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Archive for the ‘Vanity of Photos’ Category

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Posted by Mummy Dearest on Apr-7-2016

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Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-11-2013

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Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-11-2013

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The Beginning

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Mar-11-2013

AMS

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Dec-14-2012

Should have used my camera....

My Special Little Guy

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Nov-19-2012

So, what about that beard ?

No comment here.

All My Children

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Oct-24-2012

Yesterday was just another day. I watched ( stalked ) The Baby on FB, kept my Skype open and basically, didn’t do much. I am getting very good at this, doing nothing.

I was just settling down to read for a bit when I heard that squirt from Skype : it was The Baby, she had a fight with The Father, could she come and see me ?

Sure, I said. Tell me about the fight. Well, it was a fight with The Girl. Whatever, I am always here for you.

She turned up at about 4, 4.30. She quickly went into The Big City ( there had been a small snag in her plans) and returned about half way through Dr. Phil.

Closing my eyes ( I am a good sport) she eventually brought a small apple pie with 5 candles to the table, singing *Happy Birthday * to me, and then put decorations up in my studio of my own.

Happy Birthday To Me !

 

Festive ! ( CED: we look FAT !)

We ate some pie, ordered some Chinese and then sat together for a few hours catching up. She showed me her latest grades from school and her latest Math homework and I am very proud of her indeed.

Then she told me about how she had managed to get here. She went to the Principle’s office and explained that she wanted the last two hours of school off so that she could buy a present for her Mother. She got the * we don’t allow this* routine, and broke into tears, not like The Baby at all. The Principle was horrified, and let her go ( come ?).

Baby then called The Girl ( should we start calling her * The Warden * ?), to let her know where she would be.

Maybe The Warden has problems with me, but she could not stop Baby from seeing me. She did threaten to kick Baby out of the room that they share (my old room of my own) if Baby came to see me, but Baby thought this through very logically: Baby has the only bed at home, much easier if The Girl moves out. End of story. That was- of course- the short version. I am positive that many *bleeps* were exchanged during this exchange: know my girls. Pig headed and potty mouthed.

I did contact The Father, to be sure that he knew where Baby was. He did. But one can never be sure if the message was passed along and I didn’t want him to worry about Baby.

It was a lovely and touching gesture on her part, more meaningful than a gallon of Chanel.

I walked her to the bus station and she helped me with my garbage.

When I walked home, I passed one of the bouncers at the pot shop.

We chatted for a moment- I will tell you when I spoke English.

He asked me if I had had a nice walk, and I said that I just took my youngest daughter to the bus station, beautiful girl, I said.

He said that he had noticed us because of the two bags of garbage and that Baby was too young for him.

I said, yup, she is ( echt waar), she is 12.

He looked stunned, really ? ( echt waar ) ?

( English) Yes, I was there. And then I hobbled on.

At midnight, Baby was up, to be the first to officially wish me Happy Birthday.

As to CED, I simply said, look, we weigh between 44 and 46 kilos at 5’2. If you choose OmarĀ  The Tent Maker as your couturier, we are going to look fat. End of story.

On to my birthday dinner- a cheapo Italian, but we have been going there for 23 years, since I received my first pay check, and everyone can always find something they like to eat there.

CED and I both really want a prime cut of beef. Nothing Italian about that !

 

A Fire In Brabant III

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jan-23-2012
The Family Bathroom

The Family Bathroom

 

Our Bedroom

Our Bedroom

 

The Second Floor Hallway

The Second Floor Hallway

 

The Boy's Room

The Boy's Room

 

The Boy's Room II

The Boy's Room II

The Boy's Room III

The Boy's Room III

 

The Boy's Room IV

The Boy's Room IV

The Boy's Room V

The Boy's Room V

 

Our Bedroom II

Our Bedroom II

 

The Third Floor I

The Third Floor I

 

The Third Floor II

The Third Floor II

 

The Playroom

The Playroom

 

The Baby's Room I

The Baby's Room I

 

Laundry / Playroom

Laundry / Playroom

A Fire In Brabant II

Posted by Mummy Dearest on Jan-19-2012

The Bathroom and Linen Closet

 

The Doors to The Girl's and The Baby's Rooms

The Doors to The Girl's and The Baby's Rooms

 

 

The Girl's Room

The Girl's Room

 

 

The Girl's Room II

The Girl's Room II

 

The Girl's Room III

The Girl's Room III

The Girl's Room IV

The Girl's Room IV

Laundry Room/Playroom

Laundry Room/Playroom

The Girl's Bathroom

The Girl's Bathroom

 

The Girl's Bathroom II

The Girl's Bathroom II

Linen Closet

Linen Closet

 

Edges Of The Little House On The Prairie Bookcase

Edges Of The Little House On The Prairie Bookcase

Joey’s Dad

Posted by Mummy Dearest on May-9-2011

joey's dad's car

On Friday, The Boy was invited to Joey’s house for a family barbecue. Joey’s family is the family that everybody wishes that they were born into, seriously perfect, no snide innuendos here. The Boy and Joey go way back, way back to that made for Disney soccer team they were both on. Cute photo on our staircase wall includes their team photo, taken when they were about 7 years old.

At some point during the barbecue, or after it, Bob- Joey’s Dad- invited a friend for a spin in the Porsche. The Boy and I both guess that had that friend not been there, Joey andThe Boy would have gone for the spin.

The photo above shows the end of the spin. Bob received a sever concussion, the friend , a laceration to the scalp and two broken legs. The police- or fire department- or whatever angels of mercy, had to cut them out of the car, hence, a Porsche sans roof and doors. They hit a tree. One can see where the chassis buckled up a bit after the front wheel.

The Boy and I both feel horrible for Joey’s family, even though Bob is now home. We whisper to each other, it could have been my boy, my special little guy.