Jokes jokes

Before I even write this post, let me first apologise - 

I feel like I have become a bit of a Mommy blogger and I don't even have any children.

But that's what looking after two nippers will do to you.

Especially when they crack you up on a daily basis.

Amy: Becky, do you know any funny jokes?

Me: Erm...what's orange and sounds like a parrot?

A CARROT!

(That one is a personal favourite of mine!)

Amy: A carrot?

Me: Yes, a carrot. 

Because carrots are orange and carrot rhymes with parrot.

If a joke needs explaining, it quickly loses its funny.

Saying that, she is only 5.

Amy: I know one.

What did the Mummy chimney say to the baby chimney?

Pause...

Becky! Your meant to say you don't know!

Me: Oh. Sorry. 

What did the Mummy chimney say to the baby chimney?

Amy: Your too young to smoke missy!

And then she manically laughed for a straight minute.

I did too.

Not because of the joke, which admittedly wasn't bad for a 5 year old, but because she said the entire joke in a cheesy American accent.

When I asked her why, she didn't even know that she'd done it.

And when I thought back to when I overheard her playing in her bedroom - the time she fell over the baby squirrel no less, that was in an American accent too.

That girl watches too much iCarly!

Pork/port chops

I'm a big fan of ridic-u-lous pet names.

Honeypie, pumpkin eyes, sugar lump, oaty cakes, cute-and-delicious-frosted-cupcake.

The more farcical the better.

(Please know that even I don't take myself seriously, so please, don't you do it either.)

I've been using pet names for a long time now.

Ross sometimes like in on the action.

He sent me this text a few nights ago.

"What you doing pork chop?"

Surprisingly pork chop is a name that I've never used before.

But I love it.

So I text him back and told him to add pork chop into the rotation of regularly used pet names.

Only I didn't say pork chop.

My stupid fingers typed in port chop instead, which Ross found kinda hilarious.

I did too when he pointed it out.

So now we have two new names.

Pork chop & port chop.

I love both equally.

Bad dream

Something bad happened last night.

Not like the-world-is-ending-and-we're-all-going-to-die kind of bad, but you know, pretty bad.

Pretty-ish bad.

Basically at 4:14am I had a dream that we had a power cut whilst we were sleeping.

Not so bad, I know, but because of the power cut my alarm clock didn't go off the next morning.

So I overslept by approximately 2.4 hours which meant that I was late for work, 

which meant that my boss was late for work, 

which meant she was really mad with me even though a power cut is pretty legit and nothing to do with me, 

which meant that she fired me.

See. prettyish bad.

And that's not even the worst part.

Because between me waking up at 4:14am and my alarm actually going of at 6:20am, I woke up to check the time 400 times.

At least.

Bad night's sleep.

And Becky after a bad night's sleep usually makes for a grumpy Becky.

Poor Ross.

This is how we roll

Sometimes we have family parties.

Always they involve cups of tea for the older members of la famille, 

trampoline bouncing, that may or may not encourage younger members of the fam to pretend that they can fly, 

excellent desserts that I will inevitably eat too many of and end up with a food baby, 

 and some kind of celebratory singing.

(Happy Birthday Chlo!)

On Saturday we had a family party and for the first time ever, ever in our entire family history, we had a pinata.

It's day later now and I'm still left shrugging my shoulders and asking myself why we have never had one before.

Such hilarity.

The babe of the family Natalie took to beating the floor and nearly injured a few people and other members of the family swung the rolling pin so furiously that I think if they'd have been sent to London during the riots they'd have sent the rioters home crying.

I have was the first one to make that poor pinata share its treasure.

(I'm quite proud of that fact.)

Plus, it has sweets as a guaranteed outcome.

Bonus.

Summer should get a speeding ticket

Summer has passed by so quickly this year.

Maybe it just feels especially quick because the actual pure moments of summer 

(read: nice weather),

have been pretty limited this year.

A blessed week here and there, the odd weekend and a glorious few sunny, warm days.

Summer has felt more like a weekend this year than an entire season.

June is the Friday, July the Saturday and August is the Sunday.

Right now we're at the horrible time when you wake up in the middle of the night on Sunday/Monday and check to see what time it is and with a sinking heart you realise that you have to get up and go to work in a few hours.

(I hate it when that happens. 

My favourite is when you wake up and check the time and you have like, six hours to go!)

It's that limbo period of time where you know that the weekend is over, but you just have a little bit of time before the work begins.

Although, to completely contradict myself, these first two days of September have been really lovely.

Bright sunshine, bright blue skies and everyone with brightened moods.

Maybe if we have a nice September that would be the equivalent of having a bank holiday Monday.

And everyone loves a bank holiday.

Shine on September.