Im back!

Great holiday. Beautiful weather. Lots of sleep. A book (almost) read. A few pounds heavier. Same time next year, girls?

There's no place like home though.

The Bubela's top teeth fell out and I wasn't even there. The generous tooth fairy still visited him though. He couldn't say I missed you mummy, it was more of a mithed you mummy. My Bubela is growing up.

The Nosh, unfortunately, caught a bad cold which later developed to a chest infection. Poor Hubby, I just wanted everything to run smoothly (with maybe a slight glimpse of what goes on in the world of 3am). Is it just this household that has a 3am movement world? If its not one thats stirring and calling out for the toilet, its the other moaning and crying for his souther. And this all goes on whilst the Hubby catches his Z's.

Boys - I missed you!

My fingers haven't held the needles yet, nor the hook. I've something else up my sleeve, but I'll try and finish my UFO's first.

Confessions of a Plutzing Mother

So, my suitcase is packed and I'm off. My Sister. My Mum. And I. Eilat, here we come.

I'm leaving Hubby to hold the fort for a week whilst I holiday in the sun. *Imagining lazying under the sun umbrella with my ipod plugged in my ears, a trashy novel in one hand and a Margareta in the other... ahhhh*

Seriously, its a much deserved break for my mum and the reason we are going. It'll be a week of recoupe and re-charging the batteries, a week of togetherness and reminiscing our childhood and a week of pure family love (and hopefully no arguments).

So, in my absence I've left a note of bits n bobs for Hubby. *smiling*

Well, *confessing* a few pages of what goes on behind the scenes.

OK, *don't shoot me* a War and Peace Vol II about the packed lunches, the medications, the social timetables, the homework... Did I say I was supposed to be relaxing on this holiday, Oy vey, more like plutzing.

See you next week.

Washing Day

When I was a little Clayna, only knee high, my favourite doll was my Rageddy Ann. She was life size, with a beautiful patchwork dress and red wool hair. She went everywhere with me. No one was allowed to touch her nor clean her.

One rainy day (I remember it well) my mummy wanted to wash her. After the tears and a good fight she succeeded. I cried throughout the whole cycle. We BOTH (what mother's do) stood outside in the rain. Me waiting, hands cupped, to save Rageddy Ann from when she shot out of the drain pipe, and Mummy trying to reason with me.

After the tears (from me) and the screams (from my mum) a very soggy us came in and I sat by the window of the washing machine watching Raggedy go round, and around, and around. Tears and tears and tears.

Eventually, she did come out - albeit damp and shrivelled. She wasn't the same again. Her hair was a mass of knots, but thank goodness it didn't felt! Her stuffing became all nobbly, but thank goodness it didn't escape.

So, after visiting the dry cleaners on Saturday with my sheepskin and faux fur lined coat.

And having them refuse to clean it.

And being told to do as the label says.

Wash in a large capacity washing machine on a 40 degree cycle.

Flashback. Raggedy Ann.

It wasn't raining, but yes, I sat by the window for approximately 57 minutes during a delicate wash cycle.

How did it come out - Ach you don't to know.

P.S if anyone knows where I can purchase this mirror...