Ever get the feeling you’re being watched?? Living as I do, away from family, most of the calamitous events of my day go wholly unwitnessed. Friends may see a few mishaps at the park or on a day out. I try and relay it to Him when he returns to the homestead, but much is lost in translation I suspect. No one ever really sees the true horror of my day to day.
Today was horrific. A morning spent refereeing the wrestlers. A trip to the local country park for a picnic with friends. The Baby sits angelically in her buggy, the Fusspot has a tantrum about not having his scooter with him, in spite of his earlier tantrum when I tried to bring said scooter. The Big One scoots off and leaves us for dust. The perennial dilemma. Which child to save? Fusspot is steadfastly holding his sulking position, refusing to walk, the Big One is now a dot on the horizon. I’m screaming his name like a woman possessed. I’d like to think he couldn’t hear me. Amazing that every other soul there could though. I looked like a crazy woman. I run back to get the Fusspot then pelt after the Big One, hollering all the while. Clearly the angelic baby was abandoned in her pushchair. Thank heavens I was there with a friend. A two man job this.
I realise kids run off. I know mine are generally rather good, but what irks me most is the effort it took to get us to that point. Kids dressed, all the usual morning chores, picnic made, change bag packed, car loaded. Probably the most galling thing about this mothering lark is the fact that you can be so organised, work like a trojan, do everything that needs doing to the best of your abilities. And still always look like the most chaotic nutter in a park full of people.
Probably the most magical effect of this lifestyle I’ve chosen is the metamorphosis of my dear husband from an (admittedly wonderful) above average bloke from Blackpool, to an actual real life Superhero! I am thinking of hiring some buglers to fanfare his return home each evening. I practically swoon into his arms…before legging it and leaving him to it for half an hour.
An Ogre-ish mum needs pie. Grrr. Sausages baked in the oven. Meanwhile, a sauce made from leeks, garlic, spinach, creme fraiche and mustard. Mixed in the cooked sausages. Put into pie dish and covered with ready rolled puff pastry. Milk wash then baked for 25 mins. Some small roasties to go with.
Tonight I’m off out with some friends. A bit of a playgroup reunion. As we sit mainlining Sauvignon Blanc, nothing much need be said. Like a ‘nam veteran, sometimes it’s enough just to be with others who understand. “The Horror” 7/10.