How to hit 40

As 40 knocks louder and louder on my door and my 30's begin to fade into the distant sunset I've realised that a midlife crisis is nothing to be sneezed at.

Guzuntite.

If you are of wrinkled years and are feeling as angsty as I have been lately about the passing of time, then you've come to the right place. Here are my offerings, my tips on 'How to hit 40' - some learned the hard way and some not learned yet at all.

1 year to go...

Start wearing shades for every photo. You will look 10 years younger.

Stop drinking. Your skin will glow again, your eyes will sparkle. You will look 10 years younger.

Don't stop drinking. You will need alcohol to dull the pain.

Do not leave your husband \ get a tattoo \ run away to a foreign country. You will still be 40, but with no husband, a tattoo and no friends.

Buy an expensive foundation.

Stop saying to nieces, nephews and children's friends 'Gosh you've grown. You're getting so old now!' You are the one getting old. And this kind of talk proves it.

Get ready to be excited about your tomato seeds sprouting.

Stop taking drugs. It doesn't make you cool, it just makes you look slightly deranged, in a Goldie Hawn kind of way.

Don't do botox. It doesn't make you younger, it just makes you look slightly deranged, in a Goldie Hawn kind of way.

You will become invisible to anyone between the ages of 8 and 28. Deal with it.

Buy a good pair of tweezers. Check chin regularly.

Realise that youth is wasted on the young.

Try not to be old and bitter about the fact that youth is wasted on the young.

Start hanging out with people older than you. You will suddenly think you look great.

Stop saying phrases like 'hanging out'.

Move all mirrors that are beside a natural light source.

Stop drinking. The hangovers are intolerable and unending.

Don't stop drinking. The years of hedonistic fun are swiftly running out.


Now what have I missed? I still have 63 days to go...

Silent Sunday

Worst day EVER

'Baxter put your jumper on before you go outside'

'It's not cold. I don't want to'

'Put it on.'

'I don't want to'

'Put it on or you're not going outside'

'I DON'T WANT TO! Urgh! This is the worst day EVER!'

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'Mum! Can I take the ladder out of the shed?'

'No Marley. It needs to stay there'

'But I need the shed for my den...'

'I said no Marley'.

'I hate you! This is the worst day EVER!'

Later.....

'Can I play the playstation?'

'No Marley, the others are watching telly'

'It's so not fair! I'm never allowed to play Playstation. This is the worst day EVER!'

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'No Baxter you can't take the marbles to Playschool'

'But Mummy....'

'I said no Baxter'

'Urgh! This is the worst day EVER!'

Later....

'So how was playschool today Baxter'

'It was ok. What's for my snack?'

'Well I bought you a doughnut'

'Yay! A doughnut! This is the best day EVER!'



And you thought parenting was a thankless task.

Cyberjammies - you NEED these in your life. (Review)

Last week a beautiful box was delivered to my doorstep with a promised pair of Cyberjammies pajamas for me to try out.

Despite selling for the past 10 years in John Lewis, House of Fraser, Fenwick Group, and online at Figleaves and Amazon I had actually never heard of Cyberjammies so I had no set expectations.

They were boxed up beautifully and on opening were almost too pretty to pull out. 

The 'Strawberry Fields' range that I was sent are made of the softest cotton - sooo comfortable. They felt like putting on that favourite old t-shirt that you just can't bear to part with despite it having holes in the back and smelly underarms....except that instead of looking like something from Fright Night you resemble something that your other half might actually like to cuddle up to. The first night I wore them there was no cuddling however. I fell asleep at 8 o'clock when I lay down with the four year old and didn't wake up until 12 hours later - something that hasn't happened to me in, um, how long have I had kids now? Anyway, I reckon they weaved a magic spell on the whole household because 12 hours sleep without hearing the pitter patter of tiny feet just doesn't happen around here.

I've tried to take a photo that does them justice but unfortunately there was me in all of them ruining the view. To be fair though I've looked through the Cyberjammies website and even they haven't managed to capture the magic. All I can say is this: Go and get a pair of these pajamas - you owe it to yourself.

I should warn you though - my bedtime routine has been getting earlier and earlier since I received my pair. I suspect I will soon be coming home from the school collections and slipping into them then, and if that's going to happen sure there's not really much point in getting dressed at all is there? I think I may need to order a few more pairs....

Disclosure: Cyberjammies sent me a pair of pajamas for the purposes of this review. All words, opinions and 12 hour night sleeps are my own.

Dreamed a little dream

I had a dream last night. I ran off with a very handsome, slightly older, French man.

He sang 'Je ne regrette a rien' to a room full of people and then sat down beside me and proceeded to whisk me off my feet. Mon Dieu!

Naturally on waking I immediately told the husband all about it, making sure to convey that he was very handsome. VERY handsome.

Did I mention that he was handsome?

'I donated sperm' he replied without missing a beat.

'What?!' I exclaimed not sure if we were still on the dream conversation.

'Sperm!' the four year old shouted bursting into the room.

His father and I looked at each other for a moment with equal part shock and amusement.

The four year old noted the look.

'Sperm!' he exclaimed delightedly again.

'Stop that and go and get dressed' I said in my most sensible we-are-not-amused voice.

He walked out of the door singing.

'Sperm, sperm, sperm, sperm, sperm......'.

It could be an interesting day at playschool today.

Designer Kids Clothes - Sponsored Post

Did I mention I was going on holiday?

Really? Where to you ask? Oh, only Florida, but you know, I'm not one to boast....

I may have mentioned the pre-holiday shopping blitz that took place last week, that saw me spending more than I had earned with the very store I was earning with....  It reminded me of when I worked in a nightclub in the 90's. At 3am the bar staff would all be handed their brown envelopes stuffed with that weeks cash by The Management, and then we would proceed to sit on the other side of the bar and hand it all back to them. Pitiful.

Anyway I digress, the last virtual (turned actual) shopping tour was solely about me, now it's time take a look at what the kids need....

I've just been told about a simply gorgeous kids clothes site called Alex & Alexa. It's full of delights from the likes of Stella McCarthy, Ralph Lauren and Burberry - so if you like your minis super stylish it might just be the place for you. Obviously with the types of designers on offer it's not cheap, but for the purposes of this post I decided to pick out a money-is-no-object outfit for each of my three.

For the eight year old girl:

For the six year old boy:

And for the 4 year old trouble maker:

Some of the baby summer swimwear on offer would almost make me broody again. How cute is this?

 (I did say almost. It's obviously not THAT cute but still...)

*Sigh*.This online designer shopping certainly beats losing the kids in the bargain bin in Primark...


Disclosure: This is a sponsored post however all words are my own.

Not in the good books

Yesterday I managed to persuade the husband to collect our daughter from one of her many parties on his way home from work.  It was at an awkward time and in an even more awkward location but he agreed. Even though it meant missing out on his cricket practice.

Big gold star for him.

Then I mentioned that whilst he was doing it he might as well do the pick up for one of her friends too, seeing as he was there and all...

Oh, and maybe one more.

He sent me a text at 6.30 saying he was stuck in traffic with three squealing eight year old girls in the back of the car.

I tried hard not to display my glee.

An hour later, after a missed call or two (whoops), he rang to say he had broken down. One girl had been deposited home already and one brother in law was on his way to rescue the remaining strandees.

Could I just look up the insurance paperwork so he could call them for a recovery vehicle to be sent?

No problemo!

Later that evening as I put the kids to bed I could hear a long phone argument ensuing between my mildly pissed off husband and the mildly bored out of his brain insurance agent I had put him on to.

Forty minutes later, after forcing the agent who insisted we didn't have a policy with them to back down and arrange a roadside recovery, he put the phone down.

I heard a shuffle of paperwork and then a loud sigh.

Then he came to find me. 'The good news? Someone will be out in the next half hour. The bad news? I've just found our actual insurance policy and it's with a different fucking company!'

Whoops.

No gold star for me then.