The Arrival....

Each Saturday is a day of joyful anticipation in our house.

The hours tick by slowly. The children plead and beg. They question and cajole. It probably should drive me completely batty....but it doesn't, because I feel it too.
It's an excitement almost as palpable as when the Easter Bunny or Santa Claus comes to visit. Though it's more important. Much, much more important.

Because Saturday's are when Mr 11 arrives at our house.

Early in the morning it will start....
'Is today Saturday?' Miss 8 and Mr 5 will ask. When I reply in the affirmative they jump around like a pair of Mexican jumping beans, so great is their excitement.
'When will he be here?' They demand.....'How long until he comes?' They question. Unfortunately I can never give them a straight answer because Hubby picks him on the way home from work and Hubby is never accurate with his time management......which is an entirely different post for another day.

So the countdown is on. They plan the games they will play when Mr 11 finally makes his appearance. They draw pictures for him, they plan his favourite dinner for that night.

Then, when he arrives, he is greeted at the door with shouts and laughter. The poor boy is smothered, hen-pecked, idolised. He is put on pedestal, the much loved and adored big brother.

Of course, the magic doesn't always last. Before long they will be fighting, bickering and whinging.....but for a few, short wonderful moments it's like a cheesy commercial of the 'perfect' family.

Yesterday was a cause for even greater excitement. Because yesterday was Mr 11's birthday. The presents were wrapped, homemade cards prepared, the cake was baked and his requested dinner was cooked. Hubby was (of course) late with picking him up.
But when he arrived home none of it mattered,the hours of waiting were forgotten, the magic lasted just a fraction longer.

Because yesterday was a special day, a day of celebration.

Happy Birthday Mr 11!

A little old lady....

On my birthday morning, amongst all the love and snuggles I received, I kept detecting a feeling of concern radiating from the lovely and sensitive Mr 5.

He kept staring at me and frowning. Worry was etched all over that wide-eyed and innocent face of his. He was distracting me from the all important tasks of opening presents and enjoying my coffee.

Finally I gave in and looked down at the little guy, who was snuggled up next to me in bed;
'What's up mate?'
'Mummy?' he asked 'How many are you?'
'I'm 32 buddy'
'Oh,' he paused momentarily before continuing 'So, you're old then'
'Well, not really buddy' I answered, slightly affronted.
'But you're getting old...you have those crinkly things' he points all over my face,
'They're called wrinkles, and I don't have that many'
'Yeah you do - they're all around your eyes and stuff'
'Oh, thanks mate, point taken'
Then the little bugger sighs. Very theatrical, very melodramatic.
'It's just too bad you're going to die soon' Is his parting statement before he rushes off to wreck havoc elsewhere.

I sit dumbstruck by the conversation I've just engaged in. I had no idea that in my early thirties I'd be entering into old age, that I'd be on death's door, but apparently, (according to the ever-knowledgeable Mr 5) it's true.

Happy Flipping Birthday to me.

Our Peaceful Olly

This morning, when I was woken up by our special little guy at some ungodly hour, I didn't send him back to bed as I usually do. I pulled him into bed next to me and snuggled up close to him, breathing in his gorgeous little boy smell, cuddling his warm little body. Today was a different day......Today I was going to make the most of stealing a few moments with my boy......Today our beautiful man is 5.

   When I was pregnant with Mr Gorgeous, Hubby and I were having a difficult time trying to come up with a name that we both liked. I had scoured every baby name book conceivable to mankind but still no joy. Then one day a name jumped out at me, a name I liked.....No, no, a name I suddenly loved.
    I had come across the name before - it's not like it's unusual - but this name had caught my attention,, it had reached out and grabbed me.....I adored it.

              Oliver   "Olly"
I also loved the meaning; "Peaceful".


Now at this stage I didn't even know if the baby we were having was a boy, I just knew that I had to have this name. I wrote it down everywhere; our house was covered in  little post it notes with 'Olly' written all over them....I drove Hubby nuts.


Then the big day arrived and he was here. Our Oliver, Our Olly, Our Peaceful one. He has certainly lived up to his name;  an easy adorable baby, a funny, cuddly toddler, a cheeky, sweet preschooler and now.....a big, clever school boy.


Happy 5th Birthday to our wonderful boy - we hope you have a magical day. xxx