A trip to the park

Today is a sunny day in Aberdeen.  So it's a trip to the park for a picnic.  Sadly pay-day isn't until Friday and the cupboards are bare, but I manage to scramble together some form of picnic which consists of:  Diluting juice, tuna sandwiches, bananas, apples, cheese strings and raisins.  No crisps, chocolate or cake - they were all demolished a long time ago...... Imogen had a settle session at nursery this morning, while she's there I manage to top up my caffine levels and grab some Jezza Kyle - a classic, chavtastic show this morning.  I pick Imogen up at 11 and we head to the park.

The destination for today's outing is Duthie Park.  One of the good things about living in Aberdeen is it has some lovely parks.  It also has some of my favourite shops - Bravissimo, Radley, Wagamama to name but a few - sadly I can't afford to buy anything from these establishments as Blaine bleeds me dry of my finances.  Any spare cash I have is spent on him, or clothes for Imogen. Aberdeen is a weird city - a city in the country.  One minute your in the heart of the city centre, surrounded by the usual homeless junkies, prossies, unemployed lay-abouts, mobile phone shops, Fat Rons and Game shops. The next you're at the beach or driving through beautiful scenery.  Although the beach is always baltic - it's on the North Sea, so it's never ever going to be warm.  Not even luke-warm. For the time being Aberdeen is while I live, but it's not, and never will be, Home.  It's a means to an end at the moment, here for work, work and more work.  Well, Tom is, I sit at home and do nothing apparently....... I do have a "proper" job, which I am returning to in May (currently on maternity leave)  Believe it or not I'm some kinda manager, working with Autistic Adults.  In May my blogs will be filled with rants about my job, mainly due to staff who are appalled if I even ask them to do an ounce of work - they look at me as if to say "sorry?! You expect me to work when I'm in this building?  Is it not a holiday camp?" No it's not, get back to fucking work.  You're not paid to sit about and do nothing. I am, but that's different.

Anyway, back to the park.  It was a  lovely day actually, nothing went wrong, Blaine didn't hurt himself, Imogen didn't grump and the sun was shining.  All good.  We had our picnic - threatening Blaine within an inch of his life not to feed the birds as the sea-gulls are circling over our heads ready to swoop down and steal our tiny lunch. Or crap on my coat. We wandered round the Winter Gardens (lovely massive greenhouse basically), had a wee ice-cream in the cafe - not making eye-contact with anyone as they all looked a bit, well, scary. I, of course, look totally glam in my minging gutties, jeans that don't fit, belly overhang, boobs at my waist due to rubbish nursing bra (yuck, yuck, yuck) silly coloured coat, no make up and hair a mess.  So I can't really comment on others, but I do. Then we headed home. Via Tesco.

Tesco is Blaine's favourite shop.  That and Asda.  I kid you not. He bloody loves it, the reason he loves it is it has toys and a coffee shop.  Asda even has a play area that he gets chucked into so I get peace to wander aimlessly round and round the aisles enjoying the peace. Until Imogen demands to be fed. Then all hell breaks loose and it's a rush to the coffee shop for a coffee (from a machine, bllleeeerrrggggh) so I can get a seat and whap her on the boob before she dies of starvation.  Or that's what she thinks.  She's massive, she will not starve in the space of 5 mins - but her screaming makes me think she thinks otherwise.

Tesco - we go in for cat food (for Rimsky, she gets cheap crap so Bartok can have his ridiculously expensive posh stuff) and a scrap book.  I have this mad moment of creativity that we will do a scrap book for the Easter holidays - it's not going to work, but we'll give it a bash.  As I'm wandering Blaine disappears to the toy aisle and returns with a "thing" that he wants. "Pppppllllleeeaase can I have it mummy?" Normally the response is a NO as his behaviour is not the best and he's on, what some people would call, "a tight rein" but it's a wee bouncy ball thing with sticky arms and a funny face and he's been really good today.  I check the price, it's do-able. so we buy it and he's sooo excited.  Apparently everyone in school has them.  Hmmmm..... the time, at this point is approx 14:30.  By 17:00 it is broken and lost.  Arms ripped off and it's in the garden "somewhere" apparently it "bounced too high"  Whatever.  Sigh.  I could have spent that cash on cake.  Or wine.  *weep*

Tom drags himself out of bed at 17:30 and proceeds to start his usual moaning and tutting and sighing technique that really, really, pisses me off. It's macaroni for tea - which I refuse to make as he always complains about it, so he now has to make it. Imogen is now over-tired and ridiculously grumpy.  So tea is shovelled in with one hand while I shoogle her about with the other.  She's in bed before 7pm, which means she'll be up to start the day at about 4am tomorrow. But thats ok, I don't do anything anyway apparently, so it's ok for me to live with minimal sleep.  FFS. Theres football on the TV so Tom is pissed off as Blaine is still up and he has to put him to bed.  I dealt with Imogen so it's only fair.  Blaine went to bed at 19:30.  Now Tom's lying on the sofa, in his dressing gown, legs akimbo, sighing as I'm typing - what a bloody sight. I bet you ladies out there are thinking I'm a lucky lady eh?  Some English football match on TV, teams he doesn't even support so why watch it?! He's heading into work soon - a "proper" job, not like my current job. Nooooo looking after the kids isn't hard work - all I do is lounge about the house all day, watching Jezza Kyle and drinking copious amounts of coffee.  Or wine. Depending how bad the day is going....



(can I just add a wee thank you to my followers!  Feel free to share my blog if you think people might like it, I don't mind people laughing at my life lol)