I haven't got long, and really, I should be using the next valuable hour to race around the house like a blue arsed fly trying to get some order back to our clothing piles and I also really wanted to sort all of G's new toys out in the playroom so he could return from school to find them all pristine and set up and ready to play with, but, as you can see I chose to sit on my arse in front of The Mentalist and tell you all about my fascinatingly interesting life. The sacrifices I make for you people.
Half Term - nothing too unusual. Very long journey down to mum's on the Saturday with Ted awake for almost all of the two and a half hours which was absolutely hideous - especially as I have never ever come so close to wetting myself on a journey - the pain was immense. Sunday saw much debate over who was going to the village table top sale, what time we should get there in preparation for the opening of the doors, what money to take, who was in charge of looking for what, briefing on what Ben 10 characters looked like and eventual last minute change of plan over who was going to go and who was looking after the children which meant the little sister and I were eventually the ones to walk up there half an hour before it was due to start only to discover that we were in fact, a month and half an hour early. Three adults had seen the advert in the Parish News and misread the part about it being in November and not October. Still, when the rest of the party broke rank and followed us up there we decided to cut our losses and hang out for an hour on the slide, roundabout and two swings with Bea's dolls Rosy and KJ who she had diligently walked up to the village hall in a double buggy so that she might buy them baby clothes at the table top sale. Luckily she was very forgiving of our mistake.
The beginning of the week was spent with cousins, shopping, dentist (for me - I need half a tooth removed and refilled - joy) and park visits - nothing interesting to report. Thursday saw mum and I being adventurous and attempting to find a pumpkin patch and maize maze the other side of Mildenhall. We had no fixed address of where it was and all we were going on was the postcode we had gleaned from the few signs we had seen on various roundabouts about the place. After an hour of driving around and taking various wrong turns we eventually arrived at the destination the postcode had taken us to. There was no sign of anything but a lot of farms and tractors. I took this as an excellent sign as it would be the natural stomping ground for a maize maze however there were no signs or any indication whatsoever of any of the farms being specifically involved with the maize maze business. We returned to the main road and eventually found another sign advertising the maize maze at a T Junction so this time we were able to read all of the information available and finally discover that it was only open at the weekends. The children were not exceptionally thrilled with the news and Mother and I were a little anxious as Mildenhall is only famous for its American Air base and from the looks of it, being one of the dullest places on the planet, so after an hour of sitting still and waiting for us to find something to do, we felt sure a fairly serious revolt was about to take place. I remembered that we had seen an Anglo Saxon village half an hour ago so we set off in the vain hope that that would make up for the lack of mazes and pumpkins. Luckily as we didn't take any wrong turns it took half the time expected and there was an amazing play area next to the car park which far outstripped the dull Anglo Saxon mud huts in a field mum had generously paid £21 for us to look around, so whilst she grumbled on about the cost, they set about making dens, throwing sand and flying down slides with mazes and pumpkins long forgotten. It filled in a day nicely.
Friday was a trip to the cinema sans Ted to watch A Dolphin's tale. Mothers are exceptionally useful for looking after small uncontrollable children so that you can do stuff with the easier children. To make up I took one of my sister's children who is 12. Which was lucky as she was the only child able to cope with the trailers the cinema saw fit to inflict upon my two much smaller children. At first, I thought maybe it was just me that was a Mary Whitehouse follower and that everyone else was fine with their children watching a vampire child being conceived and then slowly killing its mother, or people committing suicide after the time on their arm ran out or men bursting into doors and being shot in the head at point blank range, but when the 12a film wrongly started to play it soon became apparent that a great number of other parents also thought it was horrifying. I ran out and complained - being the fastest, bossiest and noisiest of all the parents present - and managed to get the film stopped before any more trauma passed before their innocent eyes. As compensation we all got free tickets for our next trip so all in all it worked out ok. Although by the time we got out we had been in our seats for two and a half hours with the delay at the start and I wasn't entirely sure it was worth all the hassle when ten minutes from the end with the Dolphin finally accepting his fake tail, G turned to me and asked 'what is this film about?'. I was in tears, naturally, so I just mumbled through the tears and pointed at the bloody great dophin in front of him. When it all got very sad I put my arm around Bea as I assumed she was as sensitive as me but she took my arm off her, looked at me and said, "mum, you don't need to worry about me anymore, I'm seven" as if I had two heads. Hey ho.
Oh, I must just fill you in on the cashmere loo roll situation. Even though I have been expressly told not to, I must tell you that the last rolls from the offer were used in the Halloween game where you mummify children with loo roll. It was quite heart breaking. I was tempted to stash the discarded tissue into bags to take home but it would have been a tad impractical with Ted around who would have thought everyday was Christmas when he flung it aruond the bathroom. So, there endeth the excitement of cashmere loo trips.
We came back on Sunday in time for Bea to attend a halloween party and for me to prepare for my Wibblies meeting. I do hate the fact that Sunday evenings are no longer indulgent and slovenly but now in preparation for Monday morning. Lucky I did prepare the day before as Monday morning started with a 4 for me. YES A FOUR. Thanks to the very stupid clock change and the change in accommodation Ted slept fitfully and finally gave up trying at 4.40am. I cannot get over the injustice of it all. Just as I get the stupid children to sleep until nearly 7am - the holy grail in terms of sleep for me - they put the clocks back so that they are now waking between 5.30 and 5.45am. Sorry, I appreciate this is muchos dullos but it is the most important thing in my life. Lack of sleep makes me a hideously unpleasant person to live with - for the children, naturally K wouldn't notice much of a change, I am under no illusion that he deems me easy to live with. I can only be patient with the stupid ins and outs of children's wants and needs if I have had a good sleep. It's nights like that which makes me wonder whether I should have gone with the She-Devil that is Gina Ford and programmed them to sleep for twelve hours regardless of any outside factors. If only they didn't make babies so small and sweet so I didn't worry about leaving them to scream for hours on end I might look at least five years younger and have a much happier husband. Luckily I am pretty sure K is going to die before the children and there is always make up and plastic surgery to I took the risky decision to let them set their own sleep patterns.
Anyway the meeting was my most successful yet and I even managed to get a 5 Balloon on the way to school for afternoon pick up for in time for G's birthday on Tuesday. Yipppeee! His Birthday was a fantastic success - G was ridiculsouly happy which makes me happy, and I took the risky and inappropriate decision to skive him off school so he could enjoy his toys at home and I could spend the day with my new five year old. I am unashamed. It seemed immensely unfair to send such a happy child to school and rip him from all his new and shiny plastic. It would appear that taking him to the park on his new scooter, in his new outfit and with a massive 5 on his top and returning as all the children were coming out of school, was a mistake. Several of them asked why he hadn't been in school and rather than sticking to our lie about his cough (which he had gone along with when I phoned the school in the morning, he even coughed convincingly in the background to add credence to the lie) he told them all very proudly that his mummy had said he could because it was his Birthday. There was much talk about it in the school line this morning as they waited to go in. I did feel guilty then. I don't want to cause problems for other parents but in our family G was going to be the only person who had his Birthday on a school day as even mine and K's are at the weekend and Ted's was during the summer holidays, so it seemed as if he was being punished coupled with the fact that he's not a massive fan of going to school at the best of times - so I selfishly did what was best for him and me. I hope the party on Saturday will help everyone forget my wrong doing.
Ping! The hour is up. I must go and prepare for the school run and wake up a filthy Ted. I spent three hours in the park this morning and Ted and his friend spent about half an hour rolling around in the piles of autumn leaves which looked fun to start with but we soon realised that there was a huge amount of dirt that had been blown into the piles along with the leaves. At least I hope it was all dirt and not dried dog poo or anything revolting. I wish Dettol would bring out a bubble bath - it would be immensely helpful. I will send them an email to let them know there is a demand for post park and poo children's bubble bath. I'm sure it will catch on.
Must dash. Toodlepip. x