By George...busy days!

I feel a little like we've been hit by a life tsunami recently and that I am bobbing just above the water somwhere removed from where I should be. Busy times.

In world news our new prince has been safely delivered...weighing in at a 'whopping' 8lbs 6. Now fair size as that is I recon number 3 is at least that by now and somehow I've got to get to October. Still, at least noone has stopped me in the street to offer to demonstrate perineal massage as happened to a friend of mine this week- There are some mighty queer folk about! Back to the baby...George...predictable but it was unlikley (although enjoyable) to have been Tony. I pity anyone who gave birth on that day and had wanted to call their baby George by chance- a very respectable name but you would have to spend the whole childs life claiming you hadn't just copied the HRHs!

Closer to home Mol decided this morning she would wear pants. I was not prepared for this but will go with the flow and there were some of Laurie's old ones in a box. She went on an adventure to Tescos ( and why not) to buy some new ones , which went rather well meaning she was intent on wearing as many pairs as possible at once. All very well, if reminiscent of a 90's friends episode...until she has an accident and thats 5 pairs out of action at once. We're in for a long week!

I took Laurie to buy his new school sweater-which he has worn ever since. It's slightly heartbreaking seeing as he's still 3 and far too wee to start big school. Hopefully he'll enjoy it but I'm bracing myself for a breakdown at some point. He's also somwhere got hold of the concept of 'dead'. Which is something I wans't prepared for. I'm currently taking a very religious take or simply trying to distract him with news of passing tractors until I can think of a more comprehensive, ae appropariate response.

No 3 is behaving but growing a bit too much and has a fondness for my kicking my lungs and trying to escape 'Alien' style out of my belly button. Surley anything this hyperactive must be a boy? And I was growing so fond of my unbroken nights too......

'Easy Chocolate Cake:

And it was- plus far to nice to waste on a toddler-the icing is basically a slab of chocolate and a tub of cream....can't go wrong there!

Ther was an old woman who swallowed a horse..

One year, when helping out at a precocious american kids camp, there was a rather tubby girl with bright ginger curly hair who was , (cruelly, and in private if it makes it any better, I know but we were young and overtired) reffered to as 'the girl who ate Annie'. Such cruelty has come to bite me on my now oversized rear end and I now look the the old woman in the rhyme who has scoffed all the farmyard animals. Having had to make a number of trips for work recently, hearing folks visably gasp exclaiming 'what you're due in october...really' and 'the ever funny one 'are you sure its not twins' is wearing rather thin. I am aware I am the size of a house and that my bump eneter the room a bit before me...I am enormous.

On a recent trip to the midwife, she started discussing 10lb babies- now this is never good to hear when one is only 28 weeks pregnant. The sympathetic phrase , coupled with a gentle pat or a friendly shrug ' well it is number 3' is not helping either. Obstretion sister in law recons there may be alot of water in there as she can't locate his/her head. Either way it may be a rough ride ahead as with the no sleeping, the surprisingly hot heat wave and achey hips much of what's swimming in my head is '12 more freekin' weeks'...dear lord! Eyes on the prize....and onwards.

Running on Empty

It had to happen, our luck ran out. After a fantastic but busy weekend came a week of sickness which hit Mr A, two kids and the car. One washathon a little sleep,a lot of detol and a large hole in the wallet later....I'm feeling a little sorry for myself.

It all started on Tuesday, when I was in work despite it not being my scheduled day...I should have known...and after a sleepless night of sweatty puking boy (poor lamb). Mr A had mentioned the clutch was sounding 'a bit clunky', so when I pulled out and something went 'clunk' I was alarmed but not  too disheartened. I was cheered much by the reduction in noise after a minute or so and went off with confidence. On arriving at the motorway bridge and just passing the no more hard shoulder bit, the car gives a death shreik and starts shaking. f***. I took the mature womanly response of bursting into tears and grabbing the nearest bloke to help. It turns out being the size of a whale and moving with the speed and agility of an obese walrus whilst weeping uncontrollably is an effective, if not terribly attractive,way of getting assistance  fast. One tow across the bridge and an AA ride later, a coffee served by an exstudent...blimmin typical...... and I get to work OK...to find out it was never the clutch and the gear box is dead costing near 2K. We are currently looking into a new model (thanks to a loan and many weeks eating beans) which will hopefully prove less of a money pit and decididly less deadly.

On the plus side, our peas are ready, baby no 3 seems very active and andy murray won wimbledon which probably sapped all the good luck and Karma from everyone in the uk this week....with all that over I'm hoping it will be returned by tomorrow...please