Husband has been off all week. He has been getting up with the kids, bringing me breakfast in bed, putting on washes, endlessly emptying the dishwasher and generally being MR fabulous. I like him. I keep trying to force affection from him and he pulls away noting that he has 'banked a lot of credit' for his Mr house help activities of late. He personifies 'smug.' And yet I still like him. I wish this stress free, chilled Dad would appear more often.
Thank god, the school holidays FINALLY end on Tuesday. Sweet Jaysus, I have struggled to fill those days. I have no idea why - when in fact all I needed to do was discover Angry Birds. It fills a good 6 hours easily. Maybe more. And before you finger wagging Mums tell me that it aint good for my child to be staring at an i pad screen for 6 hours. I am joking. Maybe. Sproglet is addicted to it. I pretend that I am not and then get hideously, frighteningly excited when I blast those green motherfuckers into next week. It is possibly more addictive that pringles. The Oirish one is amazing - pig leprechauns. Is there anything better?
I am pretty loved up with life at the mo. After everything that has been happening with my best friend and her health - I have realised that life really is too short.
So I called my Dad.
We chatted in nice warm voices and even though things may not entirely resolve - he is my Dad and I want him in my life - no matter what. It felt good. I am sending out CVs with gay abandon and I've a few meetings lined up. Who knows what will happen next - I'm kind of excited to find out. Instead of stressing about it all I'm just savouring this last few moments with Sproglette aka THE DIVA. She finally ate a jar of baby food, instead of only eating home cooked mush - so the gateway to a less stressful non endlessly blending and boiling lifestyle has been opened.
Autumn, my favourite season, is nearly upon us. It is ok to start planning Xmas - which we have - we are gonna go out for Xmas lunch to Husband's swanky hotel, with family and friends. Hurrah - no snipping in the kitchen as the turkey remains frozen, no huffing over who should help with washing up, no stress over the bread sauce curdling, or the forgotten cranberry. In my head it is the end scene from Scrooge, when I doth my hat to all I pass and everyone wishes everyone else a merry Xmas in old London town as snow softly falls and soft jingly bell music floats around. It will be just like that I am sure.
So, I'm cheery. As I passed my favourite dream house in our neighbourhood yesterday, a bird shat on me. A first I thought a fly has landed on my shades and eyebrows, but then the fly did not move and to touch, was overly moist and well, green. Instead of bemoaning my shit smeared self, I was overjoyed. "It is a sign!" I yelled to a laughing Husband. Immediately I bought a lottery ticket. It's all to play for at the moment, it really is.