One 'mum' had tried to ring me repeatedly but said she kept getting a busy signal. Then today at the school drop off another mum asked if I had gotten her text but of course I flatly denied it. I don't know why it is, but for some reason, out of the half dozen or so mobile numbers I've had in the last several years, the one from three years ago appears to be permanently etched in my brain. (It's comprised of loads of 6's and 9's and is the ONLY one which ever springs to mind.)
I have actually blamed Dumpie for some time now for breaking my phone. He is forever sliding it out of my back pocket or slipping it out of my purse, and pressing the buttons so as to connect to the expensive mobile browser option (a practise I am alerted to every month when I get my bill with the confusing extra charges on it). He loves to talk on the phone - unlike Eggie. Dumpie will happily conduct phone calls all day if you let him, pacing about with the handset glued to his ear and resembling a miniature businessman from behind - albeit one with fluffy fine chicken hair, and a solitary, stubborn dreadlock. So long as the person on the other end doesn't mind talking about 'balls' or 'nay-nay's' (sweets) or 'bocks' (blocks) or 'poo poo's' or 'boo-boo's', then they are in luck. He will happily while away several minutes garbling nonsense and scream bloody murder if you try and get the phone off him before HE is done and is allowed to sing off with a husky, "Bye".
Egg is generally more quiet than Dumpie these days. In fact it drives me mad every morning when we trundle into the school grounds (usually just as the bell is ringing or shortly after it has rung) and the kindly teacher's assistant says "Hello" to him and Egg either stares blankly ahead or starts swinging his school bag around, accidentally catching Dumpie in the head. Then I have to stand there, trying to soothe a sobbing Dumps and do something I swore i would NEVER EVER do, which is talk stupid 'baby talk' on behalf of my mute child saying inane things like, "Say Hi Eggie! How was your breakfast? Are you excited about school today? Are you going to be a good boy today? Say Hi Eggie...Come on!" etc.
As I'm doing it I am aware of how idiotic and trite I sound. I also feel embarrassed that my son is blanking people, and so like some sort of vaudeville double dummy act I interject and pepper the conversation with moronic quips that I think a four year old might make...such as, "It's cold today isn't it? Yucky cold...." or "Shall we have a yummy snack after school? Would that be yum-yums?" and so on and so forth...until his class is ushered in and I can breathe a sigh of relief and shut. the. hell. up.
Anyway, I'm in rather good spirits today given that MY MUM is flying across the ocean this weekend for a much-needed visit. She adores the monsters and believes them to be the most exceptional and delightful children who have ever walked the earth. This is good. For although having had four daughters of her own, she has definitely changed more nappies in her lifetime than anyone deserves to (especially as my hard-working surgeon father was rather old fashioned and probably never did it more than a handful of times), I know I can count on her to take up some of the mothering slack around here and pump the monsters full of Grandmotherly Love - leaving me to do the essential things like wax my legs, paint my toenails dark purple, idly flip through fashion mags....
Saying that, they are full-on at the moment and there is every likelihood that by day three we might just have locked ourselves in the front room with the case of lovely red wine I had the good sense to pre-order, and get righteously pissed as the monsters bang incessantly on the door and wreak havoc in the rest of the house.
And did I mention that Dumpie now knows how to turn the oven on by himself and in all likelihood is gearing up for a giant barbeque wherein he shall 'bake' all the plastic and stuffed toys he owns? I can't wait. I hope it happens when my mum is here.