VE Day fun, frolics, milk shooting cows and folding paper meltdowns

Chuffin heck little Chumlins, it's been a long, hard, treacherous slog getting here!

Ok, that may be a slight exaggeration but by heck, it's been quite hard and tedious.

Today is the 75th anniversary of VE day. However we realised a week ago that if we were going to celebrate, we were going to have to educate these children. Just a few of the gems of their knowledge;

Russia is the capital of Scotland

No, it isn't don't be stupid, Russia is in Germany!

We have army men who work in the boat army

The national anthem is the noun song

Oh dear fricking hell...

In anticipation, of the fun and frolics, and knowing how well days tend to be going at the moment, I have decided to blog as I go.

It all started so well. Lovely in fact. I woke up in quite a happy and excited mood and even decided that today, today I would use my 'nice make up'. Oo er, how very exciting!

Side note; for context, Nat bought me uber lovely, sexy and wonderful Urban Decay make up for my birthday. I love it and I believe it loves me. However, I have deemed the lockdown unworthy of my beautiful makeup and will only allow the beauty of it's presence to be for special occasions.

Well blimey heck, I forgot how lovely and wonderful it really is. It goes on amazingly, makes me feel a little more human feeling and confident, and I loved spending time putting it on, win win and a third win!

Hair in to a nice vintage style, dress on and I am all ready to flutter and glide downstairs. I have even prepared a little act. I am going to go fully in to character and proclaim how shocked I am at the odd clothes the children are wearing, as, you know, modern clothes, WW2 lady...you get it right? Of course you do!

Look, we put effort in, and even had a wall display!

Anyway...well, Imagine my chuffing surprise when, they are already dressed in their evacuee costumes. Aww, isn't that all lovely and sweet?!

No!

Well, actually, yes. But, well, I had to improvise as my plan would now not work. I was looking forward to my plan. Sigh.

I start lessons and feel like a proper organised and wonderful teacher type person (In reality Nat has sorted and printed everything out ready but hush and shush, I am awesome right now). We were learning about VE Day, designing medals and making mini Anderson shelters. A nice hour activity.

Wrong!

So very very flipping wrong.

I don't know how teachers fit so much in to the day. Magic maybe?! Because I tell you what little Chumlins, these 3 activities took hours. Actual hours and arguments, and tears, and not just from me!

Being unable to cope with the unbearable wait for the small people to finish activity 2 and start activity 3, an hour and a half in, Nat has taken herself to the kitchen. OK, must check in on this at some point....

Finally we have medals. I am not entirely sure on the logic of having the English, Scottish, UK and French flag on one medal, but what the hey, it's finished! Now to the Anderson shelters.

Oh. Dear. Lord....

At the start of lockdown we had approximately 1.392 pairs of scissors. How many can we find today?

1. We can find 1 pair of scissors...and it's borrowed from Nat.

It's fine, all is fine, we can share, we have been working on sharing for the past, what is it now, 6 weeks?! So I will take my little self off to the loo.

For valuable information here I will inform you I went for a wee, just a quick little wee, yet by the time I have gotten back all hell is breaking loose. Child 2 has decided to put everyone's papers together and cut them all at the same time. Marvellous idea. Not!

Perhaps if you a, had any skills in cutting and b, you make sure the papers were all the right way round it may have gone somewhere near right. However.... We now have screaming, crying, meltdowns.

Cellotape is your friend. Always remember that.

In to the kitchen I go.

Oh blooming heck....Nat is baking. As wonderful a chef as Nat is at cooking, and she really is, baking...is, let's just say, not her strong suit. She doesn't really like recipes but I am impressed to see she has a recipe up. Unfortunately it is 'just for guidance' and she is completely ignoring it. Also, she is using some strange foreign flour that I bought in a bit of a panic while shopping a month or so ago instead of the 16kg of bread flour I very proudly brought home a few weeks ago.

I just smile and slowly back out of the kitchen.

I sit to write a little bit of this wonder when 3 things all happened simultaneously;

1. Child 3 cannot fold. Folding is too hard and complicated and he hates paper and it hates him and the world is a nasty evil place for having paper that needs folding.

2. A little voice from the kitchen declares that they may need a little bit of help...it's a bit sticky.

3. The Alton Towers theme music starts playing. You know, the one that sounds like impending doom? That's the one.

I approach the above in the following way;

1. Have a little smile at the very apt music which is now mocking me.

2. Stand and use the tone that Mums seem to inherit that is both calm sounding yet you know she means business and declare;

"As today is all about the war, remembering all the sacrifices, the food rationing, the families not being together, the evacuees, family members dying and living in fear for 6 years, I think we can cope with not having a complete meltdown over a piece of paper don't you think?" And walked in to the kitchen where...

3. I enter the kitchen and really, really wish I hadn't.

The bread. Oh hell, the bread. Shit a brick. Well, how do you even begin to explain the horror unfolding before me.

Well, to start with, it was yellow. Not just a little yellow, but the dough was suffering with jaundice and didn't have long left yellow.

It wasn't a little sticky, it was 'what on earth have you done it looks like you've been attacked by Big Bird having too good a time after eating superglue' sticky. Oh, and it was everywhere...

"What on earth are you doing?!"

"Well it said you don't want it too dry, it makes it tastier"

I don't know how to respond to that. I don't really think what is being made her is actually bread. I'm not sure what it is...

I try to get it back in to the bowl so we can add more flour. I am trying to be supportive.

"Right, we will get what we can back in to the bowl and add flour" I say as I use a knife to scrape the yellow goo from her hands, after the wooden spoon, metal spoon and pallet knife all failed. "Whatever you do, don't wash your hands yet"

I turned my back for approx 3.4 seconds before I heard the tap running.

Well, do you know what happens when you get Big Bird glue gunk wet?

It doesn't easily wash away i'll tell you that.

Plasticine. It turns in to a weird goo that just gets stickier and stickier on the hands before the lumps in the sink create a plasticine.

Marvellous. Blooming Marvellous.

Anyway, I sorted the sticky mess, made pretty bread shapes and cleaned the kitchen, all in a beautiful make shift pinny. I can totally smash this 1940s life. In my head I am picturing the iconic 'We can do it' poster.

Can you spot which are my creations and which are Nat's...attempts?!

We had a lovely and very sophisticated afternoon tea, we even had a table cloth and a VE Day bread centrepiece, and all sophisticated conversations about the war and everything! And then, Child 3 says...

"What if you were a farmer and you had a cow and you were a German bomber and you were going to bomb a farm and see a cow and its shooting its milk at you and then all the other cows start shooting milk at you too"

Well, not only were we not sure how you even respond to that, but, well, then we somehow got on to the conversation of gang banging.

Woah! Hold up. Bare with me a second to explain myself before you phone child protection.

It isn't as bad as it sounds.

I got a little confused... We were talking about DNA, then robbing banks...hypothetically, obviously!! Anyway, it got on to fake tattoos and I said you should get a gang banger type tattoo, you know, because they always catch the criminal when they have a gang banger tattoo as they can trace the gang they are a part of.

I am still convinced I am right, unfortunately I can no longer argue my case as the elder child googled gang banger and I don't want to go there again!

Doesn't that look all pretty? Notice my marvellous cheese hedgehog thing?!

Ahh, blissful garden time in the sun, playing happily in the Anderson shelter to be followed by relevant games.

Wrong!

The bottom neighbours are, still, doing their garden. Today's joy is a stone cutting noise maker. On top of that Child 1 and 2 are arguing over the shelter and how many bedrooms it should have.

I point out the point in the shelter and how they would all be dead now and send them to take their brains for a shit. Obviously I did not say it in this way and like any good parent said 'poo'.

Child number 3 has been sighing and wishing they would just get on. At the point they are sent away he declares;

"I'm going to spend some time in the Anderson shelter listening to the birds tweet and the glory ness"

Aww!

Also

Ahhhh. Peace, beautiful peace.

And then the stone cutter started again.

Nat is sending me off to play in the office with my podcast (ooo, spoiler!), I just have to open the tin of mushy peas first. Sounds simple enough right?!

Wrong!

It won't open and this is feeling like the tipping point of no longer being able to continue smiling after, actually, quite a stressful day of the kids constantly arguing and just not letting any enjoyment happen. Luckily she saves the day by attacking the tin with a knife and slicing the little buggar open. Ahhhh!

Podcast practice happened, that was a nice therapy. Tea happened, that was yummy. Then, then I just wanted 5 minutes to myself. That did not happen. What happened was tale telling and arguing over a box.

I broke

I snapped

I no longer kept my calm smiling demeanour.

I used the words; brats, selfish, self centred, unbelievable, mean, no empathy, uncaring...well, I'm not proud but, it seemed to work as, today (shhhh, this is a little update just for you because I care that much) they do seem a little bit better and keep telling each other off if they do start an argument.

So, somehow all this happened and I did even hit the alcohol. Go me!

Oh, and a lovely moment did happen actually... Ro came down dressed fully in Nat's old Navy uniform and a gas mask, declaring that the German's were coming and made the Anderson shelter outside. He hid his enthusiasm and love well, deep deep down but I am sure that he absolutely loved it. He also was ecstatic when I put the picture on facebook and tagged him.

Anyway, blimey heck this is a long blog so I think i'll just stop now and sleep.

TPFN!

Kyra x

Oh, and PS. the bread was fooking awful!!