Mummy's Boys

Here's another article that made me laugh. http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/life_and_style/men/article7002116.ece

It explores whether or not British men are becoming like their Italian counterparts, that is overly molly cuddled by their mothers. Of course, I can't say with any certainty if there is any truth in this, but what I can say is that as a British man it was never going to happen to me.

According to the article, one quarter of British men can't use a washing machine or cook for themselves. I'm pretty sure that of those 25%, all must have had very British mothers. Not a single one of them had a Guyanese mother, that's for bloody sure.

You soon learn how to use a washing machine - especially if you want your best Friday night pulling jeans - when you fall out with a Guyanese mother as a teenager. And when a Guyanese woman says she is not doing your washing, she means the whole hog. You can't just get away with loading it in the machine and buggering off, hoping that it will reappear dried and ironed on your bed again. No such luck! You can't even get away with hanging it out and leaving it on the line, because if you don't bring it in, then it'll damn well stay there until the next rain gets it. And then she'll iron the remaining household pile and leave yours right there in the basket. If you think leaving it on your bedroom floor long enough will annoy her into doing it, you'd be mistaken too.

Maybe all this explains why Domestic Shaunie is quite so domesticated? The same rules applied equally to cleaning and cooking. Sometimes I wonder why I insisted on upsetting her so frequently?
MPLST seems to be reaping the benefits of all this character building behaviour......

In Touch With Your Feminine Side?

So, whilst I've not had much to say on the daddy front, I have at least noticed that MPLST has finally taken the hint and is blogging almost daily. There's lots of good pics on her blog this month.

Meanwhile I have been working. The most amusing thing that has happened for almost a fortnight is that I went to the Bond (that's the shop on the platform) to buy some shower gel. I had done this last week, but we were awaiting a supply vessel, so I've been spinning my existing bottle out.

Knowing full well that a vessel had been and gone, I karted my fat arse all the way up tonight for an Areo, a Flake and a Turkish Delight (there's less fat in those apparently), so got myself a bottle of shower gel to. The bloke had to burst open the brand new package just for me.

WTF? Mango and Papaya shower gel? I can hardly see that catching on offshore. Apparently the mango is "nourishing & conditioning" and I should "let my skin drink" the papaya. It's going to give me "huggable, snuggable skin" too. The packaging advises me to "pamper" myself with this "exotically inspired fragrance."

Admin will smell like the perfume counter at Boots on Tuesday morning when we're all checked in to go home. I bet MPLST can't wait until I get home, so we can see which one of us smells the most feminine.

What's She Up To?

I can only imagine that she's building up to leave me. Take a look at her blog.

A night out with "the girls" on Saturday, where she apparently had a glass or two of wine which meant she sleep through BB's howls? I know what distracts me from howling children - not that there's been much energy for any of that recently.

Then my mother in law stays for the afternoon to let her go to the cinema on her own.

Tonight, MPLST tells me that her mother has asked for the boys on Friday night too. Meanwhile MPLST has no plans - not even with "the girls" this week.

I smell a rat! But I can't afford another divorce.
I hope she's simply trying to keep me on my toes.
Note to self: Must try harder.

My Very Own Billy Elliot

I'm getting it in the neck from all angles about the lack of blogging. I'm not quite sure why I've been struggling to find the time, as that was one the the quietest (not to mention most sober) New Years I've had since I was but a spotty pubescent teenager.

Some folks seem desperate for me to post pics of the kids. You'll just have to wait as I am back offshore. Unless MPLST sends me some downsized pics which I can post, you'll have to make do with my general rants against the world for the time being.

So to get you up to date on why I need matches to hold my eyes open, here's what you've missed.
Daddy made a unilateral decision to bin the "night time pants" (pull ups) and complete toilet training the old fashioned way - cold turkey! How very ironic in the run up to Chrimbo. BB did well, but for some reason, won't use the loo on his own at night, so it's disturbed sleep all round. On the bright side, he has now mastered it...so much so that I took him to the local toy shop where he picked his treat of choice.

We are (that should read I am really) using the threat of Santa returning to take away some cherished gifts if we do not behave properly. It's working a treat. Do you think it will still work come April, May or even June?

I'm also pleased to say that locally the nursery did not shut during the cold spell, and boyo was up and out in temps as low as minus 10. And we played outside in it. He still has 5 working digits on each hand.

Oh, and BB has also started dancing (yes, dancing. Not football, or archery or boxing) lessons. Either my darling wife has watched too much Strictly, or her childhood underachievements are now manifesting themselves in her parenting. The way I see it, you need balance to score goals like Archie Gemmil did against the Dutch in 1978. It will stand him in good stead.....

LL has taken the festive period in his stride. The only news on him is that he climbs and then he falls. He never learns though. He does it again, day after day.

SS came over after New Year. She is growing like a weed, but things are generally good between Fitba Face (her mother) and I for a change. Here's hoping that continues.