Taking time off busy, crazy life

Today, we went out for a 9-mile walk. Zak was in school so Lewis had us all by himself! The reservoir seemed deserted and the cloudy sky didn't help but it was a great time to talk about things that don't concern dishwashing and schedules of toilet cleaning. Lewis was busy observing some strange creatures. Look Daddy! Look Mama! Sheep! Plane! Tubig (Water)! Swim!



He was on and off the buggy as obviously his little legs could not survive a long walk!

We had picnic amidst the flies and sheep-pooh (I know, I know, but that's part of the fun).




After lunch, we sat on one of the benches facing the water, taking in all the peace and serenity...






while Lewis planned what to do once we get back to civilisation: to eat ice cream because he's been a very good boy... and to play in the garden instead of going to bed at 7pm!

More photos here of us in the garden and me, sky-walking!

I'm a nanny

Saturday today and I got out of bed annoyed and fed up with the word I kept on hearing for the last two hours: SMART.

Zak came to my bed and asked if it's school day today. I said no, it's Saturday today and we're going to town to buy a new lunch box - his choice. He said, ok, can i wear my school uniform? I said, no, don't be silly. So he went off on a tirade saying his weekend clothes are COOL, not SMART, and he hates COOL, he hates jeans, he hates t-shirts. For two hours, he kept on agonising over his desire to be smart, smart, smart, smart and my total lack of understanding about smart appearance.

Lately, he's been obsessed with wearing a tie everyday. He has to be forced to wear a t-shirt to his daddy's vegetable garden. He doesn't mind wearing wellington boots as long as he has a long-sleeved shirt on and a tie. So I explained to him that I'm not going to town today, pushing Lewis on a buggy with him alongside in a suit! He would look like little Frasier with his nanny!

So he said, JUST PRETEND THAT YOU'RE MY NANNY, THEN!

INCOMERS

If there is one tv program you should watch this week, it is this one. Incomers.

INCOMERS is a must-see documentary dispelling the myth that all immigrants in the UK are either asylum seekers or benefits-scrounger.

It follows Joy, A Filipino, who chose to live in Norwich with her British husband, leaving a fantastic career, family and friends in the Philippines.

Two things stick in my head after watching the programme: the picture of Joy scuba-diving in the Philippines and throwing away a sofa in Norwich. (There's a message in there somewhere.)

No. She didn't wear her diving gear when she/Tom threw the sofa away.

Watch it so you'll know what I mean.

To all French-speaking bloggers

My son told me that he could pray in French. The only French I know is Belleville Rendezvous, you know, that film, and so I said, ok, let me hear you pray in French. He was so serious about it, like hey, there's something I know that you don't. But... I am very suspicious about this, so please could any French-speaking reader tell me if my son is really praying in French? If the prayer was actually a goobledygook, do you also have any suggestion as to how I should teach him a lesson (not in French) about how not to be too cheeky with me? :)

therapy again: best speech ever

Heels and shoulders knees and shoes...

The controversial high heels for babies age 0-6 months caught my attention, not because of its ghastly pink colour, but because, well they're just so over the top. I mean, why would a baby need high heels, for heaven's sake? Are they also good for their developing feet? Ok, they don't walk yet at that age, but that's the stage when they start standing, learning balance, etc.

I must admit they're cute. It was also so entrepreneural for the two mums who thought of this idea. On BBC this morning, even a vicar was interviewed why he opposes the 'sexualisation' of baby clothing. A magazine editor turned down advertising application for this product but then went on TV afterwards to talk about it and inadvertently advertising the product they so dislike on 'moral grounds'.

I must say, it's just so "heelarious"!

Anyway. This type of shoes also remind me of yummy mummies I see at my son's school.

I see this mummy who takes her kid to school dressed in her pajama bottoms and house slippers. He hair is neat; she even has make up on sometimes, but every morning, it's the same pajama bottoms and slippers. I admire her. She doesn't have hang-ups about dressing properly just to drop off a kid at her classroom door. She doesn't care that around her, there's a competition for the yummiest mummy, the most expensive pushchair, and the highest of heels.

I also admire this Filipino woman who walks a mile from her home to school to drop off a kid and then walk back home again. IN HEELS higher than her legs. She walks in little steps. I admire her and I'm not being heelarious!

Parenting is not just about wiping bottoms...

My boys caught a stomach bug and for over 24 hours now, I have been constantly changing pants and nappies. My hands are totally stripped of skin from the constant washing and disinfecting. They look gnarled like I've just turned 92 without knowing it.

1 am and they both woke up, needing to be washed and dressed. Fortunately, I inserted bed protectors in the evening, so I didn't have to worry about the beds. My washing machine had been on the go for over 24 hours. I'm now fed up with the drying up.

3 am and Zak was hungry. I groped my way down the kitchen, half-asleep, to get some bread and rehydration juice. When I got back to the bedroom, he changed his mind and didn't want to eat after all. My pinoy mentality of not wasting food even if not really needed prevailed, so I threatened that if he wouldn't eat his bread, rats would come to eat it instead. "There are no rats in this country!", he exlaimed.

As I was wide awake anyway, I gave in to his want for conversation. "Mum, what was your school like when you were my age?" I said, "when I was your age, I wasn't in school yet. I started school when I was 7 years old." "That's old!" he exclaimed in disbelief. "What was your school like then?" he prodded on. "Big grassy playgrounds and lots of vegetable plots." "No bikes, tools and other equipment??" "No. I went to a rural school. There was only one swing and there were hundreds of us." He was in deep thought, probably wondering what it would have been like if he were in that kind of school. Then he said, "I'm so lucky." And before I could say, yes you're lucky coz you don't like swings anyway, he went on, "I'm so lucky my school is not in India."

I clarified, "you mean Philippines." He said, "Oh, they're the same!"

And before he got up to go to the bathroom again, he asked, "Are there toilets there too?"

You don't have to be a surgeon to see a naked man other than your partner

Last Friday, I went with a friend to the theatre to watch The Full Monty. K tucked the boys in bed and my father-in-law handed me two free tickets so I could enjoy watching six pairs of ass.

The show kicked off with a Chippendale kind of striptease. I looked around me and I could see mouths dropping onto the floor. There was a load of grannies dressed to the nines, pearls dripping through their necks and arms. There were men too, and until now, I still can't imagine if they've ever been comfortable there. Mind you, my father-in-law went to watch it with my mum-in-law a few days early, so one never really knows what goes on in their heads when they see another bloke stripping before them.

Anyway, I never laughed nor screamed as much as when I was there. My cheeks were hurting from being stretched too much. And I was shocked as well. I didn't expect to see a fat man's arse draped only with a thong. And oh, when he walked away from the stage, with his back on us, I feared that the thong would snap as the weighty cheeks of his bum struggled to move up and down. My, I would be willing to pay more just to get the chance of watching it up close. It was like watching two pieces of thick pizza base flapping together. When I got home, it was the only scene I kept on talking about with my husband. Forget the husky Chippendale stripteaser. This man's ass was real. Human, as they say.

And before you ask the question, yes, they did the full monty. Six naked men in all their sizes and glory.

This is therapy

Mouthwash

Today, one of K's work colleagues is off work and asked him to pass on to other work colleagues some CDs and DVDs.

This morning, he sent me an email. Part of it reads:

"... [He] had written all sorts... One of the CDs had Les tyrene on it so I spent 10 minutes searching for him/her on the intranet and Uni phone book...Until I realised that [he] had made a small spelling error. It should have said Listerene. It was for the health and beauty dept."


Three hours later, another email from K popped in my inbox:


"Haha, there is actually a woman called Lesterene! My mistake."

At the beach

I took my boys to the beach...

and my god came back with them.