Gnarls (what kind of name is that?) Barklay’s Crazy proved to be the perfect upbeat tempo for the afternoon march to school. Something was needed to wipe away the non-smoking snarl. That’s the ipod revolution for me. Also made watching tonight’s swimming lessons far more bearable. Had completely forgotten Haircut 100’s Fantastic Day even existed. Twas great for drowning out the swimming instructor’s shouts and the kids squeals, screams and tears (there’s always one). Of all the activities, I hate swimming the most. It’s the smell of chlorine and the squish of wet changing rooms. Hated it since that incident at junior school, but that’s for another blog. I was woman on the edge – of a swimming pool - bopping my head-phoned-head. The little-one managed most of her lesson sans bands – a first. Hurrah. A proud moment. Heart then skipped a beat when she started sinking. She’ll learn. Proudness gave way to joy at the thought that I may not have to still be taking her to lessons in 6 years time. Hurrah for all that.
Gorgeous boy’s music teacher told me how impressed she was with him going for the singing auditions for the Year 4 concert. Another warm glow of pride swells inside me. ‘Til he came out saying his form teacher threatened to cancel playtime if no-one went. Being the stoic sort, he trundled along in the hope it wouldn’t take all playtime.
One for Sorrow. Highlight of the day watching a magpie pull apart the door-mat outside the office. Presume it was for nest building rather than wanton destruction but Magpie’s do get such a bad press. Usually I’m the one outside on the mat. Smoking. Not now. No more. The patches work well. Must be the superglue like substance they use to attach them to your body.
Another constant evening on the go: pick-up, laundry, swimming, cooking, clearing-up, more laundry, and bed-time routines. Tonight’s bed-time delaying tactic from the little one was good: where did the very first baby come from? Briefly ran through beliefs of evolution vrs creationism. She thought God must have had magic beans.
Was worried tonight that in that spare 3 minutes I had to myself after the swimming laundry that I may just be tempted to run out on a quest for real nicotine. So did something I haven’t done in years. Had a bath. The thought of it was quite nice. In the pre-children, pre-shower days I loved soaking and pampering sessions. Memories, however, proved better than reality. I’d been in there a good five minutes before I realised I still had my glasses on and that all my nice grown-up grooming products were in the shower room. Took an age to scrub yesterday’s superglue patch stuff off with green frog spit soap. Must be strong stuff as today’s patch stayed in situ despite a 20 minute soak. Got out feeling slightly sick and light-headed.
Can’t decide if the rash on my tummy was heat, nico-patch or eczema. Once the redness and faintness faded had to moisturise my entire body to stop the itching. If that’s what sitting in hot water does for you, where’s the joy?
A new dilemma: The tweenager is having a sleep-over on Friday at a friend’s. I’ve never met friend nor family, so obviously not inclined to allow it. He-who-must-be-adored bit the bullet and rang the mom. He’s now cool about it. So I have to be as he’s usually the real paranoid one. And we’re out on Friday night – a rare treat – so don’t want to spend the whole evening panicking about her welfare.
It’s my best mate’s 40th. She managed to dump babies, job, husband and chores today and shopped til she dropped with another best mate. Green-eyed monster hit me for a moment but then I can’t actually manage a whole day shopping as a) I don’t ever have a whole day and b) if I did have a whole day to myself I wouldn’t want to waste it shopping.
Report from the front: it may be fashionable but who wants to wear a smock top and look pregnant again? That’s one look we’re all happy to leave in the past.