Wednesday, 7 May 2014

I don't want to be a woman

This writing malarky is all well and good, but it don't half send you mad.

I'm one of those people that needs people the way you all need water. Or gin. So put me in a room, alone for 18 hours a week, and the rest of the time surround me with people who need fed, bathed, clothed and one who demands their arse wiped and quite frankly I go a bit stir crazy. I start talking to the folk on the till at the supermarket as if they are my best friends. Invite builders round just so I have someone to make tea for, and then grumble when they want to drink all my Nespresso capsules instead.

It's made me cranky. Like - why haven't you emailed me back in ten seconds? Can't you text at 7:25 in the morning like I can? And why on earth do you have something else to do - like a frickin' job? What do you MEAN? I mean, really - why can't everyone just run on MY time?

It has also turned me into somewhat of a Twitter addict. If I haven't heard that pleasant little popping sound once every 5 minutes I become twitchy. On the plus side, I have re-connected with the stuff I have been working on  - plus, due to a LOVELY email from a writer I worked with - I have another idea cooking. Well, percolating at least. So you know, I am making progress. Well maybe I'm not - I have NO ONE TO ASK.

The weather has been sunny - no rainy - no cloudy - no it's all sunny again - no - it just can't make up it's mind. Take shades or an umbrella on the school run, (up a hill so steep it should have a coffee shop half way up it)? Husband has been grumbling that I'm out too much - but if I don't get out - I go slightly cuckoo. Having LOVED being at home with the kids - I am now like - leave me ALONE small people. Particularly when I need to change a tampax... I have mentioned this before, but it is now reaching crisis levels...

Because you see, my daughter, 3 year old Sproglette, followed me into the bathroom a few weeks back and saw... you know... period stuff - though I did ask her to leave. Anyway, she is now announcing to anyone who will listen that 'I don't want to be a woman.' When then asked by perturbed folk as to why this is so, she practically weeps, 'because of the blood.' She then admits she wants to be a boy. Then said person gets confused as to what the feck she is going on about and I have to explain that she has seen 'womanhood' and aint that jazzed on the whole thing. Fair enough I say...

At least I'm not having the month that my mate Mark is having: poor bastard had his bi monthly botox and then went out and got hammered. He came home, slapped a load of gunky eye cream on his eyes (the gays love their creams) and fell into a deep sleep. He woke up to discover he couldn't see. Turns out he had put shampoo instead of eye cream all over his peepers - and they had swollen up to Quazimodo proportions. After seeing the Doc, the eyes went down - but the swelling had caused his botox to move and has given him a lazy eye for the next 3 months. Thank gawd he has a sense of humour.  If you ever thought that botox might be a bad idea - there is the proof.

Meanwhile, I popped to the lovely local cafe on Saturday for a much needed hazelnut latte, (minding 3 kids that day... I was a tad frazzled) whereupon I bumped into some mates. As I chatted to them, Sproglette disappeared to the fancy bathrooms upstairs. Having been many many times - as bathroom visiting is her favourite sport (on the Eurostar she managed to go 7 times) I let her go alone. A few minutes later, I was just about to send my son looking for her, when a nice lady tapped my arm and asked if my it was my daughter upstairs.

I stood and looked up - to see Sproglette, holding her shorts, with her pants round her ankles, calling me from the top of the stairs. Great, a half naked child wandering through a cafe, that belongs to me. I can hear you lift the phone to social services as I type. Turns out she needed her bum wiped and refused to hoik up her knickers until I had done so. We went down the stairs - a pure walk of shame if ever there was one - to disapproving looks from other diners and the staff frowning at me. Guess who WON'T be going back to the nice cafe for a LONG time?

What else? I'm rambling, I know. That is what being at home and in your own head does to you. Did I already say that? Gotta run - has been at least 5 minutes since I was on Twitter!

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