A Humdrum Mum

Recently I heard of a child who was given a Worry Box. He was to write little notes, his worries, and place them into the box. I'm sure we can all work out why - we put the box away, and the we can then get a good night's sleep. On and off, I've been waking up in the night, unable to get back to sleep, and have started having what I call "Busy head". I can't get thoughts out of my head, thoughts that would not worry me much in daylight, but at 4am, they do. For a variety of reasons, I went to the doctor last week and I think amongst other things, I might be anaemic. A fasting blood test last Friday will show those results soon. I complained to the doc that I'd lost my "vim and vigour" since Easter. (There are other reasons for my possible anaemia - I am 42 and think things are 'changing' - but I'm not discussing that here!) For most of the time since Easter, it's been a mammoth effort to get anything done around the house. I...

I just phoned my best mate for a chat. I've been feeling a bit crappy the last couple of weeks and needed some advice and cheering up. I listed my symptoms; she listened, made me laugh and promise to book a doctor's appointment on Monday. She then told me her husband has tonsillitis. He's on 4 different types of antibiotics. The conversation then turned to her daughter's 6th birthday last Wednesday. Guess what she bought, she asked me. Both One Direction albums. This is after having heard my son's copy of the second album last Sunday. The same album I heard for the whole of the Easter bloody holidays. My mate said "We've been infected too by them." It was then the realisation dawned. One Direction had been the cause of both mine and her husband's maladies. We'd been Infected!

Why does it always happen to us?!

This is not a post about symbolically getting rid of all the baby paraphernalia associated with having a new baby. I haven't actually done that in the years since I realised I would not be having another baby. Never say never eh? No, this is a post about un-babyfying Elf's bedroom. It started with Mr Humdrum asking me to tidy his room. I must add that I wasn't told in a controlling You Must Do This Housewench kind of way. More of a You Two Are Off On Holiday Still And I'm At Work So Can You Both Tidy Elf's Room. I decided while Elf was playing computer games (a relatively new thing in the Humdrum Household, which serves to make me realise he is 7), I would tackle the room. It was only covered in dirty clothes that he hadn't put in the washing basket (yes he's 7 not 17) and some bits'n'bobs that were put upstairs when we had a party downstairs. Elf has an odd room, it's quite small with a cabin bed, book shelves and two chests for clothes, w...

Us Humdrums took a cheeky trip to The Big Smoke for a couple of days. Our main plan was to visit the Science Museum. And not spend too much money! We did fork out for the London Eye and it was worth it, especially the 4D experience.

I know this looks a bit weird but I've been whizzing up the leftovers of casseroles that I've made. If there's not enough for a freezer dinner, or even if there is and there's still more, this is where it goes. I find Elf avoids the veg in my casseroles but obviously loves the meat and the taste. I tend to give him a small bowl if he's having a freezer/orange shelf dinner it a pizza etc. Not that I am that fussy about whet he has, but this way it's the best of both worlds. This is leftover lamb casserole with red currant sauce, sweet potato and butternut squash. Come to think about it, it's why I make my own soups! Duh.

Mr Hundrum and I had words this weekend. About me feeling crap all last week and having to cope, before I stamped my feet in Sunday and spent the afternoon in bed. I asked him: "Are you not interested in me being ill, not sympathetic or do you think I'm putting it on?" He replied "I'm not a very thoughtful person." Now this isn't entirely true. Who bought me a new Touche Éclat when mine was running out? But I can see what he means. It's easier not to be thoughtful when that would mean taking control of the Boy and the household. Let's just pretend she's alright really. Or that she will be better in the morning. So instead of mumming-up and making myself even more ill, I shall spell it out for Mr Humdrum. I. A. M. I. L. L. I. N. E. E. D. T. O. G. O. T. O. B. E. D.