We could all do with a holiday; I know that. But I needed one urgently. I started obsessing about it. If I didn’t get a holiday I’d . . . what? Throw tantrums? (already doing that) Go mad? (already there) Turn axe-murderess? (hmm, now, there’s a thought . . . )
Would it be murder or a holiday? I took the holiday option and booked flights quickly, before my partner or bank manager could disagree. Hell, I didn’t want to be responsible for any wayward axes.
Besides, I’d seen the magic words. CHEAP AIRFARES. I couldn’t resist. It sounded too good Read More…
We had some friends around for a friendly (read “hellish competitive”) game of cards in the weekend, and I learned how to play Presidents and Assholes. (I have no idea how I missed learning it until now. I must have been very, very busy . . . writing, of course . . . )
Now, as soon as you hear the name you know it’s gonna be a goodie. And boy, is it a goodie! (Mostly because I became the President in the very first round! And managed to retain that lofty position for so many rounds the rest of the table started muttering about beginner’s luck gone mad.)
Think again. We all have days that remind us we’re not Queen of the chessboard. Days when we feel like we’ve been backed into a corner, we’re about to be taken off the board, and we don’t know quite how it happened.
Take Wednesday, for example. My “post-the-Clendon-entry” day. I’m not likely to forget it any time soon. Here’s how it went:
* 1.30am (Tuesday night) – got to bed after finishing the novel.
* 3.00am – woken by baby for a feed.
I blame the camping. Before camping I was functional. BC I was coping with life. BC I was zen mother and loving it. (Okay, maybe not the zen bit.)
And now? Now it ain’t pretty. Yummy Mummy? Hardly. Scrummy Mummy? Not at my place. Instead we have a Real Mummy scale, modelled on the richter scale with slightly less catastrophic results. And I can tell you right now that “scrummy” and “yummy” don’t feature (except in the Mummy’s-gorging-herself-on-food-again sense).
Here it is. The Real Mummy scale:
1 DON’T be casual about departure time. Packing ALWAYS expands to take up all available time + twenty percent.
2 DON’T assume thick black clouds on horizon won’t come your way. They will. Thick black clouds = rain. Rain = misery for five-year-old over-excited campers.
3 DON’T assume swiftly-moving thick black clouds will bypass campsite. They won’t. They’ll just arrive fast. Swiftly-moving thick black clouds = wind + rain. Wind + rain = bad news if erecting tent and minding over-excited five-year-old and fretful baby simultaneously.