My Darling Flower Girl

Flower Girl


Wedding Fever. Gardening Sucks.

Look at that, I get to over a hundred followers and I go quiet.

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Do you ever get that?  There’s so much rattling around in the old noggin’ but as soon as you sit in front of a computer – nothing.  Couldn’t think of anything to say.

Which is unusual really, since I have the ability to ramble on profusely.  Anyway.

This last weekend was a busy one.  We had a wedding to go to.  Ooooooooh.

I’m very much of a casual man myself, exceedingly happy in slobbing around in a pair of trackies and mangled old jumper, but every now and again the need to break out the old suit returns.

I do like wearing a suit.  I think I look quite good in a suit.  Others may not agree, but it’s about self confidence.  Large people can look good too!

Imagine an overweight Toadfish from neighbours in his best Men In Black get up.  That’s me.

However, wearing a suit on a particularly warm day is horrible.  Warm = understatement.

The day was nice, the wedding was sophisticated and the happy couple looked fantastic.  The ceremony was as good a wedding I have seen, luckily I only had to be in one photo (don’t like posing for photos, well, maybe under the right circumstances….) and the reception afterwards was good.  Food and music a perfect combination.

I am so happy for the couple.  I mean, I’ve been the brother-in-law now for six years and known them for about ten, so was well chuffed to finally see them get wed.  They are so suited to each other it’s sickening!  Well, good luck I say.  They already have a daughter but I reckon the next step is number two.  Why not….

Meanwhile, whilst I know all the attention should be on the bride and groom, my focus was on one of the flower girls, as it was my darling daughter.  She looked stunning.  So proud.

My Darling Flower Girl

Don’t she look pretty!  Quick, model agencies, sign her up before she eats all my chocolate!

Other than that, I’ve been gardening for the last four days, late into the night on a couple of occasions, and have tidied my shed.  It’s been a productive week really, until I get back into the office.  Then it all stops.

I don’t usually bother with the garden.  I’ve tried every year to make it better, but I get bored.  I can’t afford to spend loads on shrubs and water features, or even sort out the ant problem, but hey I try my best.

Then the rain comes and it all seems worth it.


Children: Do they have to have a birthday every year?!

I apologise for my absence and lack of posts over the last few days but as the title may suggest, I have been a little preoccupied recently.

Yes, my darling daughter was three yesterday and the last week or so had been booked out for ‘planning’.

By that statement you would probably assume that the whole thing was a large affair with lots of guests, attractions and the odd wild animal.  But you’d be wrong.

The day was a simple one.  Food and drinks, at home, with the family.  Simple.
If you’re organised that is.

I had made the downstairs look all birthdayish, banners balloons and the such, and the presents were wrapped and positioned correctly.  This I can do, by myself whilst watching the telly.

But on the day, I just don’t work well when other people are involved.  Mind you I don’t work well at the best of times, but when it involves cooking it’s best to leave it to other people.  I end up forgetting times, what I’ve cooked and where I left the scissors, or I just end up eating most of it as I go along.

Anyway, all this aside, I think the day went perfectly.  The daughter was delighted with all her presents (her new bike being the favourite), loved the fact that so many people came to her Rapunzel party and ate most of the food on offer.  She was happy.

And a highlight of the day was the specatacular cake that was made and supplied by Aunty Amy.  What little girl would not be astounded to receive a replica Disney castle?! In a hope that she reads this, thank you Amy, you are a very talented genius.

And that’s all that mattered.  And as an added bonus, even after all the food and drink consumed, the usual bedtime was adhered to and it was a relatively peaceful night for everyone.

Now, how does one remove tyre tracks from one’s living room carpet…..

Happy Birthday Rapunzel

Children Shopping: No I don’t want to buy one

Another weekend has ended, and the monotonous depressing grey of Monday has arrived.  Great.

Work this week is going to be busy, as usual, with meetings, endless typing and a lot of boring and irrelevant talking.  I suppose that’s normal but I wish something different would happen.  Anything.

I might have to change the brand of my tea bag for excitement.  Whoa there, let’s not get drastic!

Anyway, at least the weekend was enjoyable.  Sunday was the usual, a bit of tidying here, a bit of lounging there.  Saturday however was different.

On Saturday, I went out on a ‘Daddy / Daughter Day’.  Nowhere exciting mind, just out to look around the shops in nearby Chelmsford.  Now this may not sound like an adventure, but I’ve only before taken her out on my own to the local town for a couple of hours.  Where we live it is not possible to take her out on my own too often, so we usually always go out as a family.

A taxi and train ride was completed successfully.  A wander round the shops (on Daddy time and not to the march of Mummy!) was pleasant.  Lunch in Burger King was enjoyable (no burgers were consumed, neigh!).  It was just a nice change, you know?

The darling child did not play up or try to run away, which is always a fear when single parenting, and the day was very nice.  Spent too much money though.  Her fault.

This only emphasises to me the need to get back to living in a town.  The countryside is nice and quiet, but the lure and accessibility of a town centre can not be ignored.  I’m a city boy really, I miss it.

Two options; move or learn to drive.  Both expensive and both take time.  I want to do both but it’s just not possible.

It is true, which you don’t realise at first, that children do change your life in more ways than you could ever imagine.  I didn’t realise that the kids would make me want to move back into a town.

If only I could change things….

Father and Daughter

Where’d that puddle come from?!

WARNING: DO NOT go into the bathroom with no shoes on!

This is the new sign that I now have to hang on my bathroom door.  And why?

Sophie has reached a new milestone, going to the toilet on her own.  Completely on her own.  As in up the stairs ON HER OWN, going to the toilet ON HER OWN, sorting herself out ON HER OWN, washing her hands ON HER OWN and then back down the stairs ON HER OWN.

Come on, admit it, it’s pretty impressive isn’t it!?  For a two year old to be able to do this, well, I’m so very proud.

It’s good enough that she can go up and down the stairs unaided.  It can be a pain though, she just disappears!  One minute watching the TV doing some drawing, next minute I hear her banging about upstairs, playing in her room!  She’s too quick…

Anyway, yes, toilet on her own, only one accident to date.

This parenting lark is a doddle…..

Bedroom painted pink and girly? Check.

This house now comes complete with one pink bedroom.

A girly paradise, with pink curtains and a pink lampshade.

What more could you ask for.  Ok, I can’t do anything about the deep blue carpets or dark varnished cupboard doors, but everything else is taking shape.

Not only that but the new bed is on order too.

Get me…

So before long, the princess will be in her very own bedroom.  Which, quite frankly, is downright scary.

It just goes to remind you of how quickly things are moving.  Next year she will be three and starting in nursery / playschool (if I ever learn to drive) and no doubt will start coming home with a new found confidence and demanding nature.

‘Daddy, can I have a skinny latte, hold the cream………. Cressada had one today at nursery and it was simply divine……..!’

Good god, I hope it doesn’t come to that.  I’m so thankful that I’m not posh.

It also makes the next three months seem very short indeed.

Obviously, the reason we’re moving Sophie into her own room is to leave that one as a nursery, for the next one.

Which is due in three months.  108 days.

Oh. M. Gee.

Ouch! Mind my toes….

Pedestrians beware!  Sophie is mobile!

Yep, gone are the days where you can sit on the sofa and just casually leave your feet out for a good ‘airing’.

No more open toed sandals for casual visitors.

In a move originally depicted as a ‘good load of fun’, we have purchased and given her a scooter.

Fairly innocuous, you’d say?  That’s what I thought.

There’s not a day goes by now where my ankles are not involved in a road traffic collision.

And as for the furniture, well, the original thought of being able to keep it for many years has now gone out of the window.  They’re covered in tyre marks, scrapes, all sorts.

Luckily, for now, we have had / got some good weather so the front room as a whole breathes a sigh of relief.

The carpet is counting it’s blessings for the break as it is starting to resemble a ploughed field from the tread of the tyres.

Yes, I’m moaning.  I can’t help it, my toe hurts.

I suppose though, the main thing is that Sophie absolutely loves it.

Suppliers of plasters and ankle strapping rejoice.


Week 15: A Wise Decision?

So, here we are at Week 15.  It’s still early days, but I shall reiterate the quickness of the journey.

Once again, for the fruitists, I believe the size is that of an apple (about 10cm).  And again, a specific type has not been mentioned.

As this whole episode is nicely rumbling along at its own pace, one’s thoughts are automatically drawn to that of names.  ‘Conversations’, read heated debates, have already started within the household.  Well I say started, they are more re-runs of the previous conversations from the first time.

There’s always an element of the automatically ruling out any name that resembles, or states, fruit, counties, countries and / or fictional character names.  Imagine in 20 years, the trauma that you have caused poor old Shrek…

You then move onto sensible names, and you realise just how many of them have been taken.  Obviously, more than one person can have the same name, I mean I’m the fourth in my family, but when all the names that you like are also the names of friends, it becomes more difficult.  And when it’s the same name as previous pets………

You always think that your friends are going to think, ‘aww, you named the child after me…’ when in reality, that was the last thing on your mind, you just forgot about them at that exact moment when you decided on one name.

And then, my god, the decision of whether they have a middle name.

Really?  They don’t really serve a purpose do they?

I can’t really comment, because I don’t have one myself, but some people insist on having one.  Like it’s some sort of exclusive status symbol.  O-kay…

Anyway, this is all a side topic.  The main question, drawn from the title, is this a wise decision?

With the activity of our daughter the past couple of weeks, we would be mad to have another child.  The devil has visited our house, and he’s decided to stay for a holiday.

Sophie has certainly embraced the whole ethos of ‘terrible twos’.  Backchatting, disobeyance, shouting, mood swings.  I’m not going to say where I think she has inherited these…

I don’t know why they start, or indeed how to stop the bleedin’ things, but I know that they weren’t present earlier.  Maybe she has gotten in with the wrong crowd, you know loitering on sofa corners, dealing My Little Pony….

Maybe it’s just my tolerance level has plummeted and, no wait, it’s definately her.  What used to be daddy’s little girl has started early on the journey to teenhood.

Oh christ, soon it’s going to be in stereo….

Having a nap…

Well, the last few days on this blog have been quiet, I admit, but things have been a bit stressful.  It’s not easy running a department on your own, especially when you’re in demand, but that’s not a problem.

I’ve just been having a break from using a computer, man they can hurt your head!  My work is computer based so every now and again my brain gets a little fried and a ban is the only thing that can help.

Add to that a moaning family.  Nice.

With a missus who already thinks she is 15 months pregnant and a child who is constantly tired and whiny, every day is long.

No, I’m not complaining really, honest.  I just wish I knew what was making the little one so tired.  We have a theory that she is awaiting the arrival of yet more teeth and so her sleep pattern is out of line, thus making her a nightmare during the day.  I say nightmare, she’s not really, but when the parent’s don’t get much sleep either, it’s a monotonous circle.

So, the beginning…

I think this is going to take me a while to get used to.  Trying to make a point without waffling on and going of on a tangent!

Anyway, the beginning.

As I said, I have a beautiful daughter called Sophie.  She is now two years old and is my sole purpose.  No, hang on, I can’t say that anymore…..  She is ‘daddy’s little girl’ and she will tell you the same!

Sophie can talk, boy can she, and is nearly perfecting the art of conversation.  However, she suffers from the same traits as me and can not stay on topic for very lon, oh look, a squirrel….

After a hard day at work, coming home to Sophie is a treat.  Often whinging and whining, but still fun and can always make me smile. Her inimitable way of telling me stories and acting out the parts as she goes is classic.  I think I might have to start hiring her out for parties, or maybe sign her up for amateur dramatics……

Anyway, this is Sophie;