Sunday, 28 April 2013

One Day More...

Last night after one or two too many glasses of vino I decided that I wanted my eldest son to grow up to be a West End star.
As you do.

As my friend who had joined me in the consumption of said wine burst into a version of 'Empty Chairs at Empty Tables' I was actually starting to feel emotional.

No, it's fair to say her version of the Les Mis classic was not going to win her a place on The Voice (soz mate). The menfolk were mortified to be sat at the same table as us.
However in my useless, cannot drink, silly state I was actually genuinely picturing my boy on stage in twenty years time belting out One Day More.

It has made me think about how lovely it is that our kids have got a world of opportunity ahead of them.

Of course as a good parent I am supposed to say that I don't care what career path they take as long as they are happy.

Screw that though, here is a list of completely acceptable occupations for my boys when they grow up:

- Obviously theatre/singing/acting are paths I would greatly encourage.

- I wouldn't have an issue with them choosing to be sporting superstars. My preferred sports would be Athletics, swimming, cycling, rowing, or tennis.

- Medical professional. I would especially encourage the youngest to go down this route given the amazing people that saved his life.

- Prime minister. I'm not so sure about this but the boys' Nanan decided this when the eldest was born.

The list goes on but I don't want to put the boys under any pressure.

Monday, 1 April 2013

Sharing the love...

Mostly due to my general love of all things sweet and choclatey there is plenty of Mummy to share.

My boys do not agree.

It has become a battle of gladiatorial proportions.

The littlest one is almost always in our bed first in the mornings.
When he hears his brothers footsteps approaching he pounces on me, sprawling himself as widely as possible so as to not expose an inch of mummy flesh that his brother could cuddle up to.

Any attempt to steal a cuddle with the older boy results in a tantrum and usually an assault on older brother from the little one. Said older brother then proceeds to act like it is the end of the world and turns on the fake tears and ten minutes of whining usually follows.

At first I thought this possessive behaviour from baby boy was quite cute.
I have now decided for my own health and safety (I swear these boys grow an inch every day) that I must put a stop to said violent behaviour.

My other half uses any excuse to produce a well organised spreadsheet.

I am tempted to ask him to create a mummy cuddle spreadsheet.

If it is not your allotted time, you must not throw a tantrum, you must not attack your sibling and you must not whine.

I will put said spreadsheet on the fridge and if you break the rules your on the naughty step.

I'm not massively convinced.