"12 Days Of Christmas"...with a twist

On the first day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
A partridge in a pear tree.

On the second day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the third day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the fourth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the fifth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the sixth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the seventh day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the eighth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the ninth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me
Nine ladies dancing,
Eight maids a-milking,
Seven swans a-swimming,
Six geese a-laying,
Five golden rings,
Four calling birds,
Three French hens,
Two turtle doves,
And a partridge in a pear tree.

On the tenth day of Christmas,
my true love sent to me...

(wait for it)

Ten DEAD PHEASANTS.

Yes, TEN dead pheasants. My true love (or rather, my husband) went into a forest in Northumberland and shot ten pheasants out of the sky. He then put them into two bin bags, put them in the boot of the car and delivered them to me with an air-punching gesture that I can only describe as triumphant.

I'm ashamed to say that I ran away. I ran upstairs, shut myself in my bedroom and was instantly taken back to my teenage years, when I told my parents I wanted to be vegetarian because "killing animals is cruel" and my mum (quite rightly) replied that she was fine with that, but I would have to make my own meat-free meals. A similar door-slamming, sulking episode ensued when I spotted the foot of an innocent pheasant poking out of a hole in the bin bag.

While I don't fancy  partaking in the sport myself (or the thought of my children doing it, but this is an argument we can look forward to having in a few years' time - I can hardly wait...) I fully accept that my husband is from a family of hunter/gatherers (ahem). But I do NOT want ten dead pheasants in my house. Even when they were moved to the shed, I still kept thinking about them, a shiver going down my spine every time.

I won't go into what happened when it was time for the pheasants to come back into the house to be skinned, chopped up and packed into the freezer. Suffice to say, I spent the evening upstairs, wearing my old Greenpeace T shirt and downloading anthems from my teenage years.

It's pheasant casserole for dinner on Boxing Day. I'll be politely declining.

Snap Slappers - Week 6

Back for more Picnik action this week and as it's only five sleeps until The Big Day, how could I not go for a festive theme?

This is one of my favourite pictures of Little and Littlest J, which you might have spotted elsewhere on my blog.

So I wanted to see what I could do to it using the wonder that is Picnik.

Merry Christmas everyone!

Check out the fab blog Five Go Blogging to learn more about Snap Slappers, and to see who else has linked up this week.

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Merry Chaos

It's been a crazy couple of weeks, with Little J's birthday and of course all the preparations for Christmas as well as the usual daily chaos of family life and All The Things That Go Wrong When You Really Don't Want Them To (to name a few - damp patches on the kitchen wall, another bathroom disaster and a curtain pole falling down*).

My mind is confused, overworked and exhausted. I forgot to take Little J to a birthday party last week, posted Christmas cards with the wrong stamps on them (sorry, Irish family!) and have left my purse on the counter of not one but TWO shops in the past two days. To borrow one of the favourite phrases of a very wise man**, if I had a brain I'd be dangerous.

This evening I realised that I'm so busy rushing around, trying to make sure everything is perfect and that my children have a great birthday and Christmas, I'm having a rubbish time myself. Who really cares if  I don't have festive napkins when friends come over on Christmas Eve for drinks? Why do I feel guilty that I haven't bought as many toys for Littlest J as her big brother? She's only 15 months old and likes to play with yoghurt pots.

So for the next few days I'm going to make a real effort to chill out. We're running five minutes late for nursery, what's the worst that can happen? Maybe the house won't be spotless for our Christmas guests - a few mulled wines and they won't notice.

All I want for Christmas is to de-stress.

(* confession: I may have had a part to play in this…was getting "creative" with my Christmas decorations.)

** my dad

4 years old today

Flying Hats and Trees

I meant to blog about the now world-famous "Hurricane Bawbag" after it attacked our shores last week, but I was too busy chasing Mr J's greenhouse panels around the garden. (FYI: don't buy a plastic greenhouse if you live anywhere with a risk of even moderate winds. He's still crying…)

Buses fell over. Slates flew off roofs. The sea invaded our streets. Schools were closed. Frickin' eejits drove around filming the "hurricane" on their iPhones, dreaming of YouTube fame.

24 hours later, all was calm. "We survived!" we declared. "We're Scottish! Nothing can touch us - not even Hurricane Bawbag!"

Today saw the return of Bawbag, or perhaps his (her?) slightly less vicious cousin.

This was taken this afternoon, half a mile from my parents' house:

How did Hurricane Bawbag affect me? Well, first time around I stayed in my house with my precious cargo (save the occasional, and admittedly half-hearted, greenhouse rescuing mission) all day. It was a long day.

Today, we didn't see it coming. School was open. Picking Little J up from nursery, his hat blew off and flew across the road. Then jumped back on the pavement. Back on the road. We waved goodbye as we watched it do its merry dance. Until it landed on the nose of a large, lumbering golden retriever, who patiently wore it until we ran as fast as our little legs could carry us and Got the Hat Back.

Driving home from my parents' house several hours later, we slowed down to marvel at the waves swelling high in the air and crashing over the wall. We were so busy oohing and aahing, we didn't notice the Christmas tree making its way towards the car (well, half a Christmas tree, but still). It smacked the side of the car before rolling on.

We made it home safely, locked the door behind us and said a quick prayer for the greenhouse.

Credit for the image (Troon sea front at 2pm, Tuesday 13th December): Gary McLaughlin
Credit for the blog title goes to my mum

Snap Slappers - Week 5

I was first told about this linky by the lovely bluebirdsunshine and jumped at the chance to spend some time on Picnik (after hearing about it from Mammasaurus, who used it to pimp this photo for me.)

To find out more about Snap Slappers, head over to Five Go Blogging.

I chose this photo to have a play around with, as it's one of my favourites of my children. I think Littlest J was about 6 months old here.

Here's how it ended up:

I set Sepia to 45% fade, Boost to 10% strength, Soften to 50% softness and 50% fade, then finally applied Cinemascope. I have no idea what any of that means, but it was fun, and I kind of like how it turned out. 

This week baby I promise...

...to stop stressing about work, money, family politics over the fraught festive season, etc etc etc and to live in the moment, and make sure you and your little sister enjoy your birthday on Friday.

Baby no. 1 is going to be 4!

Mix-Tape Monday

This week's Mix-Tape Monday over at the lovely Boo and Me is a tough one. She's asking for "a song that means something special." I could reel off a list of dozens. I'll leave Kylie out of the running, as much as I love her (and want to be her).  There are songs that remind me of falling in love with my husband, songs that remind me of my babies being born, songs that remind me of really happy holidays. But one song stands out, and for me, it's about friendship. It also reminds me of being young, carefree and (relatively) innocent.

It's 1990, and four 13 year old girls are in a bedroom in a small town, talking about boys, learning how to apply makeup, and singing into their hairbrushes to this song. Over and over.

Wilson Phillips - Hold On

"Don't ever let anyone step all over you!" we yelled at each other, blissfully unaware of how many times we each would, ultimately, allow that to happen.

"You've got no one to blame for your unhappiness...you got yourself into your own mess!" How little we knew back then. It was fantastic.

Ps. Chynna Phillips was my hair crush and I did in fact go for the chop in an attempt to achieve her elfin crop. This was not so fantastic.

Wordless Wednesday...but with words

I'm not sure if it's the weather (cold, wet, windy, miserable) but I'm feeling crap today (tired, sluggish, unhealthy, miserable). I've got no energy and a million things to get done. The house is freezing. I'm wearing a huge jumper, a hat, woolly socks and a blanket. Huddled over my laptop, tapping away with my ice-cold fingers, I feel like some mad old failed writer who has never been published and can't afford to pay her heating bills.

I've not exercised for so long. I used to run - a lot. I once ran 10 miles in less than 90 minutes (it was on my birthday, a few years ago, a beautiful, bright, sunny December morning, with my husband and son cheering me on at the finish line). I feel great when I run, but too often I let life get in the way and it slides to the bottom of my list of priorities.

So because I haven't been running for a while, I feel blaaaaaaaaaaaagh. You're probably wondering what the heck this has to do with Wordless Wednesday (perhaps I should start my own Wingeing Wednesday link up...)

This is Kylie. She is 43 years old. Look at her! If I want to have legs and a butt like that, I need to get off this couch.

Please visit and then, she snapped if you want to link up with this meme.

Friendship

One of the strangest things about starting a blog was not knowing who - if anyone - was going to read it. I didn't tell any friends or family what I was doing, I just got on with it.

I'm ok with the fact that I am undoubtedly going to reveal things to people who know me (in some cases, have done for many years) that they didn't already know.

When I started my blog in October 2011, I was unsure what direction it would take, and how personal it would become. The fact that I've already mentioned my history of depression is a massive step for me. That I've been able to do this is partly down to my best friends - two amazing women I've known for over thirty years. They have encouraged and supported my blog, and made me feel like I'm doing the right thing.

So I'm dedicating this little slice of my blog to them.

G and J also happen to be sisters. Here they are looking adorable:

Growing up, our lives were closely intertwined. We went to ballet, gymnastics and Brownies together. Our mums coerced us into taking piano lessons together. During our teenage years there was the inevitable spreading of wings: new friendships were formed, boys got in the way, and we became aware of the possibilities beyond the small seaside town we grew up in. Over the years we have separated, then come together again.

J and I ended up moving to Manchester (separately) at around the same time. We quickly picked up where we left off years before and became closer than ever. She was there for me through all manner of personal crises - even when going through emotional upheaval herself. When a relationship broke down and I had to move out, I moved in with J and her daughter. I can't thank her enough for that. There was absolutely no question in her mind that I should have her daughter's bedroom, and they would share a bed. We are now both back in Scotland, living only a few miles apart. She and her daughter - a beautiful, kind 12 year old who is an amazing reflection of her mother - are a huge part of our lives. When I experienced a particularly harsh period of depression right after Littlest J was conceived and finally opened up to friends and family about the illness that had plagued me, on and off, for most of my adult life, J was the only person to take me in her arms and just hold me.

I know if G had been here, her embrace would have been just as warm, just as tight, just as comforting. Since 2000, there have been long periods of separation between us. She moved to Thailand to teach English, met a lovely man and the rest, as they say, is history. J and I visited her not long after she left, for what will go down as one of the funniest, most intense, most eye-opening and reminisced-about trips of our lives. We have come to terms with the fact that G is highly unlikely to move back to the UK - ever. I miss her terribly. I wish she lived round the corner. I want to invite her round for a glass of wine. I want to have an impromptu night out that doesn't involve thousands of pounds, months of planning and more than one long-haul flight. More than anything, however, I want her to be happy - wherever she lives. I am secure enough in our friendship to know that no matter how little we see each other, or how much time passes between phone calls, nothing will break the bond between us. I am rubbish at keeping in touch. But I think about G all the time. Not a day goes by that something doesn't spark a childhood memory (my memory is abysmal, but all of those I do recall involve her) or make me wonder what she's up to at that particular moment.

I could talk about these two women forever. They are my family. Actually, they're better than family - because it was our choice.

Christmas is coming! (Music Monday blog hop)

We decorated our tree last night so I'm feeling very festive today. So what better way to start the week than with a little Christmas blog hopping? Check out Music Monday from Clairejustineoxox - it's favourite Christmas song week.

Here's mine:

I know Fairytale of NewYork is a predictable choice, but that's because it's so bleedin' good! I've gone for the KT Tunstall/Ed Harcourt version, which is, in my opinion, almost as good as the original (and I'll take any opportunity to big up a fellow Scottish lass).