I’m supposed to be napping, after a classic 0445 start this morning. Instead, #amwriting, while sitting upstairs listening to my husband doing bath time with the toddle-monster.
He is a deeply precocious child when it comes to music – I first felt him kick when we were driving through Tynemouth listening to a particularly jolly movement of a Mozart horn concerto (no. 4 I think, but I would have to check), and now he likes Eine Kleine Nachtmusik. He calls the first movement “the mem song” and he sings along to “mem” rather than “la”. He used to say “mem mem mem” a lot when he was tiny, before real words, so we developed “to mem” as a verb, meaning to babble away cutely, and also to bimble about aimlessly. As in, “have a mem about at the park”. (Oooh, spell check doesn’t like bimble either, maybe that’s not a real word…? I mean amble, potter, that sort of thing).
So a few annoying things have happened over the last few days. I’ve been having trouble with my eyes, through over-wearing of contact lenses and general exhaustion I think. But I’m vain and I hate my glasses so I’ve been disobeying orders and not abstaining sufficiently from contact lens use. I am scarred by the truth of my past here – I started wearing contact lenses when I was 15, and up to that point no boy (or man!) had ever looked at me with any interest whatsoever (in my awareness, anyway). Then suddenly, wham! Boys everywhere paying me attention. This was on holiday in Italy and I think that might have had something to do with it, but anyway, in my teenage mind, contacts made me tolerable to look at, and it’s stuck as an intractable belief.
So I hate leaving the house in my glasses. And I hate that I hate it. I hate that I care about appearances and that I’ve got such a thing about it. But my eyeballs can’t stand it, so I need a mindset shift soon. It’s thought-provoking. And deeply annoying.
Meanwhile, we went to the sandpit today and also to the zero waste shop, to buy some shampoo and conditioner refills. My other blog is about eco stuff, so during nap time I wrote about that and some other switches I’ve made. There was a bit of standard toddler drama at the sandpit over digger sharing, and some helpful tutting from other parents when I moved the small one from one sandpit to another. I was essentially moving him out of the way of some sand-flinging older kids, who were on a holiday play scheme and not being supervised terribly diligently, but he likes watching older kids so wasn’t hugely impressed at being dragged away. Pom Bears bribery occurred. I gradually give fewer and fewer fucks about the opinions of these sorts of judgey mothers, which is just as well, really.
On a more positive note, there is very dramatic leaf fall going on round here at the moment. I do like trees. A lot more than people, sometimes.
So. Friday night now. Fakeaway fish and chips (also knows as oven crap or yellow food) and starting a new box set is on the cards.
I haven’t really got a clue what this blog is going to be. At the moment it seems to be all about parenting and my rambling stream of consciousness. I have plenty of other writing ideas, but not much time to write them, so if you’re reading this, bear with me and I will try to keep it interesting. There will definitely be some more poetry soon.
And hi to my new followers today!
Mummy blogs that talk about wine o’ clock are generally fucking annoying, aren’t they? But it is in fact now wine o’ clock, sorry and all that.
(This is a photo of some daytime wine that I consumed some time ago, not actual live blogging of tonight’s wine. Just so we’re clear on that. I’d hate to mislead anyone).