No, I haven’t slipped off the face of the planet

Is it true? Have I got 5 whole minutes to finally update my Blog after about a month of complete silence? Can I really get it all done before all hell breaks loose again? I have been trying for 5 days but something always comes up, usually the children getting an attack of the ‘Mummy!’s. How is that they can be completely quiet for hours, even tell me to go away and stop interrupting their games if I dare to try and find out what they are up to. Then the second I pick up the phone, turn on the computer or sit on the bog they suddenly need me desperately? ‘Mummy! Will you get my Barbies?’. ‘Mummy! I’m hungry!’. ‘Mummy! Will you wipe my bottom!’. Well, for now, Nobby is in Sweden – which Pickle has delightfully misheard and insists he’s gone to Swindon – Pickle is upstairs doing who-knows-what with his train set and Poppet is parked on the sofa as usual watching the TV. She’s watching Pop though, so I know that as soon as the adverts come on she’ll pipe up with more additions to the Christmas list. ‘Ooh look! A dolly that can swim! Oh, I’d really like one of those, Mummy.’ And did you know that with commercial channels like that you can’t get away with saying ‘Mummy can’t afford it’ because the very next advert will be for a loan and the kid just says ‘but look, Mummy, you can borrow the money’. If only CBeebies played back-to-back Charlie and Lola we’d never turn over.

Anyway, quite apart from the constant lumming (as Rose calls it in her house) it’s been kinda busy here, in a Piccadilly Circus meets Spaghetti Junction sort of way, what with reading the final Harry Potter book (fabulous!), popping off to Marbella (more in a mo.) and to-ing and fro-ing to school. I have counted my school runs per week: 18 on a normal week, 20 every other week when there is Saturday school as well. And with Poppet’s leg still in plaster for another 4 weeks I can’t really call in any help yet. The crowd of Mums outside school are getting more used to my enormous double buggy now and have started to make way for us so I haven’t taken out too many ankles just yet. The kids in the playground await our arrival with great impatience and the moment Poppet’s bum is off the seat they all pile into it while we limp to the classroom. I’ve let them get away with it so far as there is naff-all to play on in their playground but they’re going to burst the tyres one of these days. It all adds up to a much lengthier school run than usual so I am constantly chasing my tail trying to keep some sort of routine going. I wrote my parents a veritable encyclopaedia of instructions on how to keep things running smoothly while I was in Marbella for 4 nights, but you just can’t account for the curve balls. For example, you get everyone up and dressed and fed and you’re just about to head for the car and Pickle decides that he needs to play Musical Statues. Right away. Er, come again? This was last Monday morning and the only solution to avoid the massive strop was to go with it for a couple of rounds, and let him win of course. He’s like Jekyll and Hyde that one. (I believe the word is capricious, if you saw Ant and Dec’s spelling bee…) On Tuesday we got as far as Pickle’s classroom, while Poppet was freezing her bits off outside in the buggy, and he announced that he didn’t want to go to French school, he’d rather go to the English school. Hmm. At least that’s an improvement on the previous week when he told my Mum that since he’d been to school twice that week he didn’t feel the need to go any more. Luckily the appearance of one of his friends persuaded him into the classroom so I could drop Poppet off. But as I made my way back out of the playground I found they’d already locked the school gates and I couldn’t get out. Thankfully the ‘Lollipop Man’ had a key so I could get on my way but it’s been becoming a regular event ever since. How much would it take for the gate-locker to glance over to see whether the double buggy is still parked by the classroom before she turns the key? Hey, but zis is France…

I hear a wailing upstairs; I think Pickles game is fighting back and my time may almost be up. So I must just report on my patient. Hard as it was leaving her and taking my trip to Spain after all, it was probably the best thing for both of us. Not so my liver, by all accounts, given that the bridal party in Spain were a bunch of total party animals and I felt compelled to join in and beer it up until 4am each night… but Poppet really started trying to be independent, despite the tonne of plaster on her leg. My Mum reported that she was even getting herself up the stairs the day after I left and she’d hardly needed any carrying. See, there’s the irony again; as Poppet re-masters the art of moving about on her own her Mummy goes out and gets shedded and can’t walk down the street in a straight line any more, let alone find her hotel room. I think I missed out somewhat having never done the Marbella thing pre-children. It was a totally new concept to head out for the evening at midnight, a time when I would usually be tucked up in bed, and I had a serious fashion wake-up call too that first night. The bridesmaids were all looking fantastic in little dresses and strappy sandals with their hair coiffed to perfection, while I stood there in my jeans and t-shirt with hair by Crazy Meg after my long journey which included a whole hour looking for the hotel. Then they announced they were planning to dress up the following night… hello? I’d just mentally discarded the twin-set and pearls and was racking my brains as to whether I had anything vaguely trendy with me, that didn’t reveal too much of the muffin-top or show me up as mutton-dressed-as-lamb, and here they were discussing sequinned camisoles and hot-pants. Deary me, I know sometimes it’s nice to stand out from the crowd but not as the obvious stay-at-home mum-of-2 who gets all her clothes from Tescos. Anyway, I think I pulled it off ok because I pulled a Spaniard the following night when all the girls hit a disco-bar together! Poor guy was a bit crestfallen when Nobby turned up to find out where I’d got to, and Nobby was a bit surprised to find my wedding ring on my right hand… (I was just living the dream for 5 minutes!)

So we came back down to earth with a bit of a bump (not to mention a thumping head) on Saturday but I am pleased to report that my parents made it through 4 days, 4 nights, 7 school runs and a trip to the hospital (Poppet’s check-up) without strangling either of the children, or each other. And my ironing mountain is no more! What it is to have a Mum who actually likes ironing. I am eternally grateful to them for the respite, they are truly wonderful parents to me, I don’t know what I would do without them. Thanks bigly too to Rose for accompanying them to the hospital as translator. And thanks also to our newly married friends for the opportunity to go large in Marbella. Since my return Poppet has been rather less independent for the last few days, I think its subtle punishment for my having sloped off without her, especially to a wedding, her favourite kind of event. She firmly refuses to use the crutches at home but she does shuffle about on her bottom and I’m keeping everything crossed she doesn’t whack her leg on the tiled floor and send us back to square one. But since all exercise is good at this stage I am happy to delay running to meet her demands in case she decides it’s not too much trouble to do it herself. Besides, I think she has a posse of other slaves at school to satisfy her and she did a great job on her friend’s dad the other day when she attended a birthday party and got the poor man to fetch and carry for 2 hours. (I had warned him, by the way, and he had blindly volunteered to give me a break, LOL!)

Well, I hope it’s not too long before I get another chance to write some more. Pickle has just announced that it’s his turn on the computer now. Who am I to argue?