Timing

Eebygum I am soooo sore! It’s possible that at my age 3 hours of jujitsu on a Sunday morning is not such a great idea. It was a one-off course on ‘le fighting’ (say it with a French accent, bizarre, non?!) where at one point I was trussed up in body padding and boxing gloves exchanging blows and judo throws with a girl three quarters my height and not even half my age. I would like to say I won… but I’d be lying. The feisty little beast pummelled me 3:1 and left me with a purple toe and various bruises. But we partnered up later on and our technical demo got a round of applause from les boys so it wasn’t all bad. I just wish it didn’t take me a week to recover each time I don my kimono. I haven’t even got the energy to push round the hoover. Well, that’s my excuse anyway.

At least now I may stop stressing so much about our imminent move. I’ve been entering that ‘gotta sort everything out NOW’ mode lately and I’ve been in danger of imploding. It’s a little like that nesting thing you can get just before you have a baby – which saw me on a ladder at 9 months pregnant because I HAD to get the windows clean before the baby came and I couldn’t possibly trust the task to a window cleaner. Of course now I am wanting to finish all those projects I started here but never finished– the scrap-book of our time in France which currently only covers the first 6 months, that knitted bed-throw for which I have completed about 14 squares out of 200, the princess dress Poppet requested about a year ago for which I’ve turned one hem… plus I also want to chuck out all the crud I don’t want to be unpacking in my new house wondering what on earth possessed me to hang onto it AND spend some quality time with all the friends I’m going to miss.

All this requires timing and planning of course (and energy). And that’s why my head’s in a spin. I can plan until the cows come home -you should see the beautiful lists and timetables I can produce. But sticking to them is proving too big a challenge, especially when there are children around. They have their very own sense of timing, perfectly calculated to cause as much mayhem as possible while you’re distracted with something else, with the ultimate goal of a full Mummy-meltdown. Sometimes I think children are born masochists. Yesterday Poppet managed to invite next door’s twin boys over for a play without my realising what was going on as I was discussing her homework over the phone with another Mummy and just gave her the ‘talk to the hand’ stance when she started blabbing at me. More fool me; by the time I hung up there were two Tasmanian Devils in the garden, one with his head in the playhouse chucking toys out over his shoulder as he tried to reach the one right at the bottom of the pile, the other one dipping the swing-ball in the paddling pool so it would make a more interesting game. It’s a similar story if you try to visit the loo (one of them will suddenly be desperate for a pee or will fall down the stairs and need a cuddle) or try to send an email (they’ll be jumping on your chair yelling ‘I wanna go!’ so you can’t type).

I can’t think how we made it through this last weekend, which was back-to-back parties and sports with Saturday school and an FA Cup Final thrown in for good measure. How are you supposed to get two kids to two different parties for the same start time and with the correct present while there’s football on the telly and only one car? Even on Saturday night at a village party with all their friends, the kids decided they needed me most during my shift pulling pints behind the bar. Pickle appointed himself ‘pot-man’ and sat behind the bar handing me the coca-cola and cans of Guinness. Rose caught sight of him and quipped ‘Oh look, we’re short-staffed!’ tee hee!

Anyway, I can report that in amongst all the shenanigans that marble has reappeared, albeit without its former silvery coating thanks to its adventure down Poppet’s alimentary canal, much to her astonishment. You’ve seen what Coca-cola can do to a coin? Well this is what your insides can do to a metal ball. I love a bit of home-schooling on the side.

PS my final word today is ‘yah-boo-sucks’ to the scum who burgled my parents’ garden shed while they were over here helping me out. I’m sure you’ll go far selling stolen lawn-mowers, you losers.