Such fun.

Hey-ho here it is, 38, all bright and shiny new. Birthday glamour has a habit of fading fast but why limit yourself to just one day? The meter only clicks over once a year, let's stretch it out for as long as we can get away with eh? Gone are the days when big tall hubby and I would pack up and abscond from life as we know it for a few days; ideally somewhere sunnier. Traipsing off with wee ones in tow simple doesn't have the same fun-factor. Alas the birthday holiday will have to wait 'till there are a few more years on the clock; then the world can once more be our oyster. But do not despair! Oh no, we may be stuck in Blighty  but there is fun to be had despite the chill.

What a spoilt baby-mama I was this year. What is a birthday without a spot of fizz? My champagne tastes were indulged to the max with a sparking breakfast and presents in bed. Didn't spill a drop - can't say the same about the bacon sarnie crumbs though...Oooh presents - I just love them but what I love the most is the messages, cards texts and facebook posts that show people remember and care enough to say 'happy birthday'. It might be winter but I was all a-glow. Maybe it is just me but post babies the teeniest fleck of sentimentality gets me right in the middle.

Big tall hubby wouldn't let me cook a thing all day...so it was lunch in the pub and dinner too! ;-)

The last time we went to see Seth Lakeman play there was a baby in my belly that kicked up a fuss and made dancing a crazy fantasy. So to go see him again on my actual birthday was a treat beyond all imagining - and I have quite an active imagination. Did I dance? You bet your sweet shiny dancing shoes I did. The first gig for us since toddler girl came on the scene; methinks there will have to be a few more now the genie is out the bottle. What is it with Brighton crowds though? Was I hiding the behind the bar when the dancing ban was issued? The rebel movers and shakers seemed to naturally gather front stage right while the rest of the crowd admired the music while standing stock still. Weird.


by tarnished_glitter

Way back in the day I used to review bands, and in the spirit of me-past I must throw in a good word for the support act. Delta Maid is worth wrapping your ears around if a Scouser Dolly Parton with a roughed up Paloma Faith tingle gets your lobes flapping. She's got an amazing voice, a real country sound with a contemporary edge. If the world loves Duffy there is surely room for this lady on CD racks across the land.

And there is still more to come. Oh yes. We've had a night out, a friendly photo shoot afternoon and a Friday home dinner date with lashings of wine (healthy eating plan? Oh yes, that's next week....)Our adventures in fun-town will continue with a Sunday roast with friends to put the final touch on this year's celebrations. Then and only then will I officially be 38 and ready to rock on with the year. Rock and roll baby, rock and roll...

Annual review

Some celestial prankster is playing with the fast forward button as yet another year has skipped past with not the blink of an overtired eye. 'Tis the week of the day of my birth once more, another digit to the tally, another wrinkle on the forehead. But this time around I'm feeling older and wiser in a good way - huzzah! The challenge of life on a lemonade purse has turned into just that, not a problem, or a pain (okay sometimes a pain when I see something delectable in a shop window) but a good heartening challenge to met with a frank stare direct to the eyeball. I'm enjoying all this creative practicality; well who knew? My inner lush cowers in submission as I type.

But it isn't just me getting older (well duh!) toddler boy has morphed with a kick and a yell into my wee boy; proper cheeky mouthed rough and tumble boyhood is in full swing. As for baby girl, ah my last little fledgling has bum shuffled up the developmental ladder to official toddler status. So this year when it comes to birthday eve I might just get my indulgent bath as both wee boy and toddler girl are sleeping through (cranky pants illness induced insomnia aside) without a murmur. Such is progress.

Life is a but a dream...

And me and big tall hubby (grammar my dear, grammar) have a night on the town to look forward to; nothing too fancy mind! Tickets are already in the bag for a gig (sadly not guest list, ah those days are truly behind me) and with babysitters lined up (friends are such wonderful beings) for an early start we'll even manage dinner beforehand. Blimey O Riley I must be getting older as the prospect of dinner is just as exciting as a gig - the horror! This crazy past year we've come head to head with the unbelievable havoc that two small children can wreak on life as we know it; yet one fantastic fact as emerged; we love each other's company and relish the opportunities to indulge in it even after sleepless nights, todler tantrums and almost two decades of togetherness. That is no bad thing, no sirree bob.

So bring on the birthday; the celebrations; the extra year on the tally and the enticing promise of another year managing this lemonade purse.

splish splash I was having a bath

Ah, a bath, what a joy. It's deep and perfect. Only been in situ a few months. I adore my bath. What is more luxurious than a deep, long, fragranced and bubbly soak? Tomorrow I will be 37. Today the plan was to soak and indulge away the few remaining hours of 36. Toddler boy all tucked up after a hard day of tantrums and up-sicks brought on by near constant coughing. Baby girl asleep in her rocker, fed and peaceful. It was the moment for the dream to come true.

Usually a bath is a rushed affair snuck in before baby girl wants changed/fed/looked at...or taken while toddler boy attempts to 'help' by filling the bath with all available items be they bath related or decidely not such as the wind up radio (it took 2 days to revive) while soaking his entire being and much of the bathroom with my futile bath water.

But tonight was going to be different. In an environmentally defiant mood I upped the thermostat to 28, ran a deep hot bath and prepared to mooch in splendor. That facepack which promised to lift and tone was whipped onto the face, the sachet of posh shampoo that came free with a woman's mag was placed carefully at the ready and a glass of something red and boozy was sipped while said facepack did its funky thing. Tomorrow I may be that bit closer to the dreaded 40 but tonight I'd put up a fight against the lines and wrinkles that age so sweetly delivers.

So far, so good...

I'm neck deep and loving it. Posh shampoo is massaged in and peforming whatever miracles it can on my post pregnancy mop, don't you love it when a plan comes together?

Then, hark, what is that? Baby girl awake...nooooooooo. Oh yes, awake and demanding immediate attention. A rapid response unit in my head comes into play, wet and dripping dash to the living room, shift baby girl to bathroom so my presence can soothe her, dip dummy in malt extract and dip dummy in her noisy little mouth. Peace. Again. Must remember to mop post bath so I don't skid and break another bone.

Back in the bath somewhat less relaxed but determined to enjoy my indulgence I sink beneath the bubbles and allow myself a sigh. So where were we? Ah yes, soothe and soak...

Then, hark, what is that? Toddler boy awake...nooooooooooo. Oh yes. Awake, coughing, crying and pulling every guilt string in my luxury hound mothers heart. Pulls me right out of the bath and into his room for a cuddle and comfort. At this point I give up. Abandon all hope ye who enter motherhood.

The plug is pulled. Dressing gown dragged on. Wine poured once more, well a girl needs something when all else has failed. Toddler boy is back in the land of nod and baby girl is on my knee gurgling and happy. So happy she vomits. Vomits sicky baby milk all over my fragranced fresh from bath skin.

So much for a special goodbye to 36, roll on 37 I say...