A Strong Coffee

I don't really worry about our house getting burgled. If a burglar did manage to get through all the locks and bolts, and disable the alarm they would probably turn around thinking someone had got there first. The floors of our house are hard to see. I reluctantly tick the housewife/homemaker box on a survey, and my house is a permanent mess. But why is this? "I don't work." The answer - I have kids. Three of the little beauties. If a burglar did get into our house, a scene from Home Alone would be reenacted with them doing comedy trips on toy cars. I wont lie, I've never been the tidiest of people, but now I feel bad that my house is a mess most of the time.

So today whilst looking at the mess surrounding us, I've been thinking - why do I hate ticking the homemaker box? It's because I, like many others, don't see looking after the kids as a job. "I don't work" therefore my house should be tidy. But now I'm thinking about it, I do have a job....and it's a hard one. In the space of around an hour today I have coloured in and constructed a cardboard playhouse, made Easter gifts for the grandparents, played restaurants, watered flowers, found a caterpillar and tried to tell if a snail was dead or just playing dead. (I'm pleased to report back that it is alive - even after my big man tried to drown it in a jar of water - not intentional drowning - just trying to get it out of its shell) I tried to have a drink - whilst jiggling my baby man around to stop him crying, and my middle man then decided to climb all over me like I'm some kind of activity centre. Big man then popped up demanding I get him an ice pop immediately as he was hungry and thirsty. Even as I write this blog, baby man is still being jigged around on my knee.

So I need to change the way I think. Yes, I'm still going to have to tick the housewife/homemaker box, but I have a job. It's the best job in the world. I'm lucky enough to be a full time Mum!

A few years back I called my own Mother a liar. I don't generally accuse people of lying unless I'm absolutely sure, and I was sure of this.You see my Mum claimed that my husband had eaten all the sausage rolls she had made one Christmas. She had not made very many as I had told her that he doesn't eat them. So that was it the Mother who I loved and respected had turned into a liar about sausages of all things. That was strange behaviour even for Mum! I had known my husband for around ten years at the time, and I couldn't get a sausage past his lips so I knew Mum must be lying, but why?


I asked my husband if he had any idea of why my Mum would say such things.....who all of a sudden became very sheepish. It appears he does eat sausage rolls - but only at Christmas. And so I had to eat humble pie as well as trying to understand my husbands long and bizarre set of food rules. Almonds are out of the question - except in marzipan, Foie gras can only be eaten at The Fat Duck, mushrooms are not favoured as they have the texture of a snail, but snails covered in garlic are fine. Mushrooms covered in garlic aren't so good. The list is so long and confusing, I can't remember them all.

And now to add to it all it appears my husband has passed these strange food rules to my boys! Joshua has decided that he only eats bananas in the summer. Although he conceded to eat half a banana a few days ago as it was quite a hot day. Jelly is great as long as there's no fruit in it. Hubbie agrees with this rule as apparently it somehow contaminates the jelly. Josh will only eat hot pasta. Noah complains if the pasta is hot and suggests calling the fire brigade to cool it down. "Call Fam!" which translates to call Fireman Sam. I have warned him against calling the emergency services over such a minor matter and suggested merely blowing on it will be enough. Noah, who has been known to eat bark (and also trick Ollie into eating some, believing it was chocolate) has now decided that corn on the cob is fine, but off the cob it is a different matter and should be scattered on the floor. And now as baby man Jacob nears to weaning I'm left to wonder what bizarre food rules he will insist on. Only eating tuna on the fourth Wednesday of the month in a leap year perhaps? One things for sure, cooking meals that the whole family will eat is going to be hard work for a while!

I can safely say that if I had to go hunting and skin and gut my food, I would be vegetarian. I might possibley manage the odd fish and maybe at a stretch a chicken ( their pecking can be annoying) but lambs, pigs and cows would be able to sleep safe at night. Luckily my meat comes in a packet delivered to my door and does not resemble the animal it came came from. Therefore, I thought it would be nice to take the boys to cuddle some baby lambs and give some money to charity at the same time. And it was nice. Baby man's exploding nappy wasn't so good, luckily I had just passed him to the Hubbie to hold, so it was his trousers covered in yellow fluid. Middle man looked the part in his farmer style gillet and decided the tractor was his. You would have thought that after a week at Disney middle man may have grasped the idea of queueing  no such luck " My turn! My Tractor!" The boys loved the lambs. Thankfully me freaking out at trying to hold one didn't put them off and both my four and two year old managed to cuddle the lamb that Mummy was too frightened of. After a lovely afternoon in the sun, its time to sort out tea - maybe not Shepherd's Pie tonight.

I now have a twitter account (not that I can use it) and thought the next natural step is to have a go at blogging. It's something I have been thinking about for a while, as a kind of record for my boys. The last 4 and a bit years have flown by. I can hardly remember yesterday, let alone all those little things the boys have done to make me smile, so maybe this will help. A lot of people ask me how I cope with three boys under 5. The answer - A Strong Coffee.