The Festive Season

is nearly upon us (well, I reckon so anyway) the decs are down from the loft and cluttering up the back room along with the impending car booty crap. I loathe car boot sales with a passion - all that sorting, labelling, carting along at stupid o'clock to some draughty old car park on a miserable Sunday to stand hugging manky coffee whilst n'er do wells and scabby lank-haired mothers squawk at their severely under-dressed skinny offspring and unceremoniously rummage in your belongings. Can't you just sense my enthusiasm.

And so, back to festiveness. I stupidly imagined that making egg-cup bells with glitter for the Christmas tree would be a jolly nice idea for Oliver and Vanessa to make the other day. I should have remembered from last year that glitter is plaything of the devil and so the ensuing mess is still sitting on the table, spreading nightly to the far reaches of the room as Poppy comes in and paws it around just for the fun of it. I really must clear it up today.

Made this layout for last weeks SLYMI: Scrap with trees/leaves. I have scrapped a photo of Oliver on Christmas Day last year. And labelled it as 2009. Duh. I have changed it, but am far to much of a lazy arse to photograph it again. So here is Christmas yet to come ha ha.

I really want to do a Christmas journal this year, and in a burst of enthusiasm have made some jolly nice covers for it, but then have typically stalled big time and done bugger all else. Well, that's not strictly true, I have gathered two bags of Christmas crap to use for it..... I love other people's Christmas journals, and last year I did actually manage about 4 pages before it all went tits up, and when I look back at those pages, I am reminded of little things that happened last year that would otherwise be forgotten. I mean the almost pointless little things - the trip to the garden centre, the frosty morning walk to Sainsburys - photos and quips which seem a bit of a waste of time this year but next year will be invaluable memories. Right. I AM going to do it.

Meanwhile check out this journal from last year - very, very funny - and this blog which has loads of festive makes and dos and the style of journal I am aiming for.

Reproduction

Public safety warning. There now follows a lengthy airing of my views:

Since Oliver pointed out to Mark at the weekend that 'sex' was a similar thing to 'making love', (it's a long story), we have been umming and ahhing over when is the right/best time to explain the facts of life to him. (Oliver, not Mark ha ha). Oliver is only 7, but I understand that at his age, his contempories are having some sort of sex education at school. I probably would not have even thought about it yet, but in mixing with different aged kids and from different walks of life as he does, there is a danger he could get mixed messages about a subject I would prefer him to be very clear on. Also, as it falls to me in the main to teach him everything, I felt I could just incorporate it matter of factly into a 10 minute slot without preamble or awkwardness on either side. I am not sure if I leave it if it would be worse to explain at a later date.

Decisions decisions.

In discussing it (at considerable length on my part) with Mark last night, he told me to 'stop banging on about it and just get on with it.' So I did.

With the aid my good friend the World Wide Web, I explained my way through the male and female reproductive organs, the menstrual cycle, sperm and eggs and then realised I was in trouble when he thought the passage of sperm to the egg was via weeing in the mouth. Oh dear. After more explanations he seemed to think the real way was 'gross' and then fell about in hysterics at the thought that Mark and I had actually had a go at it. (once, obviously) I wound up our foray into the wonderful world of reproduction with the advice that he is not allowed to do it until he is at least sixteen, preferably as part of a relationship and under no circumstances is he ever do it with someone who doesn't want to do it with him.

In all honesty, this does feel a little young, but I am also conscious that his lack of knowledge could have left him at an uncomfortable disadvantage in the not too distant future.

Me & Vernon Kay

I had one of those 'just before you wake up in the morning' dreams the other day - you know, one of those very vivid and clear sort of dreams where you feel quite shaken by it for a few hours, as it was soooooo real. Anyhoo, this dream was about Vernon Kay trying to entice me into a torrid affair with him as he wanted me to run off and be with him. I don't mind telling you that in dreamworld, I was sorely tempted. I have spent the last few days saying to Mark 'well, Vernon wouldn't have said this', and 'Vernon would have let me do that', and Oliver refused to let me watch Family Fortunes. Ha ha.

Moving on from la la land, life is ticking along nicely. I made a disaster cake at the weekend. A simple Victoria sandwich which I have cooked many times before seemed to be a runny batter, not a gloopy cake mixture before it went into the oven, so, giving absolutely no thought to the balance of ingredients, I thought it would be a good idea to bung in more flour until it was 'cakey'. Well, it tastes like shite, and is, unsurprisingly twice the size of a normal cake. Looking at it, I have to wonder what the hell goes through my mind when I'm baking. Not the recipe obviously.

Feeling quite guilty at the thought of Mark having to endure this cake from hell for an entire week, I made a bakewell tart yesterday instead. I have never baked this before, and cannot be arsed to bake pastry blind, so it was definitely a suck-it-and-see sort of tart. The pastry was edible but the filling seemed terribly uncooked. We all, with trepidation, had a sliver for supper, and since we have all made it through the night Mark has happily gone off with some for lunch. Phew. Will use the Victoria sponge (and I use the term 'sponge' loosely here) as a door stop.

Whilst out doing the weekly food shop on Friday, Oliver said he wanted to gather together his own ingredients to make a meal by himself. Weeping inside at the potential damage to my carefully constructed shopping list, I said OK. He proudly came back ten minutes later with cress and a bag of lentils. Yum. He is so very sweet. We put back the lentils as I already have a half hundredweight at home, and decided on minestrone soup. Don't ask.

Just had the latest Cyber Crop over on UKS. I didn't really take part this time, but did do the 'pre-crop' challenge - 'Home is where the heart is':

Also have done this week's SLYMI - scrap a thank you. I have scrapped my thanks to my sister in law, Kim. Not a brilliant photo, sorry Kim, but it is the only one I have of you!

Journalling reads:

'Kim, you have such a strong and confident opinion on home education that the first time you wheeled out your soap box to preach to us about it, we were hooked.

Impressed and excited by your beliefs, we took the decision to keep Oliver out of school. For this alone, you have my deepest gratitude.

You are a constant source of support and inspiration to me, and your presence in our lives is a very welcome one.

It is wonderful to see Oliver developing into a bright, confident and gregarious child, a million miles from the shy toddler who would have been thrown to the wolves at the school gates. Thank you.'

not even

...a visit to the Dentist this morning can dim my enthusiasm for life right now.

I have (I believe) finally secured the hours I want at work and will no longer need to work on Saturday evenings hurrah! I am up to date with SLYMI, I have two layouts in the very last edition of Scrapbook Inspirations which is out this week, I have a few nights off from work now, I am keeping the weight off I lost in the summer and some, Mark and I have been getting on better than ever for some time now and Oliver and I are gently plodding through the Autumn days with good humour and bits of educational stuff on the go. This is, of course, not a comprehensive list of the highs in my life, but it is a quick resume of edited highlights.

I am to be referred on to some CBT (Cognitive Behavioural Therapy) sessions which will help me to 'unlearn' some of the my negative thoughts which have caused me unecessary angst over the course of my life. It is not counselling as I have known it in the past - this will help with altering the way I think, which will, in turn, alter the way I feel. Not rocket science, but thus far overlooked.

I have done a couple of layouts since my last post - week 38 SLYMI - scrap a lesson learnt. Here is Oliver during two half hour sessions on the dry ski slope at Warmwell recently:

and here is week 45 - scrap something you want to remember. I have scrapped a lovely pic of Oliver with his toddler curls. I showed it to him with some pride, as I like this one, and he reacted with such appalled horror and embarrassment I am left wondering why the hell I am bothering to document his life at all.

Poppy taught herself a new game during the wee hours of the morning. She sat her furry arse on my chest and purred in my face until I stroked her. If I then stopped stroking her, she licked my face until I resumed the stroking. Ahhh, lovely I hear you say. Actually, not so. The purring was at the level of a battery operated screwdriver at least, and the licking was what I would liken to being attacked with a sheet of sandpaper. I was afraid to look in the mirror this morning lest my face be covered with angry red lesions.

They shall not grow old, as we that are left grow old.

Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.

At the going down of the sun, and in the morning,

We will remember them.

Bonfire-less Night

Felt like the Goddess of Fire earlier this week, as I chopped up tree branches and built me a bonfire in the dirtbowl, but in my joy it did not occur to me to cover up my twiggy offering and come last night, there was no way on earth the sodden mass was going to spark to life. So it was an evening indoors scoffing sausages and roasties and ooing and aahing out of the rain splattered windows at the other suckers braving the wind and rain. Not all bad then.

Feeling a tad guilty as I was talking to Linda last week about being over-sensitive to negativity/other people's bad behaviour and it seems she fell victim to the uber-sensitivity to OTB (other people's behaviour) at a Specials Gig. Sorry Linda! Chill girl, I may need you as a sounding board at the next crop ha ha.

Here are the pumpkin cakes I made from a recipe on Hilary's blog, but other than that - no more creativity right now....

And Poppy:

Are there more trees

...around now than there used to be? Everywhere seems to be knee-deep in Autumnal shades of leaves and the trees are not even bare yet...

Went a-scrappin' yesterday. Had a great time & managed 2 whole layouts. When I showed Mark he said, very nice, and what did I do for the rest of the day. Funny. It's a long process being a creative genius ha ha.

This:

My Guitar Hero (after the DS game Oliver is playing), a layout just because I wanted to, and this:

Week 44 of SLYMI - scrap something which scares you. Well, my list of choices stretched pretty far here, but settled for this one, which is actually a fear that I cannot run away from, and how I handle it will determine how much confidence my son will face the world with....

Scary thought indeed.

Mark is giving the pigeons a bath - don't ask - and he has been in filling up buckets with water and dettol and now the whole house pongs of it and reminds me of school and puke. Lovely.

Oliver went to a Halloween party last night, and I bravely girded my loins and threw myself into staying there and joining in, and, I have to say - it was surprisingly enjoyable. Perhaps being sociable and joining in has something going for it after all lol.