whinge

Ce n'est pas un post.

I'm fighting the urge to write about recycling, but I feel I may succumb, sooner rather than later.

I need to separate my children wa glass screen wherever they go, such is the hitting (Bodhi) and shouting (Olivia).

I am in sore need of activities. Anyone?

hiding

I plan in my head to do things. Clean, go visit my granny. Then I find excuses not to. I thought it was Saturday - I'd got Axel awake for a few minutes with the kids before work, was going to bring them to their granny and borrow her hoover. Call my granny and plan to visit her tomorrow. But then he told me it was sunday already. Ah. And it turns out my granny is going visiting today anyway.

So relief washes over me, I don't have to go anywhere. I'll go another day. I'm a hermit. A lonely hermit sometimes, but one who likes to stay in her jammies.

flattered and slighlty guilty

The sweet mammydiaries just passed this little award on to me, just as I was sitting there feeling a bit guilty for not posting and having nothing inspired to say.

Soon, soon, no doubt.

Midget Wrangler Returns

And now she's got an extra midget to wrangle. Go say hello to Midge

dreams

This morning I had a gerbil anxiety dream. We had a large frog and a teeny hamster type creature in a small plastic box. I was fretting about them, then realised there was somehow a small snake in there too. The frog started oozing slime, and the snake got bigger and started eating the hamster. It was yukky but I didn't manage to do anything about it.

I dreamed something else as well, but I've forgotten it since I started writing. Sigh.

We're going to a christening this morning, and I haven't got the washing dry (internet addiction) so I've nothing that Olivia will accept wearing - dressing up is anathema to her. Fights on the horizon. Gah. Want to go back to bed.

addiction

Ok. The end is now. I've been compulsively staying up late reading, for want of a less embarrassing definition, Romance, for the last while. Late night internetting. Too late. Wee hours late.

My eyes are stinging and bleary and I'm so tired today I can't think straight. I left the car in a pay zone last night, and came back this morning to find it clamped.

And at 8.15 precisely I remembered I should have been at the counsellor at 7.15 precisely.

Fuck. I'm going to be in bed by ten tonight. Promise!

oh arse

Went out with mothers from Junior Infants tonight. End of year thing in local pizzeria, the pizzeria of all our teenhoods.

Bodhi conked asleep at 7.30 and I was out the door, free and clear, like never happens. And why not, he's been awake since 6 am, the little... wakey boy.


Got home at 11 having decided to have a drink, happy from having one of those mascara melting hysterical laughing fits at someone's funny story - which I'll put in a seperate post in the cold light of day and probably will find it's not that funny sans wine, but you can be the judge of that.

So, got a lift home, will pick up car in morning, why not. Opened door to see husband cross on the sofa instead of mother in law. Once the confusion had passed, it became clear that I had both left my phone at home and neglected to tell the mother in law where I'd be.

Bodhi woke up just after nine and freaked out, and Granny rang Axel, who was in town on a rare night out. He had to come home. On the DART. He knew where I was, mind, but it didn't occur to him to ring the restaurant, such was the panic at home, and the fact that Granny was relaying everything through Olivia, as she's too deaf to talk on a mobile, and couldn't find the landline handset.

Of course when Axel got in, the child was sitting up with a bottle if water, happy as Larry. But no move made to return him to bed, or get Olivia to bed.

Cock.

No more nights out for me til he's four, it looks like. Clearly babysitting has Become Too Much for the Ma.