"We're All Going On A...Camping Helliday"

What's a blog for if not to moan? It's 1:30 pm and this is the first time I've sat down or stopped to take a breath in...oh, about five hours! Flavia our Brazilian cleaning lady is due here at 2pm, and like a maniac I've been doing the old 'cleaning for the cleaning lady' thing. Only I didn't realise how much there was to do and here I sit hours later, out of breath, having not eaten a thing all day nor even brushed my teeth, and to think that it all started with a simple load of laundry this morning...(sigh)
Of course I partially blame Flavia for the state that this place has gotten into, as she has been off for several weeks and dust bunnies have begat dust bunnies, stains have solidified and acquired new topiary stains, and of course our carpet must harbour goodness knows how many bits of cracker and bread crumbs. My children have now taken to eating crusts of bread....quite literally They raid the breadbox on a daily basis and can often be seen munching quite happily on day old bread. Night after night as I bin dinner after carefully prepared dinner, I often ask myself why I bother when the rug rats would likely be just as happy with random scraps...?

Part of the reason for my mad scrambling today is because we are going camping tomorrow (FOR THE FIRST TIME WITH CHILDREN...urghhh!!). Our friends from Australia are meeting us at 'The Big Chill' (check it out: www.bigchill.net/festival), a huge weekend music festival extravaganza held on stately grounds three hours or so away in the English countryside.

Now if just Jay and I were going, I'd be choosing mad outfits, putting together a survival pack (bubblegum, lipgloss, mobile phone, comedy head wear, etc.) but as it stands I'm having to imagine worst case scenarios (puking in car, wee accidents, freezing to death in chilly valleys at night, scorching and dehyrated during day, etc.) for two little ones....oops - which reminds me, that typically to form i have indeed packed my Dr. Pepper lipgloss but as of yet have not packed any nappies for Dumpie...uh-oh. Better go do that now!

Ok I'm back. If nothing else I will not be publicly humiliated again by my loving husband for not remembering nappies (...as happened one night in Turkey when with horror we realised that although my handbag contained all manner of items, any nappies were conspicuously absent. Perhaps due to too many Turkish beers before dinner or a genuine disgust, Jay made a big scene in front of our friends and many interested local Turkish merchants selling their wares in the town square. Not a fond memory, but one that has hastened me to go and pack them forthwith.)

You see it's not like i'm absentminded per se...in fact I'm rather proud of my mega multi-tasking abilities, and it's not uncommon to see me sewing up a denim mini whilst arguing with a bank manager on the phone, whilst flipping through the channels to find Egg his beloved cartoon, whilst rustling up dinner for six. I think the problem lies in my perception of who and what I am. Although Egg and Dumps are at the centre of my universe...well...so are a lot of things. Unlike many of my (normal) peers, the word 'mother' isn't necessarily the first thing that pops in my brain when I consider who and what I am. That term fights for space with musician, writer, most excellent cookie baker, sweetie-addict, wife, daughter, sister, friend....

Anyway let me just veer myself swiftly off this tangent before I go down a K hole here. Bottom line is I am both dreading and anticipating this weekend festival in equal measures. As we don't own a vehicle, (being inner-London dwellers) we've had to rent one and so tomorrow is going to entail taking a train to Victoria to pick up the car, installing two troublesome car seats, packing the too small vehicle up with our too-many possessions, and then hightailing it over to our old flat to meet the builder and discuss last minute renovations, dropping in on Auntie Kenz to avail ourselves of any/all necessary festival gear (I'm thinking air mattress), and then crawling out of London in stifling Friday rush hour traffic, only to pull over about half an hour later for the first car puke of the day.

My motto is "Expect the worst and if it doesn't happen you'll be ecstatic, and if it does then you will be more prepared than those 'happy-go-lucky's' who see life as a Disney movie."

Speaking of Disney movies, let's hope this weekend doesn't end up a warped version of 'Finding Nemo'...wherein little independent Dumpie takes off out of the tent when we're all passed out, wanders around until he finds a merry band of pranksters and is discovered in the early hours of the morning passed out around a campfire from a marijuana cigarette given to him by a hapless retard who assumed he was dwarf.