I am not eating refined sugar for a while. The reasons are mostly to do with the fact that we eat a lot of rubbish, and apparently I’m the sort of person who requires a total YOU MAY NOT EAT THIS EVER kind of ban in order to make anything stick. I have an intense and somewhat emotional relationship with hot chocolate, so it’s pretty boring already. I don’t know how vegans manage. If I couldn’t eat cheese I’d just pack it all in now and survive on gruel.
I’m also considering doing some kind of unplugged regime, because I feel all itchy when my phone’s not in my hand, which is weird. But one thing at a time, eh? If I’m having to eat snap peas instead of biscuits, at least I get to keep Twitter.
Because, Twitter! I just had a browse through my last four months, online, to distract myself from the sadness of herbal tea. Herbal tea is made from the mournful tears of abandoned fruit, did you know? But Twitter is made from the dewdrops on the cheeks of angels. Because of Twitter, I came across and loved the following:
a Caitlin Moran interview with Benedict Cumberbatch that made my life;
a Martin Luther King article that left me on the floor;
a last letter from a miner trapped underground that made me cry out all the water in my shrivelled body;
a brilliant compilation of the five best punctuation marks in literature (be still my heart);
a comprehensive trashing of the paleo diet;
a summary of WW1 as a bar fight (very useful, this);
a lovely, exactly right alternative epilogue to Harry Potter;
and, after watching Saving Mr Banks, this fabulous article about the creator of Mary Poppins and her decidedly odd life.
And here’s a potted summary of January to April. The usual warning: poo.
Regretting taking Ed to the weighing clinic a few hours after his brother gave him a ‘fond’ bite on the leg. [pagingsocialservices]
In case you needed more eau de Tuesday, 15mins ago I said ‘we’ll go to the library in a sec – just need to get this sick out of the Hoover’.
2YO: What are these?
@mrjeffcoat: They’re my cycling gloves, Henry.
2YO: *sigh* Use real words please, Daddy.
We’ve now watched Tangled so much that this is what happens to me at the end:
Eugene: Rapunzel, you were my new dream.
Rapunzel: *sob* and you were mine.
Me: *UNCONTROLLABLE SOBBING*
Shopping list with a cold:
-yoghu—GIANT POT NOODLE
-INGREDIENTS FOR CHOCOLATE PUDDING
I tell ye what, having the How to Train Your Dragon theme stuck in your head makes going to the loo TERRIBLY dramatic.
This is the noblest wee I have ever had.
Me: ‘There’s something round your mouth. Have you been eating anything?’
Hen: ‘I eating nothing’
Me: ‘oh, ok’
Hen: ‘except clockolet’
Just saw someone on Twitter write ‘voilà’ as ‘whalla’, and I think something inside me has died.
Fell down stairs carrying both boys this morning. Felt like Aragorn leaping to safety in mines of Moria, hobbit under each arm #flyyoufools
Basically, come into our house with the assumption that every cushion is artfully positioned over a sick stain #howdiditcometothis
Nothing makes you look so insane as getting faint wafts of poo from somewhere so furiously sniffing every item in the house. #WHEREISIT
Toddler just imitated the braying laugh of a check-out assistant next to us, so you’ll excuse me for trying to bury myself under the floor.
[at end of long discussion about biting]
Me: look, you can put your mouth on people if you want, but it has to be CLOSED.
Baby refusing naps. Come in 15 minutes later to find he’s completely dismantled his bottle and is no longer wearing trousers. Career in MI5?
I also can’t find the trousers.
From the bedroom, Teddy’s making the noise I have come to read as ‘I am having all the breath squashed out of my body bit by bit’. #brothers
Never ask a mother what she’s doing between 5-6pm, because the answer will always be ‘googling local orphanages’.
Boys haven’t slept simultaneously in weeks. Today they did, & I was like ‘yess, work!’ and body was like ‘um..sucka I am pulling that plug’.
(just woke up. No work done. Major bedhead.)
2YO: Try it, try it!
Me: That’s dried yoghurt from your chin. I’ll pass.
2YO: Shall I put it on your chin?
Me: Still no.
Tim: Mark Wahlburg is in trouble.His leg bone is sticking out.
Me: A tight spot. Poor Mark.
T: it’s ok, he pushed it back in.
Look, I’m not going to lie. He calls it ‘Willy the Poo’, he can’t say ‘Winnie’, I laugh every time, I am juvenile.
Just ate the most disgusting Burger King burger. Had to eat the raw onion (urgh) just to make sure my mouth still had feelings.
Yes, that about sums it up.
Hey, if you catch this in the next couple of hours: the MAD Blog Awards voting closes at midnight today! If you haven’t yet and you wouldn’t mind, I’d be jolly grateful if you’d vote for us in the Best Baby Blog category.
Click here! Thank you!