Tuesday 17 January 2017 – Sister Act
This month’s exciting event is a trip to the Theatre with Little Sis and Mum to see Alexandra Burke in Sister Act. Hubby is in charge of nursery duty and childcare. Dropping H at nursery, I tell her that Daddy will be collecting her this evening. She looks very excited.
H: “Hurray, Daddy’s coming? I’m so excited Mummy”.
It’s lovely that she’s happy but come on, have I been doing collection all wrong or something? I get a big, enthusiastic hug when I leave her. I am so stupid.
Having booked the afternoon away off, the morning is an extremely focussed plough through the huge list of things to do. The office is extremely busy, I really should stay for the afternoon, but I am sticking to my promise of at least one exciting event per month.
I get changed into my play clothes in the ladies’ bathroom and Little Sis picks me up. Mum is already in the car. Our impressive collective organisation means that we are able to enjoy dinner before the show. I am having a grown up night out with my family. Now it’s my time to be a little giddy.
The show is great. The music played by the actors/musicians on stage is fantastic. Alexandra Burke can really sing. Her voice is loud enough to drown out both my attempts to sing along and my cough.
Hubby waits up for me to arrive home. H apparently insisted on four bed time stories. Hubby has a glass of wine for me, but I pass on the offer. I’m knackered and I need sleep. Wine before bed is asking for a night of acid-induced coughing. It’s a work night and tomorrow I need to be an alert and enthusiastic work machine… (I can hear FP and SL chuckling now). Tea it is then. I have managed to stay away from honey altogether, but I miss it (the food substance, not the Labrador).
I nip into H’s room on my way to bed to check that she’s still breathing. I do it every night.
18 January to 29 January 2017
Working very, very hard.
Monday 30 January 2017
The office is still incredibly busy. Today I am drowning in contracts. I am still carrying a very heavy hangover from the weekend. Slightly crazy Saturday night on the cocktails with Hubby, thanks to an offer from Grannie to baby sit H, resulting in a very slow and blurred Sunday.
I improve as the day goes on and leave a long list of dictations for FP to tackle in the morning.
I collect a grumpy H from nursery. When we arrive home she won’t get out of the car.
H:”I don’t want to get out Mummy. Leave me in the car please”
M:”I can’t leave you in the car, sweetie”
H: “Yes, you can”
M: “No, I really can’t”
H: “But I want a car picnic”
M: “How about we have a picnic on the rug in the living room instead”
H: “Erm… Can I have chocolate?”
M: “Yes, if you get out of the car”
H: “Can I have cake too?”
M:”Are you getting out of the car?”
H: “Can I have cake too please?”
M:”Yes, now please get out of the car”
H: “Mummy, can I have hot milk too?”
H:”Out of the car”
H:”Hot milk, Mummy?”
M:”Out of the car”
H: “Hot milk?”
M: “Yes, you can have hot milk too but if you’re not out of the car by the time I count to three, you’re not having anything”
M: “…One…two… ”
H: “OK, OK, OK, I’m coming, calm down Mummy”
…and she is out. When did my three year old daughter become a teenager?
The sugar fest of a picnic on the rug cheers H up. She bounces through bath time and eventually falls asleep half way through story number five. Note to self…
31 January 2017 – Car Picnic
7.00am – The milk is sour. Hubby left the house before we were out of bed. I can’t function without a cup of tea in the morning. H apparently is the same without hot milk. One in the morning, one in the evening; break that cycle at your own risk.
Do I run to the shop in my pyjamas? If we wear coats perhaps it won’t be noticed?
M: “Sweetie, we’re getting dressed straight away this morning. No time for PJ Masks, I’ll record it for you. We’re having a car picnic”
We are dressed, the house is locked up, the alarm is on and we are in the car heading for drive through Costa Coffee in record time. We order hot milk, which is poured into H’s favourite mug (which I whip out of my bag and present to our server), two rounds of toast with butter and jam and a humungous tea for me. I turn off the engine once we’re in the nursery car park and H sits in the front seat with me. She is in charge of the music from my phone, which she can operate quicker than I can and we sing along to the theme tune to Postman Pat and Bear Necessities from The Jungle Book – the classic version, although I quite like Bill Murray’s take on it.
She laughs at me when I sing along.
H: “Mummy, I love car picnics”
M: “Me too”
When we are finished H has jam on her nose, smeared around her mouth and across the palms of both hands. There are toast crumbs everywhere. I take a photo and send it to Hubby who is already busily working at his desk.
Luckily, I have a fresh pack of baby wipes in the glove compartment. H happily gets out of the car, holds my hand as we walk across the car park and skips up to the nursery door.
H: “See you soon Mummy”
M: “See you soon”
My first client is late, so I am able to fit in my nebuliser at my desk. The memory of H’s jam covered cheeks and her beaming toothy smile make me chuckle all day.