Did the Pampered Chef thing last night, wasn't as bad as I'd been expecting. The woman who did it, was very good at her job, didn't seem as hard a sell as some of these things I've been to. Apparently she used to do Tupperware before, lol. So Pampered Chef is the new Tupperware! they've gone from flogging plastic, to flogging other types of assorted plastic/silicone and stoneware.
Anyway I got suckered in a bit and brought a tart dish with a push out bottom and fluter. It does mean I can now make the white chocolate and cherry tart in this months Sainsbury Magazine though. I think I'm having delusions of being Nigella. At least on the cooking front, lost all hope on obtaining her lifestyle. Makes mental note to ensure kids marry millionaires.
Mind you money isn't everything. The kids are however our current pension plan, which is a dangerous game at the best of times. Time to start making some money soon me thinks. Might try to hang on until Neve is two before doing anything major though. Or maybe three. Its so unfair for them to have to loose me to work, when they're so small. I know thousands upon thousands of mothers do have to work full time and have no choice, so I should consider myself very lucky to be self employed and ticking by not earning much at the moment, and working around the kids needs. However realistically we do know this situation cannot go on forever, as long term there will be nothing set aside for retirement. Should I set myself a goal to be a millionaire by 43, that gives me 10 years right!
I tangent! back to the party. Can you believe I also managed to win something!! only the smallest of small prizes, but lots better than nothing. I got a kiddy safe knife for dd1, which no doubt dd2 will end up using at the right age too, hurrah! I also ordered a silicone spatula, as managed to melt my plastic one that came with my mixer/blender thingy. This one swears it won't melt, which is great as far as I'm concerned, as I appear to be far to good at melting apparatus accidentally.
Dd2 has just squeaked at me for a few minutes, turned out she was trying to say she wanted to sit on the sofa, and 'read' a book to herself, but silly me, I interpreted it as she wanted her books on the floor. Que lots of screaming, until I realised that clawing to get up my leg, onto the sofa, then pointing at what I'd put on the floor for her, meant 'mummy your rubbish, just give me the books and I'll sit here in comfort, thank you'.
My stalker was at the party, but looks like we're over that phase now, phew! There were enough people there too. None of whom myself or my poor friend who I dragged along for moral support knew. So she really needn't have badgered me into going so much. I know every little helps for these party plan things. Also they did spend money with me, when I did a virgin vie, to help out a friend last year, so guess we're quits then? No doubt there will be more around on the run up to Christmas. Bodyshop anyone?