Darling, pop down to Tesco's and get me a curry

Sorry for going AWOL. I had my fetal echocardiogramme (is that the right term?) Tuesday plus my OB appt yesterday. I know some of you are snorting and saying: "ohh, scary! An appointment a day! *derisive snort*" But it can be quite a challenge when you have 2 toddlers and a baby to haul about and everything's an hour a way.

Everything turned out to be peachy, Bitty Boy was as bad as he was during the level II and we never did get a nice profile shot. Oh well, the heart looked good. I also got a chance to see my wonderful genetic councellor, C. I wanted to speak to her as Normal Blue instead of Psycho Pre-Amnio Blue.

Had a lovely V-day. The love of my life and father of my ankle-biters surprised me with this lovely stuff:



If you’ve never been to Britain you may not know what this is and MAN are you missing out! Now if I can get my hands on some HP sauce I’ll be in heaven. Or as close as an anglophile who's not in Britain can be.

Now on to the Rant of the Day:

So what’s up with In Laws? Do they take the opportunity, the instant that their children get married, to be idiots because the CAN? Or what? Someone enlighten me, please.

(for those long-suffering of you who are on some of my baby boards, forgive me. You've already heard this one. Just scroll down a few inches)

Let’s say my name is Smith and Darling Hubby’s name is Jones. Easy enough to grasp, yes? Smith and Jones. OK, then we agreed to hyphenate our children’s names (Smith-Jones). We told the whole bloody family this. I was very careful to explain it to my In-Laws.

This was over 3 years and 3 children ago.

So why the HELL did I just get 3 valentines day cards from them addressed to Boy Jones, Tall Girl Jones, and Bitty Girl freakin’ JONES?!

They’re doing this on purpose.

After over 4 years of tight lips and disapproving looks from them, this is their not-so-subtle passive-aggressive insult to me.

What I want to know is why.

Yes, I’m much older than Darling Hubby, and I’m brash and outspoken and very opinionated. No, I didn’t graduate from university and no, I don’t share your religius beleifs (but neither does Hubby). And *gasp* I did encourage him to buy a house out in the country instead of a trendy, puckered-anus subdivision.

But I adore your son. I do everything in my power to make his life as perfect as possible.

And without me you wouldn’t have those 3 (and a half) lovely grandchildren.

So show a little respect. Whaddaya say?

My deepest hope as a mother is to grow up to be a good mother-in-law! I vow to give my children some room, keep out of their business, and keep my fucking mouth shut. Most of all I’ll try to trust my children’s choice of mate and how they’re raising their own kids.

End of rant.

Now I'm off to get some chops out for supper so that I might slather them in Branston pickle and later 'express my gratitude' to Darling Hubby.