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Shadenfreude Warning this post contains references to bodily fluids, if you are of a sensitive nature avert you eyes now. Yesterday The Boy's Father called to arrange The Boy's return home and to complain that The Boy had given him tonsillitis (join the club) and that he was sick in his car. Today The Boy came back and I am shamed to admit his retelling of the sick in the car incident has given me much opportunity for shadenfreude. Apparently his father had cooked him something he did not like for dinner and had insisted he ate at least some of it (we know better - the child is so unfussy normally, if he doesn't like something we assume there must be a good reason why not and let him steer clear of it). Anyway, there was a good reason to his not liking it and a little while later the decision came back to haunt his father in the shape of projectile vomitting. The Boy managed some powerful stunt, he hit the windscreen and even splatered the steering wheel. I should feel bad at feeling joy at the idea of his father cleaning every last bit out of the car but I don't really. Why not? For starters the sick covered clothes came back unwashed in a plastic bag. Not only that but my child had not been bathed or showered between the incident yesterday afternoon and this afternoon when he was returned (this was remedied promptish, I may be a lousy mother but I am not that bad by a long shot). |
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2.6.05 22:11 |
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My parents have ben and gone and the visit was very pleasant indeed. The nice weather on Friday morning meant a trip to Regent's Park. It was my niece's first time on a train and on the tube and she enjoyed it a lot. The Boy and my niece had a great time in the play area, some fun looking at the ducks, geese and herons (look mummy this one's got a blue beak). The children were also fascinated by the old man who was hand feeding bread to a couple of swans. There they were delicately removing the pieces of bread from his fingers. Lunch was not quite as successful. We tried The Garden Cafe (in the Inner Circle) and were less than impressed. The setting was pleasant (outside table) and the waitresses were helpful quite nice but they were let down in a big way by the kitchen, we waited a long time for he food and could see the other patrons were also getting impatient. Anybody who has ever been sat at a table with a hungry 2 and a half year old and waiting for food to turn up will know how it's not an ideal situation. When the long awaited food finaly turned up it was a let down. The kedgeree was overly spicy with a pungent curry powder smell instead of being creamy, smoky and delicately spiced; the tomato and gruyere tart was swimming in fat and the accompanying salad's dressing was straight out of a bottle and the seafood salad was rubbery and tough. Since it was just down the road we walked to Hamleys at my father's suggestion so he could buy The Boy a belated birthday present. More lego pieces for my barefeet to tread on in the morning, yippedydooda. Introduced my father to Sudoku and he is now totally hooked. When he left this afternoon it was with a copy of the puzzle in Friday's Evening Standard to solve on the ferry and with a promise I will send him some more. After my family's departure The Boy and I gave Him Indoors a bit of revision space and hopped on the tube to the London's Transport Musem Depot at Acton Town to look at tube trains, buses and other London transport paraphenelia which is not exhibited in Covent Garden due to lack of space. Shame it's back to school and back to work tomorrow. |
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5.6.05 22:29 |
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And the award for clueless mother goes to me ... for once again forgetting an Inset day and getting The Boy ready for school. It would not be so bad if it was the first time it happened to me, but it wasn't (when The Boy was in Reception I took him in for every single Inset). To be fair I got a sneaking suspicion that something was not as it should when I noticed a lack of other children on the school run. The suspicion grew when I got to Christine's house and all her curtains were still drawn and the verdict fell when The Boy rang her doorbell and she opened the door in her nighty - she is a kind soul and did not mock. So The Boy came to work with me where my colleagues were less kind about it, I think their exact words were "your mum is rubbish, sack her". He rode pillion on the bike which allowed me to find out it takes me a third longer to make the same journey when carrying an extra 28kg and reported to Him Indoors that I go really fast downhill (good thing he could not see the speedo or his illusions would have vanished). |
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6.6.05 21:44 |
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Gardens of glass Well that's what the current exhibition at Kew Gardens is called. It's a number of displays amongst the plants, indoors and in some of the glasshouses by Dale Chihuly and I got some free tickets for the open evening tonight. Annie Mole met The Boy and I at the gardens and we had a stroll around and enjoyed most of the displays and the setting and fresh air. Well worth keeping The Boy up a bit late on a school night for. I have uploaded some pics if you want to have a look and decide if you would like to o and see them for yourselves; click here for a set of pictures of Chihuly displays at Kew. |
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7.6.05 23:26 |
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My bicycle has a bell, 2 wheels, 2 pedals and a saddle as well ... and not a satellite swell as i thought the first time i heard the song, but anyway that's beside the point. The Boy has outgrown his alleycat which means if we want to go anywhere with him on the bike, he has to ride solo. Today was his second proper open road outing (admitedly he had been on the road before but it was with his grandfather and in the middle of nowhere so i don't think it counts not when compared to riding on the roads of West London does it?). The first one was a quick trip down the road to choir practice with me riding behind im. Though it was only a short distance it was a hair raising experience and i was not keen to repeat it. However if I want The Boy to acquire some road sense I need to let go of my instinct to wrap him in cotton wool and start taking him out supervised more often. So today we picked a relatively traffic free route to Richmond and stuck him between Him Indoor's bike and mine, with Him Indoors shouting numbers at im everytime he thought The Boy ought to change gear. It was a lot less scary than last time though we do suspect The Boy spent more time looking at his speedo than he did looking at the road. On the way back we spotted a kestrel in the Old Deer Park. As we got closer it flew off and we noticed it had a prey in its talons. I never cease to be amazed by the amount of wildlife in London and how completely unbothered it is by the presence of humans the animals are. Mind you, doesn't this look like contryside to you albeit tame countryside ? 
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11.6.05 22:49 |
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Once, twice, three times a moron... I was going to write about the small pleasures of life on a hot week-end, things like a breakfast of fruit in the garden, walking barefoot on tiled floors, sipping iced tea in the shade while reading a book, sleeping off the midday sun and enjoying the parks and the towpath later when the heat eases off. Instead I am writing in anger. The Boy's father has brought him back from the week-end and once again he has let him get sun burn and sun stroke. It is the second time and while it was inexcusable the first time, the second time there is no word for that level of stupidity. I would have thought after the last time he would know that the beach is no place to be with young children between 1200 and 1500. I would have thought he had worked out by now that sun screen on its own is not enough of a protection on days when the sun shines as nicely as it has this week-end especially on parts of the body not normally exposed like the back and shoulders. The Boy's father's killing argument? The argument that was meant to make me see his point? "There were loads of other children on the beachebetween 12 and 3". Hello? If that argument didn't work when you were a teenager trying to why you had done something stupid it certainly won't work now. "and if loads of people jumped off cliffs?" was the instant response. He carried on in Kevin mode "I knew you were going to say that" andwalked off. As I sat in the tepid bath with The Boy pouring water on his sore back, chest, shoulders and arms in an effort to cool his skin and reduce hi temperature, he told me about how his father was discussing in the car on the way back how annoyed I would be. Annoyed doesn't even touch it. I want to hurt him, badly. He also told me about his baby half brother being burnt too (the little one is very fair skinned and I shudder at the idea of it especially having seen the results on my son's olive skin) and how his grandmother was very angry with his father about it (makes a few of us then. Him Indoors has dug up his loosest, softest, lightest whit t-shirt for The Boy to wear and he has helped me smother him in water based cooling gel after the cooling bath. He has found a fan and put it in The Boy's bedroom. I am hoping junior ibuprofen helps take away enough of the pain so he gets a good night and I am fuming that I did not get to slap The Boy's Father's burnt shoulders repeatedly. |
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19.6.05 20:40 |
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Just because... The next time you burn toast and set off the smoke alarm by accident, when you rush to the little white plastic box waving a tea towel, don't swear, don't be tempted to take the batteries out, instead do a little dance as you wave the tea towel and rejoice in the knowledge the little white box is working. Why? read this entry and it will all make sense. By the way if like Him Indoors you like to keep up to date with building regulations then mains powered smoke detectors are the way to go. |
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21.6.05 23:11 |
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