My husband just left for a weekend meeting in Cambridge. He’ll be back on Monday. From the kitchen where I sit and type I can hear Justin’s House in the background (a cbeebies program Tamsin likes to watch). Yes, I think my daughter watches too much television too. But it’s cbeebies the guilty-mom-voice in my head protests! Yes, I know even if its cbeebies, I think she watches too much TV. But if I switch it off, she’ll want me to play with her – hide seek mommy! Hide seek mommy! (Her idea of playing hide and seek is running around like a loony while I pretend to close my eyes and count to three. Then she squeals in delight as soon as I open my eyes and guess where she’s hiding? In front of me of course! This can go on for hours, believe me) And so like all other guilty mothers out there, I resort to switching on the darned thing in the hope that I would find some peace before the next “sit lap mommy!”
View from our kitchen window.
And the weather is crap, crap, crap. It’s only mid-day but it looks more like 4pm in the winter outside. Yes, it is dark, dreary and austere. It’s a let’s-put-our-heads-in-the-oven-day and hope that we expire like S. Plath. I’m not kidding, it is that bad! It’s supposed to be better tomorrow. Good, I can do the laundry.
So what to do, what to do? It’s just the Tamsin and me till Monday. Shall I call up the girls and have a weekend of binge-drinking? What girls? Oh you mean 60+ year old B next door with her collection of garden gnomes and other garden accessories? At night, her garden lights up with all the colours of the rainbow. Tamsin loves looking at her garden from our window. Should I also include D who lives about four doors down? D who said to me when I was heavily pregnant with Tamsin, I certainly don’t envy you! The next year she gets pregnant herself. Oh dear. How about K, who just moved in next door? Youngish mother, obviously just separated from her husband, who days after she moves in with her 16 month old son, furiously rings our doorbell one night while I was trying to beat a deadline. I was nervous, didn’t want to open it at first. But he kept on pressing our doorbell till I opened the door and he stood there, obviously taken-aback, not expecting to see me there and then apologizes. I close the door and he does the same on the right door this time. K opens and then they row. It was a short row. Then he storms out of their house and I hear F, her son begins to cry. Yes, maybe, I should invite them all in and we could all get drunk? I don’t remember the last time I was drunk.
Hmmmm, what to do, what to do when the sky is not blue?
Feed Tamsin an early lunch and put her down for a long nap (hopefully) and snuggle under the duvet with her and read. Yes, that sounds like a plan. Oh dear, I’m reading Robert Graves autobiography Goodbye to All That right now. Maybe, I should read something instead? Like a chick lit of some sort, something like that Kinsella woman, oh dear, I don’t know her first name. Oh wait, we have nothing of that sort in our house. (Note to self: buy some chick lit books and save them for days like these)
Yes, this is the not-so-nice-part of being a mother – there are days when you feel really tired, cranky and down. All part of it of course!
Now excuse me while I check the state of our oven …