Snowed Under

It's time for a spring clean - ironic really, given the snow flurrying outside, that I'm wearing an extra pair of bed socks, an additional woollen maternity cardigan hanging over my stripey jumper.

Should it really be like this at the end of March? Younger Dad doesn't seem to think so. But I can still remember the long, extended, snowy winters of my childhood - the 1970's - white Easters with big fat wet flakes settling on the lawn, hiding the purple crocuses, confusing the migrated birds - home from sunnier climes.

And so to the clean up.... not my wardrobe, or Little A's toys, or Younger Dad's pile of Which magazines, but my on line mail. For the last year or so, I've woken to the bold black list of numerous unread emails choking my inbox, a stress inducing sight first thing in the morning - How many are there to read today? Where will I find the time? - over a-would-be calming bowl of porridge (with added fruit). But today I completed the changes I've been making over the last few days - there will be no more posts raining on my yahoo account screaming READ ME, READ ME. I love the blogs I've subscribed to but it was becoming overwhelming - like piles and piles of homework. So I've moved all my reading over to Blog Lovin - please don't be offended if you see I've unsubscribed to you, I'm now enjoying your posts over there.

This evening my inbox was like a freshly mown lawn, trimmed and tidy. Now I just need to deal with the few unexpected weeds - those requests from PR's and marketers asking for endless plugs that are totally at odds with the theme of my blog. Can you see 'How to Improve Your Financial Savings' nestling along side Once Upon a Time and One Week? No. Neither can I.  

And that, sadly, apart from two delightful evenings spent in lovely female company, has been the highlight of my week. My inbox. You see, I'm stressed at the moment - very stressed. I've taken to resting as much as I can for a mummy and eating one too many M&S chocolaty bites. The house move is taking it's toll, and there has been other unfortunate news too. The move was set to take place the beginning of April but the date of completion is slipping ever in the wrong direction. And we are in the dark as to what is happening further up the chain - Have their mortgages been fully approved? Have all the surveys been completed? Our seller's solicitor is being vague with our solicitor, our buyers worry we are going to pull out, we are stressing the same of them, our seller is being unnervingly quiet - I think she's stalling, I fret about the chain staying intact... and so it goes on and on.

I dearly want to move into our new home. I love the area we are relocating to - the family connections, the schools, the slower pace of life.

If the upper chain falls apart - please, no, no, no - we have decided to sell our flat, up sticks, and rent in Croxley Green. In the meantime, if the completion date moves beyond the 12th April, I will be ferrying Little A forty minutes back and forth to her new pre-school - I've already decided I'm going to plant myself in the nearby library and write while my daughter paints and dresses up with her new friends.

I want to start sorting - organise those books that will go into storage, and the unread paperbacks that will sit on the bookshelves of our new home. I want to start packing, to hear the stretching sound of masking tape on cardboard as our memories are squeezed tightly within the boxes. Limbo. Limbo. Limbo.

Blimey, I'm wound up like a spring at the moment - which brings me back to today's unseasonal weather.

Spring - where are you? Please come soon. Come brighten up my day. Bring us hope and a house move with your sunshine. Please...

If you enjoy reading Older Mum in a Muddle, please spare a thought for me in the Britmums Brilliance in Blogging Awards - The BIBS - there are sixteen great categories to chose from but I think I'm best placed in the writers category. You can click on the badge below to take you through to the nomination form on the Britmums page..... Thank you! X.

Want(on)

It's not often I focus the attention of 'need' and 'want' in my direction. I'm prized an hour's self indulgence when Little A takes her afternoon nap, which, of late, is regretfully becoming fewer and far between. 'Need' and 'want' are two bullying words that monopolise Little A's vocabulary, morning, afternoon, and evening, her memory lapsing, failing to locate that magic of all magic words - please.

So thank you, and thank you once again to the smashing, and very on trend - this girl rocks a dress - Anya at Older Single Mum, for bestowing upon me sparkly sprinkled lashings of desire dust, so that I may take a moment or two to reflect upon WHAT I WANT for a change. Yes, a moment to cocoon myself in all things me, me and me.

But what do I want? That's the million dollar question. When I thought about this post, my head drew an oceanic sized blank. I couldn't even count on one hand the things I wanted, only making it to my middle finger. Oh dear. So on this occasion, I'm going to take a leaf out of Mummy Plum's book, start small in the vain hope that I might invoke my inner Goddess of wanton self centredness - the Goddess in charge before I fell pregnant - to help pull out of the bag some big, bad, bold wants ....

Younger Dad to stop snoring. His snore guard (yes, the snoring is that loud) broke a few weeks ago, which means the double bed is often occupied by one parent at a time. And it's usually me, on account of how lightly I sleep, who ends up on the living room sofa (there's a spare duvet stuffed behind it). Our king size memory foam mattress has since forgotten my neglected post natal contours. I've taken to stuffing cotton wool in my ears but this fails to adequately muffle the grunts, the rattles, the chainsaw amputating the wooden limb. The other night, after sleepily reallocating to the lounge, the cotton wool needed reinforcement by an added cushion over my head - but even this failed to silence the bass heavy rumbling perforating the useless wall that was supposed to shield me from Younger Dad's nocturnal noise.  

Time. I think I'm going to have to remove all time wielding devices from my home. The sound of the minute hand tick ticking the hours away, is a constant reminder I just don't have enough time. And what I mean by that is enough time for me. I would love just an extra hour in the day to exercise, to read, to connect with friends, to dye my hair, to do nothing, to dream, to bathe in a mountain of bubbles .... This year I was supposed to balance the mental with the physical, the social with the solitary. And I've come up short. Any one know of a good personal organiser?    

Ideas. For the last six months or so I've been imagining a plot for a short story (or lengthy fiction) I have in mind. It's been a very stop start process. Two weeks of intense brain storming, questioning, followed by a month of nothing, a drought of inspiration. I want, want, want original ideas for interesting subplots, ones that really meld with the main plot line. I do have ideas but I worry they are a little obvious. Incidentally, the main narrative hinges on the accidental swapping of two DJ record boxes - that's all I'm saying...    

Central heating. Back in August our combi boiler went 'part time'. After fifteen years of loyal(ish) service, it's memory jolted to a halt - it recalls hot water with youthful vivacity, it just can't remember how the central heating works. Every year we've had to install new parts for some reason or another, but this Autumn, and especially as we are looking to move, we decided enough was enough. So today, we are having a brand new boiler installed. Over the last few weeks, the mornings have been decidedly chilly, so it will be a relief to have the heating back on... Guess I can tick this off my want list now?    

Pyjamas. The nights are getting noticeably cooler. I've already dressed the mattress (the one I rarely sleep on - see snoring) with a thicker tog duvet, and an extra fleece throw. But that's not enough, I want some new pyjamas - a brushed cotton pair(s), that will cushion me from draughts, that will insulate me, along with a (new) dressing gown, from the weekend caterwauling on X Factor. I don't know if this is your experience but I find new pyjamas are a little like a fresh hair cut; after one wash they never quite look or feel the same again.

Bed Socks. There's nothing more coddling, more comforting than a pair of thick, fluffy knee length socks. I just love that feeling of woolly fibred feet rubbing together under the covers. My idea of middle aged heaven is a duvet, pyjamas (see above), socks, a good read, and a warming bowl of custard (and crumble). Anyway, I need new socks. And NOW please. My old pair, which I've worn the last couple of nights, just don't cut it anymore. Waking up to toasty feet is nothing short of divine. Look at these beauties...

Image Courtesy of Google Images

This list of wants is turning into an all out frump-a-thon. Hardly big, bad or bold.

Lets see if I can up the ante!

UGGS. An expensive pair of sheepskins is a fashion staple for my Winter wardrobe. I've worn UGGS (not the same pair) for nearly ten years. When it comes to footwear, I err towards quality.This means a hike in price. But I feel good quality clothing equates to longevity - until my 40th birthday that is - when Younger Dad presented me with a gorgeous pair of chocolate UGGS. One season later, my big toe had managed to bore a hole through the sheep skin. They are still operable. But this breach in security gives me a logical excuse to demand another pair!      

Lotions and potions. I love, love, love to luxuriate my skin in softening serums, thick velvety moisturisers and anti aging magic (I know it doesn't really work but I like it all the same). This Summer I had my skin tested at the Dermologica stand in the Westfield Centre. I tried some samples of their products at home, and just loved how they looked and felt on my skin. The daily skin smoothing cream is gorgeous. So I've been saving my pennies to procure a range of their wares in the coming weeks...

Image Courtesy of Google Images

Another product I ran out of a while ago, and that I need to get my hands on, is the wonderful Bobby Brown Extra Face Oil. It's one of the best night time products I've indulged myself with. Oil is so, so good for the skin. But this oil gives my face that extra glow, a palpable suppleness, a feel good factor after viewing my bedraggled extremities first thing in the morning.

Image Courtesy of Google Images

How did I do? Am I forgiven for the frump-a-thon?

So what do you want?...

Lynsey The Mother Duck
The Pretty Good Life