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Indian Night - Tuesday 7th October One of my new collegues has organised an Indian party at her house. Saris, curry, bollywood, attempt at dancing bollywood style and mendhi. Great fun. I got to wear on of her numerous Saris and I must admit I am now a convert. Lovely, warm with a lovely feeling one can only get when wrapped in yards of fabric. I defy anybody to feel butch in a sari. Can I face a trip to Southall though ??? The fun did not stop there. When we left the party we were greeted by the sight of a man crossing the dual carriageway while pushing a trolley. In the trolley was a fully inflated blow up doll. Where are all the cameras when you need one. We are an easy to entertain lot. We giggled about it for days.
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13.11.03 21:45 |
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Parents evening at school - Monday 20th October A little while ago, Philippa (the only true Domestic Goddess) were discussing the daunting prospect of choosing a secondary school for our offspring (I know they are only 6 but neurotic mums like me live by "why woory tomorrow about something which can give you a sleepless night today). Anyway, because Philippa is far less neurotic than I am (she is a Goddess after all !) she reassured me that failure is not really an option for our children and that the odds are pretty much stacked in their favour. Well today I have discovered that being average is not an option either. Apparently it is disappointing that the love of my life only has a spelling age of six and a half since he did so well in reading, vocabulary and maths. I was too stunned to point out that he IS six and a half so the result should not be totally unexpected. talk about high expectations.
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13.11.03 22:00 |
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Fireworks a gogo - Friday 24th October Tomorrow is the start of Diwali which marks the start of the fireworks season. Get ready for a daily "son et lumiere" spectacle in neighbouring gardens for the next couple of monts (Diwali, halloween, guy fawkes, build up to christmas, christmas and new year). Fireworks shops have opened all over the place and we are urged to "impress (our) neighbours" by buying bigger and better than last year. Hummm. Tomorrow is also the start of half-term so I have been searching websites for suitable distractions for The Boy and his lovely au-pair. Because he is easily pleased (he is a boy after all) and I am a bit of a skinflint I have checked out free special events in museums and kept paying activities to a minimum. I have mapped out next week with minutia for maximum impact at minimum cost. |
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13.11.03 22:17 |
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It seemed like a good idea at the time - Monday 27th October. Finished work early and the weather was glorious. Lets go to the park I said. The offer was not met with great enthusiasm by The Boy who was still full of his visit of the Golden Hinde. Anyway, it's all in the marketing... enter devious mum who really feels like having a walk in the park. "Are you sure ? There will be deer, I can make hot chocolate for the thermos (and then the clincher argument), you know we could take your bike". The Boy is swayed. Off we go, the weather is still glorious, the autumn colours are plain gorgeous and there is enough deer to keep your average 6 year old boy happy. Mistake number 1: I did not take the mobile (I normally carry it when going to place where I know phoneboxes are scarce) Mistake number 2: I did not take the first aid kit (my hand bag is a tardis which would shame your average chemist, I told you I am a neurotic mum and some of my friend's children have a habit of hurting themselves on outing) Mistake number 3: Constance the lovely au-pair and I are discussing how The Boy is quite danger aware and how the boy is less accident prone than your average 6 year old (she has little brothers, she knows...). By now you can see we are truly tempting fate. The Boy decides we should take the path which will get us closer to the deer and promptly falls off the bike into dried fern and lacerates his eyelid. I rush to him and all I can see is his half closed eye and a blood soaked eye. It takes a little time to acertain the fern did not go trhough the eyelid and the eye should be ok. The twig still stuck in is not scratching the cornea. I order The Boy t keep his eye closed and use my glove to stop the blood (no first aid kit means no nice clean compress). I work out I cannot carry him and keep the pressure on the eyelid. We manage to get back to a more travelled path where Constance flags down a passer by for help. By now I feel rather faint. How pathetic. I used to work in a Boys Secondary Secondary School (even did stints in the medical room when the nurse was not in) so I have seen lacerations, blood and sprains in vast quantity and did not bother me one iota. However when the blood belong to The Boy I become totally useless. Mother's instinct stinks when it comes to dealing with injuries in a rational way. Because we parked at the other end of the park and I can't carry The Boy that far and do not feel quite up to driving yet and I don't know the directions to the local minor injury unit. Problem solved. The lady who lives in the park offers to take us to the hospital and another lady offers to drive my car + Constance the lovely au-pair + the bike to the hospital car park. Anyway the local hospital specialises in minor injuries so waiting time is mercifully short - you do not get put to the back of the queue because you are a minor injury since you are all minor (in and out in an hour as opposed to the 4 hours + customary in the local A+E department). They also have a great shop which sells cheaply everything needed to keep a little boy entertained while he waits for his turn. Sorry to bore you with the gory details but they decided skin loss was too extensive for stitching to be useful (would only narrow the wound by a couple of millimetres at best - not enough to warrant more pain and suffering), removed remaining twig, clean the wound, applied antibiotic ointment and adivised on after care. The boy is distraught. No rugby and no swimming for a fortnight. Damm! I am going to have to change the half-term plans. Good thing I had kept them between Constance and I. |
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13.11.03 23:01 |
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Retail therapy - Thursday 30th October Nanny In Cornwall has sent The Boy a get well card and £5 to treat himself so we went shopping. The Boy has decided he wants triops. His attempt to show that we can have another pet and he is responsible enough to look after it or just plain fascination at the idea something older than the dinosaurs is growing in the bathroom I don't know. Anyway be bought the triops. We are now waiting for the water in the tank to come to room temperature before we put the eggs in. Maybe I should have said yes to a gerbil. |
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13.11.03 23:10 |
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Return to the park - Friday 31st October Philippa The Only True Domestic Goddess has come to spend the day with us. In the afternoon we decide to go to the park to see the deer up close this time. I have remembered to take the mobile and the first aid kit this time. The bike is safely in the shed and The Boy has accepted that "they" will not cut off all the fern in the park for his benefit. The boy has drawn a picture for the Lady Who Lives In The Park. We hand it to her. All goes well this time. The kids are happy with how close they got to the animals. Need to rush home because She Who Has Married The Boy's Father is coming to pick him up for the week-end. Anyway, She Who Has Married The Boy's Father arrives on time (The Boy's Father is not noted for his punctuality) and is happy to be given a lesson on how to apply ointment and change dressings. After four years I am still suprised at how scared she is of me and how uncomfortable she is in my house. I know I am evil but still, I would have thought by now she knew The Boy's Father enough to realise what he says is not always entirely truthful. |
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13.11.03 23:21 |
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The Boy's Father is a moron - Monday 3rd November The Boy: "Mummy I am having a nightmare" Me:"What about" The Boy: "It's too scary, I can't tell you" After persuasive arguments "I was dreaming I had the plague" The Boy's Father, in his wisdom has taken a 6 year old to the London Dungeon and then handed The Boy back to me and Him Indoors to deal with the fallout. NICE. The boy went back to sleep with instructions on how, if the nightmare returns, he is to imagine Baldrick, our big fat black cat, is catching all the rats in turn and killing them and that he has told us about it so we can take get him some antibiotics to cure him. Like I said, mothering is all in the marketing. I am bracing myself for a return to wet nights though...
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13.11.03 23:30 |
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