"Out Of The Mouth Of Babes"

Today I neither composed a number one hit song...nor wriggled triumphantly into a miniscule pair of jeans (which given my current Easter Creme Egg consumption is obviously understandable). I did however have the pleasure of being privy to the ongoing debate between my 2 and 4 year old about whether pavement canine excrement should be labelled as 'poo poo' or as a 'turd'. Egg favours the latter description though I am particularly unfond of it I must confess. Having grown up in a family of all girls, we were raised to shun vulgarity both in speech and in deed. In fact there were certain bodily functions we just didn't mention full stop. There appear to be no such restraints in THIS family.

This discussion was conducted at full volume as we left the school gates to begin the laborious process of walking home (a 2 year old is not the fastest thing on the road - especially when randomly stopping to bend down and closely examine unsavoury bits of feces). I wondered vaguely whether conversations such as these, representing the current mainstay of my daily communicative oportunites, might somehow be contributing to the general state of malaise in my brain and perhaps be partially responsible for the lack of inspiration I currently possess. There is boring and then there is 'off the richter scale' pathetic. Please tell me I'm not there yet...(sigh)

For literally weeks now I have been trying to carve out some space in my often frantic yet outwardly mundane existence, in order to make some new music. Last weekend with the best of intentions I waved Jay and the boys off for a few hours while absentmindedly wiping dust off a radiator. Four hours later and I had fully morphed into a cleaning lady, elbows plunged deep into not one but three urine-encrusted toilet bowls, muttering inanely to myself and sweating profusely. Rewind back several years and a sunny Saturday afternoon might have found me sipping Rioja in the park, laughing with friends and flicking shiny hair back over not-yet-world-weary shoulders, while Underworld beat on in the background.....ah how far we fall :)

Like 'making love' (a cheesy term and not one i've ever used seriously), 'making music', for me at least, involves being in a certain state of mind. Things like: a toddler grasping your elbow repeatedly and begging for more 'appa juice' even while spilling the already full cup in his hand; the phone ringing with someone from a call centre in Bangalore trying to convince you to upgrade your mobile phone plan when the only person who calls you on it anyway is your husband; the doorbell clanging because some angry delivery guy is trying to drop off a fridge and thinks you're part of the kitchen appliance shop next door; a tenant urgently emailing to alert you that water is leaking through the ceiling lights and electrocution is a real possibility...

It just doesn't stop. And even when it DOES stop, it's only for an agonisingly short period of say ten minutes, and then things kick off again and you shake your head in utter frustration and wonder if you are an ABSOLUTE FOOL to be attempting to carve out a life for yourself when you have two little monsters under the age of 5 and no outside help. With the general air of 'Credit Crunchiness' about (this was my husbands excuse last night when he talked himself out of a posh Thai takeaway in favour of some homemade Italian pasta whipped up by yours truly), I can't even see a way out of my current predicament.

And then of course I have moments like when Dumpie leaps like a tree frog off the change table, into the air, and lands solidly on my ribcage - wrapping his strong legs around my back, giggling and squishing noses. Or perhaps Eggie walks quietly into the kitchen and says, "Mama I just want to tell you that I love you more than a 'Dillion'..." (it's what comes after 'a Gazillion' apparently).

As I sit beaming, content in the knowledge that I am at least adored by my two darling boys, and if nothing else am sacrificing any semblance of 'a life' these days for such worthy little recipients...Egg and Dumps are making off with handfuls of chocolate biscuits under my nose...

I guess I've always got my little stash of Easter Creme Eggs to console me for another day (sigh)...