And so it begins...

Right, I am organised. Almost. To a point. In a sort of fashion. Kind of.

Alright, I'm not organised, but I'm on the way there. Via the odd slip up.

I officially have a lovely new hallway floor. (Thanks a million to the complete spoon who decided to lay a cream carpet in a room the front door opens right onto. Kudos to that particular design decision.) We were going for laminate but decided the wet feet/lolloping great clumsy children would not be a great melange of choices so went for vinyl that now it's been laid, looks exactly like laminate anyway but less noisey.

After several small run ins with incompetant hoovers I've finally fixed it and turned it into a super dooper dust sucking machine. The downstairs of my house is almost finished! I spent most of yesterday embroiled in a small domestic arguement with most of the contents of the kitchen (nothing fitted where I wanted it and things were NOT PLAYING). So now I am liking the kitchen considerably more. The boy can't actually find anything anymore, but you know, small price to pay methinks. After all, is there not a saying 'Happy wife, happy life'?

I have put a very simple but apparently quite yummy recipe for (another thing I seem to be able to cook but don't actually like eating) good old apple pie in Tales of the Kitchen. http://babyjaneskitchen.blogspot.com/

On another note entirely, I am in need of a new barnet/hair creation. But as funds are lower than Jodie Marsh's necklines, I am going to need to be clever about it. Anyone know if college hairdressers are any good? Or do they just come at you with a high powered ego and blunt scissors?

Cupcakes have been baked again, and the perfect sponge for said things has been, well, perfected. I just need to get this icing/frosting malarky nailed and everyone I know will be cupcaked out.

Christmas is slowly coming together, I have been stashing things for a while now and am starting to feel really rather smug.

This week is Cleaning Week, it's gone ok apart from the fact that if I breathe in anymore dettol, I may need a nebuliser.

Happy apple pie cooking.

Dinner tonight...Sausage and mash.

Take THAT Tomatoes.

I have resigned myself to the fact that my tomatoes WILL NOT RIPEN. They're just not having it. They just sit there on the vine laughing at me. So I have taken action. I have made them into green tomato chutney (the recipe of which can be found on my newly founded recipe blog http://babyjaneskitchen.blogspot.com/ ).

Terrifying as it may seem, Christmas isn't actually all that far away and what with having the million and one things to do and actually having time at home over the festive jollities for the first time in 6 years, I have been planning away.
You've never seen lists like it.
On the plus side of looking like a complete Christmas psychopath, I do feel considerably organised. Presents have been planned (in a list), and I've even started making the makeable ones. I feel considerably less panicked about the whole shebang this year. Although the high probability of the bravado going clean out of the window and me being a gibbering wreck on Christmas Eve, slumped up against the tree with a bauble hanging off my ear is high.

Littleun has Officially Started Nursery. Which means I can get a lovely little routine back. The house will slowly get there, I get time to cook again and (fingers crossed) I can prep the garden ready to grow all the things I have coveted next year.

In a vain attempt to not scare the locals on my honeymoon I have taken it upon myself to not be quite so lazy, the car will only be coming out WHEN IT'S NEEDED (note: capitals are an attempt to convince me, not you). So far I've been clocking up about 3/4 miles a day which considering it was more like 3/4 miles a week, it's not to be sniffed at. Clearly this walking lark will not cause me to wake up in 3 weeks time and find myself a szie 6 but you know, every little helps.

The shoe boots I blogged about previously magically turned into shoes boots with 20% off. So they were purchased. Having got them home they don't go quite as well with my exsisting wardrobe as my minds eye had me to believe. They may be returned and swapped for a(nother) pair of jeans and some cute little shoes I've been eyeing up.
I have been the recipient of some clothes (hand me downs if you want to be old fashioned about it, style recycling if you don't). Having trawled through them I've firmly got my sweaty little mitts around a rather fetching black jersery dress, a long sleeve black wool dress with uber cute gathered cuffs, a beautiful turquoise fine knit jumper which is several sizes to big but works and, the piece de resistance, a gorgeous knee length single breasted houndstooth print coat. Houndstooth (so I'm told) being a key mini trend of next season, I'm rather chuffed with these freebies.

As I mentioned earlier, I've started up a mini blog for all things food. Pictures, recipes, menus and downright culinary genius. Keep those beady little eyes peeled.

Lol? LOL?!

I am in shock. Sheer, appauled, reeling shock.
I was sat, minding my own business, cup of tea in hand, reading the new issue of Company magazine. When, as I turned the page, I happened to stumble upon the word. The most obnoxious word in the English language. A word I never want to hear coming from the children. There, in black and white, 'Lol'.
I swear, I nearly scalded the boy as my tea fell towards his unexpecting lap.
Having put the magazine down, taken a minute to regain my (somewhat shaken) composure, I picked the thing back up and continues to read, willing to put the whole debacle down to an error or judgement.
FIVE MINUTES LATER.....
LOL! There it was AGAIN! I tell you dear readers, my flabber has never been so gasted.
I am so disgusted with this (as it will be known henceforth) rag. It transpires after investigating the writers of the two articles (yes, I actually checked) that was the same person! Yes! This illiterate fool who writes for a national magazine and clearly sees fit to put their name to such hideousness is a published journalist! I'm officially disgusted. I may write in to the magazine. I may boycott it. Blimey, you don't get stuff like this happening in Vogue do you?

Having recovered from such a shock, I will continue about my blogging considerably calmer.

I mooched around in my bargain slouchy jumper frock yesterday in a terribly smug fashion, but after having blogged about the latest coveting issues, I hve become even more certain that I need these items. Monetary relations must be regained me thinks.

I gave the kitchen it's clean of a lifetime today with the help of under age slave labour, cupboards were emptied, things where shuffled about, a small amount of filth (bleurh) was discovered.
As aforementioned child slave labour was helping, baby wipes were used (not terribly eco-friendly but little hands an all...) and heavens, those baby wipes can clean!

I have been so fantastically thrifty this week that me and the boy are off out for dinner on Friday, yes I know that I could buy the coveted items, but where would I explain where the money had gone? Come on people, think!

Dinner tonight...shepherds pie for those who like wet food (yuck) and good old chicken for those who don't/me.

I have horrid raw, wrinkled hands from cleaning, this is not the glamorous life of a kept woman I was ascertaining to!

More courgettes have arrived, the blender will be working over time processing large vats of soup.

Bridezilla and Charity Shopamundo.

I have just clambered up the enormous (it felt enormous anyway) hill to my house clutching my purchase with excitement.
Now, I am aware it's Thrift Week, but as stated by http://creditcrunchchic.blogspot.com/ charity shops Do Not Count. SO, as I am infact sad and stuck in my childhood, I have a VCR in my kitchen and I watch old videos when I'm pottering around. The collection is growing, with the addition of Brambley Hedge (!!) and the film Blue Juice (starring the uber scrummy Sean Pertwee. In boardies. Yum.).
Plus, the very gorgeous (and slightly last season/week) soft black jumper dress. Which I put on approximately 6 minutes after walking throuugh the door.
I had a sneaky peaky in New Look aswell and am now coveting a very lovely pair of soft grey shoe boots with a bow on the side (with the jumper dress? with black skinnies? yes yes yes) and, as I am infact completely the wrong proportions to even think about wearing anything cropped, I'm shunning the gorgeous leather jackets that are around right now and am actually quite impressed with the (again, slightly last week) slouchy boyfriend blazer, possibly with turned up cuffs. Clearly I NEED one of these for A/W, with straight leg jeans and converse, it's OBVIOUSLY NEEDED for the walking of children to school when it get a bit nippy. Convinced you yet?!
Moving on from the fashion blagging (blogging about blagging? Who'dve thunk it?), I have had two lovely child free days while they are at their mothers, I'm currently bracing myself for their return, and the subsequent 3 days it'll take to get their routine back....
I lied, it was not stew last night, we had slices of pork left over from the roast and the old favourite, egg, chips and beans! Gotta love it. Tonight the boy gets stew and I, have got scallops (frozen, obv) and bacon in balsamic vinegar. Yummers!
Apparently I've got approximately 400 tonnes of damsons arriving and I'm 'required' to do something with them, I'm thinking jam. I may also be thinking that I'm mad and am going to end up taking about 4 days to get it all done. Note: everybody is to expect jam related Christmas presents.
Having already done the unmentionable and mentioned Christmas, it's official, I've started the shopping/sewing/knitting. Not got quite as far as making the cards yet, but it'll come.
I have always mocked women getting married who spend their entire time panicking about the napkins not matching the flowers and *gasp* not having enough sugared almonds and vowed that this wedding Will Not Be Stressful. It hasn't been in the slightest. Problem is, everyone's so relaxed that we're more worried about something unknown cropping up to make us stress out. Just watch me fall pregnant and have to fly 7 months gone...you know somethings going to go wrong.
I visited my lovely beautician this morning and booked the appropriate beautifyingness (new word?) for before Vegas. I will be plucked and waxed and tanned and filed and buffed and trimmed (hair, clearly. On my head,) to within an inch of my life. Plus I get to spend the day before we fly being pampered with Mama rather than running around like a berk, compulsively checking that my passport hasn't sprouted legs and gone somewhere other than where it should be.

Apologies for the lack of visual loveliness, all will hopefully be rectified shortly.
I'm off to go and admire my lovely new jumper/dress. And be smug. Super smug.

*edited to add that to the right of the page I've added a list of all the blogs I follow. Some light bedtime reading perhaps?

I am it appears, to be a pasty machine this weekend. I spent what feels like DAYS (when it was only in fact about 6 hours) in the kitchen yesterday making big pasties, little baby pasties, cakes, meatballs, sauce for the aforementioned meatballs, garlic bread, actual bread and a WHOLE lotta dishes. Still, the boy and rugrats will be well fed in the coming winter (read: following few days).

I am braving the strange breeding and possibility of frostbite in August and going to see small children being towed by tractors in Appledore carnival this afternoon, I'm sure it'll trump Notting Hill hands down...

There has been a limited amount of frolicking in gazebos this summer, what with summer not having started yet. In August. Still, you get what you can. Doesn't make the style dilemma in my last post much easier though. Who can possibly plan a functioning outfit when it's hot AND bucketing it down? Summer footwear=cool feet, but wet feet. Boots=dry feet but super hot feet.

I am on thrift week this week...car needs new tyres and the dreaded MOT is next month and if anyone has attempted to do a 3 and a half mile round trip to school and back with a short legged 3 year old in tow, then they'll know being in possesion of a roadworthy car is preferable.

I am very proud of myself as I have taken stock of the freezer and the cupboards and officially have about two weeks of actual proper meals (that aren't hideous frozen processed things. Findus crispy pancake anyone....?). So as long as I don't get lazy and keep making bread and such, we'll be flying through the mahooosive MOT bill.

So tonight it's stew I made a few weeks ago and froze.

I am boy free and child free today and have a small mountain of ironing that is threatening to teeter out of it's nice neat pile so I'm off to tackle that. Oh the joys of being a housewife....

Many personalities of a confused blogger.

Lying in bed last night I was thinking about the blogging/journal updates I used to do way back in the day I deemed outsized band hoodies the height of fashion and it dawned on me (rather late) that everything has changed so much, including me, that the old blogs and journals are no longer relevant.
Does every blogger have split personalities? Over the past 18 months my life has shifted so much that I'm in a personality (and style, it has to be said) limbo.
Having gained two step-children who are still young enough to be moulded-thankfully, a fiance and an imminent Las Vegas wedding and lost a job-meaning I've entered the world of housewives/kept women, I've kind of lost myself in the mix somewhere.
Being technically still quite young I'm in the early twenties equivalent of that gawky pre-teen stage we all go through, I'm desperately trying to put my semi-manicured finger on exactly where I belong.
I'm painfully aware that friends think I've done the deserting act and are blaming me and the boy and our horrid selfishness for this but it's not quite as clear cut as that.
I am no longer in retail...no longer carefree, child free, cash rich and time rich. Which I am not complaining about in any shape or form but these facts cannot really be appreciated until oneself has been waist deep in nappies-that belong to a child you didn't carry, mind- and taking the flack for not being in Crabby's for the 5th consecutive saturday night.
Being woken every two hours by 'SAAAAALLYYYY! SAAAAALLY!! Need a WEEEEEE!' kind of makes you appreciate the child free nights by being in bed earlier than the proverbial 'school night' and, blissfully, sleeping right through till morning.
Now, it's not that I don't miss the going out and such, I do, I like donning vertiginous heels and the appropriate garb and toddling off to get tipsy on a glass of wine (literally, ONE glass of wine..it's sad I know). In fact, I've got rows of shoes that as soon as I open the wardrobe I can hear them whispering 'take me out, pleeeeease? it's been so long since I felt a pavement.' but circumstances (and, lets face it, this pesky credit crunch) don't always work out like Peter Andre before a photoshoot do they?

Anyway, I digress, what I am trying to figure out in an extremely roundabout way is where I fit in regarding these pigeonholes that are promoted.
Can you be a housewife who bakes and wears an engagement ring on her tattooed finger?
Can you be a tattooed girl in a pinny with a toddler under her feet?
Does anyone take you seriously if you are the above things?
And more importantly, what, for the love of all things well tailored, does a person who is any or all of the above things wear?!