Yesterday the husband told me a story about a Korean couple who were charged with manslaughter after their child died of neglect. They were apparently addicted to the internet and the poor child never got a look in (gulp).
Well last night the husband went out for a few drinks with a former colleague who is visiting Bali.
I was put in charge of 'bedtime' (always a bad move) and invariably it ended in tears. The monsters wouldn't let me leave their bedroom as they were scared, sobbing, "Dada always lies with us at night and stays for an hour at least!"
That he does. But that's because Dada usually dozes off...
Last night however, I was ten minutes into a film I'd downloaded and there was no bloody way I was going to lie prone for one long, agonising hour.
(The film in question "Sam Jackson's Video Diary" was written and directed by a friend of mine and is, among other things, about one woman's struggle for recognition. It's not only a great film, but is especially poignant, as the lead actress was tragically diagnosed with leukemia and passed away before proper filming began and thus the whole plot had to be cleverly restructured. You can download it on a 'pay-what-you-like' basis at http://www.samjacksonshop.co.uk/ )
As it turned out, it might have been easier to just lie with them for awhile. Instead, I found myself in a frustrating micro version of 'Groundhog Day' whereby i'd kiss and cuddle them (trying to dodge Dumpie's open mouthed french kissing attempts), slip out to tears and wails, then race back to my bedroom, plug the earphones back in, press play, then glance up to see two sobbing children at the door, clutching teddy bears and looking reproachfully at me.
It took me long enough, but eventually I realised that I really only had three options:
1. I could be a 'good mother', forget watching the film, and lie in bed with them singing lullaby's or something (umm...no)
2. I could lock my bedroom door, plug in the earphones, and hope the husband didn't give me too much of a dressing down when he returned and found his children collapsed in a heap outside our door (...tempting, but even I've got standards)
3. I could let them climb into bed with me, demand they face the other way, a la 'The Blair Witch Project's' final scene, and try and watch the movie regardless (sigh)
Ensuring a hefty dose of maternal guilt, as the monsters pulled up the covers around their little heads and snuggled in with me, with tear stained faces they proclaimed, "You are the BEST Mama in the whole wide world."
Ummm. No I'm not. Bedtime trauma aside, I do recall the husband and I leaving the dvd player on a loop all day yesterday and the monsters subsequently watching Ice Age 2 (the 'scary one' apparently) three times in a row....no doubt engendering a 'scared of the dark' freakout....