Call me Nanny McPhee

Well as my pal's text me, asking about Yang Sing in Manchester, because they are there about to go and see Katy Perry tomorrow night at MEN; I myself have just returned from the Loire Valley. This weekend was supposed to be about me shaking my arse at Californian Girls, several jaw dropping rows in the MEN but I have to work so couldn't go. Instead my beau took me away to the Loire Valley. If anyone has ever been its exceptionally beautiful.

Its a place that fairy tales are made of and indeed its alleged that Sleeping Beauty's castle was there. A beautiful chateau where she pricked her finger on a spindle from  the spinning wheel of death and die, a thoughtful gift from the wicked step mother!. Fortunately a fairy reversed the curse so that beauté dormant fell asleep instead for 100 years. Although  I am sure that Charles Perrault hadn't  anticipated that many years later some chap called  Walt would get his hands on his story and make it as worldly known.
In the same way I hadn't anticipated how much work being responsible for children is. All you parents out there deserve a medal! So the fairytale weekend was not one of romantic getaway but spent with my beau's two children. Fortunately they are quite lovely.

I felt quite nauseous leading up to the weekend. What will I feed them? How would I entertain them? What if they saw me as some horror from Nanny McPhee and viewed me with suspicion in case I gave them a spinning wheel?

I am quite good around children and they seem to like me. I pride myself as being the cool grown up but this felt quite different because essentially if they didn't like me then I was doomed. Which in turn meant I would be single again and have to go trawling with a kebab in my handbag wafting the odour of armour commonly known as chili sauce.

I couldn't just be the fun grown up toasting marshmallows on an open fire, making toffee apples, jelly skulls and popcorn. In addition to such festivities luring them with home made rocky road and chocolate muffins sprinkled with red glitter. OK OK so I did do all those things, it doesn't hurt to get off on the right foot!

The beau thought it would be amusing to check the red glitter on the muffins was edible (he knew it was, he just likes to be or thinks he is amusing at times). So I sparked back "No I got it from WHSmiths glitter glue section for making Christmas cards. See how well its stuck!" Then it happened I panicked inside. What if they burnt themselves on the fire, ate hallucinogenic jelly (nope that wouldn't happen as I would omit the vodka), or loose an eye because I forgot to put the lid on the saucepan whilst making the popcorn.

I like to think of myself as responsible, but my last conversation with my ex about contemplating being parents ended up with "nah lets get a boat instead".  When we used to take my nephew out to the cinema we thought it was OK to eat anything you could get from the cinema then go to Blackpool and go on rides then do the walk of faith at the Tower. Returning him to his parents slightly green was never our intention but shockingly it always happened.

Fortunately they have been returned in one piece and rumour has it they actually like me and think I am a good cook. Me, well I am worn out. Its exhausting work being a carer of children. How you parents do it 24/7 is any ones guess. I have no doubt its because they give you untold rewards and unconditional love. I will settle with "she is a  good cook".

So I am in it for the long haul it would seem and there is something quite endearing watching a grown man brush his daughter's hair. Maybe I am lucky and have the best of everything; children in my life that I never had to push out myself  and a man who valued and trusted  me enough to allow me to be with his children. 

Anyway I don't look good in purple; so maybe I will be less lady Tremaine and more Nanny McPhee when beautiful not the one with the wart!!!!!