Monday 25 May 2015

I'm Only Sleeping

As I write this blog post, I am watching the Prince eat the weirdest snack ever. He is stirring Pom-Bear crisps into pilau rice and scoffing it.........vile.
In today's news, I have scraped the scuzzy hardened brown bitty stuff off the table, which might well have been Weetabix but really there's no way to know for sure. In a bid to spring clean. Even though spring cleaning should have happened yonks ago really.
I'm a bit behind.
But the thing is, Sweet Child takes up time. A lot of time. If she isn't trying to hurl herself off the Weetabix-encrusted kitchen table, then she is dangling precariously off the back of the sofa. Or throwing books down the toilet. Or eating soap. Or finding a way of opening packets of chewing gum. Honestly, I feel I have aged dreadfully and am skipping with glee that I am reading more features about how grey hair is the new big deal in the world of glossy tresses. Thank The Lord, I am finally bang on trend.
Three hours sleep is not part of my plan and so instead of cleaning Weetabix and other unidentifiable matter off the table and doing a full Kim and Aggy clean-up in the house, I have been either dazed and glazed while trying to keep up with the washing or I have tried to do an afternoon nap.
Napping has caused me problems though. I ended up sleeping through the alarm last week and slept through the school run. Oh dear god, I have never felt so stressed.
I woke at 2.50pm which is precisely the time the Prince comes out of his class, then dumps his bag/lunch box/PE kit/drinking bottle/crazy art work and school letters onto me and demands he is hungry and WHY aren't we going to the park. Normally that is stressful enough, but imagine actually sleeping through all that.
With a racing heart, I leapt out of bed, woke Sweet Child, dressed her, crammed her into the sling, tried to find my front door key and phoned the school to say I was on my way...without trying to sound too panicky.
Then as I eventually opened the front door to leave, the phone rang and I had to dash back in and answer it, assuming it was my son's teacher.
But it wasn't. It was the receptionist at the Princess's school to tell me my daughter had been hit hard in the head by a rugby ball. Honestly, beads of sweat were rolling down my forehead by this point and the husband wouldn't be home til gone midnight. It was going to be a long afternoon/evening/night.
Things like this stop me from blogging regularly. Sweet Child ripping her nappy off and weeing through the entire house keeps me from blogging. At first I thought we had a ceiling leak.....then I realised what she had done.
So, sleeping through the alarm, thus failing to make the school run, having the feeling I am NEVER top of the housework, trying to be an adult among three very busy children, all of whom are not known for their Shrinking Violet personas, are all the excuses you need to know why I only make a rare appearance these days.
But I know that when the kids grow up, move out and I am kicking my heels around a quiet, calm, clean house, I shall weep. Mourn for what I had.
This is a good life. It's hectic and I probably wouldn't have it any other way.
In other news though, I did eventually finish the pram blanket for Sweet Child. It has taken me months and months.

Sweet Child is now 17 months old and I miss the newborn stage but love how she has developed. She adores hats, bags and shoes. A proper girl!!!

I was godmother at my nephew's christening. This church is where we married 13 years ago. My parents and grandparents were also married here. Now my grandparents are buried here. It is very special.

We have had picnics galore...

One of my besties came to stay and we went out for dinner and had cocktails and had quality time. We NEVER get time together like that usually.

The husband is due back at any time and we are planning a BBQ later although the sun has gone in and it looks cold. As standard when we plan a BBQ...Ho hum.

I have bought some lush things from cherry tree shops recently so I hope to blog about those sometime soon, perhaps before Sweet Child is 18.