Monday, 1 December 2008
The Advent of Something...
Well it's Monday morning...again. Egg has now had two 'play dates' with little boys from his school so it's time to return the favor and invite his little friends over to ours after school. This would be okay except for the fact that i'm not entirely sure what a mothers role is to be in this circumstance. Am I to hover gently around and make sure the boys are on their best behavior? Am I to set up fun but educational games for them to play at the kitchen table, whilst baking homemade cookies and prancing around in an apron? Or do I just let them get on with it and forget that there is another child in our home, until the doorbell rings, the mother enters, asks her son what he did and he replies, "Nothing'. Hmmm...
This morning started on a high note in our home as it was the first day of December and hence the start of the beloved "Advent Calendars". Every other year Egg (and later Dumps) has seen to it that the contents of the lovingly chosen calendars have been demolished within the first few days. In a quiet moment the cardboard has been ripped off and the yummy chocs procured through questionable means. This year however we are hiding them in the highest cupboard and they shall only be brought down for a few minutes a day and then hidden again. It's the only way.
There is not a lot else to report. Had a bit of a wobbly on Saturday morning when I came down to find the kitchen demolished in such a fashion that I didn't even know where to start. To make matters worse, the night before Jay and I had between us, rid our wine rack of a few choice bottles of red. As luck would have it our espresso maker broke, and that I think was the final straw. So when I yelled for Jay to come down (he was hiding upstairs in bed with his laptop) and didn't get a response after several attempts, I did what many a disgruntled wife has done before me. I calmly went and put my coat on, and let myself out the front door, leaving the whole mess behind.
It was rather liberating to be storming down the street, each step taking me further and further away from the setting of my domestic hell. I reasoned (and rightly so) that if I wasn't there to sort out such calamities, (thanklessly I might add) time and time again, then surely they would get sorted somehow?
I wasn't wrong. A short while later, in a warm cafe sipping my much-needed cappuccino, I received a text saying, "You better be coming home with some GOOD treats!" I took this to mean divorce was not on the cards, and obliged by returning a short while later with almond croissants, and in a far better mood.
Much to my surprise (I did wonder...) the kitchen had been restored, if not to a clean state, then one typical of a single father with two young boys. So with slight reluctance, but a caffeinated heart, I picked up the hated sponge, grabbed the broom, and began doing what it seems I was put upon this earth to do...ruin my lovely cherry red manicure once again (sigh).