Right now...

• I am getting used to the keyboard on my new laptop. I am mightily pleased with the machine itself, purely because it is a beautiful shade of cherry red and the casing has an industrial tread-effect texture.
• Little man is munching multigrain hoops and drinking warm milk whilst watching some telly, only this time it is bedtime and not breakfast time. I have steered him towards watching Deadly 60 so I can admire Steve Backshall.
• I am slurping a glass of pinot grigio and looking forward to a takeaway when a friend comes round later.
• I am trying to get used to the extra light flooding into the back of my house but am, on balance, not that happy with the loss of the mature silver birch tree in my neighbours' garden and the way they have hacked the leylandii hedge so that my view will now always be of dead brown bits. 
• I am, somewhere at the back of my mind, trying to decide whether I really want a man cluttering up my life. 
• I am looking forward to getting on with my subversive cross-stitch design and have decided the world is probably divided into those of us who giggle childlishly at seeing the word 'fuck' in embroidery and those who would sneer at such puerile nonsense.

Right now...

• Little man is looking extraordinarily cute in his fluffy new dressing gown. Thank you grandma and grandad.
• He is playing his new incey wincey spider game by himself, by which I mean he's shaking the dice and counting the spiders (four).
• We're having breakfast after a bit of a lie-in. I gave B the usual 'it's too early to hide from dinosaurs' spiel when he first arrived in my room then realised it was twenty to eight so sang the 'Mummy loves B/what shall we do today?' mash-up instead.
• I want to take the Christmas tree down but suppose I should wait until Saturday.
• I'm wondering with amusement what little man will make of YO! Sushi, which is where we're going for lunch.
• At the moment he's eating some peppered salami, but eating all the peppery bit at once and telling me it's too spiky. Oh, now he's telling me to eat the pepper 'snake'.
• The new toy  house is taking up a lot of room in the dining room, which is required for a family dinner tonight.
• I'm trying to decide which sling to take on the train to Liverpool, which is a tough one because B usually walks everywhere these days (everywhere usually being ten minutes into our local town). In fact, it must be weeks and weeks since I carried him.
• I'm going to make my second cup of tea and still lamenting the absence of a nice man to do it for me, although I can't stand the thought of actually having to share my house with someone else at the moment.

Progress

I've made a big dent in the to-do list. Enough to stop it bothering me any more. Take that, list. I've also rearranged The List into a series of post-it notes stuck to the side of a cabinet in the kitchen. It means I can bin tasks as soon as they're done instead of having an actual list with lots of crossings out and those things that never get done and have to keep being transferred onto a new page. And I found a stack of post-it notes whilst sorting out a drawer full of old stationery supplies. Even some pink ones.

The boy spent most of last week feeling seriously grumpy. He bit the inside of his cheek, which of course made it swell up and easy to bite again. And again. He got very frustrated at trying to eat and kept telling me his tummy hurt, which was probably because he was hungry. He had lots of jelly, hot chocolate and pink milk. Even the hot chocolate was a problem though, because he knows you shouldn't eat or drink things that are too hot. So I had to call it warm chocolate, otherwise he would leave it until it was stone cold. Yuck. Anyway, his mouth was getting to be much better when he slipped off his little step in the bathroom, banged his chin on the wash basin and bit his tongue. By then it was daddy's turn to take over the cuddles and sympathy.


Daddy took over early so I could go to see Biffy Clyro in Manc. And blimey, they really are rather good. It was a fab night, except for the part where I fainted. Erm, not sure where that one came from. I'm putting it down to a lack of air flow in a crowd due to my small stature. Anyway, I was out cold like a teenybopper at a Justin Bieber gig. Ironically, I then got a better view from the edge of the hall where there was also more air. And the gentleman pictured is, in fact, my current teenage crush material. I think I need to get out more. Oh wait, I was out. My iPod is one step ahead of me though and has moved on to the somewhat mind-bending Marmaduke Duke, a funky and addictive Biffy Clyro-related ensemble.

It's a boy!

Well, actually at first it's really just a baby. Not much difference apart from the tendency for boys to wee in your face as soon as you remove their nappy. STBE husband and I had thought of him as a her. Only because all family and friends who have had babies in the past few years have had girls. We decided to find out the sex at the anomaly scan and were a bit stunned to be told it was a boy. Not disappointed. Just surprised.

He is now developing behaviours that could be described as 'boyish': an inability to pass a stick without picking it up and whacking something with it, a need to be physically on the move, a love of splashing in puddles. Then again, he loves a big hug, cuddles his fluffy toys, enjoys looking at books and gives kisses out freely. He's both adventurous and affectionate, boisterous and cuddly.

But I am starting to ponder how you go about bringing up a boy so he can carry on being all of those things. Not the type of teenage lad you see walking down the street at school hometime who oozes surliness and aggression. How do you bring up a boy to be a decent sort of person? One who can be strong and confident, but caring and thoughtful too. How do you steer a boy through childhood so he doesn't become one of the mini thugs... but also so he doesn't get picked on by them?

That's not me, this is me...

I seem to be attracting a fair bit of interest on match.com. I'm putting a lot of it down to the fact that I have written a full and articulate profile because writing stuff is what I'm good at, whatever you might think after reading all this crap. Also the fact that I somehow miraculously managed to take a cute picture of myself despite the fact that little man is asleep in a sling on my back (you can only see the top of his head).

So I'm thinking of redrafting my profile. Thought I'd try it out here first:

Overweight, in-the-middle-of-a-divorce mum of a demanding toddler seeks sexy loving man who she might manage to see for about two hours a week.

I'm a size 16, very short woman with stretch marks and a jelly belly. Due to hormonal mayhem I have hair where you don't want your girlfriend to have hair and due to feminisim and/or laziness I'm damn well not going to do anything about it. I am a creature of contradictions, one minute I am bubbly and upbeat, the next I am miserable. This will always happen in direct opposition to your own moods. I am impatient, I do not suffer fools gladly, I can be blunt and I swear copiously. I will embarrass you by talking too loudly when I get drunk. I will not always listen to you due to my head being somewhere in the clouds. At other times I will be extremely down to earth and practical and get very annoyed at you for dithering and daydreaming. I am untidy. Ironing is against my religion. I am honest and open to the point where I will tell all your secrets to everyone I know and probably a few people I don't know. Romantic movies make me want to vomit but I will expect you to light candles around the garden on a summer's evening. I have no money. I have no career ambition. I have missing teeth. Don't even think about winking at me. Or else.

Well?

All aboard

Well little man had perked up a bit by yesterday morning when daddy collected him. He wasn't demanding to be carried around at all times any more. And he ate a very large piece of melon for breakfast. Hopefully we are over the worst... because we are going on holiday!

I have packed all our stuff into one small wheely suitcase and my shoulder bag. Little man will go in the sling and we are going on the ferry as foot passengers to see friends on the Isle of Man. I'm now trying to think what I could have forgotten. I have teddy. Oh I don't have any toys or books for the journey. Surely a ferry can fit in a kiddies' play area?

I'm looking forward to being somewhere peaceful, children excepted. I wonder what little man will make of two little girls who will no doubt be fascinated by him. And the big question: will he sleep? That really is the one and only question at the moment. Forget the meaning of life or where on earth all little man's socks have gone. I just want to know whether he will sleep.

All well on the guys front. Still getting winked at and exchanging emails with a few. One in particular seems quite lovely. Had one real charmer whose email deserves to be shared regardless of my promise not to talk about these poor people. He wrote: "god if i had u in my bed i wudnt mind if i put a bun in ur oven lol cutie x". What a *^*^.

The time has come...

...for little man's first camping trip. Tomorrow we head to Silverdale for two nights. Tonight I should be clearing out the boot of the car and then packing it with useful stuff. I'll do it after this glass of wine. Honest.

The boot of my car is quite something to behold. It is absolutely full of junk. There is a big pushchair that I never use because I carry little man in a sling. And under and around that there are various items including: more slings, shoes, umbrella, toys, baby clothes that don't fit little man any more, maps, books, old sandwich wrappers, woolly hats, sun hats, fleece blankets, a witch's broom (daft Halloween one, not real one unfortunately), Makka Pakka, seashells, bags, shoeboxes, the odd newspaper...

Ok, I've just been out to clear it. There is an entire washing machine full of clothes - mine, his, winter, summer - a Bob the Builder DVD, the missing magnetic spindle from the shape sorter, a mouldy plastic food container, a Silver Cross pram umbrella (complete waste of money!) and a form to join Wigan Sure Start. Phew.

Now I've just got to fill it with useful stuff: new tent, check, new airbed, check, new pump, check, new camping table, check. What is the chance of having all of this new stuff and there being nothing missing or damaged?

On a completely separate issue, my emails from potential suitors now stand at three. I have decided that I will not tell you anything about them because that's just not fair. This internet dating thing does rely on a lot of trust that the other people aren't having a laugh at your expense.

The tangled web of 21st century dating

Had a snoop on a dating website. Oh dear. I looked on Earth Wise Singles hoping for a bit less of the 'look at me aren't I gorgeous and just the best thing since sliced bread'! And there do seem to be some genuinely nice folks on there. But oh dear. The whole thing, the catalogue of pictures and vital statistics. The pictures range from really terrible washed-out passport photos to really unhelpful 'look at wacky old me doing a handstand halfway up a hill' ones.

Some of them are very obviously 'on their travels' and though I have no problem with travel I do have a problem with people who list countries they've visited as if they have 'done' them: 'Oh yes, I did Thailand in 1998 when I was 16 and got mugged at knifepoint/offered a 13-year-old bride/sold into sweatshop slavery/murdered by pirates' (delete dramatic anecdote as appropriate).

Then there are the profiles. These poor people have to state what their appearance is like, although there seems to be an option that says: You decide. I mean, no-one is going to put weedy, or spotty, or downright ugly. The list of interests is obviously an environmentally-friendly-stroke-outdoor-pursuitsy approved list they can choose from: alternative energy, alternative medicine, art, biking, camping, canoeing/kayaking, crafts, cooking, dancing, environment, gardening, green living, movies, music, organics, outdoor activities, painting, photography, reading, yoga.

There's one whose blurb really seems to make sense to me. But he's from Chiswick. And he looks too ambitious for me: too good looking, too right-on greeny, too vegan. There's one who's a single dad and the things he says sound really nice (committed single parent sensitive to a child's needs...), but he's a bit old and, frankly, not that good looking (IMHO). I skipped over all the ones who live in Devon, but maybe the perfect man for me just happens to live a six-hour drive away. Oh sorry, shouldn't say drive, not very Earth Wise. Bugger. Am I green enough, exciting enough, energetic enough, PC enough?

And when the hell am I supposed to be able to meet any of these people anyway? Oh dear. Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

And do you think my profile picture, above, will attract many contacts?

Man wanted

Must be perfect in every way. You know the sort of stuff: ruggedly good looking, strong but caring, good at putting up shelves and changing oil, home owner, generous salary that allows me to piss about doing what I want but that doesn't involve him working all hours, sweet and sensitive but not a girl.... etc.

I haven't had to look for a new man since I was 16. I am now 32. The rules may have changed slightly since then. I may have changed slightly since then. Oh bugger. I don't think I have even encountered a single man within a reasonable age range within the last year or so. Where do I start?