Because even though you're five and should know better, in fact probably because you're five and do know better, you still call nostrils "snotrills" and I think you might be onto something.
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Love. Show all posts
Reasons I love you - #1
Because even though you're five and should know better, in fact probably because you're five and do know better, you still call nostrils "snotrills" and I think you might be onto something.
My Poor Mum
She's having a really rough time of it lately and nothing we do seems to lift her mood.
It started with a handbag that my brother was buying for his girlfriend. When it was delivered to my mum's office she couldn't help herself and had to have a look at it. Of course she didn't realise that she had a dot of ink on her thumb which very quickly transferred itself onto the stupid bag which very quickly sucked it up like a sponge. Quick side note, Radley handbags made from incredibly soft leather probably aren't the wisest choice for a bag, not if you plan on using it anyway. That little flumox cost her £75!
Then she received a letter from the very lovely people at Disability Living Allowance who are clearly trying to get some money together for the Christmas party this year. Basically my grandfather died two and a half years ago in the early hours of the morning on 22 May. From what we can gather from the letter because he had the absolute cheek to die before midnight on the 22nd, DLA would like their money back for the period 9th May to 22nd May because he wasn't alive for all of it!!! Well needless to say that didn't put her in good mood either.
Neither did the fact that because she was absolutely seething in work over it a woman managed to confuddle her and walk off £157 better off by managing to get away without paying for her electric bill and a postal order. Alright, that one was my mum's fault because she wasn't concentrating but keep in mind that this woman comes into my mum's post office at least twice a week and chats away asking after Chloe and my mum's family and when you consider that her actual change should have been nothing but a handful of coins instead of the handful of notes she ran off, it really makes you wonder what is it about this time of year that brings out the worst in some people!! That's another £157 that will have to come out of her pocket if she doesn't set eyes on the woman again this side of Christmas.
My mum has always had a hard time at Christmas. She gets so wrapped up in the money side of things, somehow convincing herself that the more money she spends the better Christmas will be when in actual fact it always turns out to be the complete opposite, at least for her.
When it comes right down to it, although shops and supermarkets and toy manufacturers would love you to think otherwise, Christmas and money don't really have anything to do with each other.
I'm trying to get across to my mum that Christmas dinner won't be any more special if she buys the huge turkey and cured ham instead of the roasting chicken and a couple of gammon slices at an eighth the price or that Chloe's going to any more over the moon with the £200 go kart instead of the £40 one. Alright, the child said she wanted a Ben 10 go kart because she saw it on tv but I can tell you know she won't give a toss if she gets the plain black one with the 79p sheet of Ben 10 stickers slapped on it and better than that, her day will be the bestest in the whole wide world ever if we let her put the stickers on herself.
Christmas shouldn't be about money, but my mum has a hard time getting past that because when my brother and I were kids we didn't have any money and my mum usually borrowed to make sure there was something under the tree. Ever since then she's never really been able to overcome what can only be described as her hatred of all things Christmas. She's already trying to put a brave face on at a time of the year she can't stand and the slightest little thing gone wrong can send her into the depths of despair.
It's a real shame that something like money has ruined almost the last 30 Christmases for my mum. If I could just get her round to realising what Christmas is really all about.
Now I know that everyone has different opinions on what Christmas is really about, but for me Christmas is that its that special time of year when everyone (including your boss) agrees that you should have a few days off work and be at home. With family. With friends. With loved ones.
Whether you spend it at home curled up under a blanket by the fire, getting fat and merry, or driving clear across the country to be with ones you love. What it all boils down to is having a few days to just be together and no amount of pears covered in gold leaf and used as place settings on your table is enhance Christmas any more than it already is, just by having the people you care most about near to you.
It started with a handbag that my brother was buying for his girlfriend. When it was delivered to my mum's office she couldn't help herself and had to have a look at it. Of course she didn't realise that she had a dot of ink on her thumb which very quickly transferred itself onto the stupid bag which very quickly sucked it up like a sponge. Quick side note, Radley handbags made from incredibly soft leather probably aren't the wisest choice for a bag, not if you plan on using it anyway. That little flumox cost her £75!
Then she received a letter from the very lovely people at Disability Living Allowance who are clearly trying to get some money together for the Christmas party this year. Basically my grandfather died two and a half years ago in the early hours of the morning on 22 May. From what we can gather from the letter because he had the absolute cheek to die before midnight on the 22nd, DLA would like their money back for the period 9th May to 22nd May because he wasn't alive for all of it!!! Well needless to say that didn't put her in good mood either.
Neither did the fact that because she was absolutely seething in work over it a woman managed to confuddle her and walk off £157 better off by managing to get away without paying for her electric bill and a postal order. Alright, that one was my mum's fault because she wasn't concentrating but keep in mind that this woman comes into my mum's post office at least twice a week and chats away asking after Chloe and my mum's family and when you consider that her actual change should have been nothing but a handful of coins instead of the handful of notes she ran off, it really makes you wonder what is it about this time of year that brings out the worst in some people!! That's another £157 that will have to come out of her pocket if she doesn't set eyes on the woman again this side of Christmas.
My mum has always had a hard time at Christmas. She gets so wrapped up in the money side of things, somehow convincing herself that the more money she spends the better Christmas will be when in actual fact it always turns out to be the complete opposite, at least for her.
When it comes right down to it, although shops and supermarkets and toy manufacturers would love you to think otherwise, Christmas and money don't really have anything to do with each other.
I'm trying to get across to my mum that Christmas dinner won't be any more special if she buys the huge turkey and cured ham instead of the roasting chicken and a couple of gammon slices at an eighth the price or that Chloe's going to any more over the moon with the £200 go kart instead of the £40 one. Alright, the child said she wanted a Ben 10 go kart because she saw it on tv but I can tell you know she won't give a toss if she gets the plain black one with the 79p sheet of Ben 10 stickers slapped on it and better than that, her day will be the bestest in the whole wide world ever if we let her put the stickers on herself.
Christmas shouldn't be about money, but my mum has a hard time getting past that because when my brother and I were kids we didn't have any money and my mum usually borrowed to make sure there was something under the tree. Ever since then she's never really been able to overcome what can only be described as her hatred of all things Christmas. She's already trying to put a brave face on at a time of the year she can't stand and the slightest little thing gone wrong can send her into the depths of despair.
It's a real shame that something like money has ruined almost the last 30 Christmases for my mum. If I could just get her round to realising what Christmas is really all about.
Now I know that everyone has different opinions on what Christmas is really about, but for me Christmas is that its that special time of year when everyone (including your boss) agrees that you should have a few days off work and be at home. With family. With friends. With loved ones.
Whether you spend it at home curled up under a blanket by the fire, getting fat and merry, or driving clear across the country to be with ones you love. What it all boils down to is having a few days to just be together and no amount of pears covered in gold leaf and used as place settings on your table is enhance Christmas any more than it already is, just by having the people you care most about near to you.
Happy Anniversary
Today is our Anniversary!
We've been married seven years today.
And I had to be reminded, just as I've had to be reminded about all our past anniversaries.
I'm sorry husband and Happy Anniversary.
You're happy again and smiling, which is great to see. You're having a much better time of it the last week or so which makes me much happier too.
It's not that anything has changed or anything has eased off, you're just learning to deal with it and learning to understand that in the great scheme of things anything that happens outside of these four walls falls way down near the bottom of the list of important things.
That's not to say that you don't want or need your job and career to be important to you, its just that if this one doesn't respect you for everything you are then maybe it isn't the one to pour your heart and soul into.
You're a great husband and a great dad. You give us everything we need and much more besides and for that we are grateful and love you and for that you should feel proud and because of that you should know that as a man you stand head and shoulders above anyone who feels the need to run you down or try to make you feel small.
You are a great husband and a great dad, but more importantly you are a great man.
Happy anniversary husband. We all love you, but then you knew that already.
We've been married seven years today.
And I had to be reminded, just as I've had to be reminded about all our past anniversaries.
I'm sorry husband and Happy Anniversary.
You're happy again and smiling, which is great to see. You're having a much better time of it the last week or so which makes me much happier too.
It's not that anything has changed or anything has eased off, you're just learning to deal with it and learning to understand that in the great scheme of things anything that happens outside of these four walls falls way down near the bottom of the list of important things.
That's not to say that you don't want or need your job and career to be important to you, its just that if this one doesn't respect you for everything you are then maybe it isn't the one to pour your heart and soul into.
You're a great husband and a great dad. You give us everything we need and much more besides and for that we are grateful and love you and for that you should feel proud and because of that you should know that as a man you stand head and shoulders above anyone who feels the need to run you down or try to make you feel small.
You are a great husband and a great dad, but more importantly you are a great man.
Happy anniversary husband. We all love you, but then you knew that already.
Mummy, I love you so much
Now just stop and let those words sit for a second.
Everyone and I mean everyone with kids knows exactly what those words are capable of doing. Mummy, I love you, Daddy, I love you it really doesn't matter they have the same effect.
They cause havoc in your heart. You would cry tears of pure joy in public if only you could stop grinning from ear to ear for a second.
You scoop your child up and squeeze them as tightly as their little bodies can bear while whispering that you love them too into their ear.
Every time your child utters those little words, your heart will melt.
But the first time, the first time is magical.
You'll phone people the first time they say it. The husband at work, the granny, the aunts, uncles and pizza delivery guy will all get a call.
Just to be clear, I don't write this because its cute and precious. I write it as a warning to all those who have not yet experienced the Mummy I love you so much phase or to those in the early stages of the phase.
Take all of those "I love you's" and store them away for the days when your child's love for you might not be just so exclusive.
Because one day and it will happen one day your loving child may very well develop a love for something else altogether.
For mine, its bollards.
Yep, you heard me right, Bollards!
No, you sir, weirdo in the back, you did not hear me right.
B.O.L.L.A.R.D.S.
These things and I'm not kidding, when we pass them in the street she will tell each and every one of them that she loves it and occasionally.....she'll throw a hug in for good measure.
So take those exclusive I love you's and wrap them carefully around your heart because one day in the not too distant future you may be standing in the street trying to drag your kid off the side of a phone ox or something.
This has been a public service announcement and you're very welcome.
Everyone and I mean everyone with kids knows exactly what those words are capable of doing. Mummy, I love you, Daddy, I love you it really doesn't matter they have the same effect.
They cause havoc in your heart. You would cry tears of pure joy in public if only you could stop grinning from ear to ear for a second.
You scoop your child up and squeeze them as tightly as their little bodies can bear while whispering that you love them too into their ear.
Every time your child utters those little words, your heart will melt.
But the first time, the first time is magical.
You'll phone people the first time they say it. The husband at work, the granny, the aunts, uncles and pizza delivery guy will all get a call.
Just to be clear, I don't write this because its cute and precious. I write it as a warning to all those who have not yet experienced the Mummy I love you so much phase or to those in the early stages of the phase.
Take all of those "I love you's" and store them away for the days when your child's love for you might not be just so exclusive.
Because one day and it will happen one day your loving child may very well develop a love for something else altogether.
For mine, its bollards.
Yep, you heard me right, Bollards!
No, you sir, weirdo in the back, you did not hear me right.
B.O.L.L.A.R.D.S.
These things and I'm not kidding, when we pass them in the street she will tell each and every one of them that she loves it and occasionally.....she'll throw a hug in for good measure.
So take those exclusive I love you's and wrap them carefully around your heart because one day in the not too distant future you may be standing in the street trying to drag your kid off the side of a phone ox or something.
This has been a public service announcement and you're very welcome.
Because sometimes they need a little reminder
So its been a little monotonous around here for the past couple of weeks.
We get up, the hubs goes to work, I clean the house (somebody sneaks in every night and dirties all my dishes, I swear) and play with Toots or go out on a few errands, the hubs comes home, we eat, you get the idea.
Same ol, same ol day in day out.
Which is kind of fine for me and Toots because it provides a bit of structure to the day and I think a (almost) 4 year old still needs a fair bit of structure.
But for the poor husband ... not so much.
I want more for him. I want him to feel loved and appreciated. I want him to know that I still love him for all the reasons I loved him and married him fahumina years ago.
Now I know there are many ways to show him how much he means to me. There are plenty on the "kiss your husband everyday" bandwagon which is lovely, but I do that every single day, always have.
There are also plenty of posts encouraging us to sleep with our poor neglected husbands every night for a whole week (seriously, just the one). Again, a great idea, but my husband would probably just think I'd got into the cosmo again and he just happened to be lucky enough to be in the right place at the right time.
I tell him I love him all the time. I tell him every morning and every night. The thing is I also brush my teeth and moisturise every morning and every night so there's a fair wee chance he has it in his head that it's just part of my routine.
I could pay him more attention, cook him beautiful meals, basically I could hint to the fact that he's still very important to me, but really, come on now. If he was any good at picking up on subtle hints I wouldn't count a waffle iron and model Dodge Viper among my collection of birthday presents, would I?
Husband I love you dearly, but it really isn't the same thing. Nor was it a "bit of fun". It sits there, tucked in under bed mocking me. It goes, "na na na na naaaa" every bloody time I reach under there to retrieve a misplaced sock or the super duper bouncy ball you kindly gave the daughter.
The waffle iron does not mock. The waffle iron knows better. The waffle iron lives in fear of the day I may try to use its royal wafflyness. The waffle iron knows I could take it in a fight.
Anyway, yes, the poor neglected husband.
You need to tell them, sit them down, turn off the TV (you might want to switch off the computer, tweeting about the whole thing might take something away from moment) and tell them.
I did and he's been strutting around here like cock of the walk for the last few days. It really is an amazing transformation.
I asked him first, if he knew why I loved him and if he knew, I mean really knew, that I still love him and how much I appreciate him.
I told him how much he means to me. I told him that I love how confident he is, that he's always in complete control of every situation. He never second guesses himself, once he makes a decision (and let me tell you it only takes him milliseconds) he sticks with it and makes it work.
I love the way he carries himself, everyone assumes he's the boss (whereas his boss is a weedy little streak of a man with girlish hands, ahem).
I love that he is such a perfectionist. He always gets the job done and then some and it's perfect. I love that I asked him for a utensil rack which comfortably holds up two cast iron frying pans.
I spent a good hour telling him everything I love about him and I could have went on a lot longer.
Then you can kiss him or....whatever.
And you can tell him why you want to ... whatever... while you're at it (just don't mention if you did get into the cosmo again).
And it doesn't hurt to take a few seconds to cop a feel, every time he happens to pass by.
Because have I mentioned, he's walking around here like he's the King.
And he is.
My Man
Sometimes it seems you were born by design, for you are everything I could hope for in a friend. My friend, my best friend for over 12 years now, my husband for the better part of 7.
Sometimes I feel I've know you all my life, the years before are little more than a blur.
I love everything about you.
I love that you love me.
I love that you gave me my daughter, a child more precious and beautiful than we could ever have imagined.
I love that together we laugh at the world, regardless of what it has thrown at us over the years and the world has thrown a lot.
I love that you can deal with my head and some of the very dark thoughts in there.
I love that I no longer have a "backup plan". You always knew about this and you helped me see that not all men are alike. You helped me to trust and rely on someone other than myself.
I love that you let me be weak ... and tell nobody of this.
I love your eyes, as dark as night, and that you gave them to our daughter, except for their heart. The heart is mine and the brightest blue.
I love that when you concentrate on something you stick your tongue out of the corner of your mouth and bite it. Toots does the same.
I love that even when I'm completely skanked out you still tell me I'm beautiful.
I love that you never automatically take my side in an argument just because I'm your wife. If I want to pick a fight I should be able to hold my own.
I love that you still roll over in the morning and say "Morning Wife", like its all still new.
I love your arms, for obvious reasons.
I love that you say you look like a hippy if your hair is more than an inch long and that you weren't vain enough to run for the Grecian when the ratio finally shifted to more salt than pepper.
I love that when I'm getting ready for bed at night you still say "ooh boobs" like a schoolboy.
You're by no means perfect, but I love that too. I can't stand perfection and you know this. You know about the secret pleasure I get from breaking the spine on a new book.
I love that we can laugh at each other's mistakes and not take it personally, its just a bit of fun and that's how we are.
I love that you still don't know how to work the media player and I do because you couldn't take it to the bathroom with you.
I love that even in spite of this you still refuse to read the instruction manual.
You make me laugh every single day.
You are very, very important to me.
People say you can choose your friends but you can't choose your family. They are wrong. I chose both.
I love that you love me...
My husband, my love, my strength, my backbone and my friend. I will love you always.
In honour of all the husbands who stand by us and put up with us Kristen of We are that Family is hosting a little get together. If you'd like to take part or just fancy reading more like this, head over to Kristen's S.W.A.K Valentine Carnival
Can you feel the Love tonight?
Let’s just say that yesterday was not a fabulous day,
I woke early with a blocked nose and a sore back, got soaked to the skin on the way to work carrying the biggest joke of a brolly ever sold to an unsuspecting public, had a rough day in work and then got soaked again on the way home.
Arriving home in a less than pleasant mood I was greeted by the sight of my neighbour’s patio umbrella which had blown over the fence and landed on top of my car. Apparently, even with severe weather warnings he hadn’t felt it necessary to fold the thing up and put it away.
By this point, too tired to care, I folded the umbrella, ran my hand over the myriad of scratches on the back of my car and went inside for a cuppa.
On settling myself on the sofa and switching on the TV I was then faced with the sight of my neighbour, caught on CCTV, attempting to sneak along my driveway to retrieve the offending umbrella without even having the common decency to knock my door and apologise.
Of course, I did the same thing every calm, rational, human being in my position would do. I confronted him, pitched a fit and took myself off to bed in a huff.
I woke this morning in no better a mood to be repeatedly told by Toots to “Smile Mommy”. Himself wouldn’t even look at me for fear of turning to stone.
I arrived at work, painfully early and decided to grab a Starbucks (I deserved it) and catch up on some reading.
My first port of call, as usual, was with Domestic Spaz and would you just look what this beautiful woman left for me;
I woke early with a blocked nose and a sore back, got soaked to the skin on the way to work carrying the biggest joke of a brolly ever sold to an unsuspecting public, had a rough day in work and then got soaked again on the way home.
Arriving home in a less than pleasant mood I was greeted by the sight of my neighbour’s patio umbrella which had blown over the fence and landed on top of my car. Apparently, even with severe weather warnings he hadn’t felt it necessary to fold the thing up and put it away.
By this point, too tired to care, I folded the umbrella, ran my hand over the myriad of scratches on the back of my car and went inside for a cuppa.
On settling myself on the sofa and switching on the TV I was then faced with the sight of my neighbour, caught on CCTV, attempting to sneak along my driveway to retrieve the offending umbrella without even having the common decency to knock my door and apologise.
Of course, I did the same thing every calm, rational, human being in my position would do. I confronted him, pitched a fit and took myself off to bed in a huff.
I woke this morning in no better a mood to be repeatedly told by Toots to “Smile Mommy”. Himself wouldn’t even look at me for fear of turning to stone.
I arrived at work, painfully early and decided to grab a Starbucks (I deserved it) and catch up on some reading.
My first port of call, as usual, was with Domestic Spaz and would you just look what this beautiful woman left for me;
The Learned One had also apparently suffered a bit of a stinking day and been given the gift of Love by Memoirs of a Mommy.
The rules of sharing the Love are very simple.
MemoirsofaMommy says the rules of this award are: SHARE THE LOVE!!! Share this award with all those blogs out there that you love. All the people who make you smile. All those that make you laugh. All those that make your day. All those that leave uplifting comments on your blog. **All I ask, is that you include a link to this post with the award and ask your recipient to do the same**
Obviously I will oblige.
I would like to share my love with;
Frugal Upstate. The first blog I read and the one which motivated me to stop talking to myself so often.
Welcome to my World Janmary. She’s a Northern Ireland woman like myself except her blog does it far more justice than mine ever could. Also for teaching me the benefits of evasive tactics for, so help me if I get addicted to digiscrapping as well, Himself will have to start making appointments.
Real Live Living. Annie is lovely; she always takes the time out of her busy days and pays a visit to my tiny ickle corner of the blogosphere. She’s funny, intelligent and she has also experienced a “bad day”
And last but by no means least Pat Veratto’s Frugal Living Blog. I am already implementing a lot of her fantastic and sensible methods of saving money around the house and also for her recent post Don’t Worry Be Happy. Something which we should all take the time to read and to take heed of, even the minted and unfrugal among us.
So there you have it, the Love will go on and I’m in a much better mood. Thanks Spaz I really needed some Love.
And remember, “Smile Mommy” because somebody somewhere loves you and you probably don’t even know they exist…
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