Here be the outpouring of a frazzled mind…
It has felt like an extra gruelling few weeks thanks to the combined efforts of work and children and lurgy and domestic chaos. This unshakeable cough has kept me awake endlessly at nights, resulting in general all-round haggardness and topped off with CRAZY WOMAN hormones and a horrifying run of bad hair days. Bah!
Why, yes, G has gone out drinking…
Oh, wouldn’t it be luvverly to just abscond from life for a bit and hide in a bunker and read a book or watch endless episodes of Orange is The New Black? Alas, work must happen and I can’t seem to find a buyer for the children.
Meanwhile my residence is on the verge of a breakdown all of its own. I need a day off without the kids so I can give it some deep therapy, such as putting away the 2 weeks’ worth of laundry that Hubble keeps distributing down the hallway and picking up all of the lego and removing the dried cornflakes from Hubble’s hurled cereal bowl and tackling the 85 pairs of mystery pants* that the boy has distributed around every room of my flat. I do wonder how much longer I can survive with this lack of space.
* to solve the mystery of where these belong one would need to examine and/or sniff them, and life is too short for that, hence I will end up throwing them all in the washing machine for good measure before tossing them onto the clean-laundry-mountain-of-shame.
In a bid to reduce the number of guilt-inducing things for which I lack the time, I have decided to give up my sad and neglected allotment. Harsh but necessary. As a small compensation I thought about installing a couple of grow bags in the back yard with courgettes or cucumbers. Maybe I will find time to do that next year…
Meanwhile it has been birthday season. Birthdays that sprawl across multiple weeks, and involve many days out and guests and spending time with more children than I can shake an interesting stick at.
So now my girl is 2, my boy is 6 and my flat is full of even more tat. *Sigh*
If only Dr Seuss were not dead. I am sure The Cat in the Hat knows a lot about tat. Tat in my flat? Well fancy that.
And we still haven’t emptied our storage unit… which is full of yet more tat.
The post-birthday game du jour is Robot Wars in which girlbot attempts to play with her new remote control car until Boybot brings out his huge remote-control tarantula that allows him to a) interfere with his sister’s controls and b) TERRORISE her with huge spidery fear. Sibling love.
Take heart, Hubble. It can’t be any worse that the actual real-life spider of unfeasible size that appears to have set up a nightly residence IN MY BED. Why, why why? I am not an arachnophobe. I bear no ill will towards spiderkind. I simply want it to move on willingly and never never *never* again to creep across my face and neck in the middle of the night. Is that too much to ask?
Meanwhile Hubble has decided that sleep is for wimps ever since she was upgraded to a toddler bed. No more cot bars = no more bedtime! I can hear her thudding about upstairs as I type. Don’t let this innocent picture fool you.
She rampages long after the boy has crashed out, in an extravaganza of drum-playing, stair-descending and getting-out-every-toy-and-book-in-the-flat. I can only assume she must be sleeping it off at nursery. (G and I are mostly sleeping it off at telly o’clock, this being our tiny window of alone time each evening).
Boy’s new bed is very nice and solid but it takes up a lot more room than the little one. On the second night there was a colossal THUMP and a wail as he rolled out of it and landed from a greater height than he is accustomed to.
But on the plus side I can shove more crap under it than would fit before – hooray for small mercies!
Oh… a slushy interlude. I just heard the boybot’s little voice from upstairs tell the girlbot that he loves her, as he was dropping off to sleep. Bless. Maybe I won’t sell them after all.
In other news, I found out randomly this week that the boy was chosen to be an Art Ambassador for Year 1 and his name is on a little plaque/tile in the school entrance. I confess I am not entirely sure what it means but, nevertheless, why did I not know about this?? The boy tells me nothing, ever. School is simply a black hole in which things happen that are not for my ears. Not even good things. Mummy must never know.
Well, I have important episodes of Handmaid’s Tale to watch. So I shall simply scatter here a few pics that make everything look blooming marvellous and run away.
Heatwave and a paddling pool… but no way was this one getting in
Obligatory ice cream goatie
No greater dog-love hath boy
Zoo birthday trip for boybot