A miracle me thinks. Still no fags. Haven’t done this well in yonks. My lungs may be cleaner, but they’re getting larger. Much larger. Lets face it, apples don’t really do it. Despite patch-wearing am craving – mainly crumpets. And nuts. And I may have had the odd bit of chocco as well. Am taking Jermaine Jackson’s advice that kindness is a strength. Being strong by not smoking and kind to myself by having whatever I damn well feel like. This strategy may have to be re-assessed following the week-end weigh-in.
My super sweet and special sister has excelled this week in capturing the spirit of what’s important to the little one. This term Class 1’s enchanted forest will be replaced by a post-office. So the super sister has been mailing notes and stationery on a daily basis. However, the delighted little one is adamant the stationery is for her. See it has her name on the envelope. She can read her name. And it doesn’t say Class 1.
Luckily she awoke in fine fettle today. The difference of an early bedtime. Maybe me and He should try it. She wanted to pick-up on last night’s chat and asked exactly ‘how are babies made? Twas a bit much for 7.15am but as I embarked on age-appropriate details He-Who-Must-Be-Adored shouted from the bathroom ‘can we leave that for another day, and can you both get dressed now please’.
Unusually, the gorgeous boy woke moaning. His new Polish swimming instructor doesn’t believe in the namby pamby approach and has promised reaching the top group within two terms. Think this morning’s aching buttocks have made that particular promise lose its appeal somewhat.
Office bound today so the Tweenager happily missed the bus and got a ride to avoid the drizzle. It hasn’t stopped all day. All that rain could make a person turn to fags you know. My boss‘Captain Chaos’is one of my six brothers. Working with him has its novel moments. And upsides. The downside, because of course there is one, is being referred to by my most-hated childhood nickname. Another brother, the Smiler, also uses our work site sometimes. I am tortured when they’re both in mick-taking mode and am ashamed to admit I revert to the same responses I gave when aged 10.
No grumpy taxi-ing tonight as the Piano teacher is coming to us. Neither the tweenager nor the gorgeous boy have practiced. He-Who-Must-Be-Adored thinks I shouldn’t waste hard-earned cash on things they don’t appreciate. I think they should be given the opportunities I never had. He feels the same. But about Lego.
I am a loser. Not in all aspects of my life. Just in this house. He-who-must-be-adored is a finder. The fact is I mainly lose things that he’s tidied away. His says it’s his way of switching off from the day job of saving London. Sometimes think he’d like to tidy me and the kids away.
Will have to ‘post’ this now as am off to get the dustbin-lids from school. See ya later.
Post a Comment