Yo yo yo and a jolly good evening to you all. I am in a frightfully good mood as it goes so if you are in a grump it would be best for you to look away now.
Let me start at the beginning. Actually at the end. I am sitting on the sofa (as per) with a glass of red wine, yummy chocolate cake in my tummy and shit tv in front of me. Oh and K is snoring upstairs so I don't even have to keep apologising for the appalling acts on The Voice or BGT so it is just pure, unadulterated pleasure. Hang on, the glass has emptied itself. I must refill.
I'm back. Refilled. Let's get on. So, the reason for my jubilation is this - the children are all happy and in bed (2 asleep, 1 to go) and I am NOT TIRED. I know. Soak it up people. I stayed in bed until 11am this morning. I KNOW. Do NOT tell my mother, she would see it as gross negligence and hideous laziness so it is our little secret. I cannot remember a time when I last did this. (Oooh maybe the pneumonia? But that is not the same thing.) It all started with K and I trying extra specially hard to be nice to each other (you must give it a go sometime, it makes for a jolly pleasurable living environment) and he got up and took the boys downstairs before 8am this morning so I stayed in bed until I got tea and toast in bed at 10am. I texted K to request my tea and toast - I have no idea what married couples did pre-mobile phones - I have found yelling desperately inadequate if the TV is on (which it always is) and can also attract the attention of unwanted children which would ruin the whole staying-in-bed experience. After he brought me breakfast in bed, K got back in to bed whilst G's Godmother entertained the boys downstairs. Then they eventually joined us and there we all stayed, like a far younger version of the relatives in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, until gone 11 when we finally got up and dressed to take the boys to the park.
Now you know why I would hand over my last fiver to a worthy cause right now. All it takes is sleep and wine. Plus G's Godmother took me to the pub last night and bought me a burger and chips AND pudding. I always look at the pudding menu first to see if I want a starter, then after I ascertain the quality of the dessert I can make informed choices on how much space I will have for the rest of the meal. I'm pretty sure this is normal behaviour. Although the man taking our order for pudding was quite shocked that I had memorised the choices when he couldn't find a menu. Still normal though? So, sleep, wine and lovely food I haven't cooked and was paid for by someone else. Now it is all making sense to you and you can see why I wanted to share my unnatural jubilation with you before it all went tits up.
The three happy children. Well, I won't go on because essentially children are dull but Bea has returned from her first overnight Beaver camp as high as a kite - she LOVED it. Beaver camp just sounds so wrong. I really think in light of modern language changes they should re-name Beavers something less open for ridicule. Like Squirrels or something. Is squirrel rude? I am not best placed for the renaming as I am very not 'up' with rude, modern slang. That is irrelevant, the point is, she has been away from me for 24 hours which has happened a few times before but usually to a place where there is a mother figure like Grandma, Auntie or a child's mother and the comforting surrounding of someone's home not bunk beds in a cold wooden hut surrounded by mud. So this was altogether something quite new for us and I have to admit to being a tad 'on edge' about the whole thing. As you know, I am one to automatically think of the worst case scenario and sending Bea to camp for twenty four hours sent my hormonal mind in to overdrive. I can share it with you now, now that she is home and safe and in her bed, but I have been on the brink of madness with my latest worry. Having accidentally encountered some of the news (you should know by now that I don't like the news as it is scary and doesn't help my state of mind) and I happened to read that that mad man in Sweden who murdered all the teenagers on their island camp said he had 'friends' in England who were planning something similar as they shared his beliefs. This was not a good move. For the last few weeks I have been convinced that these friends of his were planning their 'attack' on the scout camp near Croydon where Bea would be spending her time away from me. The day before she left, my madness had reached fever pitch and I was seriously considering telling her that if a man with an automatic weapon started shooting at people that she should fall to the ground and play dead in order to survive. Luckily, Cupcake Sister talked me out of my madness, and said it would just scare her and it was HIGHLY unlikely to occur. I had to keep telling myself that so that I could wave her off without becoming hysterical. I don't know why I do it to myself. As you have now ascertained this scenario did not happen and she has survived Scout camp unharmed - she even scaled half a climbing wall, an assault course and archery. The sister was right. But it is best to be prepared for these things just in case.
Bea's time away has also alerted me to the fact that two children are a lot easier than three. Which is especially odd as I would have assumed she was the 'easy' one. Not So. This means that in the next three months I need to get two children to live with us for a few weeks and then get rid of them so I think that four is a breeze when the newbie arrives. Genius! Not sure how to go about securing two children but I'm sure such things can be overcome. Two small boys are quite fun together actually -when faced with no other option, they found they were quite happy in each other's company. G's Godmother (I am trying to think of something to call her that could be her official moniker but other than 'the body' I am a stuck - I don't want to pigeon hole her just because she has a rather fabulous body - I shall keep thinking) as you might have gathered by now, stayed over last night and brought with her a ray of sunshine in to the Mother and Other household. Not only did she take me out for a glass of wine and food, she stayed up talking to K in to the wee small hours and besides all that G is totally and utterly in love with her. Head over heels. In fact he suffered something akin to total heartbreak when she had to leave this afternoon. I had to spend time on the sofa watching a crap film, feeding him warm milk (he couldn't face lunch), mopping his tears and cuddling him for hours before he could be persuaded to get up and help me bake a cake. (Chocolate cake - it is amazing and has also contributed to my good mood). The cake baking helped his heartbreak considerably and also helped him re-establish his appetite for food. However her departure has continued to haunt him and despite enjoying whatever it was he was doing, he would stop and sigh and say, 'I just wish she hadn't gone'. He even went to bed saying that he wished she hadn't left. K is convinced it didn't help that he saw her get dressed this morning (which naturally included brief scenes of nudity) but I am hoping that he is wrong as it is a tad sick and wrong. A bit Caroline and Harry if you will. Actually even worse. I shall erase that from my memory and focus on a more innocent love. Both the boys were incredibly taken with her and as she hadn't seen them for a while she was happy to entertain them for a while whilst I stayed in bed this morning and they were more than happy to be entertained by someone other than their dull, tired parents. Ted even came up to tell me he was busy downstairs with her and the cat and that I should 'stay there' and 'not move' - clearly worried I might go down and ruin the fun - he even spread eagled himself in a star shape in the door frame to make his point clearer - this was a line I must not cross. Hence the happy boys part of our equation.
So, a great twenty four hours for all after a pretty good few days. Thursday was polling day which meant that the school was closed. As we had the whole day to ourselves I took the children to see Kent Sister and her daughter who G is also in love with (can't work out if a younger cousin is better than a woman 26 years his senior but is no blood relation). And she him actually - a few minutes after our arrival they were 'married'. Along with a striped tail lemur. The cousin was actually having to decide between the Lemur and G on the whole groom front until they settled on a thoroughly modern three way marriage. For me it was just SO lovely to be out of the house. As my house is both my living and working environment any period of time away from it gives me a slight buzz. And the Kent Sister's house is Jolly Nice. And bigger than ours. This actually confused G - he had a very puzzled look on his face when he asked me why they have bedrooms that no one actually lives in. Such a concept is too far out for him - in our house the shortage of bedrooms means that there are two to a room. I must take him to Buckingham Palace - it would blow his tiny mind. Anyway, again, I didn't have to cook or clean and they all had a fabulous time - again G was pretty put out we had to leave and was desperate to book a date to go back, but he recovered quickly. Even Ted being sick on the way home didn't dampen my spirits. Although it has made the smell in the car a tad less fragrant. However returning home from a 'nice' house does highlight the fact that our house is less than 'nice' and slightly grubby around the edges. I spent a lot of the time at the Kent house saying 'don't touch - you might break it and they have nice things here, it's not like our house'. It didn't stop Ted breaking a particularly nice lampshade in his cousin's room whilst my back was turned, but considering the collateral damage that could have occurred, I consider Kent Sister and her house to have come off particularly lightly from the day.
K has awoken and joined Britain's Got Talent. As the advert came on he said 'That isn't talent - that's just having an awful lot of time on your hands, nothing to do and a yo yo.' It might just be the wine but I have been in hysterics. I think I might have to go. Two glasses of wine have totally gone to my head and I am a tad squiffy (I am a very cheap date these days). I am finding K hysterical which is never a good sign and may lead to me believing I too am being hilarious so I am leaving you to your bank holiday weekends just in case. Use them wisely. Even with the rain, bank holidays are something out of the ordinary and a three day weekend feels fabulously decadent. And, if you have to work, you have an awful lot to moan about which I always find deeply satisfying. There is no down side to the whole thing. Go forth, drink wine, eat cake and be happy. You never know what tomorrow will bring.
I am still laughing. Is it funny? Is it just me? Maybe it was the WAY he said it. I wish I was sober so I could tell. I shall go and snort my wine out of my nose away from you and try to figure it out. xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
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