Doing the school run Chav style …

Feck me.

I think I may be a Chav.

And, before you start going all bombastic on my arse, let me first explain why.

I kinda have a thing for tracksuits.  And, not just any kind of track suit – it has to be one with a hoodie … which ye know is the Chav dress code of choice.

Eek.

It really all started because of the school pick up scene back in Florida … which I prefer to look on as my Sporty Spice period.

On the very odd (bahahahaha) occasion that I was running late to drop off or pick up my children, my go-to outfit would be a track suit.  It was what I considered a win-win school run fashion outfit because picking up your kids in work-out gear is always acceptable, right?

But, then I arrived here in the UK and learned more about Chavs and their… erm … rather unique sense of style.  Comparisons were noted, I was mortified and all, no way.

That’s not me? 

Surely? 

Maybe?

I do like tracksuits, but WTF?

I should have foreseen this because now I think back to when I was packing and organizing clothes — I had gone in to a little used drawer and found about 19 pairs of tracksuits.  I put a  tweet out there along the lines of “how many tracksuits does one woman need” and got several replies teasing me I sounded a bit Chavish.

Mmmmmmmm.

So, feck yeah … I guess I could well be a Chav … but then so too would every other mum making the school run in her work-out gear.

Musical Monday … Heaven Must Have Sent You

On Friday night I went out on the town with an old school chum and my sis-in-law to what I considered a good old- fashioned 60′s soul night known locally here as the Beat Club.

Now, I don’t generally listen to this genre of music as a rule, but ended up having a great time spending most of my time on the dance floor. See for yourself … heh! My sis-in-law and I even got to ride the donkey. Ahem … enough of that.

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Actually, by the end of the night I’d had enough of that 60′s beat and had to put on some Rhianna when I got home. Eeeek! *ducking from the wrath of all northern soulers I’ve offended*

Anyroad up, for this week’s Musical Monday, I’ve picked one of the songs that was playing … “Heaven Must Have Sent You” by the Elgins.

*sigh*

Enjoy.

I’ve cried through many endless nights
While holding my pillow tight
Then you came into my lonely days
With your tender lovin’ sweet ways

Now I don’t know where you come from, baby
Don’t know where you’ve been, my baby
Heaven must have sent you, honey
Into my arms

Now in the mornin’ when I awake
There’s a smile on my face
You’ve touched my heart with gladness
Wiped away all of my sadness

For so long I’ve needed love right near me
A soft voice to cheer me
Heaven must have sent you, baby
Into my life

Heaven in your arms
Boy, it’s the sweetness of your charms
Makes me love you more each day
In your arms I wanna stay

Wanna thank you for the joy you brought me
Thank you for the things you taught me
Thank you for holding me close
when I needed you the most

Now I don’t know much about you, baby
But I know I can’t live without you
Heaven must have sent you, honey
To love only me

It’s heaven in your arms
Boy, it’s the sweetness of your charms
Makes me love you more each day
In your arms I wanna stay

Wanna thank you for the joy you brought me
Thank you for the things you taught me
Thank you for holding me close
when I needed you the most

It’s heaven in your arms
Boy, it’s the sweetness of your charms
Makes me love you more each day
In your arms I wanna stay

Silent Sunday …

Afternoon sunshine …

The walk home from my youngest son’s nursery isn’t far at all, but it does have us heading in the direction of the sun.

Seemingly the same sun that we lived under in Florida.  Only there’s a brightness in the afternoon sun over here that dazzles like my little man is just not used to.  

I know, isn’t it ironic?

Now, he’s going through a bit of a… dare I say it … high-pitched, whiney stage so when he complains about said sun, the decibel level is exacerbated like you wouldn’t believe.   I try to tell him the only one allowed to whine in our house is me, but he’s not having it.  

Anyway, I digress … back to the bedazzling afternoon sunshine and whining … you name it … I have heard the excuses as to why he can’t walk that way home.  Some are really quite humourous …

“The sun is too bright.”

“It’s in my eyes.”

“I can’t walk with the sun looking at me.”

“Turn it off.”

“I said, turn it off.”

“The sun is making me tired.”

“Why are the lights so bright?”

“Turn that light off.”

“Mummy, can you please turn off the sun?”

“I can’t see where I’m going.”

“My legs don’t work when it’s so sunny.”

“I need your sunglasses.”

I don’t know why I bother to answer each and every question or request with some sort of explanation, but I do … except, then I end up feeling frazzled and a complete loon myself.  Try for yourself to answer some of those. 

*sigh*

I’ve tried teaching him to squint.  He refuses.  Not sure where he gets his stubbornness from.

So lately, I’ve started trying to divert his attention by telling him to just walk backwards which he does with a little smile and skip in his step.  Maybe we’ll try skipping home backwards on Monday … could be good for a giggle for us both.  Rather that than let him ruin my Chanel sunglasses.

Writing Workshop … Words

There are times during my day when I feel extra ordinary. Just like the line from the Liz Phair song of the same name, I walk around thinking fuck yeah … “I am your ordinary, average, everyday, sane, psycho, supergoddess.”

During these moments, I feel strong.

Confident.

Sexy.

Opinionated.

Funny.

And, I’m brave enough to believe I can handle what the world throws at me. When I can do anything and everything I set my mind to. When for just a moment I believe I’m worth it.

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Then there are times when I feel extra ordinary. When I can’t seem to get through the day without my insecurities tripping me up.

I’m uncertain.

Awkward. Clumsy. So freakin’ clumsy.

Guarded.

Stressed.

Indifferent.

Flaky.

When nothing I do ever seems good enough. For myself or anyone around me. And, that sucks.

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I really would like to feel extraordinary all the time.

I need to believe it especially now because the basket case Karen ain’t so hot.

So, how do I get there?

I think I can start by yelling it at the top of my lungs … “Dudes, I am fucking extraordinary.”

And, then … plan to not worry so much about what others think. To recognise that this is who I am …I’m all of these things and that’s okay. To feel good about the decisions I make. To trust in myself that I am perfectly capable of handling any situation that arises. To be comfortable with myself. And, to know that I am more than good enough.

Yeah … I am your ordinary, average, everyday, sane, psycho, supergoddess. I am extraordinary.

This blog post was inspired by Josie’s writing workshop over at her blog, Sleep is for the Weak.

The Gallery … Children

When I saw the prompt for this week’s Gallery I immediately knew which photograph I was going to use … the reason being that it seems to have captured a little of each of my son’s personalities perfectly.  

Cheeky.

Mischievous.

Serene. 

I’ll let you try and figure out which adjective goes with which child. =)

Musical Monday … Cheers (Drink to That)

This week’s Musical Monday is a shout out to a really great past couple of days I’ve just had … so, cheers to the freakin’ weekend, people. Can’t wait for the next one.

And, how was yours? Gimme the best part about it all Twitter style in 140 characters or less.

Silent Sunday …

Friday Food Fight … More chocolate, but of the almost healthy kind

 

Yes, I have more chocolate for your reading pleasure on t’blog today.

Recently, I’ve been chatting with an old friend … catching up on each other’s lives and other such stuff which has been really rather nice, however … it seems every time we speak this person has been scoffing down on some yummy looking chocolate bar.  Yeah, while we’re chewing the fat this friend has been chewing on chocolate right in front of me — the very cheek. 

 Dairy Milk with shortbread and berries, no less.

When I found out exactly what kind of bar it was, I was all oh my god, there’s berries in it?  That makes it an almost healthy chocolate bar, right? I have to try it.  

I know, I should have waited to get through last week’s massive Dairy Milk Crunchie bars first, but I couldn’t help myself.  The other day I broked down and bought said healthy chocolate bar to try for myself. 

Anyway, I’m glad I did because it was really really really good.  In fact, so good I could have easily finished the whole bar and it’s very likely I got my daily fruit allowance at the same time.  Score.

So, there you have it — my Friday Food Fight — more chocolate, but of the almost healthy kind.

Two girls and a drill …

Tonight I was meeting my sister-in-law at the rental house where she was going to very kindly put up my curtain rods and new light fixtures because that’s how she rolls.  And, I clearly don’t. 

I was really excited to see what this mini makeover could do to the lovely green walls at the house. 

Only it didn’t all go to plan.

Because of a stupid drill.

Or drill bit.

I don’t exactly know what it was, but we tried for over an hour to remove it and it just wouldn’t budge.  So, we laughed, we cried and then we tried some more.  I think there was talk of heading to the pub at this point, but we soldiered on with her banging her head as she put up my new lights which look really nice by the way.  Luckily I had my new vacuum to keep me busy otherwise I would have cried some more at the thought of another day without curtains. 

*sigh*

If I can get that bloody drill working, I’m hoping to have them up this weekend so we can hurry up and get moved in.

When I told my SIL that I was so going to blog about this she was all “okay, but people need to know that I am fucking mint at DIY … usually.”

Mmmmmmmmmmm, okay babes.

Now, I’m totally thinking we should go in to the DIY business and call it “Two Girls and a Drill.”  No?  Yeah?  Would you hire us?