Double Trouble (of the Giant Red Variety)

When I haven't written for a few days you know i've either lost the plot and am locked away in the bathroom screaming and crying alternately, or I'm too busy 'living' to even find a moment spare to sit and reflect in front of my beloved laptop (which has turned into my best friend...saddo that i am).

So it is with great relief that I sit here quietly for a moment (well when i say quietly, I mean aside from the loud, constant humming of Egg from the front room where he is simulating a hoover, and the occasional crashes - whoops, there goes another one - from Dumpie who is now man enough, and strong enough to bring our 10 kilo planters down and various guitars and candle holders.)

Oh well, I digress. I am feeling quite perky this morning, probably due to the fact that I currently have a double espresso swirling around inside of me and a tummy contentedly full of fresh, home-baked blueberry oatbran muffins...yum. Jay lies upstairs asleep, firmly esconsed in the land of the dead (or those under 30's without children who have been out caning it all night and are now recouperating from all last nights sins and over-indulgances.)

For Jay, this took the form of an all-night 'Gambling and Booze' extravaganza down in Wimbledon with five of his best mates, a Chinese takeaway and probably several Jeraboam's of moonshine. I can always tell when he's had too much to drink because the next morning his glazed eyes betray the intelligence of a half-wit and he is likely to plod about like the village idiot, barely coherant and not to be trusted with either of the babies (just how he likes it i bet!).

However I happily gave him permission to go out and indulge given that all work and no play makes Jay a grumpy boy, and better a retard on the weekend than a cranky miserable man...would you not agree? For my part last night wasn't too bad, given that Dumps slept with me all night and every few hours slapped the side of my head so that I could roll over and administer the goods. Egg was a doll, and after bribing him with a whole pack of smarties (bad mom that i am), he allowed me to cut his overgrown mop of hair into a cute little page boy style. I think he looks adorable, but Jay is still insistant on him getting a short back and sides, and therefore blending more suitably into the favoured 'thug-in-training' look of the local neighbourhood kids. So far I'm winning this one, but just.

Both Aunties are away this weekend - Kenz living it up in Budapest and Mo away in the Lakes District visiting her future in-laws with the future hubby. So it's just the four of us, and aside from a 'Roaring 20's' dance performance on Southbank by the river in a few hours, I don't have a lot planned.

Of course the delivery of our 'super-duper-delux-as-expensive-as-a-secondhand-car' new pushchair this week, means that we are no longer confined to our neighbourhood. Both boys fit in this bright red monstrosity of a double pushchair (slim as a single one, but HEAVY as a TANK to manoever). Egg sits in front and Dumps below and in back, tucked away like a bag of groceries. Once you get some speed up it's great, and the three big wheels ensure a luxury ride for the boys, it's just getting on buses that hurts (and going up hills....and trying to get around crowded tiny aisles in stores...)...but we had no choice.

Of course the manufacturers failed to realise one big problem with their design. You are not allowed to take the toddler out of the front seat while leaving the younger one in behind as it's liable to tip over. How stupid is that?! Everyone knows that toddlers are fickle little creatures and are forever clambering in and out of things, and if you are on your own, pray tell, how are you supposed to remove a sleeping baby before taking out the toddler? Just gently place the babe on the side of the road while making the transition?

Anyway, that aside it really is a great piece of equipment and I am grateful. It at least inspires more escape fantasies, and in my head I see myself whizzing all about London town, two darling babies in tow, several cafe stops and energising strolls.

In reality (as I've already experienced this week), I feel marked out as a 'MOM' in my utterly obtrusive, bright red, unwieldy, double pushchair, and try as I might, I can't come to grips with the whole 'mother look' and the current retro/punk/indie look I'm working these days.

With a bit of luck people will think i'm the au pair, day-jobbing it as a nanny while playing gigs in smoky bars at night. For surely the cappucino-guzzling, journal scribbling, crazy-haired gal barely paying attention to two wailing infants in a crowded cafe is not the mother...right?....right?!