Wednesday, 5 January 2011

“Come-on, you’re the chicken woman”

Everyone is bed, everyone is quiet, except for the animals, who now want their turn in feeding and attention. I open the garage door to feed the noise which is, in this case, my cats,  like flies to sh*t, they are at my feet so I get not much further than the door, they are intent on tripping me up, then eating the food off my fallen, broken body, as the bag of their food would most definitely land all over me. Kicking cats off my feet to reach their bowls, it is a never-ending task. They have attached themselves to my feet and lower ankle, and are not budging. I slowly, very slowly walk towards the goal in sight- cat bowls, dragging the 3 cats as I go. I partly walk this pace due to the handicap of having 3 cats pinned to my shins (by now, they’d climbed), partly for fear of killing one of them in my mission. Finally they are fed, and I walk back into total bedlam! No-one is asleep, no-one is quiet! apparently whilst out on my cat-feeding mission, Monty had turned the landing light off, Mitzi started crying out of pure fear, she had frightened both Lola and Esmie, and they are all now crying and terrified. Next time, the cats starve, I think.

Back in the day, when there was only one baby in the house, my son Monty, was never allowed to watch television. Ever insistent that outdoor play or sticking and cutting, cooking etc were better means of entertainment, I was vehemently adamant that none of my kids would ever watch T.V.  But, it is true, the more kids you have, the more things change. Whether it be your complete inability to think or construct a very simple sentence, or whether it be your body generally giving up on you, deciding there’s not much point now keeping a waist in tact, a flat tummy, who needs to see their own feet anyway? Whether it be the fact that you wear sensible flat shoes every day as a rule now, or just the fact that adult conversation, is very much a thing of the past. Times change, with each one, more T.V time has encroached on our days, and for this past year I have found myself, actually actively encouraging my youngest, Esmie 2 ½, to watch the T.V. She, however has not the slightest bit of interest in the television, and so being able to take/make important phone calls, wanting just to sit down for 20 minutes and have cuddles (because DVD time is really sprawl all over and cuddle time), are nonexistent. I have had a breakthrough, however! I have found out some “Baby Einstein” DVDs, and she is transfixed! The only problem now, is that, when I put them on for her this morning (this T.V watching thing is very recent!), I went out to make a few phone calls that were in need of some concentration, and as she so loves the DVD, she is guffawing with laughter so hard, that I cannot tell if she has suddenly let out a “Mummy! I have just fallen on a pair of open scissors” scream, or whether it is real laughter. I kept hanging up on people, sprinting in faster than I’ve sprinted in my life before, realising no harm had come to anyone or anything, then re-making the phone calls. It has ended up being a complete waste of a discovery, an impotent discovery. They are the worst! I accomplished nothing, and now feel guilty for forcing her to become a T.V. addict…! Well, she’s not as yet covered in crisps, swigging coke and burping as she watches baby T.V. But who knows what this could become in future?

“Come-on, you’re the chicken woman”. This encouragement came from my husband, Alex. What a woman and a wife I must be, one of life’s real winners…Chicken woman. This is what I have become. In the eyes of my soul mate, I am now “Chicken woman”. I got the chickens to bed, with a ‘Note to self’ typing itself rapidly in my memory of things never to ask again, Alex’s response had been to my asking him to put the chickens to bed. To be honest, in reflection, I think I would rather be called “Make-up lady”! I am now off to feel guilty about my mothering ineptitudes,  plaster myself in make-up and start boccing around the lounge…! Good night!

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