I can't stay long. I am recovering from a hideous hangover. Excitingly I was taken out for dinner with K last night - totally out of the ordinary. K and I eat out regularly, every April and November. One is our anniversary and one is my birthday. His birthday is also in November but we don't go out for that. So obviously last night was a great break from our routine - K's new bosses took us out for a slap up meal! Now, it turns out that we were in fact very, very wrong about these poor people. They actually really like K and they themselves are very likeable. We had a fantastic night and I even had lobster. Anyone who buys me lobster gets my seal of approval. They also plied me with wine, hence the hangover. I ended up getting far more drunk than I had ever intended and by the time I collapsed into bed at midnight the room was spinning and I was unable to form words. It is actually a lot harder to speak than you might think - I realised why babies and stroke victims get so frustrated. Forming words requires a huge amount of concentration. K was not impressed in the slightest. It's not my fault I can't handle my drink. This morning it felt like my brain was loose inside my skull. I stayed in the safety of my bed until gone 10. Thank God K was not similarly affected and was able to care for the small people.
So, I left you pre-fritatta. Not only did I make it but I also went to the International evening. I know! I am a proper school mummy. I felt terribly grown up as I dropped my cold fritatta off on Thursday morning. I felt official. I hadn't intended to attend the actual evening but then Bea got all excited about the fact I had made something and was desperate to see it in situ - she also came up with the genius idea of wearing her belly dancing outfit and with that I was sold. So, at a time I usually think of as 'the end' (after tea and before I shove them up the stairs for bath) I embarked upon the fourth trip to school that day. (I am very over the incessant school runs and cannot WAIT for the summer holidays). I was pleasantly surprised when we arrived. There was an awful lot of food - far more than just my fritatta and some victoria sponge as I had feared and there was also an awful lot of people. For about 15 minutes all was rather peachy. Ted and G were beautifully behaved and looked angelic sitting at a table in the hall eating their chocolate cake and listening to the steel drums being expertly played. Bea was sitting nearby with her best friend and was relishing everyone commenting on her belly dancing outfit. Then, as the sugar from the cake and the relatively (for them) late hour hit the boys' system, all hell broke loose. We went out for air and G set about the nursery playground with a maniacal fervour, climbing up the playhouse, jumping off things, throwing the discs from the giant Connect Four game around etc. Ted joined in, but soon tired of vandalising the nursery equipment, grabbed the scooter from the buggy and headed for the gates at quite a speed. From them on I was trying to run between the three, Bea in the hall, G in the nursery playground and Ted in the large playground. Largely unsuccessfully. I took a brief moment to cuddle a BEAUTIFUL newborn baby and as I turned back towards Ted I found him surrounded by open mouthed small children who couldn't believe he was actually laying down, fully clothed in the biggest puddle he could find. It was as if he was trying to float on it. (I didn't even shout - he looked so peaceful and happy with his muddy cold puddle, it was hard to be cross). However, it wasn't that warm an evening and I didn't have a change of clothes for him or even a blanket to put over him for the walk home. I did however have an old t-shirt of Bea's I was planning to recycle so I put that on him when I eventually managed to grab hold of him after yet another lap of the playground in soaking wet shorts, top and shoes. Another friend kindly lent me a welsh rugby shirt to put on top of that so he ended up with a layered pink and red dress effect over a very wet nappy. By 6.45 I had most definitely had more than enough but Bea still hadn't reached the front of the queue to have her henna tattoo applied. I sat down inside the hall to keep Ted warm until her tattoo was completed but three minutes in and Ted had managed to throw a man's supper on the floor - the plate that had been guarded from 5pm that evening for a man who was starving hungry and imminently about to arrive from work. I scooped up as much as I could from the floor (at least his pudding plate was still intact) and then went back outside to warn G we were about to leave. He was NOT HAPPY, having reached a place of total and complete madness. Eventually Bea got her hand and wrist covered in brown paint, I convinced G to leave and dodged the flailing arms that ensued and I also managed to elbow a screaming Ted back into the buggy and finally left the school for the fourth and final time. I have never been so pleased to get home.
I have to come clean, I can't pretend any longer - I'm not concentrating. I'm watching Marley and Me. It is a sodding lovely film. Although K is trying to pressurise me into getting a dog. I'd rather have another baby. They're less hassle. We are both adamantly against each other's choice. We will have to agree to differ.
Only two more weeks til our long Suffolk staycation - yippeeeeeee. I am counting down the days. xxx