Milk & Manolos

Ugh. I’m slightly ashamed to say that my mircowave until this morning stunk.

Of course I tried to convince the Husband that the best way forward was for us to reinvest in a new state of the art one, I however was annoyingly reminded that this one was only a year old. Damn. I HATE it when he out smarts me.

So with his list of house chores the length of my arm, I thought I’d don the old rubbers and set about sprucing up the old thing and rather proudly it worked. Excellente, that’s £ 150 for me to spend on sundry fashion items surely ?

So I Listened with Mother, or more aptly To Mother and I set about my mission.

Placing a mug of boiling water with three wedges of lemon lovingly placed inside I set the timer for three minutes and enjoyed my morrning cuppa. Once finished I left it a further 4 minutes for the lemony steam to get to work on those horrible odours and crusty food spills. Enough time for a biscuit too.

Once the hard part was done, I simply set about with my regular anti-bacterial spray and gave the inside a once over, amazed at how easy all the gunk was removed. The turn table went into the dishwasher and Bob’s your uncle, job done.

I’ve just endured the process of buying the Munchkin her first bad. So traumatic was it, that in one awful, horrible moment, we found ourselves being dragged around a Dreams superstore, being told to buy THE most disgusting bed I’ve ever seen by a sweet, but way to over enthusiastic Sales Assistant. Suddenly realising quite how low things had become, I whisked us out of there, faster than you could say “cheap MDMF”.

Heading home, I heeded the advice of one of my trusted girlfriends, that ASpace was the place to buy a bed. Having been everywhere searching for a suitable slumber station I was shockingly knowledgeable about the market, not to mention amazing that a single bed could cost so much. Even Dreams was clocking in at £ 350, for a ill-made monstrosity. This latest stage in the Munchkins development was easily going to set us back £ 500, mattress included. Joy. There goes those delicious Gina sandals I had my eyes one.

That said, I wish I’d have discovered ASpace at the beginning of my journey. Here I found exactly what we were looking for, £ 100 cheaper than elsewhere. From beds, to bed linen, mattresses to duvets, this is a one stop shop.

I seem to have an abundance of children’s clothes.  A very fortunate position I know, but considering that at least 87% of the are too small for the Munchkin, or simply not to her rather exacting taste, not quite so fortuitous on closer inspection.

Praise the Lord for Vacuum Storage bags.  Having invested in more than is frankly healthy, I now have the solution to our storage problems.

Divided into age groups the Munchkins clothes have been vacuum packed within an inch of their lives and packed diligently by the Husband in the eves. The only question that remains is will he remember where he put them ? 

One of the things that attracted me to the Husband was his left-handedness.  I had spent the majority of my childhood wishing I were cackhanded.  It was the special scissors they used to dish out to those more fortunate than I.  They had yellow handles and they rocked.

So when the Husband went to sign the bill at the end of our first date, I was in seventh heaven.  My becoming left-handed by proxy was difficult for us both.  He of course had coped pretty well for the 26 years he hadn’t known me, I on the other hand (no pun intended) had other ideas.

Within a month I had purchased a number of left-hand items I was sure would improve his life.  From can openers, to rulers, scissors to pencil sharpeners, each was met with utter indifference.  He was used to a right handed world and would I please cease and desist with the purchasing of useless twaddle, and by the way, no, he didn’t want to join the Left Handed Club I had found for him.

I of course obliged as any loving girlfriend would.  I still marvel at his left hand but now find more amusement in what the right can’t do. 

As my favourite hobby is spending money, how could I resist the weird and wonderful world of auction houses ?  

Setting up home with the Husband was most enjoyable, on a number of levels, the first admittedly was that we were kindred spirits in more ways than one.  This was the joining of two consumeristic individuals to make a wholly shop happy couple.   Having bought the house of our dreams we set a little extra mortgage money aside to go on the mother of all shopping sprees.  

We of course hit all our usual hot spots but were advised by many a elder to check out the local auction houses for bargains galore.  The rest they say is history.  Not only do you get the enjoyment of a view, finding the weird and the wonderful but you also get the thrill of the chase too.  

There is always the danger that you could get carried away.  A lesson I learnt pretty early on.  Having decided to bid on a Venetian armoire destined to be white washed and shabby chiced, I of course forgot all about our budget, or the charges added on top and secured the piece at well over what it was worth.  It sat in our living room, unpainted, untouched and quite frankly a little unloved, until we decided that ebay was the only answer.  

Making a smidgeon of a profit it was happy days.  It wasn’t until the new owners were carrying it out that I saw the ‘Made in China’ sticker on the back.  Hastily removed, a bullet well dodged. Having now found our groove, Criterion Auctions is our regular haunt when a piece or two is needed.  Rare these days but it’s fun to window shop… 

I’ve found a little something that is going to revolutionise the Husbands life.  My downright refusal to iron anything since 1986 has meant he’s had his work cut out on the pressing front.  Well, not quite.  On closer inspection it’s likely that you’ll find we’re more than a little creased.

X Crease is going to change all that.  With a quick spray here and there, the Husbands occasional Sunday night chore will become even less frequent.  An instant clothes de-creaser, if only there was one for the face.

Having received a Doctors kit for Christmas from a beloved Godparent the Munchkin I fear now has Munchausen’s Syndrome.

Suddenly obsessed with all things medical there is endless talk of doctors and hospitals. Examining every visitor over the festive period, she now demands a twice daily once over, asking politely each time if she should go to hospital “yes ?”.

Plasters and bandages are also important to her. Yesterday I caught her attempting to wrap a very angry cat in crepe bandage “just in case”. She demands that her knees are dressed with Savalon and plastered each night before bed, despite not having a scratch on her. When attempting to suggest that perhaps it wasn’t necessary I was met with the roth of a two year old in full tantrum mode. Hand me the plasters I requested.

These aren’t just any plaster let me tell you. These are the extra special sticky bandages embossed with her favourite CBeebies characters Master Charlie and Miss Lola. Delivered lovingly by Santa to help ease the pain and upset of the odd graze, little did he know that his gift wouldn’t last a fortnight.

Fortunately Mummy’s on hand with her trusty iMac to help ship another batch in. And another. And another.

While leafing through my copy of Easy Living this morning, cappuccino in hand and Munchkin Jackson Pollacking in the corner, the ol’ blues were quickly attracted to Lush Lamp Shades new set of pillows cases.

I’m truly not one for novelty bed linen, in fact, as the Husband will tell you, it’s pretty hard to get me to deviate from white cotton. Actually, make that impossible. Before settling on my Mr Right, I would be lying if I said there hadn’t been a boyfriend or two. Each and every one, including the Husband dare I add, had the most ghastly bed linen I’d ever seen. One even had a zebra print sheets which wasn’t changed, or washed, for a year. Uh, I can taste vomit as I type.

As past experiences mould our personalities and tastes, I can therefore blame the male species for my 400 thread count Egyptian cotton sheet demands. Well, that was until I caught sight of these.

I’m thinking they’d go beautifully in my French Grey boudoir and add a little style to bed time. Lord knows, I need it in my flannel pyjamas.

Credit card at the ready, it might be time to surprise the husband. Mind you, must be careful not to give him any ideas in the bed linen department.

I had hoped that someone, well the Husband, would lavish upon me the most extravagant and stylish of gifts this Christmas. A Diptyque candle, or three.  Sadly, for the first year in a decade I’m going to have to buy my own.

Gone are the days when, in my previous life as a Lovie, that I’d be showered with all manner of scented matter - a favourite of Thesps being the stylish, yet understated perfumer Diptyque. And let me tell you, it’s an incredibly hard habit to break.

These really are the mother of scented candles. For a start, they actually work. Pre-Munchkin my Christmas stash would have been used to keep the house smelling smoke free, now they simply hide the smell of poo and chocolate. That, I do not mind. Their sheer tenancy on the mantle piece makes me feel like those heady days aren’t quite so far away.  

As New Year is all about new beginnings, I’m trying in earnest to ignore the Munchkin’s plea for a proper bed. The idea of being hit over the head with a belt buckle at 2 am in the morning, as happened to a friend, is less than appealing.

If I’m honest, I’m also slightly confused about what to do with her bedding - staple the duvet to the corners of the bed to avoid the refrigeration of arms or legs ? Fortunately, the clever people at Grobag seem to have done it for me. Well, not staple it as such, but with the clever usage of zips can help keep the Munchkin toasty all night.

Now all they need to do is come up with something to keep Madam in place.