Wednesday, 14 November 2007

A Masterclass In Parenting

This morning Jay left the flat at some ungodly hour to catch a plane to Paris. Somehow Dumpie ended up in bed with me, and at around 7:30 am before the alarm went off, i was awoken by heavy breathing (Dumps has a very bad cold and is severely congested) about two inches from my face. A pajama-clad dumpling was all smiles, crusty-faced and had let himself out of bed, walked around to my side and was standing there gurgling and holding out a box of matches to me. Nice.

From downstairs I could hear faint clattering sounds and I shouted down to what I hoped was Egg (as opposed to say a giant rat rooting through our foodstuffs) only to hear,

"I'm eating chocolate cake Mama!"

Of course he was. If I were three, had a mother passed out in bed, absent father and a delectable piece of chocolate cake sitting on the counter, there is no question that I would have followed suit. (Although I have to say that I was never such a confessional child as Egg is...rather I honed my craft of twisting the truth at a young age so as to minimise punishment. Egg on the other hand delights in coming clean, and often looks surprised when i fail to share his excitement about having managed to sneak candies or flood the bathroom.)

Today I was so anxious about getting Egg to school in time that we ended up standing outside the locked gates a good ten minutes before they opened - shivering and feeling like an idiot. I had my 'debauched-rock-star-mom' look on this morning (oversized shades, faux fur jacket, tight pin-striped trousers and messy bed-head hair...) and I'm sure that the other parents would be surprised to find that the most excitement I shall have today will involve a session on my lateral thigh trainer (which by the way makes you feel like a tit but is apparently supposed to give you thighs of steel) and perhaps a cappucino at Nero's if I really push the boat out!

At any rate, I'm going to make this short and sweet and sign off now. Little Dumps is currently 'goo-ing' up my trousers with mucus and whining for a cuddle, my father (who just arrived yesterday for a week) is next door hankering for a walk to go and do some errands, and I've got to figure out how to gatecrash the local clinic and get the kiddies immunised for India even though i've left it too late and now they're probably going to contract some hideous disease and blame us for the rest of their lives. Ah well, this parenting lark is hard work, bad hours and disgustingly paid. No wonder God made babies so cute - otherwise they'd be placed outside anonymous doors in baskets and blankets after the novelty wore off. On that sick note....adieu

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