our group the wall chart and my calendar preparations have been as useful as sending a BP loyalty points card to Barrack Obama!

We'll meet Germany in the knockout stage, (not matching the wall chart at all) and if we get past them (unlikely given their first game performance, and ours, but not impossible), our quarter final, according to my kitchen calendar, will be on the Saturday afternoon of a friends 3 year old daughters birthday party! All that scouring the internet and careful planning from me and for what?

I get a social event/football match clash anyway and England go out in the quarter finals on penalties like we always do!

At least this time they'll be cake while they're doing it......

The One with the Rapper and the Films I Hate

Diddy was on Jonathan Ross's show last night. He used to be called Puff Daddy, then P Diddy and now just Diddy. God alone knows why because his real name is Sean Combs.

I'd love to think he was Pat Combs boy and now he calls himself Diddy after the Diddy men because his godfather is Ken Dodd but I fear that is just in my twisted Carry On film-loving mind. It's as likely as Titus Bramble, the football player, being Wilfred's lad.

He was promoting a new film he's in called "Get Him to the Greek", a comedy, and I use the term loosely, about a failed rock star making a comeback and a hapless PR man has to get him to the comeback concert, via sex and drugs and rock and roll, at a venue called The Greek. All with hilarious results no doubt!

It's a "Gross Out Comedy" and is possibly my worst nightmare! It's directed by the guy who did Superbad and the failed rock star is played by Russell Brand, who come the revolution, I’d cheerfully pin up against a wall and punch repeatedly! It goes without saying I won't be going to see it, Pat Combs or no Pat Combs!

The thing, I know it's very middle England of me, but I just don't find these films funny.

"There's Something about Mary". Of course there is, she's got jizz in her hair. That's not funny; it's not even hygienic!

"Dude! Where's My Car?" - probably where you left it you halfwit! (although that movie has supplied me with my favourite film review of all time, taken from the Radio Times, "Two pot smoking idiots lose their vehicle in this witless comedy" - priceless)

And don't even get me started on American Pie! From the country that, through the sheer stupidity of one consumer, forced McDonalds to have a warning on their hot apple pies that the filling will burn your mouth, comes a film where the basic premise is that a young lad sticks his knob in a hot apple pie! And they say American's don't get irony.

I can only gain comfort from knowing that a film about having sex with an warm bakery item would've never been made in England. After all what would Mr Kipling say?

The One with the Badger Porn

We've been watching Springwatch all this week.

We figure if the boy isn't going to go to bed until after nine he might as well be watching something educational, bearing in mind he's got 4 weeks of non stop football on the cards (both red and yellow), followed no doubt by passing flirtations with the last ever series of Big Brother for the rest of the summer. So it feels like we are being vaguely responsible parents by sending his 3 month old brain subliminal, yet fluffy bunny messages, about wildlife and nature.

Or so I thought!

We've seen Kestrels ripping apart baby voles and feeding them to their young, the runt of a litter of Swan's cygnets dying before our eyes and both Kingfishers and Roe Deer having sex (not with each other you understand). All life, love, pain and death is here.

But do you know what disturbs me the most?

We can't watch the show without one or other of us saying "When's Kate Humble going to show us her tits?" then laughing like a pair of 6 year old school boys.

And we have a child! They should make you take a test or something.....

The One with Houmous on the Net Curtains

I'm a messy person! What can you do? There will come a time when my son no longer needs bib but I still will. It doesn't seem to matter what it is, soup, curry, gravy, I manage to get it everywhere! Spaghetti Bolognese might be my favourite meal of all time but believe me it's a minefield.

I thought I'd topped the height of my messiness carnage when I somehow got jam all over the remote control (I blamed it on being pregnant - god I miss that excuse) but today was a real winner.

I had to leave my lunch half eaten to stop and feed the baby (he has no patience or volume control when he wants his milk) so I left it by the open the window and got his bottle.

When I returned the olives were still intact glistening with herbs and oil in their little bowl. The pitta bread was still crisp and warm from the toaster cut in neat slices. But the houmous. Oh god the houmous. The houmous was all over the net curtains.

It's a special skill ladies and gentlemen.

Mind you it was nothing to what I had under my fingernails later this afternoon so I have to be thankful for that at least.....

The One with Lady Gaga

It would seem my three month old son has developed a taste for me singing pop songs at him. It keeps him quiet and amused. Well to be honest I fear it startles him into submission but hey any port in a storm.

A few weeks ago it was Prince's Raspberry Beret but this week the song of choice is Lady Gaga's Bad Romance. I don't know the words to this one (unlike the Prince number) so I find myself just saying the word Bo, our nickname for him, to the tune.

We spent months discussing a name for him. We made lists of favourites, we consulted books and trawled the internet to make sure it wasn't too common (a major criteria for my husband, if it was in the top 50 most popular boys names he didn't want to know). Eventually we came up with this great rock star, cool name so that hopefully he'll appreciate the classic music from the 60's and 70's, and what do we do?

We go to all that trouble and end up calling him Bo all the time and Lady Gaga is his music of choice!

Altogether now , Bo,Bo,Bo,Bo,Bo, Bo. Bo,Bo,Bo,Bo,Bo,Bo.. you and me could write a bad romance..

The One with the Muzzy Attack

So for those of you who don't know a muzzy is the short term for a piece of muslin cloth used to wipe up dribble, milk, unpleasant substances that frequently emit from babies.

Now we've got that cleared up (see what I did there) I can go on to explain the concept of the game Muzzy Attack that amuses our 3 month old son so much.

It's a simple ruse. Once fed and lying milk drunk on your lap you get one muzz and proceed to gently rub it in the face of your child whilst saying the words " Muzzy Attack" over and over and over again. You can jazz it up a bit and go "One, two three, Muzzy Attack" or "It's a Muzzy Attack" but essentially at it's heart is the words and the actions of the muzz attacking your face.

If you tried this at the Comedy Store of an evening, as an act, you'd get booed off in no uncertain terms. You'd be as welcome as an English comic at the Glasgow Empire or a hog roast at a bar mitzvah. But give our little 'un his due he blooming loves it. Easiest laughs I've ever got and hours (literally) of entertainment for him. Just a bit of cloth and a bit of larking about with it.

But then aren't the simplest things in life the best and this is what children teach us.

Muzzy Attack. It's the future. I'm on the phone to Ninetendo Wii right now........

The One with the Stiff Drink

Every now and again I need a brandy. I know it'll give me a thick head in the morning. All dark spirits do even though I love a malt whisky and after a visit to the Appleton stand at last years Good Food show a drop of rum, on occasions, doesn't go amiss either. But it's been one of those evenings.

I'm sipping from my rather elaborate crystal brandy glass (wedding present - why else would you have them?) as I type and it's going down a treat.

It's just that one thing leads to another. In my younger , slimmer, days when I drank a black coffee I'd want (have) a cigarette (I've given both up now a long time ago) and in this case the brandy makes me want chocolate.

Their flavours compliment like strawberries and cream and fish and chips.

They need each other like , Lennon and MacCartney and Morecambe and Wise.

They go together like ram a lama, lama da dinker de dinky donk (if you've seen Grease you'll know what I mean).

So as the stiff drink comes to an end my mind and fingers wander to the fridge but if I have some chocolate I'll pour another brandy and so it goes round.

And so I get rounder!!!

The One with Yet More Phone Calls

I've had two more! Another survey I'm too old for

VOTL: Are you aged between 18 and 35?

Me: No

VOTL: I'm sorry our parameters are very tight (you wanna buy a bigger size then) so you don't qualify.

And a debt company who insisted that this address is listed as having unsecured loans

VOTL: Hello my name is Paul

It so wasn't Paul. If he was called Paul from birth, well lets put it this way his accent wasn't sending me Paul vibes.

Me: (giggling) Hello Paul.

Paul: (yeah right) I have it listed here that this address has unsecured loans would you like help with your debt?

Me: 1, that's not correct and 2, I don't have any debt

Pause

Paul: You don't have any debt?

Me: Apart from our mortgage, no.

Paul: No unsecured loans?

Me: No loans of any type.

Paul: Credit cards?

Me: All cleared and cut up.

Paul: Overdrafts?

Me: I'll stop you there Paul. I'm not the person you're looking for. We cleared our debts ready for when our new baby arrived. I'm on maternity leave. I have no debt. I have no money either but I have no debt. I don't owe anyone a penny and I don't have a penny.

Another pause

Paul: You have no personal debt?

Me: None. No one in this house does.

Paul: Who lives in your house?

Me: Well not that it's any of your business but seeing as we've been on this call quite a while I feel I know you now Paul so there's myself, my husband, our 3 month old son and Oscar.

Paul: Maybe Oscar has an unsecured loan?

Me: I doubt that very much. He's a cat!

Click. Burrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr. Bye, bye Paul.

I enjoyed that!

The One with Britain's Got Talent

Over the last couple of years when Britain's Got Talent is on people say to me

" You should go on that show."

What on earth I'd do I don't know. I can sing a bit but not well enough to go on a talent show, I can't dance and I don't play a musical instrument. I can act (not wishing to blow my own trumpet - now if I could do that I could go on) but that's not what they are looking for so I'm at a loss.

" You make people laugh you should just go on and talk and say all your old jokes and stuff"

"You mean I should just go on and bugger about?"

"Yeah that's it"

"I don't think they'd let someone go on to just bugger about"

Having watched three nights of semi-finals I stand corrected. They would! (and how you can have more than two semi-finals is a contradiction in terms but that's a whole other ball game).

They've had a man dressed as Richard the Lionheart chopping wood, a bloke jigging about as Madonna like a drunk Uncle at a wedding and a 75 year old Leprechaun in a green beard shouting "Get away it's my gold" like a, well frankly, like a lunatic.

So in short there's hope for me yet. Pass the application form please....

The One with the Random Phone call

Late yesterday afternoon I had yet another random phone call. Phone rings, I pick it up..

Me: Hello

VOTL: Hello, who's that?

Me: Who's that? You called me.

VOTL: Is that Debbie?

Me: No. I think you have the wrong number

VOTL: Who is that?

Me: Well if you don't know who you called I'm not going to tell you.

I swear if Jeremy Beadle was still alive today I'd think this was a wind up.

The One with the Market Research...

So I know I only just posted but 1, I want to make sure I've got the hang of this and 2, as the jacket spud bleeped in the microwave my phone rang..

Voice on the Line: Do you have a few moments to answer a survey?

Me: Sorry no I'm about to eat my lunch then the baby needs a feed. (true)

VOTL: Please, it's just market research, I'll be really quick, it's my last day doing this and I'm behind on my quotas. (sounding desperate)

Me: Oh alright then as long as you are quick. (I give in too easily)

VOTL: Thank you, thank you so much. I'll be really quick honest. (she wasted some time there I feel)

Me: Ok if you're quick (see the irony there)

VOTL: Do you have a landline in your house or just a mobile phone?

Me: Well yes I have a landline you're phoning it now. (I'm starting to laugh)

VOTL: And how old are you?

Me: I'm 40. (silence)

VOTL: (talking to her mate) She's 40, is that ok? (pause - wasting more time now the whole I'll be really quick thing isn't panning out as I'd hoped here)

VOTL: I'm sorry you don't qualify for our survey ( hangs up without a goodbye - obviously trying not to WASTE MY TIME!!!)

So now I'm intrigued. Did I not qualify because I have both landline (which she was ringing) and mobile or because I'm 40?

I fear the later.

It's a good job jacket potatoes don't loose their heat too quickly!

The one where we all meet....

So this is my first post. I'm not really sure what I'm doing (but that is perfectly normal for me). Have spent the morning dancing to Radio 2 for my 3 month old son so stop him being grisly and am now cooking a jacket spud for my lunch while he naps then off to the doctors for his 12 week jabs. This is the rock 'n roll lifestyle of a stay at home mum.

Things are so exciting I'll be watching a re-run of Dynasty at 1 o'clock and am excited that Britain's Got Talent is on all week. This is why I need to blog. There's a lot of stuff in my mind that I need to get out before I fall into the waste land of rubbish TV!

So if you read this you'll not only be entertained you'll be performing a public service.