The Head-Banging Disco Bunny

The monsters started the day off with two bowls of Cheerios, a glass of pure grape juice and then dove immediately into their marshmallow chocolate hearts from Grandma. (Thanks to all the 'Grandparents' for the lovely cards and treats!) Of course if I had gotten out of bed any later than 8:35am this morning, Dumpie would have definitely done more damage to the jar of tiny sugar baking stars I found him nibbling on when I came down. There's still a tell-tale pink star trapped in his blonde wisps...

I spent the morning frantically wrapping presents for a classmates 5th birthday party and trying to convince Egg that much as I'd like to spend the next two hours this morning playing 'pass the parcel' with him, perhaps it was more of a solo job. To make matters worse it's another 'fancy dress' party and Egg HATES dressing up. The best I could do was force him into a Captains hat while Jay in a last-minute gesture put him in one of my black cropped military jackets. He won't win any prizes to be sure, but at least it's better than sending him in civilian clothes and making the other mothers think that I didn't even bother to read the invite properly.

Two noteworthy things happened this week. One was Egg's very first school 'Disco'. On Thursday after school, there were three organized disco's catering to each age group. I had bought a ticket for him the week before (a whopping £1) and had tried to get him excited about it. He wasn't. In fact, he outrightly refused to go. When I went to pick him up after school and drop him off, he point blank told me that his teacher had told the class that the disco had been cancelled and that anyway he wanted to go home to bed. I totally fell for it but then clocked the crowded playground full of parents milling around with kids in fancy dress and realised I'd been had.

Egg didn't take too kindly to being called on his little white lie, and ran out of the school grounds screaming that he was sorry but that there was no way he was going to go to the 'stupid disco"! He said he was tired and didn't feel well. I of course wasn't having any of it, so took him home, got him changed out of his uniform and then distracted/bribed him with a peanut butter cup before marching him straight back to the dance. Once there, I had to concede that the dark room, flashing lights and loud music might be a tad off putting to a 4 year old, but using the best of my parental manipulatory techniques I managed to get him involved in a conga line early on. He later perked up when given spending money to buy refreshments and glow sticks (two of which he later gave to an elated Dumpie). I stood out of the way watching little Egg munch on salt and vinegar crisps and occasionally dance when prompted by yours truly doing rather frantic hand gestures. Despite his rather crazy running-on-the-spot dancing, he seemed to have no shortage of female admirers...it reminded me of his fathers prowess on the dancefloor.

On the way home Egg declared that he now LOVES disco's and wouldn't be averse to attending another one - really soon! The next morning as we set off for school I glanced in Eggie's book bag and saw a note stating that the previous day Egg had banged his head on the wall quite hard, had first aid administered and should be kept 'on watch' for 48 hours. Whoops! Good mother I am. And here I thought he was faking it by saying he didn't feel well and wanted to go to bed instead of boogie. And what do I do? Send the poor boy to a flashing lights disco party with a possible head concussion. Urghhhh...

Anyway, the second notable thing that happened this week was finding out (again, from a letter in his book bag) that Eggie's extra week absence for his Florida trip to visit his grandfather...is NOT authorised by the school. Apparently they believe us to be flaunting school attendance rules by taking him out for two weeks in January to go to India and now, a mere month later, an extra week to go to Florida. I felt about ten years old again as I went into the school office to explain and was then informed that actually, it was the fact that our son was bringing down the schools exemplary attendance record that was at the heart of the matter.

C'est la vie. I think family is just as, if not more important than education, and I would do it again - and probably shall. The fact that the unauthorised absence is now on his record does not affect Egg at all, but might mean that sometime in future, if Egg ever does decide to skip classes, I might just end up in jail for a fortnight. Oh well. I have bigger things to worry about....one being the 9.5 hour plane journey I shall be taking the monsters on ALONE tomorrow to Orlando aboard Virgin Atlantic.

However I've upped the ante this time and am taking a box of anti-nausea pills sent from a concerned, well-meaning friend. Apparently half a tablet administered to each wriggly child shall render them slightly drowsy and 82% less likely to projectile vomit over other passengers tomorrow. I've got two bulging bags full of treats, games, puzzles, stamps, stickers, crayons, coloring books, stacking blocks and 'Go-Go's' (expensive Japanese little figurines purchased from Auntie Ba). I am like a traveling kindergarten-on-wheels and if I can keep calm, and Dumpie can hopefully for once NOT suffer constant diahrea throughout the entire flight...I reckon we can do it.

Of course, saying that, he currently DOES have diahrea ('Murphy's Law' and too much information, I know), on top of which he is refusing to wear any socks or shoes these days and will only wear his big blue duck-down slippers from Grandma, and refuses to let me trim his long wispy hair which is now slightly obscuring his vision in front. He has a scream that would scare the devil, a will of iron, and a capacity for naughtiness and sheer perseverance that I have not hitherto witnessed in another human being. The fact that it's packaged up in an adorable impish package of chubb (he most resembles a little 'Who' from 'Who-ville' these days) is besides the point.

Eggie on the other hand is an absolute angel. Except when he isn't. Vomiting aside I expect he will be a great help to me on the flight, and at the very least can be counted on to run up and down the aisles and catch his little brother if perchance Mama caves in at any point and self-medicates with a half a valium to calm her nerves. If we can only nab the bulkhead then we have a fighting chance. Not only can I work at constructing a fail-safe barricade at the aisle, but I will also not have the added pressure of the dreaded seat back foot banging issue to contend with as well. If fact, when I go to check-in tomorrow, I think that that will be my opening gambit. It will go something like this:

"Good morning. Do you see these darling children? Well I wonder if you could help us out today and put us in bulkhead seats near the front."

"Oh you can't? Well, that's a shame because on our last transcontinental flight to India they spent the entire ten and a half hours kicking the seats in front and disturbing their fellow passengers to the point that infanticide was pondered."

"Oh you can help us out after all? How lovely..."

So you see, I approach tomorrow with medium high hopes, a plan in hand, and a slight hangover. (Jay and I went out for a scrumptious Italian dinner late last night and imbibed a little too much red wine. Last I recall I fell asleep upstairs in bed while watching the end of 80's flick "Weird Science".)

The Aunties were around this morning and this being St. Valentine's illustrious holiday to love and other such mushiness, Jay being the delightful charmer that he is (certainly when he wants to be) went out and surprised the three of us with a gorgeously red long-stemmed rose and gourmet uber-posh chocolate truffle topped cupcake each. Awwww....he's a good'un.

For now, I'd best get packing and tidying up. I wonder how little I can bring in the way of clothing for the boys so as to best maximize the luggage space on the return journey for all the things I am bound to want to bring back.

At the moment the boys have enough changes of clothing for a couple of days (given three meals a day and frequent changes daily). I on the other hand have packed enough lip gloss and hair products for a drag queen. Perhaps I'd better rethink things...