Sunday, 6 March 2011

She is actually growing on me, in fairness a bit like a polyp, but she’s kinda cool.


Right well, that was a week, that was. I’ve been confronting all kinds…It turns out, not only do I have a 4 and an important half-year-old grizzly bear (‘nother ear infection) it also seems Dennis the Menace has moved in, put his feet up and parked his toddler-arse in my house, in place of my gorgeous little baby cheeks the Esmiester. She was a relatively calm baby, teething came and passed with some screaming, but I’ve known worse. She is still referred to as ‘the baby’ even though at the ripe old age of 2 ½, probably not that appropriate. However, my phase of denial has come to an abrupt end, as this week amongst her referring to me as ‘bonkers’, tutting at me whenever she is told off and rolling her baby blues, in such a manner she looks like she’s been on the bottle since her 6 am wake up, and is  swaying a little under the intense concentration of rolling her eyes. The last straw was when the ‘baby’ of the family shrugs and answers me back when I told her off, saying:
‘I am a baby, I don’t understand’ .
I realise it’s time to address the fact that maybe all these ‘she’s a baby she doesn’t understand’ is more like straight up denial! Cue: stricter mummy who now no longer excuses the wall drawings, shredded pot plants, half eaten soggy chocolate biscuits and water pouring that goes on non-stop, on babyhood explorations. I have ‘got real’ this week.

The food shop is never a barrel of hysterical laughter, unless you count that as crazed hysteria, manic mother styley, so this week when I had finally reached the till after what seemed like hours of attempting small-baboon training, at the same time as herding drunken wildebeest with a teaspoon, I find someone else’s advantage card on the card paying area, I hand it to the till lady, explaining I'd just found some one else's card, she is choosing to ignore me, and she gaily swipes through the card, regardless, with me crying “NooooooooO’ and waving mine wildly in her face. ‘It’s too late’ she informs me, she thought the card I had initially handed her was mine. How can you have thought that when I handed it to you expressly telling you that ‘this is not my card, I have just found it’? Which bit of that did you not get? Apparently all of it. And there is a Mexican stand-off at the till when I tell her I want my points. This will not be possible, she informs me majestically (oh yeah, you really are all that aren’t you there, behind the protection of your till and convenient counter with conveyor belt built-in) , short of re-ringing everything through the till. For god’s sake, as if I am going to put myself through that after finally having completed the food shop mission. She knows this too. And I am pissed off, having tried to do a good deed, I end up point-less. Back at the car I open the tin I bought (bought for my new delicious tea-smokey Russian caravan), which is heavier than I when I originally picked it up. Hidden inside I discover key ring chains- Alex brought me back a love heart stone from the beach this week with a hole in it I am going to put it on a key ring. I was moved by his gesture, then wondered whether in fact the fact that it had a hole in it meant something? There was also a huge bag of sweeties for Lola’s school Carnaval event…Do I go back and apologise, and pay? Nah bollocks, it’s all very well and good being honest- but can there be too honest?? In this case, I say yes! And I am out of there like someone with hearing difficulties playing musical chairs…

I also had Make-Up lady ring and ask me to return her a favour this week, which baffled me somewhat, as I wasn’t overly aware that she had done me any, but there you go. I took her to get something a little drive away, and do you know what? She is actually growing on me, in fairness a bit like a polyp, but she’s kinda cool. And I really don’t envy her her situation, so if I can help out a bit, even though every time I see her I may as well be having a conversation with my own nostril hair, for all she’s interested, so it’s humbling…then why not? 


The sun’s out, the week is about to begin, and I am on a count down to turning 33 in a week or so’s time. Dun dun dun. Have a superb Monday, and may my dishwasher be fixed tomorrow when the dishwasher fixer dude
Publish Post
arrives.
 

2 comments:

  1. Soon as you turn 33 everything will be better. Honest x

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  2. u reckon??! wise words!

    thanku, how's all the blog html editing going?

    what was that fb page u talked about in ur email on bmb? i wanted to take a look, but forgot the name (not strong on the memory thing)

    lots of love to u, hope hubby's injury is better?!!

    love tamsyn xxx

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