For a very special birthday treat for a very special birthday, Granny asked if her present could be that she is woken up several times through the night by crying and then again at 6am, batting away world wars 3, 4 and 5 by 9am and having the laundry of a million gazillion people to combat. AKA, having the boys to stay with them. Would that be ok? Er, hello! Yes. And goodbye children (ps mummy and daddy love you LOADS).
I joke and jest but every time they go away I feel like someone has stabbed me in the chest. I know it is good for them to be away from us, I know it is good for my husband and I to have time to just be a couple, but still, my heart aches. It actually hurts. A lot. I don’t feel whole without them under my feet…
Them? Not so sure they are that bothered. As Alex left, I asked him for a kiss goodbye and he actually sighed and I swear to God, rolled his eyes a bit. He gave me a quick peck as he walked past, barely stopping as he skipped out of the door. When I asked him for another kiss goodbye as I strapped him in his car seat, he gave me a smack in the face. Ed gave me a big squeeze and a kiss, then shouted
“SHUT THE CAR DOOR GRAMPY”.
And off they went. The car practically leaving a skid of rubber as they bombed it out the cul-de-sac.
My babies. Who love me so very much.
I left it for 3 hours before I phoned them for a chat. Ed answered.
“Hi mummy! I love you!”
My heart skipped a beat and I welled up
“Oh darling! Mummy loves you too! So very very mu-”
“NO!” he interupts “I said WHERE ARE you?”
“Oh. Er, at home. Where are you? Having fun?”
“Yeah. Dug a hole. Are you near Colin?” (the fish)
“Erm yes!” *sing song voice* “He is right here!”
“Good. Can you feed him? BYE!”
And after I fed Colin I sat down on the sofa in a fleecey dressing gown to watch The Wizard of Oz with my cup of tea before we went out for a nice, quiet meal.
8.32am and I am pretty sure I am still tipsy and there is a baby hippo sitting on my head beating it with my mascara in one hoof and my estee lauder light illumiator in the other. I know for a fact that a bird flew in to my mouth during the night and died. Getting out of bed to get some water I notice this
On my leg. Ah yes. I remember now. I look at my husband lying peacefully next to me. Yes. He did that. Husband turns over. And I see the pair of saggy boobs I had drawn on him. Oh yes. I did that.
The cats are seriously away. They are effectively holidaying on Mars for the amount of playing the mice did last night. The weekend that covers the last few days of August and the first days of September is celebration central at the Smiths, with 3 birthdays and a Wedding Anniversary covered in just a few days. By the 4th of September, we are about half a stone heavier than we were on the 29th August, pounding the OJ’s and carrot sticks, and having 9pm bed times.
But…this is the first wedding anniversary we have been able to properly celebrate in 6 years, because of pregnancies and births and breastfeeding newborns and because we usually have children who need functioning sober (ish) parents and kids who don’t sleep through the night.
It all started really civilised like. We opened some cards. Got some crackin’ cards with some crackin’ messages… (read the small print and scribbles)
Got a book. Romantic? Maybe not technically. But my kind of thing.
We had nice pre-dinner cocktails. We had a nice meal. We drank the lovely wine my mum and Step Farver had ordered for us to be waiting for us on arrival. We chatted, and not just about the kids. We reminicised and held hands over the table. We paid (well, he did). We went outside and
Got hit in the face with a massive wall of HAMMERED.
It’s the fresh air. *shakes fist at fresh air*. It is always the fresh air.
By 3am we had exhausted our CD collection and were taking it in turns to find music to dance to on You Tube. Alternating my movie themed 80’s classics (Jackie Wilson belting out “Higher and Higher” out as The Statue of Liberty walks through downtown New York “She’s a harbour chick!”) with Smudge’s Pearl Jam and requests that “Come back” is played at his funeral.
And the next thing I knew, it was morning, and I was having flashbacks and worrying about the state of the house (considering my leg and Alex’s tendancy to draw on walls) and was shouting this down the stairs
“What does it look like?”
A pause… and then a reply from Smudge
“Er, well, it is all pretty localised to one corner of the kitchen”.
Awesome. By the tremble in my fingers and the cock drawn on my leg I had expected far worse.
I venture downstairs to where my husband is stood, hands on hips, his permanent marker boobs proudly on display as he assesses the zone.
It looked like a person had exploded in the corner by the fridge. Shoes. Earrings. A bra. A full glass of wine sat on the side (oh good! I didn’t drink that much then!). An empty bottle beside it (oh. I did drink that much, then). The pen (the bloody pen). Crisps scattered about. And Santana and Rob Thomas paused on the laptop screen in a hot sweaty harlem street (oh yeah! Santana! Another good “cool groovy parent” song to pay at 3am).
But if I have learnt anything from this weekend of being “young” again, it is these 2 things;
1) NEVER EVER GO OUTSIDE AFTER HAVING A FEW DRINKS.
2) Nail polish remover removes permanent marker from skin. Thanks Emma and Ela on Twitter.
And as a little treat for you all, here is the link to perhaps one of the best movie scenes ever.