The green trousers (style tips from Crummy Hubby!)

So, it's been hot lately... Glorious sunshine by day, but a bit muggy at night. So I treated myself to some new summer pyjamas. Shorts and a vest. Nothing too outlandish I thought.....

Well, until Crummy Hubby clapped eyes on them. First there was the disbelief that I'd bought yet MORE pyjamas (the drawer is already bursting at the seams and I have to do a season swap where the winceyette wonders get hidden under the bed in April!) Second there was his opinion on the fabric..... "They look like curtains.", he declared. "Or cushions..." 

Here is the offending fabric:

Nice and summery I thought. I told him

so. "Well I think it looks like cushions, " he maintained. 

It's the green trousers all over again!!!! 

I had a green pair of trousers. I loved my green trousers. When Crummy Hubby and I were just about going out back in the year dot I wore these trousers. I made the fatal mistake of asking his opinion about my appearance. "They're a bit GREEN...", he opined. 

So keen was I to continue to impress this man who was to become my hubby, that I never ever wore the trousers again. (Did I mention I loved those trousers?) They were consigned to the charity bag.

I am pleased to say, that now I have successfully ensnared my hubby, I no longer care as much for his fashion advice... Especially when floral pyjamas are concerned! 

So There!

Irritating things my 4 year old does.....

He's only just 3 feet tall but he can send me from a serene, zen-like state of motherhood to screaming harpydom in 3 seconds flat! Here's why......

He only eats beige food.

I'm being serious. The boy is all about the carbs. His staple diet consists of pasta (plain, no sauce) and butter sandwiches! Sometimes if we're lucky he'll eat a cocktail sausage or some cucumber. He eats scrambled eggs (his only source of protein!) and bananas, both of which are pale yellow bordering on the beige! EXCEPT if we're out. At a restaurant he'll eat pizza and pasta, with sauce! Both of which are "yucky" at home. Even MORE infuriatingly at nursery he'll put away cottage pie, Thai curry, fruity chicken, and beef stroganoff....!! Beast!

The Bickering.....

My four year old has a seven year old older sibling. That makes for a LOT of bickering. Cue He said/She said.... He hit me, she started it, he won't share, she's got my <insert name of toy here>.... MAKE IT STOP!!!!! Sometimes I feel like a WWF referee crossed with a UN peace negotiator! Which leads to....

The Whining

Why do four year olds whine so much? Why do they repeat this whining at incremental volumes until someone responds? Why does the whining start as soon as I sit on the toilet or start cooking? Also.... Why must he hang off my leg while whining?!

The "I need a wee" dance

Don't tell me you need a bloody wee, just get in the toilet and do it!!!!! You're more than capable. And while we're on the subject, when you're doing a stand-up wee, remember to point your winky away from your body (and pants, trousers and shoes!) Also - do you have an alarm that goes off as soon as I put shampoo in my hair that means you need a poo? So I have to drip water and suds all over the place while I wipe your bottom.

"No!", "You are NOT my best friend!" And "I'm not coming to your party!" 

The strops thrown by a four year old are immense.  I'm talking full on foot stamping, arm folding, frowning, yelling stropdom. Everything from having to tidy his room, to trying new food and bedtime can result in a fully fledged tantrum. Luckily it's done and dusted in seconds, as is the way with boys, but I have been known to step over him while he's writhing on the floor shrieking about how it's not fair....(if I can hear him, he's still alive!) 

Having said all that, The Wilburbeast is my bundle of boyness, and whatever he throws at me - with one smile, huggle or  sweaty kiss I'm transformed, from screaming harpydom to giggling, tickling mummy. 

Yes, I know he's got me wrapped around his finger, they both have;  I wouldn't have it any other way. 

Save our NHS

Last weekend Miss Bags and The Wilburbeast were wrestling. Nothing unusual in that... Only this time Miss Bags decided to slam dunk The Wilburbeast into the coffee table.

We were having dinner. The weans were supposed to be watching Disney Junior. Next thing The Wilburbeast comes running in, howling. Now I mean proper howling, in pain. I immediately lifted him and hugged him, stroking his hair. I thought he was sweaty from the wrestling, and it wasn't until I took my hand away I saw the blood. Crummy Hubby and I had shared a bottle of vino, we're probably over the limit. With Crummy Hubby cradling The Wilburbeast (who by this time had almost stopped bleeding) and fielding questions and apologies from an increasingly hysterical Miss Bags, I did the only thing I could... I phoned Daddy!

Mum and Dad rocked up in record time, and agreed The Wilburbeast's head needed looking at. The bleeding had stopped, he wasn't knocked out and he was coherent; so we knew he didn't need an ambulance. Dad and Crummy Hubby drove him to the local Minor Injuries Unit.  

He was seen within the hour and his head was glued back together.  First class service from the NHS.

All this got me thinking. With all the issues in the media of late about how the government will destroy the NHS and how the NHS is over-run... and inspired by a thread on my local community Facebook page where people were saying how difficult it is to get a GP appointment.... I started thinking  maybe we all need to think about how we all use OUR NHS....

I think this poster says it all really.

In our case last weekend Minor Injuries was definitely the right choice.  Had The Wilburbeast been knocked out or we hadn't been able to stop the bleeding then it would have beeen A&E or an ambulance!