>> Thursday, 29 July 2010
Dear Purple Skoda,
Dear Purple Skoda,
I'm falling behind on my blog reading. I'm also falling behind on replying to comments, Twitter, newspapers, books, and practically everything that doesn't involve bouncing around in a pool with small children, soaking up the sun and regretting the croissant with butter and honey I had for breakfast.
It's the day before we go on our summer holiday. All is chaos at my parent's in law where we're currently staying before we leave for France. After spending 3 weeks with my parents and Husband's mother I'm becoming something of a basket case. I love them both dearly (although my parents more, obviously - it's the law, apparently), but I haven't spent this much time with them since I left home 25 years ago.
Husband suggested this morning that I take 'a couple of hours' out at a coffee shop to surf the internet and have some time to myself. Great idea. Except, by the time we emptied out our car ready for it to be scrapped (once we find the ownership papers, and god only knows where they are), went through the stuff in my mother-in-law's loft trying to find various pieces of clothing for the boys (also a fruitless exercise), and tried to rationalise some of our luggage before flying out with 'Not so Easy Jet' tomorrow morning, 'a couple of hours' had gone down to 1 hour 15. Throw in running a couple of errands (funnily enough for shaving foam that I won't be using and a card for my brother-in-law), and I was left with 40 minutes. Then I had to find a coffee shop with wifi (lose another 10 minutes) and queue up to get the code in the only joint in town with a working connection, and I have 2 minutes left to write a post.
And now I'm late.
What a relaxing 'couple of hours' that was...
So that's it, Internet. No more blog post right now. Hopefully the next time I log on I will be ensconced by the pool with a glass of chilled rose in my hand.
Boy #2: "Mummy. Why do you need boobs?"
I took the Boys to Southbourne Beach near Bournemouth today. This was an important Rite of Passage; this part of Dorset is where my mum's family is from, where she grew up, and where I spent not only some very happy holidays but also two formative summers during my sixth form years - on this very beach, in fact - after my parents moved down there for a while.
I am not a 'crafty' person. Oh, I might occasionally throw some paper and glitter around with the Boys admittedly, and whilst I was growing up my poor parents probably had more than their fair share of salt-dough decorations weighing down the branches of the Christmas tree. Oh, and there was that two-year sojourn in the land of the macrame artiste, when members of the family and various unfortunate friends were given strings of scratchy hemp fashioned into pot holders, wall hangings and yet more pot holders...
This morning, in my parent's dining room, I was watching the happenings on twitter (an addictive personality? Me?), and Boy #1 was indulging in a spot of Nintendo-love. Every now and again he would mutter something obscure like 'pink road', 'blue road' or 'I've got protection' (What?).
...metaphorically speaking, that is?
OK. If I've hit publish on this, it's because I've just listened to myself reading a post on Radio Four's 'Woman's Hour' (how many apostrophe's can you fit into three words?) and rather than wanting to jump off a cliff at how strangled I sounded, have decided that it was actually OK.
3 years ago, Boy #1 nearly drowned in a friend's pool. I can't actually bring myself to write about what happened; 36 months on it's still too raw. Consequently, I found this article in MumsRock hard going - it's much too close for comfort - but I still did to remind myself of what to look out for, and urge you to, too.
A speedy update this morning. A post on this week's British Mummy Blogger of the Week puts me in mind of something I did when I was a young and callow student, and really should have known better...
I've had an exhausting day. Not because I spent 3 hours alongside some other bloggers in the company of the lovely people at John Lewis as they showed us their Christmas range, which by the way was fabulous, and some of the clothes were even worth die(t)ing for (see what I did there? I'm not an ancient blogger for nothing, you know...). Nor because I followed that up with a trip on the London Eye with Boys #1 and #2 and Mother-in-Law. And not even because today I wore far-too-high wedges that whilst they are perfectly comfortable in the 'standing still and looking tall' department, are a little precarious and require some concentration when it comes to the 'walking down-hill in the rain on the way to the tube first thing in the morning' department.
At the parent's in law, still in London. The sounds of 'Chitty Chitty Bang-Bang' drift out from the sitting room where the boys are spending a glorious morning ensconced in front of the box... (don't judge me; it's week 3 of the school holidays. WEEK 3! And it's only July 6th!) Every now and again Boy #1 bursts out into the dining room where I'm tapping away on the lap top to ask pertinent questions like 'It's the same man in this as in Mary Poppins. Does that mean that Bert has two jobs?' and to exclaim 'No! No!' when the pirates sail over the horizon. I'm currently on standby for when the odious Child Catcher appears since I have no doubt my presence will be required to ward off his advances...
I'm in London, recovering after a flight over here on my own with the Boys on Friday, and yesterday's Cybermummy event in Earl's Court. This is a British Mummy Blogger of the week post, I promise, but first two other things...