Is Anybody There?

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Hello!  IMG_5900

Remember me?

Chief Staff Member for Gloria Chufflepuff, the chuffin cat, Head Poo Picker for the thick chickens, referee and chef for 3 fetid boys.  Yes, that’s me – ring any bells?

It’s been a long time.  Too long.  This poor little blog has been neglected and filed away in a dark corner with only spiders and the odd errant mouse (Gloria’s latest house guest) for company.  I think it’s time to bring it back – who agrees with me? (‘It’ being the blog, not the mouse, if you’re listening Gloria).

It’s been something of an enforced break, but more on that another time.  For now, I’m sure you’re all desperate to hear the latest news.

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Gloria is as rambunctious as ever.  She has grown bigger and poofier, as has her attitude.  Her headbutts can knock you into a neighbouring room, particularly with 14 pounds of force and sassiness behind them.  She was out in the garden yesterday, now that the sun has finally made an appearance.  As she patrolled across the lawn, tufty feet pounding the ground, tail wafting in the breeze, I noticed that her belly fur was actually touching the grass.  Bearing in mind that I recently mowed the lawn, it made me realise that she’d been caught unawares – her summer body is a long way off (I know the feeling!).  That’s what a prolonged winter does for you.  Well, that and a voracious appetite for Dreamies treats…

IMG_4294The thick chickens, of course, moulted in the middle of winter, with snow heavy on the ground.  As I ran around the coop trying to collect up the discarded feathers which were being buffeted by the hurricane-strength winds, I did wonder whether to sew them into mini jackets for the hens.  I mean, obliging little souls that they are, I didn’t really want ready-plucked frozen chucks, even if it was Christmas-time.

 

The boys have also grown.  In size and in noise.  And in messiness.  My cupboards are always bare as they manage to eat every single morsel they can find, however well-hidden it may be (even my Mint Choc Club biscuits from the secret compartment in the fridge – how very rude!) Have you ever seen a boy inhale a jaffa cake?  I have.  And don’t even get me started on the husband.

So I’m still here, and planning to do lots more writing.  Which leads me to my main question: is there anybody left to read this?

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“Why is there an eyeball hanging on the Christmas tree?”

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As a parent, I’m sure I’m not the only one who is blessed with some weird and wonderful creations, courtesy of my boys’ efforts at school over the years.

“Mum, look what I’ve made!”
“Oh my word, that’s a wonderful… erm… a wonderful… ”
“It’s a clay vase.”
“Yes, that’s just what I was going to say. A magnificent clay vase. It can have pride of place on the mantlepiece!”
Until the cat knocks it off, of course.

So there we were enjoying the festive season, and son no 2 suddenly piped up, “Mum, why is there an eyeball hanging on the Christmas tree?!”

“A what??” I asked, quickly checking the contents of my tea cup.

“An eyeball! Look!” he said, pointing to the Christmas tree.

20150107-141016-51016489.jpgThere, hanging proudly on the tree, was a red object: spherical with a long tapered end, complete with string attached.

“That’s NOT a bauble??” I asked, somewhat bemused…

“No, it’s an eyeball. I made that at school years ago!” he replied, starting to laugh.

“But we hang that on the tree every year!” I giggled. How very absurd.

As I began to examine the questionable object I was none the wiser, until son no 2 grabbed hold of it and turned it over. “Look, there’s the pupil!” he exclaimed.

There indeed was a black circle on the top with a green ring around it. “But I thought that was part of the decoration!” I managed to say through the hilarity.

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To me, that just typifies my life as a parent. You try your best to make your children feel proud of their work. If that means hanging an eyeball on the Christmas tree, then so be it. You see, as we packed away the decorations for this year, the eyeball was carefully placed back in a tub with the red baubles, ready for next year.  I just hope that won’t encourage my boys to make any other body parts to hang on the Christmas tree in future…