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Hi, I'm Lyndsey. I'm a 36 year old Mum from Wales. I have a Masters Degree in Marketing Communications and Public Relations and put it to good use in my work as a freelance Marketing & PR consultant. I also work part time as a fundraising coordinator for a Welsh charity which I absolutely love!! With two jobs, two children, two cats and a handsome man, lets just say I'm a busy lady. 
From 2006-2008, I wrote a column for the Denbighshire Free Press. I was so proud of the feedback I got for this, even the one angry ‘You Suck’ letter to the editor cheered me up no end; it showed that people took notice of what little ol’ me had to say. It’s good to know that people give a rat’s ass either way! So, succumbing to requests from my former fan club (ok, overstating there – readers who had nothing better to do on a Thursday afternoon) under the March 2014 archive you will find a selection of my early Free Press articles. I’d love to hear what you think on any of the subjects raised…you know, rat’s ass either way feedback ;-)

Monday, 17 March 2014

The Little Friend Has A Sleepover

Last night my daughter's friend came over for her first sleepover. First and Last!

She arrived at the front door with a beaming smile.  Her innocent little face lit up as she crossed our threshold.  She had a pink backpack which she informed me contained her PJs, teddy and toothbrush. Even my anti-other-people's-kids husband smiled.
Hubby had just arrived home.  He'd had a long day and his feet were killing him.  He was desperate just to sit down and relax.  While the water was heating for his bath, he stripped off his shoes and stretched out on the sofa.  That was when the little madam stormed in prepared to snitch on my son for for having a biscuit but instead "Pooh, it stinks in here" she yelled, "Why does it stink in here?" Her hands on her hips, she demanded an answer as to what was offending her nostrils so badly. My fella's face flooded with colour.  OK, he did niff a bit but it was far from a full on stench; poor bloke.

Feeling rather protective of my man, I told her that the odour was the smell of her dinner which would be ready in five minutes and if she did not eat it then she would have to go home for her dinner. Hubby thought I was evil as the child's bottom lip quivered but he soon got over it when she started bullying him to put his shoes away.

Next up was the meal.  I admit, I'd hardly slaved over it but it was exactly the kind of food which her Mother had told me she would enjoy.  As the rest of the family happily tucked in, she pushed her food around her plate with her nose stuck up firmly in the air.  "I don't want this food" she sulked. Gritting my teeth I smiled "Are you not hungry?" to which she grumpily replied "I don't like burnt food!".  Hubby struggled to contain his laughter as I inspected the offerings.  It was cooked to perfection. "That is not burnt bits, it's seasoning" I informed her. "It stinks" she replied.  I was ready to ship her back home to her Mum.

For the next hour, the children were ordered to play nicely, over and over again.  Why these kids are friends is beyond me as all they do is scrap!  The friend had no chance against my two once they ganged up.  To be fair to them though, they rarely started the arguments.  Every other minute I had a tug on my dress "Lyndsey, they're picking on me"  I half-heartedly told the kids not to pick on her but they were obviously sick of her whinging too.

An hour later and my Hubster was complaining of stomach cramps.  "The food was not that bad for crying out loud!" I stormed.  It was not the food that had upset his tum.  He badly needed the toilet.  When I asked why on earth he doesn't just go, he gripped his stomach and said "What, so she can yell at me for stinking again"  He determined to wait until she had gone to bed.

To my surprise, I had no problem getting the children to bed.  My two were ready for sleep and the blissful deafness that comes with it. The fiend (sorry, friend) had no intentions of sleeping.  I allowed for a certain amount of traipsing around as after all, who doesn't have trouble sleeping in a strange house.  By nine thirty though, she was pushing it; likewise Hubby's beef tips! We needed that girl asleep.

I went upstairs for the tenth time and asked if she was OK.  "I can't sleep because the cat is in here and it stinks" she wined.  Poor puss looked up at me and I had to hold back from the urge to sling the child out the window instead of the cat.  Sandy always sleeps with my daughter for a little while each night as my girl believes Sandy keeps the night monsters away; obviously not all monsters.

"Lyndsey, why is this room so messy?" she asked me.  I follow her finger which is pointed to my office.  Yes, it's crammed with books, files and various bits of make-up kits but all were organised neatly. The only area which she could possibly be referring to was my washing basket which was over-flowing with blankets awaiting folding.  It was hardly a pigs paradise.

At a quarter to eleven, I finally discovered her snoring. Hubby crawled upstairs to the bathroom in agony.  He spent ages in there, the reason I later discovered was because he was afraid to flush in-case he woke the kid up.  I hoped that since she was late to sleep, she would sleep in late the next morning.  Some hope!

I opened my eyes before 7am.  The kids were running around like loonies.  THAT IS GOING TOO FAR!! Nobody ever, EVER wakes me up in the morning!  I fly into their room and grab the nearest child; her. "OK, home time"  I have her dressed and stood tapping my toes while she ate her breakfast.  Next, I threw on her coat and pushed her out the front door.  I arrived at her house and realise from the lack of lights on that her parents were still asleep. Tough!

Her Mother was at the front door a few minutes after the frantic chiming of her door bell rang.  She did not look surprised.  "I had a nice time" the little girl smiled "Can I have another sleepover next weekend?"  Her Mum looked at me and correctly read the daggers. "Erm, maybe when you are older" she replied. Huh, not even then mate!

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