Good Easter folks? In all honesty, it felt a little bit ‘meh’ here. We had an amazing feast at my Mum’s on Easter Sunday which was lovely, and a much-needed day out yesterday, but the rest, just a smidge, ‘meh’. I was nursing an outrageous hangover on Good Friday, thanks to a wine-fuelled ‘dinner’ with friends the night before (read: tiny Pizza Express risotto portion Vs 2 bottles of Sauvignon Blanc). This resulted in me getting rat-arsed and subsequently arguing/ranting with a 24 year old banker on the
vomit comet last train home, and spending the remainder of the journey post-Catford giving him woozy-eyed evils until he (probably with much relief) got off at the stop before mine. I spent early Friday morning in bed (my turn for a lie-in, result!), feeling woeful, with an uneasy feeling that a grainy CCTV image of my ranting would be coming to a copy of our local News Shopper near you soon. Having said that, it was a top night, although I have once more confirmed my suspicions that I really can’t handle my vino any more, and the hangovers have reached a crippling stage of direness: Small children show no mercy when all you want to be doing is kissing the porcelain. I also find that a really gruesome hangover doesn’t just come with the physical side effects, it makes me feel anxious and melancholy for days, which probably contributed to my sad state of ‘meh’ness (that is a word, yes?).
F&S have been great for the most part of the weekend though, and have pootled on cheerily, despite my overall lackluster mood. They do make me smile. The stuff they come out with cracks me up. Sasha has started to do this thing with her eyes, which we found hilarious, and now she does it all the time. We made a passing comment ONCE to each other about how she looks a bit like David Blunkett when she does it, which the kids seemed to have latched onto. Freddie: “Do your Blunkett, Sasha, do it!”, and so now everytime she comes up to us and does this eye thing, she says “Look, Mummy, look, Daddy, I doing a Blunkett!”. Not one for out in public and terribly un-PC, but it is funny all the same. I couldn’t have had unfunny kids. I’d take a GSOH over almost anything else, any day of the week.
On Friday afternoon we just all hung out in the garden (which is looking IMMENSE now, cheers, Mum!), whilst I alternated standing in goal with trying to stay sat hidden on the decking in the sunshine (it is hard to stay hidden from children for long). Saturday was much of the same, except I was minus the hangover and Ad was playing football away for the best part of the day, and although Adam’s Dad took F out for the afternoon and I got an hour of free time whilst S napped, we were essentially ‘in’ for for the duration. This is due to potty training. S is doing so well one week in, and has got wees sussed already, although turds are proving more troublesome. She’ll get there though. Some observations I’ve made this week re potty training are as follows: Firstly, even 23 month olds don’t like to be watched taking a dump. Secondly, I realised this week just how little i’d watched and noticed about my own daughter since she was born. Because i’ve been watching her like a hawk these past few days, waiting for any little sign that she might want to use the potty (this week, I must have said the phrase “do you need a wee?” a billion times), I’ve observed her. Like REALLY observed her. I feel quite ashamed that I didn’t notice little things before, probably because once you get to child number 2, you don’t get much of a chance to notice them, what with being so busy, and generally trying to just survive. Like the fact she does these little skips everywhere, and has started humming songs. I never knew she hummed before. And it’s wonderful. How awful is that, that I didn’t know?
I think by Sunday night i’d gotten cabin fever from being ‘in’ for the best part of 3 days (apart from that very welcome lunch at Mum’s up the road). Come 5pm, both kids were overtired, wailing like smack addicts on withdrawal, except the culprit was not heroin, but an almighty chocolate crash, and i’d had enough. Grumpy, I shut myself in the downstairs loo for some peace and quiet, only to have Freddie standing on the otherside of the door 3 minutes later, trying to prise in open with a plastic screwdriver and asking if my bottom was stinky and was my poo big. *sigh*. Bedtime couldn’t come quickly enough that night. Adam and I then watched ‘Philomena’ for the first time (inhaling most of our chocolate eggs, natch), whereby the aforementioned real-life character is forced by nuns to give up her 3 year old son in the 1950s. Gut wrenching stuff, and made me cry, and then I felt awful for wanting my kids to leave me alone for a bit that day, and spent the night cuddled up to Freddie in our bed (he’s a regular night visitor at present), making empty promises that i’d never shout at him or Sasha again. Mother Guilt eh? It’s a bitch.
I realise I’ve moaned massively here today, but not all was bad. Sunday lunch was a highlight, and yesterday was ace, we got out and about (post coming soon) and I had a spring in my step once more. We set up the Easter egg hunt in the garden that we’d sacked off on Sunday due to the rain and general apathy to the whole thing (I think i’d peaked with Easter too soon. F &S didn’t know any different anyway), and it was really lovely. One of those times when it feels glorious to have small children, and when you really take delight in their delight. They genuinely couldn’t believe their luck that a giant rabbit had come into our garden and left a ton of chocolate eggs. Eggs Mummy! A shiny pink one! Oh, to be so little again. We had so much fun! The objects of their joy were not hidden particularly well, and yet they still took an age to find them, even the ones staring them in the face. Endearing and painful all at the same time. If I’ve ever doubted that my children are anything other than geniuses, this was the time. A sweet reminder that the pace of life for small people is overall, slow (apart from when a colossal amount of sugar is consumed, then they bounce around like frogs on acid), and something we can probably learn from.
Once all the eggs were found, the kids played the game of Who can fit the most eggs in the mouth at any one time? Sasha won convincingly (see last photo). Like Mother, like Daughter.
So… that’s me. How was your Easter?!
Linking up with Honest Mum’s ‘Brilliant Blog Posts’!