Funny poo stories

I caught up with my NCT group today, and one of them shared a really funny poo story, which then reminded me of one of my own, and another which may be apocryphal. So I hereby share the stories with you - if you don't want to read about baby poo, look away now....

Story #1
My friend's baby had a nasty tummy bug, and each poo had been vile and very explodey for several days. However, the baby recovered and there came a day when she had not pooed all day, so by the afternoon my friend decided to risk a trip to Waitrose. While she was wandering the aisles she smelt an ominous smell, looked down, and spotted the poo. Which had leaked onto the floor. And soaked up the baby's vest almost to chest level. She whisked the offensive child off to the toilets, changed her from head to toe, made her vaguely respectable, and returned shame-faced to her abandoned trolley. And the poo had magically been wiped away - that's what you get for shopping in Waitrose!

Story #2
When Isabel was walking but still in nappies and edging towards potty training, we went to visit some friends with a rather nice garden. Several other children of a similar age were there, so we de-nappied them and put a potty down. Rather hopefully as it turned out. But I only discovered this when my host for the afternoon pointed out Isabel crouching over a corner of the patio rather than the neighbouring potty. Wet wipes clean poo off a patio leaving little trace, FYI!

Story #3
Another one from the age of toddler-hood - a friend of a friend was in someone's garden with her daughter, who, after being quiet for a few minutes, approached with cupped hands. You guessed it - those hands contained a delightfully fragrant offering.

Kids eh, gotta love 'em!

Doomed to a life of blubber

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. I've been bemoaning the fact that having a home office means I have reduced the amount of exercise I do each week from laughable to imperceptible. And it turns out I'm right, and that home working could send me to an early grave. Well, that's what I read into this blog post from the New York Times. For those of you so lazy that you can't even move your finger far enough to click on the link, it basically says that sitting is bad for you. And advocates a stand-up desk with a treadmill.

Now, this is clearly crazy talk. But it did worry me enough that I spent a 30 minute conference call earlier hanging out the washing and then pacing round the office in an effort to keep my metabolism going before it decides that life just isn't worth living. And it even made me leave the house to walk to school to pick up Isabel (it's a three mile round trip, and it was raining). The problem is that the article says that even if sedentary office workers make the effort to go to the gym regularly, that this still isn't enough. It's the sitting down for long periods of time which does the damage, whether you go to the gym or not. I read this to mean that there's no point going to the gym, which is great news. But I'll keep on pacing round the office, just in case. And maybe put a treadmill on my Amazon wish list, but marked as the lowest priority.

Two nights out in a row!

OK, so one of those was a work do, but nonetheless, I'm back out there, getting the late night train back home, and generally getting myself out of the house. Goodness me, it's tiring. I'm knackered tonight after two late-ish nights, and may even have to retire to bed before the magic hour of 10pm. As an aside, why does it seem acceptable to go to bed at 10.01pm, and yet 9.59pm is only allowed if you're coming down with something? I digress.

Monday night was a social event - my mum bought theatre tickets to Six Degrees of Separation and we went for dinner first in Livebait (bit of a ripoff - expensive food, and mum found five bones in her fish pie, which is not really acceptable). The play was good - I'd seen the film with Will Smith years ago and think on balance that the movie was probably better. It was short though - 90 minutes and no interval - which I appreciated since the journey home from Waterloo takes a good 90 minutes. And there's nude men in it, one of whom waves his bits and pieces about quite wildly (cue very British giggles in the audience).

Tuesday was the work do - my company has an annual "Leadership Dinner" for the hoi polloi and bigwigs of our industry, so this meant a slapup meal which started with cocktails and was accompanied by a lovely drop of Rioja. But again it was a 90 minute journey home and I didn't leave the restaurant until 10.30pm. Dashing for, and missing, the Met line train at Wembley Park, and then successfully chasing the Chiltern instead at Harrow swept away the effects of the alcohol, but I spent the night dreaming of rich food and woke up so full that I couldn't manage my breakfast until after the school run.

Got another night out planned for next week too - I won tickets to Radio 2's session with Carly Simon, so will be chilling out at Maida Vale Studios which will be really fun. Unfortunately Emily's too young to be babysat by anyone if she's not fed and put to bed by either Husbandio or self, so I'm taking the stepmother (not stepmonster, luckily!). Need to get my Best of Carly Simon out to revise beforehand!

A joke

Husbandio told me this the other day, and since I'm feeling a little brain dead after a busy weekend I thought I'd re-tell it here rather than thinking of something original to write. Apologies, but it is funny, so here goes.

Two Mexicans, Juan and Pedro, are lost and starving in the desert. Suddenly Pedro spots a tree, draped with rashers of bacon.
"Juan", he cries, "we're saved". He dashes over to the tree, but as he reaches it he is suddenly gunned down in a hail of bullets.
Juan rushes over to him and as he gets there Pedro cries out "Juan, run! Is not a bacon tree, is a ham bush!"

Boom boom! Feel free to regale your colleagues with this on Monday morning...

What's on TV?

I'm a telly addict (no, not one of those sad z-list celebs on a dodgy quiz show with Noel Edmonds, just someone who likes an evening in front of the telly). I can usually only manage an hour, but I relish that hour and always get pissed off when I accidentally fall asleep while trying to watch something. Which happens more than I'd like it to.

Currently top of my viewing list is Brothers and Sisters. I can't believe I didn't notice Series 4 was starting and had to watch the first 2 episodes on 4oD. Anyway, we've now seen the first 4 episodes, and it's as good as ever, which makes it a crying shame that not many people seem to watch it. It's got a cracking cast and great story lines, makes both Husbandio and I laugh out loud, and has also been known to move me to tears. So start watching it, everyone! You can borrow Series 1 and 2 from me, for a small fee....!

Also jostling for attention on the Sky Plus are Glee (great for when I'm in a silly mood), Wallander (the one in Swedish with subtitles - only to be watched when feeling very awake, and not suicidal), and Relocation Relocation (good backup for when I want to do something like online shopping with the telly on in the background). I've also got The Good Wife, a new series with Julianna Margulies who I loved in ER years ago, but I've not started that yet so can't comment on how good it is.

Stuff on the upstairs bedroom Sky Plus is quite different - all stuff which I watch without Husbandio. This includes Casualty, Holby City, Lost (I haven't started the final series yet, so don't tell me what's happening, on pain of death), Desperate Housewives, the new Jo Frost (Supernanny) series, and One Born Every Minute. Don't watch this last show unless you've already had children and are not planning to have any more - it's childbirth, UK style, warts and all. Goodness I'm glad that's all behind me. If you'll pardon my phrasing.

Now that I've listed this lot out, no wonder I don't have time to do anything else. But what could I possibly drop? I just thank my lucky stars that I don't watch EastEnders anymore.

A confession

OK, deep breath - here it is. My confession is...... that I like Valentine's Day. There, I said it. How unfashionable I am, in this as in so many other things.

The run up to Valentine's is always dominated by people jeering about how it's so commercial, and how they refuse to partake and line the pockets of Hallmark. And they whinge about how red roses treble in price, and you can't get a reservation at a decent restaurant for love nor money.

And to these folks I say - stop whinging! I too am not lining Hallmark's pockets, or buying hyperinflated red roses, and I don't expect anyone to do that for me. But what I do enjoy is someone caring enough to stop for a moment and show some love. Doesn't even require any money - in fact, cheap as I am, the less that is spent the better.

Most of the time I'm pretty cynical, but I like the idea that one day of the year reminds us to stop, look around, and tell our nearest and dearest that we love them. Our mantelpiece does look a little like an explosion in a card factory, I admit. There's three from me (one to Hubs and one each to the girls), three from Husbandio (one to each of us), and three from Isabel to her mummy, her daddy and her baby sis. We had great fun this morning with some red card and heart stickers, and spent hardly anything on the endeavour. And what I did spend went to the local craft shop and the local chocolate shop, so I was supporting local businesses too.

So I say, loud and proud, Happy Valentine's Day! And pass the chocs please....

I wasn't that busy, but somehow....

When I went back to work at the beginning of January things were pretty quiet for a few weeks. I didn't get too many tasks coming my way - maybe people had forgotten about me while I was gone, and it took a while to realise I was back. And I wasn't going to stand up and wave my hand around for more work since I know how these things expand to fill the time available, whether or not you're already busy. So I kept my head down under the parapet, reintroduced myself to clients, caught up on my reading, and responded to all e-mails very promptly.

And this week, the tide turned. I have a new role, looking at educational publishing markets, which I think will be great, so I've been busy putting together ideas for reports to write, getting some articles under my belt, answering client queries, setting up meetings and getting right back into the swing. And having 8.30pm calls with folks in California, always a pleasure....! I now also find I have a bunch of new clients, so more intros etc. to be made. But that'll have to wait til later in the week.

And in addition to work, I've got things to do on the home front as well. Yesterday I packed up all of our baby clothes and things we weren't using to give to my sister-in-law, who is having her first baby in April - oddly enough, she's due on Emily's birthday. It was a massive pile - 5 carrier bags of clothes, a baby bath, a bath seat, two play mats, a bouncy chair, a sleeping bag, a Moses basket - so our house is free and clear and hers is brimming. Lovely to get rid of stuff which we WILL NOT BE NEEDING AGAIN but also a little sad - I admit to keeping a couple of little dresses and babygros. Couldn't help it, sentimental old fool that I am. As well as that I'm trying to finish a quilted cushion cover which I'm making for Isabel, and read a book quickly (The Little Stranger) because I can only have it out of the library for a week. I'm enjoying it, but finding it hard to find the time to read - luckily I'm off into town tomorrow which means a Tube journey so that'll help.

All of this activity has led me to where I am now. Blogging in the kitchen, standing up, while cooking fajitas. Now that's dedication.

OK, enough bugs now, thank you

I think Emily is going to be one of those babies for whom a minor cold means loss of appetite for a good week afterwards. Which, given her pipsqueakness, is not a good thing. She's been off her food and her milk for what seems like ages but is in reality just a few days - today she actually ate up properly and it was a marvellous thing. Will have to wait for the next paediatrician's appointment in a couple of weeks to see what it's done to her weight.

But of course, Emsy's on the up so Isabel is struck down. She had a very exciting day yesterday - her class led the school assembly, which is always fun since parents are allowed to go and watch. And she was great - said her line very clearly, even the headmaster commented on it. Proud! And then in the evening it was her school disco which she just loved - painted her nails pink first and dressed her up nicely, and she had a lovely time.

It all turned in the middle of the night. She refused a slice of pizza when she got home from the disco claiming a sore tummy, but then ate a piece of garlic bread which made me feel as if I was being played. But then, when I went in at about 11.45 to give her a kiss before I went to bed, I could smell an ominous smell, and she'd been sick. In her sleep. Without waking up. I could see the headlines in my mind's eye - "local girl's death ruled as misadventure - chokes on own vomit". So, we woke her up, got her out of bed and into the shower, washed her hair, changed her sheets, and then were too worried to let her sleep alone so she came into bed with me while poor Husbandio was relegated to the couch. Good job too, since at about 2am there was an ominous burp from the other side of the bed, and the same thing happened again - she was sick, and it didn't wake her up. Thank goodness she sleeps on her side. So, did the whole routine again - into the shower, new PJs, change all the sheets (and even flipped the mattress, not easy since it's super king size). We managed about 4 hours sleep from 2.30am, and then Emily started chattering.

Poor Isabel spent the whole day on the couch watching TV - Strawberry Shortcake DVD from the library which she watched twice, thus proving how brain dead she must have been feeling. Ate some pitta, half a crumpet, a few mouthfuls of plain pasta and a bowl of jelly. Mind you, by the evening a long bath and a large does of Nurofen had perked her up no end, so hopefully that's the end of it. And on that note, I'll just pop up and check she's still breathing....

Watch a progamme when it's broadcast? Why?!

I love my Sky Plus machine. In fact, I love both my Sky Plus machines and wouldn't be without them. I remember the bad old days of setting the video for the programmes I just had to watch, and then getting very confused about what episode was on which video tape. But no more - Sky Plus came to the rescue, and a very fine thing that was too.

But. There had to be a but. The trouble is, now that I never watch anything live and since I usually sprint through the ads, I never manage to find out when new series are about to start. So far this year we've missed the start of Glee, only caught Desperate Housewives by the skin of my teeth (started taping it five minutes after it started!), and now have to watch the first two episodes of the latest series of Brothers and Sisters on 4OD. Now, I'm a big fan of BBC iPlayer, since I usually download what I want to watch and then the quality is great. But you can't do that on 4OD and sitting through the first two episodes of Glee was pretty painful. Worth it, but not exactly a pleasurable viewing experience. But for Brothers and Sisters, I'll grit my teeth - and anyone offering any spoilers will be sent packing with a flea in their ear!

Getting in to the daily swing again

It's much easier to blog when you do it every day. If you miss a day it seems easy to miss another, and then another, and then another. So I'm going to make a real effort to do this daily, since it's fun, and much more satisfying this way.

Not that I actually have much to say about today. Two friends of mine have either just got or are about to get puppies, and I have serious puppy envy. However, I don't think a puppy would be a great idea with a 9 month old since neither Husbandio or self have ever looked after a dog before, let alone house trained one. House training the kids is bad enough. Hopefully we'll be in a better position in a year or so. The other problem is that my mum has said she's not keen on babysitting if there's a dog in the house. I suppose I could shut myself and the dog into the office when she's there, that might work. Sigh - I don't even live with my mother any more so this stance seems unfair. Mothers - can't live with them, can't shoot them.

And on that note, I'm off to sort out some photos (for my mother, ironically!) while watching this week's Glee, currently the only programme I watch on the actual day of broadcast. It's a cracker...!