Bouncy pillows of fun, farm shops and dinosaurs

Saturday the 2nd of June 2018

I KNEW that June wasn’t as much of an arsehole as May was. She couldn’t be. Not when she brings with her long days and sunshine and here we are on her second day and you know what? It’s been alright! Actually, some bits of it have been really really lovely.

For the last few weeks I’ve not been able to do anything  bar slumber on a Saturday morning, which is shite, because it’s hands down my favourite time of the week. Christiaan is off work, Eli is off nursery and we get to spend some proper time together, playing, laughing and shouting at that little fucker… you know, standard Instagram life stuff. I dunno why but weekends make me feel like a proper mum, it’s like I just pretend I have a husband and child during the week but I feel like I fit in with the other grown ups when we do “weekendy stuff”.  So I’ve been more gutted than I’ve let on to wave them both off while I sit in that fucking dressing gown and pretend that I’m going to indulge in some me time and I’m happy about it.  I mean who the fuck am I kidding? I have so much “me time” at the minute that I’ve started sighing in disappointment when I catch my own eye in the mirror. Me time is only a valuable thing when it’s a rarity or it’s welcomed – it’s neither for me.

So today it was a huge relief to wake up and feel that cognitively I was in an alright place; not crystal clear but not diazepam chic either. See, I never know how I’m going to be day to day, and I have no idea what ingredients to use the day before to make sure I am fully functioning; it appears to be a mystery – like what the bloke who discovered cows milk was up to. My legs felt less heavy than they have for the past week and I guess the only down side was that I was in a lot more pain; which might be why I was sharper… pain wakens me up a bit sometimes (sometimes not!). Not horrific screaming out in agony type pain but definitely ME saying “Amma fuck you up” pain. I couldn’t let it stop me today though or it would be ANOTHER day at home and it was supposed to be a smashin day weather wise…. I wanted out while I had the luxury of Christiaan being there to help me.  I knew I’d not be racing Sally Gunnell, with or without a shite pit stop, but I a wanted to take advantage of the fact that, for however long, this morning I wasn’t an entire mess.

Now we could have done what we used to do in good old days which was spend the entire morning saying “what do you want to do?” only to be answered with “I dunno, what do you want to do?”, by which point it was too late and we’d concede that we’d be just as well staying comfy and watching a box set instead, a decent one… not Paw Patrol. Oh how I miss the freedom of being child free, still,  only 16 more years before he can move out. We didn’t do that though, because it transpires that I’m a bit of a genius. I know! Who knew? Not me that’s for fucking sure because I had forgotten that ages ago I had bought, a family ticket for a local place called Muddy Boots when it was on offer… was paid for and when I eventually remembered about it today we decided we’d better bloody use it. It’s a cracking wee place; a big bouncy pillow, grass sledging, a cafe selling the nicest ice cream (Eli had chocolate as you can see), soft play and later on the afternoon, pig racing – which we missed but it was starting to fill up as we were leaving and you know what I’m like with other people’s kids so we left before I was tempted to trip one of the little darlings up. Look though; he loved it… and so did I.


I think he loved the big bouncy pillow more than anything else in the entire world, but he was torn. It was SO much fun he started crying, while laughing, and bouncing – it’s hard being a tiny arsehole. I presume he was knackered and it was baking hot but I’m guessing….. it could have been that Nefertiti hadn’t returned his call, or that the goat he was waving to in the second last pic had one testicle lower than the other. He’s complicated (Eli, not the goat… the goat’s just got wonky balls)…. or maybe he’s an enigma. Either way, the whining was doing my head in so we were leaving.

Now when you spend as much time indoors on your arse as I do,  you start making mental lists of places you’d LOVE to get out to when the opportunity arises. I’m no different. Muddy Boots was on the list and so was a place called Ardross Farm Shop – just outside Elie (click here to see some stunning pics) which is my all time favourite place in Fife. Honestly, I have dreams of retiring there for reasons I can’t quite explain but it’s a place that both Christiaan and I love and although I’m not walking well at the minute driving through it was just as nice.  Farm shops aren’t as much of a “thing” up here as they are in that England. I mean there are some, but we don’t have a huge population of trendy hipsters in Fife, and like most of the UK we’ve been brainwashed by commercial superstores everywhere telling us cheap is best. Which is bullshit because often the packaging, shipping all over the fucking world and multiple layers of food handling drives the cost way above what it should be. This notion of a farm shop is obviously just going back to the way we used to shop; it is a little more expensive but that’s because it’s grown or made the way it was meant to be… not mass produced. I’m not a snob by the way, and I’m also really realistic about the cost of living (I shop in Tesco for fucks sake) but if that place was closer, I’d like to try living off what’s in there day to day. I reckon I’d spend less, waste less and eat better… they’d need to start making bog roll though, I’m not into wiping my arse on cabbage leaves or the like. So, anyway,  we went.  It was half an hours drive from Muddy Boots to the shop, so not exactly round the corner but I’ve wanted to go since January and while we were anywhere near, I was  determined I was going. I spent about £40 in there on a steak for our Christiaan, a mega tomato, some strawberries, some fudge (for Monday), two blocks of cheese, some fresh cheese and leek bread (for Monday), some alcoholic pop for Christiaan, some ham,  a smoked garlic, a wee cake for Eli and some eggs. I didn’t think that was *too* bad price wise to be honest? It was all local, not like some of the fake farm shops that basically sell what you can already get in Tesco’s – this was genuine local produce. I was chuffed to bits I’d been in. I only spent maybe 10 minutes in there but oh my fucking days, I could have moved in. If they’d had a comfy chair that is because although it had been low impact in terms of physical movement it had been a busier morning than I’d had for a while so I was goosed and fading fast. Look at that fucking tomato though – I thought it looked like a heart but Christiaan says its like a baboons arse and I can see his point but I’m looking forward to chewing that arse later. I’m a freak for a nice bit of salad; true story – it gets nailed first before anything else on my plate.


I may have been goosed but I was alright with that because we had a 40 minute drive home, Eli would nap, and I could sit back and enjoy the cracking countryside we were driving through. Except I couldn’t, because bollockchops wouldn’t sleep and the air conditioning in the car has stopped working (it needs servicing) so it was windows open, which meant noise like a million helicopters in my ears, and pollen, and me sneezing, and Eli shouting “look Mummy a cow” (he’s a liar). That said it was still a very lovely and wholesome drive back through the countryside; it’s cracking just being out to be honest.

We’d only been out a few hours and I’d been sat down for the majority of it but I knew that this afternoon would need to be a very quiet affair, I’d not manage otherwise and thankfully it was. It was an afternoon in the garden but I’ll be 100% honest with you – I was on edge the whole time. Eli was being a dick because he was tired and high on chocolate, Christiaan was on a mission to cut the grass, and although I wanted to just lay there like a burst couch I couldn’t because…. well… firstly it started spitting (panic) and secondly turns out there are fucking dinosaurs in the garden!!!!! DINOSAURS. Well either that or mutant giant sized birds… what the fuck kind of egg is this? It can’t be a seagull egg because it’s no big enough?


We came in soon enough anyway because although it’s 22 degrees and sunny away from the sea its muggy and misty by us – note to self: it’s only glamorous living by the sea when it behaves its-bastard-self.  Also, Eli had shat. That kid needs to get himself out of nappies pronto because what he’s shitting is in his words “s’agustin mummy”. Yes son, you’re right, it is disgusting, in fact, your arse smells like a rotting corpse. When will you start eating chips and sandwiches like all the other kids? This much home made soup and broccoli is creating a shite monster that I’m neither happy about, nor comfortable with. Just eat a fucking happy meal. Come on.

I genuinely wish he would expand his culinary circle of trust. I know it’s normal for toddlers to be picky, but he’s ALWAYS been shit with food. He was shit when we came to wean him; he didn’t have that same “pick it up and shove it in your gob” reflex as all the other kids seem to have; not even with stuff he shouldn’t, like… lego. He’d just not do it. Even if you gave him something on a spoon he’d not touch it if he wasn’t sure what it was. Now don’t get me wrong, he’s not fading away and thankfully the stuff he DOES like is all really good for him (I’m not boasting, he just has zero taste in what’s filthy and what’s not) but it would be SO much easier if he would at least try stuff. Tonight for instance, I was using up the left over pork mince to make myself a burger and cooking Christiaans steak, we were both having Actifry chips, I was having salad and Christiaan wanted peas (he won’t touch pepper cream sauce or mushrooms… he’s doing it wrong). Eli would only eat the peas out of that list. He’d not touch the chips (he won’t even touch proper nice fried chips), he’d not entertain the burger unless I rolled it into meatballs (I did that last night for him) and like most kids he’d rather kick a unicorn in the face than eat salad… even with that beautiful tomato. So I cooked him his favourite; pasta, peas and broccoli with some pre-made home made sauce from the freezer. He was over the fucking moon. In fact we all were because I’d inadvertently cooked us all our favourite dinners…. look.


Crackers to think that these are fat club meals though – all 3 of them… we live a life of virtue… and smelly smelly shite.

The end

  • Highlights
    • We’ve had a lovely morning, OUTSIDE and I know I’ll likely still pay but I have been very very careful about not walking too far, or standing up too long.
    • The farm shop at Ardross, if you’re local you need to check it out; Christiaan said its the nicest steak he’s had in a while (high praise) and that shredded baboons arse was fucking awesome
    • Eli had a great time and is thoroughly knackered – Christiaan is putting him to bed as we speak and I suspect it won’t take long
    • My brother and his two sprogs are coming tomorrow to visit, I’ve not seen the kids in ages so I’m really looking forward to getting a cuddle… even though they tell me they’re too old for cuddles now.
  •  Lowlights
    • Acht, I’m sore. Really sore.
    • The sunshine betrayed the coast
  • What’s on the menu Mellars?
    • Breakfast – a yoghurt with some raspberries and an apple
    • Lunch – negative, we were out – Eli had some, we didn’t
    • Dinner  – Burger again for me tonight, I needed to use up the pork mince

Are you new round here?

If you’ve just stumbled across TryingToDoItAll and have no bastarding idea what’s going on you should probably go back and read a few blogs from the beginning. Don’t panic, I won’t ask you to read them all, but these few posts will help explain. Oh stop sighing, it’ll only take you a few minutes. Fucks sake.

  1. Well you’re here, so you may as well get comfy
  2. Can’t stop M.E. now…. ahmm having such a good time, ahmm tickling your balllssss!
  3. When are the grown ups coming?
  4. Major surgery…again?
  5. You’ve got to be kidding M.E.?

#mecfs #meawarenessuk #mewarrior #silentillness #swearymum


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