London Lads

Don't you think it's funny how things that drive you potty in your own children can be ignored in other children?

I have just spent a very pleasant day in Greenwich meeting an old University pal of mine, Ada.  After a good run around the park (small people), the larger people rewarded themselves with Pinot and Pizza.  Sebi was being his usual delightful self when he gets a cob on and watched Ada draw a beautiful picture for him on a Pizza Express postcard, then looked her in the eye whilst he scribbled all over it.  All she could come up with was: "Aren't his eyelashes amazing?"  Erm, yes they are, and he knows it, which is part of the reason his list of personality disorders is forever increasing.  (I blame the Mother.  No, I actually do, entirely.)

When she commented on the noise one of her children was making in the park earlier as being something that 'only dogs would respond to', I hadn't even noticed.  If my kids were making a noise like that I would have gone ballistic but somehow in a tone that is not belonging to you, it really doesn't matter.

Don't get me wrong, I am not generally a great fan of other children.  Correction, I'm not so much a fan of other parenting.  I know I went into teaching for the holidays but I don't think I would have lasted this long if I actually couldn't stand the littler people.  I have a few friends that are kindred spirits, one in particular springs to mind who agrees that in the public arena, well-behaved and well-mannered kids are much more important that happy kids.  It amused me today that mid paddy from Sebi he stopped what he was doing to thank the waiter for his drink then continued as was...

Little boys are feral by nature but I really believe that as long as you have run them around in circles for a good hour or so first, and don't inject sugar into them, you should generally be able to get them to behave for an hour or two over lunch by this age without the help of electronic devices.  We managed it.  The moment they were let loose from the restaurant however they turned back into wild dogs, which is fine.  We got to the river without losing any, which is always a good start.

As I walked along the South Bank on the way home and they were legging it about, I caught a small sideways glance from a lady with two little girls walking beautifully next to her, holding her hands.  I felt the glance.  I have given it many a time.  It was a glance that told me that at this present moment in time her children were better behaved than mine. True enough but technically they weren't doing anything wrong, they were just a little 'buoyant'.  I stand by the fact that it is illegal for a mother of all-females to chuck me that look however- I'm dealing with a completely different breed here.

Summer Shut Down

It is the middle of the summer holidays and I'm pretty much as relaxed as I could be.  I woke up at 11am this morning - amazing!  Granted that is probably because the kids are spending some much needed time at their Grandparents but these days with the help of the holy Ipad, I never really rise before 9 in the holidays.  Sleeping from midnight to 9.30 suits me much better than going to bed early and getting up for 7ish.  Unfortunately I haven't as yet found a school that would allow me to roll into work about 10am - it doesn't really fit the job.

I've figured out I have two speeds. (1) Crazy busy and (2) Lazy cow.  In the height of my busyness I achieve so much, always.  I juggle jobs and studying and everyone is still fed nutritiously and the house is clean.  I am currently running on Lazy Cow speed however and nothing is being achieved, at all.  I just drove to the shop to buy a sandwich as I couldn't be arsed to make one myself.  Seriously.  It must have taken more time/effort and energy to drive to the shop and buy one but it felt like the Lazy Cow option and I took it.

So I'm revelling in my sluggishness at the moment.  The only problem is that all good things come to an end and jeebus isn't it a shock to the system when they do?  This time in two weeks I will be halfway through a session of inset at my new job that started at 8.30am in the morning and I will have had to have delivered my kids to Wheathampstead beforehand.  From where I'm sitting at the moment you might as well ask me to climb Mount Everest, that would be easier.  The sensible way to tackle this problem would be to have earlier and more sober nights in the last week before real life starts again, thus training me back into the real world.  However, I know that I will be hanging onto the sloth by my fingernails and drowning the idea of actuality in buckets full of champagne. Hmmmm.

I need to rev my brain back up into gear as it is also the final year of my MA for which a cool 20000 words is expected.  I wrote 12500 words this year but if you held a gun to my head at the moment and asked me for any more than about 10 of them I really don't think I would be able to help you.

I'm sure I'll get there, we all do in the end.  I must be going now anyway.  There's place mat on the table with crumbs on that I've been working up to wiping for a couple of hours now.  I reckon I'm nearly up to it.  Happy Days.

The Circle of Life

I have just recovered from the worst two-day hangover of my life.  I thought I was going to die.  Seriously.  I was having heart attacks, kidney and liver failure all at the same time.  It was unpleasant.  This immediately followed 14 days of hardcore drinking, even by my standards, so it was well deserved.

It got me to thinking about the hideous injustice of not being able to drink forever as you could in your twenties.  Why can things just not stay the same forever?  Much as I am afraid to admit it, I am officially getting old.

After Zak has asked me to jump in five times with him in a row in the pool, I was bored shitless.  I used to do that for 10 hours straight as a child.  When did I get so boring?

Stu and I haven't partied like that on holiday since pre-kids.  It was brilliant, but I am also enjoying eating vegetables and drinking water today.  That would NEVER have happened before.  I would've been downing a bottle of vodka and crying over the fact my holiday was over.  Does this mean in ten years I will be one of 'those' women who has two white wine and sodas and that is quite enough?  I don't think so.  I bloody hope not.  I don't want to go clubbing anymore, definitely not.  What will I have lost over the next ten years?  Surely I can't go off pubs?  Maybe I need to make the most of them in what is left of my thirties, just in case.

I wonder sometimes about what our holidays will be like when the kids have left home.  I really hope we are still able to have fun by then.  I can't ever see me becoming seriously into sight-seeing or walking or anything that isn't lying in the sun and boozing but you never know.

Shell was telling me the other day about a pill that is being developed at the moment that simulates being drunk without actually drinking any alcohol.  You can then take another pill that stops it immediately with no hangover.  Sounds like the answer to all my problems but the problem is that is doesn't sound that fun really!  The best drunken nights are the ones that sneak up on you without warning, not a pre-medicated decision.  Plus, I know I would never get around to taking the second pill and would end up drunk and disorderly forever...

So, I will continue with my detox for a few days.  I have some seriously alcoholic pals coming to visit on Friday night so it will be all over by then.  That is followed by three child-less days so I reckon next week I will be mid-anxiety-attack-seriously-about-to-die-any-minute-now all over again.

At least I'm prepared this time. ;-)