Domestic-ness

Aaah, more of my lovely sweetpeas.  When I was pregnant with baby n, the smell of these used to make me barf and every other year I've tried to grow them, I've managed to kill them (how?) so I am completely, disproportionately thrilled that I have managed to keep these ones alive and not throw up every time I walk past them.  Happy days indeed.

Here's a thing: I have gone so completely crazy making my new summer hols blanket that my hands actually ache as I'm typing.  Jeez - a crochet-related injury - does that make it a sport?  Olympic crocheting anyone?  Well, yes please, that would be great; but I'd only participate because Olympic sports are no longer done naked as they were originally (I know about the naked thing because I watched Horrible Histories every day for the entire Easter holidays with the boys).  I have the missing blue yarn in my sweaty mitts now, though the second mint-coloured ball that I ordered from eBay has yet to arrive (cue panic attack).  Just to say a really huge 'thank you' to all you lovely, lovely bloggers who offered to bail me out in the missing-mint-yarn-nightmare.  I really appreciate your kindness and I've tried to contact you all to say thanks, but Linds I can't get in contact with you for some inexplicable reason, so I'm sorry - I have been trying!

So today has been a ploddy, domestic kinda day, which is always great.  I sneaked in a little, tiny quiet moment in bed this morning feverishly working away on my new blanket before I was rumbled and the child-menagerie came and jumped on my head.  (Ha ha, I say 'moment' but in actual fact it was more like an hour and a half.  How brilliant is that?  I love my husband quite a lot, he's so good at containing the mayhem so I'm left in peace...)  We took the kids to the park this afternoon after a long and heated debate about which park we should go to - I won the argument and we got to go to the one with the massive death slide, which I absolutely love.  Mwah ha ha!  This park also has the added appeal of being next to a huge field with goal posts in it, so the boys weren't too disappointed that I forced them to go there.  

I got a little bit excited when I saw these:

(They were transported home in a poo bag that I filched from a passing dog-walker.  Needs must...)

I got even more excited thinking about what calorie-laden delight I was going to make with them.

This did the trick:

Mr N actually blanched at the size of the portion I gave him, but I noticed he didn't actually leave any.  Pig. x

PS - we're off to sunny Dorset for a few days tomorrow so a) if you're a burglar, remember the thing about the hungry, slavering Rottweiller: and b) I may be a bit absent on the blogging front for a while, sorry; and c) if you're Cuckoo, lock all your doors because I know where you live and I'm coming to get myself a crochet hook roll...