Sunday 16th June – Tuesday 18th June
So as usual, when I enter the living room this morning, The Husband is sitting in front of Game of Thrones (can I just point out that he has watched the whole thing before and has only just finished watching the final series before immediately starting again from the beginning) but I decide not to comment, seeing as it is Father’s Day.
Clearly the kebab we had last night didn’t agree with him, judging by the horrendous smell that greets my nostrils.
Good job we have R2 living with us! I had to buy myself an air purifier because next door has a water leak somewhere, that has now permeated my living room walls and caused the room to smell like a damp dog has taken up residence. Said air purifier is the size of a two-year-old and is white and blue and looks very much like a certain robot from a well-known science fiction film franchise. Hence, its name. It is large and noisy but it clears the air within an hour and I can put essential oils in it (with which I am currently obsessed).
I really thought today was going to be a quiet, relaxing day but within half an hour I was screeching “everyone just shut up!”
The reason for this was because a holy row had broken out between The Husband and Youngest Child, who had decided that her 10-year-old flawless skin needed a bit of exfoliating and was now the proud owner of a huge graze down her nose and across her cheek!! I am not sure what she used to exfoliate her face. A brick?
The next drama was where are the Father’s Day cards? I end up having to message the Middle Child in the South of France to enquire where she had put hers, to which she dutifully replied and card was retrieved. As for the two children that are actually in the same country as their father, well they have no idea where they have put their cards and decided to blame the Middle Child for putting them somewhere, as she is not here to defend herself. FFS!
But at least I don’t have to cook dinner today as we are going to the Carvery for dinner in celebration of Father’s Day.
After a stressful afternoon I wasn’t sure if going out for dinner was a sensible idea. Eldest Child had made several journeys through the whole house to dump the contents of his bedroom into the garden. As it had been raining this meant that the floors and stairs I had mopped this morning needed to be mopped again. FFS!
Then there was the enquiry I made to The Husband as to why there was a pile of grass cuttings left on the garden path, after he had mown the lawn. Apparently this was due to several reasons one being that the brown wheelie bin for garden refuse has not yet been delivered (even though he saw a truck full of them 200 yards away yesterday) and another being the problem of not having a bag to put them in (there is a roll of bin liners in the cupboard) and said enquiry culminated in the revelation that I am a nagging old cow who is ruining Father’s Day!
To be fair I let this lie for a good ten minutes before I announced to anyone who may have been in earshot (which probably included most of the neighbours) that “if I have to keep cleaning up the same shit I may just fuck off and you can have a nice peaceful life without the nagging old cow in it!” Said grass cuttings were swept up five minutes later.
After finally tracking down the missing Father’s Day cards and being presented with his gift bag full of expensive luxury toiletries (for which he didn’t look too impressed and enquired if we were trying to tell him something) he sodded off to work for a few hours.
Truth be told we did end up having a pleasant evening. The carvery wasn’t jam packed, the food was nice and we managed to get there with only a slight dig at my driving! Apparently, I am very jerky and this is probably what causes Youngest Child’s travel sickness. Right! I suppose the fact that she felt sick on the way home had nothing at all to do with the ‘make your own sundae’ that she smothered in chocolate sauce, honeycomb pieces, marshmallows and meringue (before declaring after about three spoonful’s that she didn’t like it) and the two pints of a cloudy, urine coloured concoction that she made from the refillable drinks machine!
Walking back to the car it was nice to see The Husband conversing with his progeny, even if the conversation did centre on who was responsible for the big skids that had been left in the toilet on two separate occasions this week. The consensus seemed to be that the Youngest Child was at fault, which she indignantly denied.
Upon arriving back home the conversation then turned to the matter of the new luxury shower gel The Husband had been presented with this morning and how it stung so much his balls were now hanging off!
This announcement was made while we were still standing on the front doorstep and so the Youngest Child pointed out that he had used such a loud voice to tell us this that the neighbours were now fully aware of his delicate problem. Seeing as earlier in the day I had heard the next-door neighbour shouting to the members of her household “leave me alone for five minutes, for fucks sake!” I expect hearing the story of The Husbands sore balls probably cheered her up somewhat.
On Monday morning I decided to wake the whole household up (and probably the neighbours) by playing Stevie Wonder’s Birthday Song at full volume.
The Youngest Child turns 11 today (21 in her head). She came down to her bowl of Weetabix surrounded by presents. She had asked for Air pods but she had been told there was no way she was getting those as they would last a total of five minutes before they went missing and with a price tag of £150 I was taking no chances (I’m still fuming about the school leavers hoodie I bought for her to wear on the Wales trip and after wearing it twice, it disappeared and never made it to Wales).
Anyway, it was her birthday and she has had a horrible school year, so of course I relented and against my better judgement, purchased the Air pods. We are starting a book as to how long they last!
Of course, there were no cards from the Eldest Child and Middle Child, even though I had told them a week ago to buy their sister a card. Fortunately, I had bought presents from the both of them. Eldest Child had the good grace not to look surprised when she thanked him for her hairdryer!
It was a double celebration this morning as it was also Eldest Child’s last day at school and the last time I was going to have to shout, swear and threaten to leave without him as, from September, he would be making his own way to college, which (thank the Lord) was in a completely different direction to the one I was going in.
So of course, he was in fairly good spirits but in the interest of tradition we did a mock “get in the fucking car or I’m going without you” just for fun. Oh, how we did laugh!
Arriving at school Youngest Child suddenly decided she was feeling self-conscious about the big graze down her nose and cheek (remember the exfoliating incident, well it turns out she had smothered her face with her sisters exfoliating face wash and then rubbed said face wash into her skin with a flannel, hence the grazing). Apparently, it was going to be embarrassing if people asked what she did and what should she say? I suggested that she come up with something really exciting like she went abseiling for her birthday and slid down the rock face on her nose. I was actually only joking but when we bumped into one of my work colleagues who asked her what she had done and she repeated the abseiling story without missing a beat, even I was convinced. The work colleague gave her lots of sympathy and commented what an exciting birthday she’d had.
As we walked into the building I whispered “I’ll tell you what really happened later!” My colleague replied “Will I need to fill in a pink form?” (this is code for ‘should I be reporting you to social services?’). “Probably” I said.
I’d promised Youngest Child that we could get burgers after school, as it was her birthday. A long-standing friend and work colleague (who likes to be known as Gorgeous) and her son Bo, decided to join us.
We had a very pleasant meal and chat and Gorgeous said that Bo could miss his tennis lesson as it was Youngest Child’s birthday and they would come back to the house for a play and a coffee.
It dawned on me that when I dropped Eldest Child off at the station, he had taken my door key as, of course, he had forgotten his and he was going to be home before anyone else. I had a funny feeling that I was going to arrive home with Gorgeous and Bo and there was going to be no one home to let us in. “Don’t be silly” I told myself, “he knows he has my key, so he will make sure he is there.”
How wrong was I?
I arrived home first and after a few minutes of knocking on the door and shouting through the letterbox, I realised that my funny feeling hadn’t been so funny after all. After a few mutters of “for fucks sake” I tried to ring him. Would you believe it but his phone was turned off? Just for good measure I hammered on the front door with the flat of my hand as if I were a bailiff come to strip us of our possessions but of course to no avail. I was not getting inside.
I rang The Husband to see if he was on his way home. He wasn’t but he said he was working locally and I could come and get his key. I asked him where he was and his reply was “up an alley, off a crescent by the park”!! Really?
“Could you be more specific?” I asked him. His reply was “you know near that house where we had sex!” OMG! Let me just point out that the event he is referring to happened twenty-two years ago and I can’t remember what I did last week, never mind an address I had sex at that long ago!
He then starts to get shirty with me and tells me it is a crescent beginning with B and there can’t be that many crescents near the park so it shouldn’t be that hard. It is at this point I start to lose my shit and scream into the phone “don’t get fucking smart with me” and a number of other expletives, just as Gorgeous turns up with the kids and at the same time the tax man from next door arrives home and gives me a curt nod. I then inform Gorgeous that we cannot get into the house and I will have to go and use my magical navigational skills to find a crescent beginning with B, near the park, in order to get a door key. Gorgeous offers to wait at the house with the kids while I drive round there but I, in my wisdom, decide that the traffic will be so bad it will take ages, so why don’t we all walk over the railway bridge and through the nature reserve to the park.
I have to say, walking through the nature reserve we saw lots of interesting things. A rusty BBQ, bags of rubbish and an old sofa! Then there was the abundant plant life, which mainly consisted of stinging nettles which of course Youngest Child had to walk into and then dramatically threw herself on the floor as if she had been attacked by something from Day of the Triffids.
What felt like 6 miles later (but in reality, is about a mile and a half), we came upon a crescent with a name beginning with B. “This must be it!” I declared. Gorgeous and the kids carried on walking up to the park, while I turned into the crescent looking for The Husbands white van as I went along. Before I got much further, I realised that this crescent was extremely long and I had better ring him to find out how far down he was. Five times I rang him before he answered, by which time I had walked all the way to the other end of the crescent and was starting to feel slightly pissed off.
“How far along are you?” I asked, “because I can’t see your van.”
“I’m up an alley off the crescent, where have you parked?”
“I didn’t bring the car because of the traffic, I made Gorgeous walk with me and she has gone on to the park with the kids.”
“Oh, I’ll walk up the alley to see if I can see you.”
“OK, but it is a very long crescent so how far along is the alley?”
“I’m at the top end.”
Of course he was because the crescent was on a hill and I was now at the bottom end.
“Are you telling me I have to walk all the way back to the top of the crescent?” I enquired. “Yes” he replied
“But I’m at the bottom!”
“Well why didn’t you ring me?”
Through gritted teeth I hissed “I did fucking ring you FIVE times!”
“Oh!” he said, “my phone must be on silent!” FFS!
I set off walking back up the crescent. I was now feeling hot, sweaty and hoping that I had my asthma pump in my bag because I had a feeling I was going to need it.
I get halfway back up the crescent when The Husband has a revelation (we were still connected by mobile phone). “Hang on. What if I leave work and get home while you are still at the park? Then I won’t be able to get in.”
At this point I don’t really care.
“I’ll tell you what,” he says, “you go to the park and ring me when you are leaving and if I’m still here I will meet you at the top of the crescent with the key.”
“But I’m almost back at the top of the crescent now for fucks sake. Are you telling me I have walked up and down this crescent for no reason?”
Then I get one of those funny feelings again!
“Which end of the crescent is the park at?” I ask him.
“The bottom end!” FML!
I hoped that Tuesday was going to be fairly uneventful and considering the last few days I suppose it was. Eldest Child cracked on with the room renovation, which consisted of filling in holes and rubbing down, leaving a layer of white dust all through the house. However, being a grown-up school leaver now, he did ring BT and organise the switching on of our new internet service, though it wasn’t going to be until midnight. This suited me, as The Husbands Game of Thrones obsession was being fulfilled via an app on his phone and no internet meant no Game of Thrones! Yay!
Youngest child threw a strop because she had now made up with Best Friend From School who, a few weeks ago, she had declared she was never going to be friends with again and was under no circumstances being invited to her birthday celebrations. Having been given my instructions on this matter I went ahead and booked a couple of attractions in London for the family and Best Friend From Next Door But One and had not bought tickets for Best Friend From School who she was never going to be friends with again! Predictably she was now claiming she had never said any such thing and it was totally unfair that Best Friend From School couldn’t come with us and why couldn’t I just book another ticket? Probably because if I book another ticket, sod’s law says that they will fall out again and then I will be £40 out of pocket!
Then, Middle Child text from the South of France to inform me that “what happened to her back the last time we went to France has happened again!”
What happened the last time we went to France was that she did not apply enough sun screen to her back and it turned the colour of a tomato and two years later she still has the pattern of her swimming costume on her back! Cue guilty mother syndrome as I should have made sure she was wearing enough sun screen to stop her getting burnt and therefore avoiding skin cancer in twenty years’ time.
“Did you not apply sun screen?” I enquired. “Yes, but it washed off in the waterpark!” FFS!
I did, however, manage to sell the box of 70+ Beast Quest books that had been dumped in my dining room and a nice gentleman with a very excited little boy came to collect them. The big trunk full, however, was still sitting on my patio.
“Oh look!” The Husband declared, waving a plastic bag at me. “There is going to be a charity collection on Wednesday and they take books.”
Result! I fill several carrier bags of books and traipse them through the house to leave in the hall, ready to put outside the garden gate before 8am the next day. I get the plastic bag from the charity company to put with it so they know they are theirs for the taking. As I pick up the bag, I happen to glance at the writing on it. There in big bold letters it says PLEASE DO NOT INCLUDE BOOKS! FFS!
So, back they all go, through the house and back out into the big trunk on the patio. FML!