Her Royal Mumminess

It has come to my attention that there is unease amongst certain members of the British public about their royal family. As a kind and munificent (or mummy-nificent if you prefer) gesture, I have decided to offer myself as an acting Queen while the British people sort out how their new Republic will work.
A few things will have to change immediately.
First, I am not really one for public walk-abouts or appearances so I will ask Archie the Inventor (from BBC program - Balanory- that my son adores) to create a hologram that waves regally whenever required and smiles nicely. He already has experience doing clever things with cardboard rolls and squeegy bottles so this should be a cinch.
Second, while all the real estate is rather lovely, I really wouldn't feel comfortable using any of it so will sell it off (OK, I may keep a small pied a terre in London and a little cottage up in Scotland). Money will be used for the socially disadvantaged, little kiddies, education and hospitals. And magically, there will be really good people to manage all these things so no money is wasted, absconded with etc etc and everyone lives happily ever after.
Third, I will keep Charles on as an environmental consultant and maker of quality organic snacks. He will have to make do on a much lower salary but I think this is fair as he should be paid based on his skill sets rather than his current status as the potential king. The current role doesn't seem to make him very happy and I get the feeling that he is not convinced he would do a good job anyway.
Fourth, I haven't decided what I should do fourth. Suggestions please on the back of an online envelope.
mummified is crownified

Baby chinos all round

In celebration of it being the weekend and various other happy things, there will be baby chinos all round. These are tiny cups of milk froth with a little star drawn in chocolate syrup on the top.
Little people like my son, like to chug one of these back as fast as possible leaving him with a very fetching milk moustache and goatee. If I stuck a beret on his head and dressed him in black, he could be a mini beatnik.
We are celebrating for the following reasons:
a) my son has become an artist - I bought him crayons during the week and he has being laboriously colouring in.
b) he has not yet tried to transfer the crayon to the wall/floor etc - I know this is coming but I am pleased that it is not quite yet.
c) a very nice girl I know - Mim - is having a baby soon and is rather thrilled
d) a friend I had sort of lost touch with - Caroline - emailed me out of the blue - (best friends at 10 - therefore very precious person)
e) for once, am not feeling utterly crushed by all the stuff I should have done, have to do, failed to do perfectly... etc etc

mummified is happified

How can I guide him towards a decent latte

One of a mummy's most important jobs is to gently but firmly guide her children on the right path. Consideration for others, sharing, telling the truth where it is likely to be at all beneficial to yourself and may involve a chocolate reward, kindness and compassion - you know, the kind of stuff. Yet I find myself unable to decide how best to advise the wee fella (small boy) how best to behave in cafes.

I had this chat this morning with the staff at Sokolat (not free advertising 'cos I doubt any of you would know where it was). Some cafes, it is DIY - you go to the fridge - pull out a beverage or bevvie as we call them here (why we shorten everything I don't know) and then pay. They fit in this category. But in some places, you mustn't touch the fridge, you must sit down at a table and an authorised fridge opener with authorised fridge opening credentials - possibly a masters or a doctorate of some sort will get out your drink and eventually bring it over. And in others, you are supposed to know that no-one can sit down until they have ordered at the counter. In fact someone will come over to the table to tell you to order at the counter if you sit down and do not do so quickly enough (they won't take your order of course, just tell you off).

I HAVE HAD ENOUGH. I want consistency, I want written instructions (nicely laid out - no spelling errors and preferably a simple and clean typeface. I really hate that froofy old fashioned over the top, quite twee, pretending to be 18th century stuff), and I want a very large latte - with 2 sugars - yes, I know, white death but hey, if you gotta go, you gotta go. Here endeth the rant.

Do you think I should give up coffee ?

watch out - choccie avalanche ahead

Ah yes, Easter. Hot cross buns and chocolate, the resurrection and chocolate. The end of Lent and chocolate. Not that I'm obsessed at all - mmm Lindt - it is just an integral part of the whole chocolate - sorry, Easter - thing.

This year the little fella will participate in his first Easter egg hunt down at my parent's place in the country. As the youngest of the Grandchildren, he will be vying for chocolate with his big cousins. Mind you, he is pretty quick on his little tippy toes by now so may find that an advantage.

He has also sensibly employed an Easter egg search consultant - me - who will be spying out easter egg opportunities, defining the most profitable easter egg segments and formulating the best go to market/easter egg strategy.

We'll let you know how we do. And if it doesn't work out, I have a stash of Plan B eggs in the kitchen cupboard - I always like to have a plan B.

Have a good Easter everyone. May your chocolate overfloweth....

mummified - about to be choccie-fied

Just like a kiddie only better

OK - frankly, I think some of the suggestions for "just like a kiddie only better" rights were just as good as the original post. Although I am loathe to play favourites (a cardinal rule for all mummies), I will break it just this once (rules were made to be broken and cliches are really useful).
Nanuk and Fuff both win first prize for their cheeky and tasty suggestions.

Wanted - the same deal he gets

OK, here is a list of stuff that little kiddies get that should be provided to all adults by request.

1) lots of cuddles from kind people who love us - on tap, 24/7
2) a drink of our favourite beverage wherever and whenever we want it. (Kiddies only get milk, juice or water but adults can demand, say, a mojito or vodkatini with decent olives at a moment's notice)
3) A special bedtime song at the end of the day that relaxes us, makes us forget our cares and makes us drowsy (They seriously have one of these at 19.30 on Nickelodean Junior on cable and little tacker loves it)
4) A number of key people who adore us and would do anything for us, including defend us should the need arise - I pity the kiddie who lays a finger on my child - by the time I have finished with him, he will have nightmares until well into his teens
5) Free accommodation, all clothes, beanies, boots and slippers provided
6) Someone to carry us about when our little legs get tired
7) Someone who loves us enough to wake up at ungodly hours when we are upset and need comforting.

Any other suggestions ?

Let the chocolate wars begin

This week is the start of the local creche (childcare) fundraising season. It is carefully timed so as not to clash with the local school fundraising season. Each parent is given a box of chocolates and told to start selling. There are 48 to a box.

Mummy took this in her stride and did some of the most shameless pressure selling every seen anywhere in the history of the world and almost certainly the universe. None of this - leave it in the lunchroom at work and hope folk will buy eventually - oh no.

I don't expect the mountain to come to Mohammad. No, Mohammad must go to the mountain.

Most folks were only too happy to buy a chocolate or two. But there were some fence sitters. Feckless, indecisive, chocolate-neutral, wishy washy, fence sitters.

I did my best pitiful look (and after major sleep deprivation this week, it was a truly pathetic sight) and said - "think of the kiddies". The whole box was gone in under an hour.

Hubby has now got wind of this and being a competitive bear (just like his wife) reckons he can sell a box or two at his work. The gauntlet has been tossed down. Who will win the choccie wars ? (Hint - back a woman every time on this one - if we can't sell it, we will probably just scoff it down ourselves)

mummified - quite satisfied (and frankly - getting a bit on the smug side on this one)

And our word for today is guk

You might imagine that "guk" connotes something icky, a little yukky, on the irksome side. But no, a guk is a duck. And Baa, is bye. Mumumumumum - well, that stands for mummified. And dadadada - is not an art movement. The little bloke is starting to talk. Most of it is babble although I always make sure I look suitably impressed and tell him what a clever little bloke he is whenever he does it.

And on that note, I can hear the little fella surfacing after his midday nap. Better go

The tiny terror tyke

This afternoon's stream of consciousness is the answer to: what happens after the beloved kiddy learns to walk and breaks into a gallop ?

1) No dog anywhere is safe. Having not yet understood about being gentle, doggies get slapped, biffed, their ears get pulled and several attempts to remove their tails are unsucessful, although not from lack of trying. The doggies remain stoic throughout - bless them.

2) The storm water drain (it has a proper name which my hubby uses but I can never remember it). You know, the thingummy, jiggy, outside where the washing machine water goes after the washing machine is finished with it.

Anyway, that thingy wotsit, takes on an irresistible appeal for the little fella no matter how often I try to discourage him. Small fella climbs into it like a flash, locates dog poo, smears it on hands and face. Then a couple of energetic stomps and he has broken through the grate at the bottom and is semi stuck, his slippers awash with detergent, his cords (trousers) sodden and squealing like a stuck pig.

Mummy whisks small boy out, utterly several choice, un-mummy-like words, takes deep breath and hoicks him off to the bathroom. One warm bath, soothing words, some cuddles, a fresh outfit, some dirty clothes in wash and bottle of milk later and things calm down.

3) He can race into the playroom where the computer is and turn it off faster than you can say jack - rab.....