It's Been a Trying Week....

....what with trying to stop The Noise from causing any more damage to her already broken wrist.....

......inordinate amounts of cleaning for Easter.......by the way, has anyone else had to carve dried- on ice cream out of the bathroom bin?.......

.......scouring brochures in an attempt to actually find a holiday which costs less than the National Debt.......

(As usual, this picture is wildly inaccurate. Real life has found the Father of This Lot spending every spare moment in the Mare and Foal, coming home and asking 'Have you STILL not sorted it out....?)

.......praying through most of Thursday, that the Football Fanatic, who had gone to Alton Towers, would not be tempted to go on the new ride, in case she died of heart failure..........

(It didn't work - she did go on it and pronounced it 'rubbish - not even scary')

Today is Palm Sunday, the start of Holy Week, which means that I may as well move my bed into church due to the amount of time I will be spending there.......

......and to top it all, the Father of This Lot has managed to get himself a bout of manflu.....

I hope nobody else wants me for anything, as there is not enough left of me to go round.

Lovely Bones?

My Spring Cleaning week was hampered slightly by a phone call from The Noise's school to say she had 'had a bad fall and was a bit shaken up' and would I come and collect her please.

A rather suspicious looking lump on her wrist meant that a trip to Casualty ensued, and a mere four and a half hours later she emerged with a wrist brace and an appointment for the Fracture Clinic the following day.

It turned out to be a hairline crack which didn't need a cast - she's just got to keep the brace on for three weeks. And no more football. Told you they should have all been boys.

It hasn't stopped her racing around like something on speed. It is her birthday on Monday, so today I have taken her and four of her friends to see 'Alice in Wonderland'. Just short of fifty pounds to get in, a whopping £25 for drinks and popcorn and another £20 for the minibus home.

And....they are all staying the night, so I have fed, watered and entertained them and they are now playing an extremely noisy game downstairs.

I would probably get a headache....... if I didn't already have one from two hours of wearing 3D glasses.

Dear Dad.....

......I'm dressed in green.

I'm wearing the same Celtic cross you used to pin on me when I was a little girl.

There's a shamrock on the windowsill, and I've been to Mass.

It's not the same on my own.

But I'm doing it anyway.

Happy St. Patrick's Day.

Mother's Day? You Can Keep It!

Not for me the old breakfast in bed, lunch out at a posh restaurant routine. Oh no.

The Football Fanatic and The Fixer went to watch the match, The Singer and The Peacemaker went shopping, The Father of This Lot went to the Mare and Foal (no surprise there then) and me and The Noise ended up cleaning at my mother's!

All in all, it was NOT what I expected!

Still, since I seem to have taken on the look of a scheming Katharine Hepburn, I shall probably sit here and plot some deep, dark revenge!

There Are No Words.....

I have been completely out of things to say all week (well, that and cleaning the house from top to bottom) but, true to form, the Football Fanatic has come to my aid with a comment worthy of a new post.

The Noise bounced into the living room and asked us:

Have you seen that new film 'Constipation'?

The Rest of Us: No.

The Noise: I'm not surprised. It's not come out yet!'

Sadly, even the sight of The Noise rolling around the floor hysterically aughing at her own joke did not stop the Football Fanatic from asking:

'Who's in it?'

Third Sunday of Lent

I have decided to stick with Fr. Jack throughout Lent, if only for the fact that listening to him makes me rather uncomfortable, and I always feel that Lent is a rather uncomfortable time.

What I have gleaned from sharing my ironing time with Fr. Jack over the last couple of weeks, is that whilst I am fantastic at being a traditional Catholic, I am not that great at being a Christian. Sadly lacking, in fact. It needs work. Quite a lot of work, actually.

Anyway, here's what he says about the poor:

'In the Gospels Jesus gives us a very clear preview of the general judgement. The questions will be scandalously materialistic. I will not be asked about prayer, religious experiences or church observances. I will be asked about food, drink and clothes.

When I was hungry, thirsty, naked, a stranger or in prison, what did you do to help me? That is the acid test of my Christianity.

Using figures from a seminar on evangelisation some years ago, if there were 100 people on earth, all living in the same village, 67 of them would be poor while 33 of them would be at various levels of being well off.

93 would have to watch while the other 7 spent half the money, had half the bathtubs, ate one third of the food and had ten times as many doctors looking after them as the other 93 put together.

The real problem though, occurs when the 7 attempt to evangelise the 93, telling them what a wonderful Saviour they have, while throwing out more food than would feed the 93, and building bigger and better basilicas to this God of theirs, while the 93 find it more and more difficult to find a place to live'.

I told you it was uncomfortable.

Have you heard about the Robin Hood Tax?

Watch the video.

I can't see it happening, but I've signed the petition.

I live in hope.

Voice From the Gods

Last weekend the Football Fanatic soared over and above the realms of stupidity that usually only she can reach.

What she did not only bordered on absolute lunacy, but was so incredibly dangerous that it has left both myself and the Father of This Lot shaking our heads in disbelief at what sort of offspring we (well, me, mainly) are bringing up.

I am hoping that time, the great healer, will erase from my mind the thoughts of 'what-could-have-happened-to-her' and for that reason, I have no wish to record the incident here for posterity.

However, this is Mother's Pride, and as usual, there is a lighthearted ending to the whole sorry tale.

The Football Fanatic was at University the following day, doing some kind of broadcasting assignment. They were in a studio, waiting for the lecturer, and the Football Fanatic had seated herself on what she thought was a table while they chatted about their various weekends.

When she told them what she had done over the weekend everyone sat there open-mouthed, obviously having the same reaction (WHAT IN THE NAME OF GOD WERE YOU THINKING OF??) as I had done myself.

Then she turned around, and noticed the lecturer, on the other side of the glass screen, showing a group of prospective students around the campus.

Strangely, the whole group were also staring open-mouthed at the Football Fanatic.

She thought that this was rather odd, until she heard the lecturer's voice, clear as a bell, over the connecting speaker:

'And, that, ladies and gentlemen, is why you should never park your backside on a mixing desk'

Ceiling Whacks

The Fixer was on the phone to the Father of This Lot when suddenly there was a loud crashing sound followed by some yelps of pain. Actually, scratch that. Whatever he may be, the Father of This Lot is not a yelper. Make that agonised shouts.

The Fixer: 'Mum! The ceiling's come down in the Mare and Foal! Right where Dad was standing........Mum.........Mum........you're not laughing up there are you?'

Me: No! Whatever made you think I was laughing?

I was actually in the bathroom stuffing a facecloth into my mouth to mask my squeals of hilarity.

Anyway, The Fixer ascertained that her father was unharmed and then came to find me.

Her (accusingly): You thought that was funny didn't you, Mum?

Me: Not at all. I didn't think it was remotely funny.

Divine justice is what I thought it was.