In true middle class British fashion we've had a holiday in Devon, staying in a charming cottage near the sea. Lunatic Child and the dog were living their best life this past week. Lunatic Child made dams, collected rocks and seashells and searched for crabs. He dug moats and built sandcastles and tried to hold back the sea with his spade. He basically stripped down to his pants the second we got on the beach no matter how cold it was. The dog, meanwhile, fetched the ball until he was ready to drop. We've still not discovered what his limits are. I suspect he's so stupid he'd fetch the ball until he died of heart failure. He's not the sharpest knife in the drawer. And he farts.
On the other hand, my sweet Trouble wasn't so keen. He's never loved the beach. He doesn't like the sand that much and he struggled all week with a really heavy cold. Poor wee babby. He did really enjoy our trip on the steam train and ferry to Dartmouth, but then he fell asleep in the restaurant and when he woke up was appalled to discover that they'd taken away his lunch. It was that kind of holiday for Trouble...
Devon is famous for its crabbing, which is fantastic for kids since it's instant gratification. You drop a net filled with bait, and you basically get a crab almost every time. Fun Daddy and kids filled a bucket in Dartmouth, which was fabulous for the the children but a heart attack in waiting for the parents as the jetty had about a 20 foot drop to the sea and there was no railing. The kids are roaming around all these lines tangled on the ground and turning around backwards and generally having no spatial awareness and every parent was standing there with pale faces and twitchy hands waiting to make a grab for a falling child. Low stress!
On our last day, we went on a walk in Dartmoor. Lunatic Child found it boring until we discovered that every puddle on the moor was absolutely heaving with tadpoles. It's been dry lately so the puddles were disappearing and the tadpoles were dying. Lunatic Child was frantic so we brought back a whole heap of them in our water bottle. This meant that Harried Mum was carrying a box full of tadpoles on her lap for the entire trip back from Devon with Lunatic Child threatening not to buy me a birthday present should I happen to be careless enough to let them die.
We got home and transferred the tadpoles into a small aquarium. I sent Lunatic Child out for some pond water from the small pond round the side of our house. We've poked around in there a bunch, and although Lunatic Child has been convinced there's something pink with tentacles living in there, I didn't think there was anything to it. So he brought in a big bowl of pond water and pond weed and plopped it on the table. The water starts to move and Seb is screeching that he's got the thing with tentacles. I look over and there's a big old green frog in the bowl. I shriek. (I was surprised!) Seb shrieks. The dog freaks out. Trouble is like, what the hell is going on? The frog took the opportunity to make a bid for freedom. This led to a short comedic interlude with everyone stumbling into each other in the kitchen while we attempted to catch the frog and keep the dog off it.
Eventually the frog made it back to his pond, and the tadpoles (still alive!) are hanging out on our kitchen table. I suspect we didn't have to drag a bunch of tadpoles back from Devon and probably could have gotten some from the pond round the side of the house, but whatever. Lunatic Child has loved the whole experience. I suspect that frog is not going to have a very tranquil life now Lunatic Child knows he's there and can be caught.
In any event, the kids are going back to school tomorrow. Thank all the Gods. We had a lovely holiday, but we have all had a *lot* of togetherness. Harried Mum is actually looking forward to going back to work, and that is really saying something...
Monday, April 17, 2017
Monday, March 20, 2017
Morning!
I have never been a morning person. My ideal morning involves sleeping until I don't want to sleep anymore, wandering out of bed, having a long hot shower followed by a long, hot cup of coffee and maybe perusing the paper. In my current existence, this is as likely to happen as winning the lottery. Less likely, in fact.
As it happens, my morning routine is now as follows:
6am - Trouble wanders into the bedroom. Shouts 'MORNING, MUM!!! BREAKFAST TIME?' If it's a weekday I'm usually trying to dry my hair. If it's the weekend, this is considered a lie in. I've given up on trying to complete make up before leaving the house and do this in the loo at work.
6:15am - Trouble and I are heading downstairs for breakfast.
6:16am - The cat is outside frantically demanding to be let in. The dog is inside frantically demanding to be let out. They exchange places.
6:20am - The dog is outside frantically demanding to be let in. The cat is acting like she hasn't been fed in a week.
6:21am - The dog is inside acting like he hasn't been fed in a week.
6:25am - Cat has been fed. Dog is out for a walk with Fun Daddy. Trouble has demanded peanut butter toast.
6:30am - I have been trying to make a cup of coffee for 15 minutes. I haven't succeeded.
6:35am - Trouble has his toast and juice. I have usually managed to procure a coffee at this point and sometimes a smoothie.
6:36am - Harried Mum checks the school bags, because no one ever does this but me. Lunatic Child needs 2 pounds to pay for some weird singing lessons. I have to write in his home communication journal. I have to write in Trouble's home communication journal. There are usually 17 notices from school about various dress up days, bake sales, PTA meetings and school carnivals. I have to write this all down in the 2 calendars we are currently keeping in the house to try and keep track of it all.
6:40am - What are we having for dinner tonight? Who knows? Harried Mum takes some random things out of the freezer. Sometimes I forget this step and that's when we have Chinese takeaway! Delicious!
6:45am - Harried Mum needs to collect yoga gear, the shoes I will wear at the office, purse, keys, phone, etc. I can never find the damn shoes I want to wear to the office. I look under the bed, in my closet, in the shoe basket downstairs. I blame the children. I blame Fun Daddy. I later find them in a drawer at work.
6:50am - Fun Daddy returns from walking the dog, Harried Mum kisses everyone goodbye whilst trying not to get covered in peanut butter and leaves for work.
Usually Lunatic Child is not up by this point (he's a good boy!), but if he is, rinse and repeat with demands for peanut butter toast etc. somewhere in that timeline.
I have not finished a cup of coffee, ever. If I take too long in the shower I get a stern lecture from Fun Daddy. My body is so inured to lack of sleep that I voluntarily wake up at 5:45am every day, which is a sentence I never thought I would type in my life.
So, as Mother's Day approaches, I consider what I want from the men in my life. And it is 8 hours uninterrupted sleep, breakfast in bed with the paper....and an expensive handbag.
As it happens, my morning routine is now as follows:
6am - Trouble wanders into the bedroom. Shouts 'MORNING, MUM!!! BREAKFAST TIME?' If it's a weekday I'm usually trying to dry my hair. If it's the weekend, this is considered a lie in. I've given up on trying to complete make up before leaving the house and do this in the loo at work.
6:15am - Trouble and I are heading downstairs for breakfast.
6:16am - The cat is outside frantically demanding to be let in. The dog is inside frantically demanding to be let out. They exchange places.
6:20am - The dog is outside frantically demanding to be let in. The cat is acting like she hasn't been fed in a week.
6:21am - The dog is inside acting like he hasn't been fed in a week.
6:25am - Cat has been fed. Dog is out for a walk with Fun Daddy. Trouble has demanded peanut butter toast.
6:30am - I have been trying to make a cup of coffee for 15 minutes. I haven't succeeded.
6:35am - Trouble has his toast and juice. I have usually managed to procure a coffee at this point and sometimes a smoothie.
6:36am - Harried Mum checks the school bags, because no one ever does this but me. Lunatic Child needs 2 pounds to pay for some weird singing lessons. I have to write in his home communication journal. I have to write in Trouble's home communication journal. There are usually 17 notices from school about various dress up days, bake sales, PTA meetings and school carnivals. I have to write this all down in the 2 calendars we are currently keeping in the house to try and keep track of it all.
6:40am - What are we having for dinner tonight? Who knows? Harried Mum takes some random things out of the freezer. Sometimes I forget this step and that's when we have Chinese takeaway! Delicious!
6:45am - Harried Mum needs to collect yoga gear, the shoes I will wear at the office, purse, keys, phone, etc. I can never find the damn shoes I want to wear to the office. I look under the bed, in my closet, in the shoe basket downstairs. I blame the children. I blame Fun Daddy. I later find them in a drawer at work.
6:50am - Fun Daddy returns from walking the dog, Harried Mum kisses everyone goodbye whilst trying not to get covered in peanut butter and leaves for work.
Usually Lunatic Child is not up by this point (he's a good boy!), but if he is, rinse and repeat with demands for peanut butter toast etc. somewhere in that timeline.
I have not finished a cup of coffee, ever. If I take too long in the shower I get a stern lecture from Fun Daddy. My body is so inured to lack of sleep that I voluntarily wake up at 5:45am every day, which is a sentence I never thought I would type in my life.
So, as Mother's Day approaches, I consider what I want from the men in my life. And it is 8 hours uninterrupted sleep, breakfast in bed with the paper....and an expensive handbag.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)