Bumsy clugger

Today has been quite a success for me.. only 2 incidents so far. I scraped the car against a brand new transporter at the petrol station then dropped some full beer bottles on the floor.

Thing is, I know that things like this happens in threes, so I am a little nervous. I have a loaf of bread baking in the oven... burn, knife cut? Soup on the hob... scald, drop precious heirloom le crueset pot? Kids' bathtime... so many possibilities, and only one accident left.

I am afraid to come out from behind the sofa. Here goes. Ow shit I banged my head. Really hard. Owwwww.

Phew.

Wardrobe malfunction

Things are a bit disorganised at the moment. In the spectrum of disorganisation I am generally on the scale of 6 out of 10. A bit more scatty than average, less bonkers than Vivienne Westwood.

So the last couple of days have been a bit more on the 8 scale. The familiar combo of juggling school pick up with a fairly demanding job led to me running to school in time for the pick up. I am proud to say that I made it. Am less proud to say that by the time I got to the after school craft class in the local church a fellow mum pointed out to me that my blouse was unbuttoned at least two too many. In front of God People. Down to my tummy button.

The shame passed quickly, after all Adam and Eve were intended to be bare. But the next day...

Well normally I get up first. I get dressed in the dark as the Lovely Husband is still snoring, despite my deliberate noises. I do the school drop, ensuring make up is applied to ensure fellow mums aren't scared.

But on the way back I noticed I had A Lot of cat hair on me. A cushion's worth. I was also wearing a top that was see through. And my belt was undone. Flapping around my legs like a quarter of a disappointed leather octopus.

9/10... I was quite relieved I had matching shoes on the correct feet. Let's be thankful for small mercies.

Grooming

Did the cursory look in the mirror on getting up.

Wrinkles? Check.

Dark circles under eyes? Check.

Last night's make up? Check.

Grey roots? Check.

Eyebrows? Eyebrows? Oh God. What has happened to my eyebrows?

Oh. I see. The evidence is before me. An empty bottle of rose, a wine glass with a drop of pink wine in the bottom at the end of the bed, the tweezers... hazy recollections...

I am going to have to try and work the startled look for the next couple of weeks. Or maybe have a long fringe cut in. Yeah... Maybe I can do that tonight. I'll pop a bottle in the fridge right now.

Please miss, I forgot my son

Start of the new school year!

Daughter... Excited. Son... Scared. So to make it run smoothly I broke away from the norm and Got Organised. I packed up two separate bags, one with daughters books and dap bag and Wellies, separate one for son (just starting, hence the fear). So organised. I was very proud. Diary (yes diary, that's how organised I am) said son starts 10.30, so I calmly walked daughter to school leaving son at home with daddy. But I noticed there were lots of little people walking to school. Like properly little with shiny uniforms and shiny shoes. Diary wrong.

First day of school and I forgot my son.

Sparkly damsel

Oh again. Another embarrassing episode.

Poor old Poorly Car got a bit of a pummeling last week on a nasty hill start and made a funny noise until I ignored it. But it did it again tonight and felt ..'funny'. This is the official term.

So I resorted to calling out the AA. Not the wine one, the car one.

A peaceful wait in a quite spooky car park... only interrupted by the noise of my tummy rumbling...then arrives my knight in shining orange reflective stuff, eating chips.

And my superhero swoops, taking the keys from my trembling hand, deftly switches on the engine (oh my... *bites bottom lip*) and...

The sodding engine purred like a kitten. Nothing wrong stupid woman he thought as he politely handed me a bit of paper to sign (the idiot agreement).

I think I could cope with the embarrassment had I not been wearing my full belly dancing outfit.  Now come to think of it... it could have been me rattling...

I really shouldn't be let out.

Bittersweet

One definition: gazing lovingly at fast asleep child (they are always better that way) and in doing so stubbing toes on furniture. Aaahhhowwww.

It appears wine is bad for you

I know this because I drank some and got some down the wrong way. I have been coughing for several minutes. Be warned.