Needing the loan of your finger.

Ok, So maybe Babble aint your thang. But here is an article I wrote today for it. If you can click - fab. I'm hoping JKelsoFarrell, that it still sounds like me. I am aiming not to do posts on vacuous celebs, but instead more kind of fun, me type posts - like this - about stuff I would even write about here. So go have a look if could. Feel free to share and tweet and all that stuff that confuses a technophobe like me.

Thanks xx

How was your weekend???

Every Monday I troop into work and my lovely colleagues ask 'How was your weekend?' They are all young, mostly single and they gad about London sinking drinks and taking in obscure productions in tiny sweaty theatres.

In short, they have fun. Not that I add, the theatre really floats my boat. Most of the time I'm just willing the fecking play to end so I can neck my G&T in the interval. But I digress. Point is, they get up late, they mosey around markets, they mooch. OH TO MOOCH.

Me, well not so much mooching. So as they ask 'how was it for you?' I want to scream 'Murder. It was hell. From the moment my Diva, I mean daughter, opened her peepers until the blissful second after 3 stories and endless Incey Wincey songs, she fell asleep - it was hideous.' Instead I smile and say 'great, thanks' and then think about taking up smoking again.

Take yesterday for example. Day 1 at Babble. So I get up, laptop out, desperate to come up with a story and more importantly, be able to actually upload the thing. 3 hours later - still in my PJs - job done. Husband tetchy as 'I didn't think it would take you this long...' and kids bouncing off the walls. Diva keeps asking me to huggle her and trying to tap tappety tap on my laptop and I am freaking out in case I lose all my efforts. Eventually, I upload. Relief. I check Babble. My Mossy story is there in all it's sycophantic glory - minus the photos. Yep, Photos did NOT upload. 3 hours and only a bunch of words, no slideshow and no photos at all. I want to scream.

Here it is incase you are interested - lots of pics of fab Kate looking fab. How does she do it? BECAUSE SHE HAS A NANNY - THAT'S WHY!!!!

So we go out - to the park, filled with loads of other stressed slightly on the edge parents, and naturally within 5 minutes the Diva is crying. Then Sproglet. So we pop to Waitrose and that is worse. They want this and that and they moan and Diva is scootering through people like Evel Knievel, and folk are tutting and I am just walking towards the gin - head down, ignoring all stares, because if I don't get my hands on a bottle I am going to run away with the circus (or at least the cheap funfair that has landed in our town). Gin - come to Mama....

And we go home and no Diva won't sleep, but Husband does - for 2 hours - while I entertain the aliens that I live with. It's funny because my colleague at work laments living with other people and wishes she could just escape and live on her own. Me too babe! Me too!!! I make dinner and they refuse to eat it, bless them. And then it's bath time and that is just a riot of fun. How we laugh. Except we don't, as Sproglette is sure she can see poo in the bath - blames Sproglet, he cries and then she cries and it is all one joyous cry fest. I crack open the gin and finally they are put to bed.

Rise and shine at 6am!!! Sproglette is up and at 'em! By 8am I am exhausted. Most Sundays (if Husband isn't working) we play 'who is the most tired' competition. We spend days bickering over who did what and wiped which bum and organised XYZ, all the while trying to fit in a mere 5 minutes to ourselves. It is not natural to have NO personal space for an entire day... People up in your grill every second....

Today I am frantically trying to do another BETTER Babble post - desperate to impress, desperate to not look like the blonde Irish idiot who can't get to grips with technology.  So I am typing and bribing kids with sweets and just wishing they could play on the trampoline for the next 6 hours ... and then Sproglette howls and it turns out she discovered a way into the bathroom cupboard and has decorated her legs with my son's verruca pen - therefore slightly burning her skin... Frantically I'm washing her legs and slathering on the sudocream and trying to remain calm. CALM.....

Then a friend calls and that is lovely - even if we barely get to say two words to one another as we are constantly interrupted for tissues and drinks and biscuits and kids needing this and that... But once she leaves - and a BBQ we were meant to go to is cancelled - Husband arrives back from work and the rest of the day stretches out before us with two small people staring at us, willing us to fill it.

When I first had my son I used to fantasize about running away to the local travel lodge in West Hampstead, where I could lie in an air conditioned room and sleep uninterrupted. Ahhh sweet, sweet sleep. I have the same desperate fantasy now, albeit without the air con. A night of peace in a second rate hotel sounds heavenly...

I love my kids. I swear on my life I do. I love hanging out with them - but I also love peeing alone, reading a Sunday paper before Thursday, getting to write this blog post without being interrupted - here is the Diva now, clambering all over me, dripping her bottle milk on the laptop as I type....

I have to away before she manages to lock herself in the bathroom (her new trick) and I've got chores galore. I am actually looking forward to going to work tomorrow. To escape the endless prodding and whining and demanding folk I live with. To make a cuppa, and actually drink it...

And when folks ask 'So, how was your weekend hun?' I'll smile sweetly, and say through gritted teeth, 'Lovely. How was yours?'

NEWS!

So hustle up my lovely readers, I have news. I feel like I am sitting down and telling the kids that Dad and I are divorcing, but nothing will change - but hey, I'm just being dramatic. I've got a gig writing at Babble. I'm excited as it is the first step towards blogging for a living (or indeed writing in some form). I'm nervous as technically I am a bit er... challenged, and I'm worried that all my dear blog readers will call me a sell out and run to the hills...

CMwhodrinks, will always be that. My Babble writing will be it's own entity - is entertainment writing for a start - and here's the bit that makes me most afraid - I have to be POSITIVE! Scathing, bitter Brit with savage Irish humour, has to be nice. A whole new world for me. I'm trying to get my head around all the info they have sent me - it took me 2 days to fill in their banking forms alone!

Yes, I'll be asking y'all to click on over - otherwise those nice folks at Babble will toss me onto the reject pile pretty darn quickly. But if it aint your bag, you don't have to trouble your pinky to press that button. It'd sure as heck help me - as I have a target to hit - hits wise - (a whole new world for me again) but I don't want y'all to get all annoyed at my asking - and run for the hills. It is a necessarily part of the whole deal - but in my mind my blog and what I do there are two separate things.

At the end of the day, I'm a full time working mum of two - who is just trying to juggle everything - and frequently dropping balls all over the joint; so I'm looking ahead to the point where I get 'refreshed' again from my script editing job (after 2 years it is always bye bye, can't make you staff so off you go) - and what will I do then to pay the bills? So I'm maximising all my options... because trying to work in TV and still be home for bath time - is not an easy box to tick. Those jobs are thin on the ground. So - as you have all been aware for a VERY long time - am trying to work out ways to mother AND have a job/life. The unsolvable puzzle...

So, in between working 5 days a week, writing 3 minute presentations for Sproglet's homework (did you know that the Blue whale never sleeps? If it did, it would drown? True story), face painting at fetes (no kid was harmed during this terrifying process! Even angry birds around their eyes did not blind them - hurrah!), food shops and scary amounts of laundry, and blogging here, I have to write 3 + blogs for Babble.  I may give up sleeping.

Must rush and shower - got a meeting to run to about a whole other plan. Keepin' those plates a spinning...  Just like any other woman out there - the born jugglers of life.


 

Let it be night....

So the days start getting shorter again in 4 weeks. 4 weeks! But we haven't had freakin' spring yet, let alone summer. The heating is still on full pelt at work (viciously in my case - if I go to turn it off, the radiator howls like a banshee, to the point I have to turn it on again) so I am forced to break out my summer wardrobe - yet, one step outside and it feels like winter. The trick is layering...

However cold it may be, the sun is still a shining (or well, peeking out behind grey clouds) at daybreak - and as the light streams in Sproglette's window - she bounds out of bed, convinced a new day has begun. At 5am! Anything before 7am is cruel, 6am being downright rude - but 5am - the only time one should see 5am is if they haven't been to bed yet... Getting up at this time is merely for radio DJs, fish market workers and postmen. (And what postman do you know that gets out of his scratcher before lunchtime these days? I digress, that is another blog.)  Husband usually gets up with the kids, so this 5am start hasn't been putting him the cheeriest of moods. 

I resolved to sort the problem. My aim - KEEP OUT THE LIGHT. Vampire like keep little Sproglette in the dark for as long as possible. My challenge - find the best blackout blind possible. Problem being - most look pretty darn rank - all wishy washy and white and uninteresting. That is - until I found this place. They do them in all sorts of colours! Green, purple, pink, blue - heck there was even one in sandy sunny yellow! Where was this place when I did up my son's room, years ago? Blinds-2-go is cheap and they sent us fitting instructions that even Husband could use - and this is the man who once asked 'what is the difference between gloss and matt paint?' Sproglette has them in a fetching lime green (not for her the girly pink). Most importantly of all, the Diva now sleeps in until 7:10am - a veritable lie-in compared to the 5am starts... Who knew that one ickle blind could change our lives so dramatically?

Only problem now is that Husband is beyond jealous - as on a whim about 3 years ago, I had our bedroom fitted with white blinds. The plan was to invest in some curtains - but there is always something more pressing to spend our money on... so curtains have been shoved down the list. Husband calls our room 'Abu Dhabi' what with the white blinds, the unbearably hot memory foam mattress, the white walls and the odd heat spots that raise the temperature of the room several degrees. He is insisting our next purchase is blackout blinds 'in any flippin' colour you want' as long as they are blackout.

See what I started? 

FNL wedding...

I know FNL season 5 finished like forever ago, and while we all wait around for Jason Katims to make the much hyped movie (and Peter Berg to subsequently direct it) - I have my own way of coping. Deep down I think Riggins and Tyra have had babies, and Street is happy with his lady and beautiful son - having moved back to Dillon to open his own sporting agency, and Tammi Taylor is the Dean of that Uni, and Julie and Matt are still in lurve - and everyone else in Dillon is doing just fine and dandy. It is my way of coping with the fact there is no more FNL for me to watch!

So the other day, I chanced upon this here photo. In real life it is a photo taken from Scott Porter (who played Jason Street)'s wedding. But why let real life get in the way of all the fun... No, in my mind, Street walked again and finally got hitched to that ginger lady - the mother of his son. And the Riggins brothers, replete with Billy's new twins - all came to celebrate. Maybe Mindy is there dancing on tables and flashing her G string. Smash, recently graduated - and playing pro football, popped along too. All that was missing was the coach and Mrs T toasting the bride and groom. Apart from Riggins' hair needing something seriously done to it - and Billy to ease up on the gel - they all look dashing. Street got his happy ending after all. Texas Forever and all that....

It would be so nice...

It's been a pretty lucky week in CM land - even though life has been more frenetic than the first 40 mins of Baz Lurhmann film. I won a raffle prize at Sproglet's fair (a meal for 2 at my local - a miracle - I never win anything) and (bonus!) I didn't blind any children whilst painting angry birds around their peepers - as I was on face painting duty at said fair. I've had some cracking job news (more of that in a later post) and am almost ready to pitch another worky thing. So all in all - a better week than most. With that in mind - I purchased a lottery ticket - whilst I was on this winning streak - sure that my numbers were bound come up! I dared to think what I'd splash my cash on, should my numbers (and bonus ball come up). First up would be a glam holiday somewhere fabulous: all blue skies and white sands and cocktails and outdoor baths with flowers across my pillow. Somewhere like this.

Next up I'd need some swimwear. The holy grail of the holiday quest - finding a decent bikini that actually supports me as I fling myself off the diving board - praying my modesty will be preserved. Honestly it frustrates me that there is so little swimwear available for women with boobs. All the pretty little straps and bows and stripes are made for those with bee stings. But for anyone larger than a D cup - the choice is limited. And what's with the padding? Thanks, but I've got enough going on in that department - I don't need the help.

Now my fav products to take on a holiday: number one has to be this - after sun lotion with mozzie repellent. How can you be arsed to slather on after sun and then another dose of anti - mosquito lotion - this beauty does both jobs and is cheap as chips.

Sadly, I don't tan. Husband lies out for 5 minutes and is immediately bronzed, whereas I can lounge for the entire day and at best be 'blotchy.' It's like the sun waits until I have my hand across my face, or am holding up something - and then it strikes - wham! Then I'm left with all sorts of white stripes and odd marks... I'm also allergic to most sun creams, and end up with heat rashes up and down my legs. Nice. So to protect my lily white Irish skin I use Piz Buin factor 30. I love the smell - one whiff and I can hear the sound of the water lapping against the lilo, the brightness of the sun glinting off the pool, the taste of a cold beer and the prickly feel of sun-kissed skin.

Other holiday essentials are intense conditioners, soft beach towels, lip salves, waterproof mascara and a cheap and cheery pair of shades. Expensive sunglasses always break, get lost or are left behind on some greasy bus... never to be seen again. Save yourself the bother and get yourself down to Accessorize and load up. If they last the holiday - brilliant - that's all you need. Asides from a camera, a comfy pair of flat shoes and a great book (Gone Girl was addictive, if slightly cold) the other thing I'd recommend is sturdy luggage. My favourite brand is Samsonite - sturdy and reliable - but just remember to add a ribbon or a tag of some description to your case - so as no one takes yours by accident! Years ago I presented a travel show and went through 3 cases - all cheap and all broken by various airlines as they were chucked unto baggage carousels...

Apart from that a good holiday is all about the company... Whilst I'd love to be going on a great family holiday this year - what I'd most like - is to whisk Husband away for a few days in some tiny costal town - with winding cobbled streets through an old town, some sandy beaches and free pouring bars. Like the time we went to San Sebastian in 2008 - slap bang in the middle of the music festival. We watched fireworks lighting up the sky, swam amongst the tiny fish under the boardwalk, and ate an amazing 8 course meal at 3 Michelin starred Akelarre...  Ahhhh, those were the days.

Sadly, my numbers didn't come up. My winning streak has ended. But until my numbers come up, a girl can dream....




 

I am but ONE woman....

... was the phrase I most overused this week.

It was week where my head almost exploded. I simply do not have the mental capacity, nor time in my day to do everything I need/want to do. Just getting everyone dressed and fed and clothes and washed is enough frankly, to fill a day - but add into that school homeworks (a 3 minute presentation that Sproglet has to do - NO THAT I FREAKIN HAVE TO DO YOU NIGHTMARE TEACHER) more laundry than the back room in Oxfam, and oh yes, a full time job on a punishingly relentless tv show and you have a woman on the edge.

Take this morning, for example - Husband and I are trying to do a food shopping list (not for us the moseying along some achingly fashionable London foodies market - *remembers fondly* - trying bits of aged cheese here and home made dips there) when Sproglet comes in wearing his clothes - back to front and inside out. So as we help him change, Sproglette is bleating on about me eating some invisible concoction she has created from her wildly complicated plastic kitchen cooker/dishwasher/fridge ensemble and it is carnage. Beads she bought (beads - I mean, who lets a 2 year old buy beads, oh yes - Husband does) are scattered across the floor - miniature jagged little pills that will cause untold pain when stepped upon (as they are daily). Then, as Husband and I fight over cheaper meals and how I MUST HAVE GIN at all costs - even if I do not eat all week - Sproglet insists I practise face painting on his arm.

Rather than go to a fun leaving event of an actress on our show - I was with 5 lovely women, drawing snakes and flowers on each others' arms. The snakes do look like giant slightly skewed penises crawling along our arms - and the roses are faintly vaginal, but who cares, we are trying goddammit! What for you ask? Son's school fete next week, where I no longer am needed to paint my unique form of transsexual unicorns, instead the aforementioned snakes, roses, dolphins and an angry bird. Funny, because it will turn me into an angry bird for sure... There is a reason skilled folk face paint - because they have talent! They flick a wrist and viola! A dolphin leaps from an elbow. But with me, it is like some squished jellyfish has landed and will never raise a tentacle again...

So in between face painting, and Sproglet having a football team presentation, and needing tennis kits and Sproglette being demanding, and homework and spelling tests and work piling up, and promises made to friends to read scripts, and to other friends to write up ideas for shows, and cooking the odd meal and thinking 'I must diet! I have a skinny skinny dress to get into at a wedding in 4 weeks (and then eating an oreo because this thought upset me so much) and not having time to exercise at all - and wishing for more sleep and time to break open my Game of Thrones box set (gawd bless you Cushman for that gift) as too many work scripts needed reading... I kind of flipped out. I stood teary eyed in my kitchen on the phone to a friends' voicemail babbling on so long that the tape ran out - shouting 'I AM BUT ONE WOMAN, I CANNOT DO IT ALL!!!!!'

Then I called Husband and told him I was divorcing him and that I could not do it all. Enough. He took it quite well as we divided our properties and fought over the car. I made a plan to run away to Ireland with the kids - it was all sorted in my head. Then he came home with a bottle of Hendricks gin, a sorted babysitter and told me we were going for dinner. I decided not to divorce him and go fro dinner instead.

In a restaurant with a fake olive tree, and fake bricks, and fake tasting scallops, we chatted through our very real lives. I told him my mantra and he is going to help more. As I type, he has taken the Diva shopping and I have ten whole minutes to write this blog before I begin the laundry nightmare...

That's all it took really - a bowl of lemon risotto and some fine red wine - and I was happy as a clam. Because if you don't have time to stop - down tools, and take in the view - you never get time to appreciate the nice bits, in between the face painting and the bum wiping. The bits that remind you why you liked each other in the first place and why you are still on this journey together - battling children, money, weather and jobs and trying to remember who you are in the process. Right, now I'd better get back to all of the above...