Bravery. Ugly babies.

I was very brave today.  On Friday evening I saw an advert for a job that I could do, but being Friday evening I had to wait until this morning (Monday) before I could call up about it.  I managed to put it to the back of my mind until last night when I went to bed, at which point I started having a major stress about it.  After all, if I couldn't ring up now, I never will in the future.  Anyway, after an awful night's kip (or lack of) I did indeed call them up.  Unfortunately, the job had already gone to someone else, BUT - I was not told to bugger off completely, which is what I was expecting, I was instead asked to send in my details and my hours of availability as they are sometimes looking for other staff.  Of course, they've probably said this to everyone who calls, but they could easily have not said it to me on account of my english accent and generally not being french.  So even though I still have no job at the end of the day, I am quite proud of myself for actually making the call.  And no, I'm not going to tell you what the job is; if I ever get the job, I'll tell you then, it'll give you a giggle and no doubt about it.

Had a fair few babies in the gites this year.  The first one was very cute and sweet and smiley and I thought 'aah'.  The second one was also very cute and sweet and smiley and again I thought 'aah'.  Then on Saturday, the third one turned up, unfortunately he is also very cute and sweet and smiley and at first I thought 'aah'.  But then I thought 'Oh No!  How can this be?'  I do not generally think of babies in this manner (except of course for my friends and relatives babies who are absolutely gorgeous without exception) and then I started to panic.  What if I'm going all broody again and in want of another small person for myself.  Very dangerous territory quite frankly.  Fortunately, help was at hand in the form of the fourth baby who turned up yesterday and was quite spectacularly ugly.  You know, the kind only his parents could love.  Good job I've had lots of practise lately with the 'oohing' and 'aahing' and 'isn't he lovely's'.  Clearly then, it was just a spate of cute babies and I'm absolutely fine, not broody at all, nothing wrong with me.  Phew.  Talking of 'phew' the weather is seriously 'scorchio' here at the mo.  Very nice, but a little challenging for working in, although at least we're working. 

Hubby's got a brand new toy!

Adrian has got himself a new ride:

And here's an unflattering picture of me on it:

And as there's one of me, there has to be one of him too - his first ride on it, in our garden!  How many wives would let their husbands do that I ask you?!

Now that the summer is well and truly here, I seem to have transformed into 'high-maintenance woman'.  Not that this has any effect on my hubby, purely myself, but it's most inconvenient.  However, when the hot weather arrived and neccessitated the wearing of garments that do not cover the entire body, I realised that drastic action must be taken.  So no longer can I survive on a quick shower, get dressed, shout at kids, send them off to school.  It's long shower, involving copious amounts of body scrub, pumice feet, application of P20 to upper body, application of fake tan to lower body, aplication of 'heel repair cream' (what wonderful stuff that is, although I dread to think what hideous chemicals it contains.  But then again, same could probably be said for the fake tan).  And not to mention the regular shaving and waxing that I must now endure.  And application of all-over moisturiser in the evenings.  Oh yes, and the upkeep of the painted toenails.  I'm in need of a lie-down just typing it all.  No wonder I never have any time to get anything done in the summer.

Sadness

This evening I feel blue.  Said goodbye to a friend this morning who has moved away.  Was perhaps not the best of goodbyes really as we were on our way out.  I would have stayed if it were a general going out trip, but it was a planned day trip and we had already been delayed (more on that later) and had to suffer the tears of the girls because of this.  We went to the shopping 'mall' (I think I may have had a whinge about the french way of doing a shopping mall somewhere on here before) at Nantes which they always say they love going to, but Adrian and I always come away from it thinking 'next time we go without the girls'.  Mostly they seem to be bored to me, but I think they like spending their pocket money in Claire's Accessories and going on the expensive old-fashioned merry-go-round.  Anyway, got a few more bargains in the sales for birthday pressies and even found a pair of trousers to fit me.  Tried on about 10 swimming costumes in the sports shop, had to take the girls into the changing room with me, only one of them vaguely fitted (of the costumes, not the girls), to which Isabella said 'Mummy, you really shouldn't wear horizontal stripes', so I left empty handed.

Anyway, back to the matter in hand, my current depression.  I've never really had a problem saying goodbye to people if I've been the one leaving, but if I'm the one left behind, I find it very difficult.  Although to put it into proportion, I'm not the one giving up lots of good friends and starting a new life somewhere new with my kids and what-have-you, but am feeling very selfish at the mo. To top it all, I made a really crass comment as she was leaving, stupid thing to say, can't believe I said it.  Why can't I think of classic stuff like 'so long and thanks for all the fish' or 'I'll always remember you - as someone I once met'.  Actually, that should be the latest 'quiz of the week'.  Where did those classic lines come from?  Answers on a postcard etc etc, usual rules and prizes apply (see first quiz of the week).  Here's a clue or two - First one, classic book and cult tv series.  Second one, tv sitcom.

Anyway, I believe that when she's in need of sleep, she does indeed read this blog from time to time, so here is my goodbye to you, oh shit, I'm crying now as I type, I wish you all the best, thanks for being my (our) friend and all the best for the future for all of you.  I'm having a glass of wine and I toast you.  Which reminds me, I was going to give you some of my special throat-warming blackcurrant liqueur to remember (or forget) me with.  Next time.  Sorry. 

My sweet girls

This evening the girls said to me 'put your feet up mummy, we'll get your dinner for you'.  So I let them.  Off they went into the kitchen, lots of crashing about duly ensued, and then, one broken glass later, they proudly presented me with - a grated carrot and lemon juice sandwich.  Which they watched me eat and, of course, enjoy.  Fortunately, they had also thoughtfully provided me with a very large glass of lemonade to go with it.  Followed by a cereal bar.  They were so sweet though and so proud of themselves, it makes my heart melt, even if my tastebuds weren't entirely in agreement.