tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-16927594955071543332024-03-13T23:59:20.294+00:00TroutieAn irreverent slice of modern motherhoodTroutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.comBlogger132125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-20902807050153663042012-03-17T23:03:00.000+00:002012-03-17T23:03:50.887+00:00Whoa! Haven't been here in a while...Can't believe how many months have passed since I was last here. Service was interrupted mainly due to my daughter throwing a tantrum and knocking a glass of red wine over my(new) computer.
Cheers, love.
Then, my long suffering father took said computer to some cockney wankers who kept the blessed thing for three months before telling me they couldn't repair it.
Meanwhile I had to go to a Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-13133811192473883452011-11-08T17:52:00.001+00:002011-11-10T12:05:50.642+00:00Bognor Regis in PicturesFinally, in November, I went on my family summer holiday. We chose Butlins in Bognor Regis because we had no car and wanted to entertain the kids. Out of shame, I kept this a secret from some of my best friends.
Here is my experience.
No car. We're hardcore Public Transport types.
On the train at Victoria Bushman chose to sit next to a football team on their way to Benidorm. Nice way Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-18731056599124176072011-10-09T00:02:00.000+01:002011-10-09T00:02:34.848+01:00What have you done with our baby?On Friday morning my alarm went of at 6.15 am. My eyelids parted and through bleary lenses I saw that the baby's cot was empty, except for a few toys.
Panic rose in my chest. It was overwhelming.
"Bushman. Where is our baby? WHAT HAVE YOU DONE WITH OUR BABY!!" I shouted, accusingly.
From the otherside of the duvet wall. I heard a voice say.
"Trout. Wha' wrong wid you? She sleeping at Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-62948157004470260602011-10-04T09:47:00.000+01:002011-10-04T09:47:21.884+01:00ThreeToday my son is three.
Last week Lady Violet came to visit. She snuck into his room while he was sleeping and pulled back the covers to see how much he'd grown, having not seen him for nearly a year.
"Fuckin'ell Troutie, he's a giant!"
It's true. I'm buying clothes for a 3 year old who is the size of a 5 year old. He's in the 99.6th percentile. Which means that only 0.4 percent of children hisTroutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-45187107401255333532011-09-04T12:20:00.000+01:002011-09-04T12:20:13.240+01:00Don't expect a party bag....Tomorrow my daughter turns one. She has the most unruly hair of a one year old I've ever seen.
For her party today I have created the most enormous headpiece for her to wear. I'm hoping it detracts from her ratty locks and my bad parenting.
This party has been the centre of much family controversy after my son's 2nd birthday party last year when rather a large number of unexpected guests Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-84917846436596502872011-08-10T22:41:00.000+01:002011-08-10T22:41:28.118+01:00Restorative Justice
I have so much stuff to say about the London Riots I hardly know where to begin, but as a big believer in restorative justice, this image from riots in Vancouver earlier this year really warmed my heart.
Rioters started to apologise on broken shop windows.
www.nowpublic.com
Sounds like a little but maybe it could mean a lot?Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-76070993383101116292011-08-08T10:09:00.000+01:002011-08-08T10:09:11.298+01:00SupercatAbout a week ago I saw a slightly grubby cat laying in some bushes outside our flat. He was sunning himself and I thought nothing of it.
A few days later the cat was outside again and as I struggled through the doors of my flat with my double buggy (scraping the tops of my feet with the bottom of the heavy, outside door and bruising a hip in the process as usual) I Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com9tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-88082347227891579852011-08-01T15:03:00.000+01:002011-08-01T15:03:37.128+01:00A Full House of Affliction"No! No!" I cried, as I discovered my internet connection had gone AGAIN.
I rushed to the wall to turn the power off and on again but a minute later and still nothing.
"Goddamit!" I curse as I decide to repeat the off /on thing again just to make doubly sure.
"Ahah!" Whilst scrabbling around on the floor I come across a loose connection. It bears teeth marks. That will be the Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-73662666471566673402011-06-30T09:24:00.000+01:002011-06-30T09:24:17.741+01:00Happy Birthday Cupcake
The heady days have waned,Our wildness somewhat tamed,At least we don't wake up ashamed (rarely)My life without you would be lame.
Happy birthday you flame-haired vixen. XXXXTroutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-6458897874790432752011-06-11T22:37:00.001+01:002011-06-11T22:42:35.858+01:00Stitches, Bitches and GlitchesShit. So I missed my 'tomorrow' deadline.
Sorry folks but the days seem to pass so quickly. I think it may be to do with my new found addiction to drugs.
Let's start with the vagina. So, remember a little while ago I happened to mention that I had seen a whole bunch of vaginas and I thought, in comparison, that mine was quite cute? Well, every rose has its thorn and my rose was no exception.
Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-42975199880778477912011-06-09T23:23:00.000+01:002011-06-09T23:23:51.264+01:00ReconnectedMy internet access has been out for about two weeks.
I feel like someone who has just come out of a coma. When I woke up, I had an Iphone which I didn't know how to work.
In the weeks that have passed I have become addicted to drugs, got myself a new vagina, been verbally abused by a transsexual and have come up with a plan to change the world. (Not necessarily in that order)
All of Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-86189350963748612802011-05-20T07:59:00.000+01:002011-05-20T07:59:08.261+01:00Troutie's Royal Wedding in Pictures
The queue at Victoria Station for a ticket.
The Macdonalds at the airport. It's years since I've eaten from McDonalds and I was bowled over to find that it cost just £1.84 for a cheeseburger and chips. Cupcake and I were skint and holidaying on a fraying, grubby, old shoestring.
After arriving at Gatwick in disguise (in sunglasses and a Queen Elizabeth coronation Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-87560194438136272092011-04-28T16:31:00.000+01:002011-04-28T16:31:45.414+01:00Royal Wedding PreparationsI've ironed my vintage inspired cherry blossom cotton pyjamas;
I've cleaned my leather shoes, handbag and washbag.
I've grown into my racist haircut which I've now decided is much more Salt N' Pepa than National Front.
I've given myself a lip and chin wax.
Hair dyed.
The home made honey, oat and prune mask has been applied (twice)
The eyebrows are plucked - legs and armpits shaved.
Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-43066464945830200632011-04-15T14:47:00.000+01:002011-04-15T14:47:46.872+01:00Ukeleles and Racist haircuts
Can a haircut be racist?
I think mine just might be. Very skint and in need of a trim I set off to the Vidal Sasson Academy two days ago for a £12 haircut. They took almost every hair off my head and left me with a long bit at the front. I look like I should be wearing a checked shirt, Doctor Marten boots and have a swallow tattooed on my neck. (i.e how racist women looked in the 80's - I Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-50905363074453505332011-04-11T11:25:00.002+01:002011-04-11T11:29:33.668+01:00Baby Get ShotRecently Bushman put a nail in one of our doors and hung a calendar on it. Why he didn't put the nail in the wall I'll never know. Anyway, this is supposed to aid the organisation in our household - shocking in itself as Bushman never organises or plans anything. Ever.
Despite this well meaning attempt at commitment visibility, it's not exactly going to plan.The trouble is Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-4589572738705227432011-03-31T22:48:00.000+01:002011-03-31T22:50:06.334+01:00The Hackney ScrawlerThis morning I awoke to my son’s smiling face. He was caressing my cheek and saying gently “Mummy, wake up, I’m hungry”
As I opened my eyes I noticed he had three eighteenth century beauty spots on his face. My mind wandered as to how they could have got there and then suddenly
“Oh no! God no! Shit!” (it just slipped out I couldn’t help it….) I leapt out of bed, that feeling of child-dread and Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-23086678686311042392011-03-20T23:57:00.000+00:002011-03-31T22:49:38.455+01:00The Slap / Notes on Beauty
A few weeks ago I went for a photoshoot. This involved tons of 'slap' as we call it here in Blighty: layer upon layer of polyfilla style make up. This slang term is said to have come from 19th century actors who crudely applied make up to their faces and thus 'slapped it on'.
It happens to be my sister's 30th birthday on the day we go for our shoot and afterwards, still covered inTroutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-54295663645974317622011-03-11T23:27:00.000+00:002011-03-11T23:27:16.276+00:00Winners!!!If you haven't been here for a while then goddammit you just missed out on some free porn!
For the rest of you, here are the winners of the 'Porn Name' competition, in no particular order.
Puffy Rosenfeld - by Cathy B. Puffy is original. It has hip hop overtones, as in Puff Daddy. Alternatively, if you are extra rude, 'Puffy' as an adjective could make you think of all sorts of things.
Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-12525665539247424302011-03-07T00:31:00.000+00:002011-03-07T00:31:57.508+00:00Flash, Bang, Wallop
So here are the pictures from my photo shoot. But before I show you the finished product here are a few top tips should any of you lovely people be thinking about it. My photo shoot was with a company called ‘New ID’ and I went to their Oxford Circus branch. I had a similar experience many years ago when I accompanied a friend so I had an inkling of what I was in for. It’s good to be Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-91672565992402592362011-03-04T00:24:00.000+00:002011-03-31T22:50:20.160+01:00Free Porn - by women, for womenYou’re probably thinking that this is just a shocking title to get you to read this post and that if you scroll down far enough you’ll discover that it’s a play on words and that there is no free porn to be had. Well, you’d be wrong and also deprived of the chance to get some free porn.
Whenever I get any e-mails as a result of this blog (which is not a lot) I am always dismayed as to how the Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com15tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-5010241583090820762011-02-25T22:48:00.001+00:002011-02-27T13:35:32.163+00:00Pissed
You're probably thinking that this is another post about drunkeness.
It's not.
The question I have for you today is:
Ever been so angry that you wet yourself?
For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of passing a child through your pelvis this is probably (and hopefully) an alien concept. But all too many of you will know exactly what I'm talking about because - let's face it - Pelvic Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-51583289328573429602011-02-23T15:05:00.000+00:002011-02-23T15:05:04.370+00:00Date with a mashed up Cupcake
On Sunday afternoon at 2pm I have a date with my friend Cupcake. We are meeting at Victoria Station with some of our offspring in tow and travelling back to Brighton together. Our plans are simple – put the kids to bed at hers, throw a couple of drinks down our necks and catch up.
When I arrive at Victoria Station I am ten minutes early and as I surface from underground I get a text message fromTroutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-41966337803448263362011-02-14T20:06:00.000+00:002011-02-16T13:54:43.004+00:00A Jamaican Valentine's Breakfast Together
Every year on Valentine's Day whilst couples go gooey over one another; over candelit dinners and fine wines, Bushman is sweating it out in the kitchen.
Spare a thought for your chef, ladies and gentlemen, he foregoes his own Valentine delights so that you can have yours.
In the seven Valentines' days we have spent together we have never been able to indulge in that ritual. But with a little Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com12tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-32828766459436409622011-02-10T23:35:00.003+00:002011-02-16T13:51:09.867+00:00Mum to Rolex and ChardonnayThis is just toooooooo good to ignore. It’s a gift.
So, while I was blogging last night and writing a mundane post, catching up on blogs and leaving comments for people, I came across this on ‘Jezebel’.
Its all about 'Mommy Business Cards'. Now if you follow the thread through and read all the comments there's a lot of arguing about how being a stay at home mum is a 'real' job. Well, we know Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1692759495507154333.post-33377658671201960622011-02-09T20:51:00.004+00:002011-02-09T21:30:26.612+00:00Recently, I have been........buying inappropriate tartan footwear from Office (via ebay),
missing the Caribbean, cleaning out my son's earwax, having my hair cut at the Vidal Sasson Academy, going to jail, spending the night in a Premier Inn in Swindon, walking, discovering I am broke, weaning my daughter, signing my son up for Nursery, thinking about a Murder Mystery Dinner Party, reading 'Who wants to be a poodle? I Troutiehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13261579320025278457noreply@blogger.com8