It's been a bit of a week. Swings and roundabouts some might say.. Others might say 'oh shit'.
Sunday. Had a perfectly civilized Mothers Day (usually this alone is worthy of many 'oh shit's), and we even spent this one AT my mum's ('oh shit' territory for certain) - but this time, noone trod on a cat, noone hurled the contents of Connect 4 down the back of the settee, noone said 'fuck', noone pulled their pants down and farted in anyone's lunch.... (Yes, for once, my mother behaved herself.) And she even still looked perky when we finally clambered into the embarrassment we park on her drive and screeched away. Normally she's looking seriously close to fetching the big gun by waving goodbye time. Maybe we're all growing up a bit. (Like cheugh...)
Monday. Our Home Ed tribe's football session wasn't in the rain or gale force winds and it didn't take three hours to get their boots and tracky bots off afterwards. The hall meeting didn't implode. We started making our flag instead of dropping chips on it. We decorated eggs and didn't sit on them. Nobody got locked in the toilet. The younger Trinity Youth Theatre group's improv presentation was actually entertaining. The older Trin Yoof's show was... less sweary and death-obsessed than expected. None of the boys split their lip at Badgers. High five.
Tuesday. I got a lie-in. I got breakfast whilst stationary. I got a shower (eventually). I got Lulu Cheese over to her dad's workplace four seconds before he reached his car. I got shopping. I got the boys into bed before 10.30pm. I got a phone call from my brother. I've now got to carry on reading about beheading dragons without letting on that Nanny's just had a stroke and is in the hyper-acute unit. I've got to work out what to do. (I've got a nagging feeling that I'm supposed to know what to do.)
Wednesday. Took Minx to her skating lesson (sans boys - always a bonus) and once again Robin Cousins was there - like last week. (He's touring in Grease and this is his local rink for two weeks). He's so amazing to watch. And we watched. And last week I watched wide-eyed as he floated over to Minx to give her some tips on her axel landing. She nodded alot but took nothing in. Just gazed at him all starstruck and then carried on doing it wrong. Afterwards we squeaked alot. This week not only does her coach rip my phone out of my dithering hands and ask him for a photo with Minx but follows this up with a request for a special lesson for four of her pupils - and he says yes. We squeak alot more. Then I burst the bubble with the other news and we go and see my mum in the hospital. It isn't great. Yin and yang is it....? First we went to the house to meet my bro. Picked up scattered objects and pointed at cats. Minx was terribly grown-up. She spotted the washing was still out and set about unpegging and folding, watered the plants, told me what dressing gown Nanny preferred and where the socks were and made us sandwiches. I gawped at how big mum's bras were and nicked her cheese. Role reversal time. Weird. Feel like someone invisible is trying to tap me on the shoulder.
Thursday. Bowling - no fights over Doris (a favoured ball), no warnings about eating our own food, no chasing small children up the sirened alleys - and I manage to sell all the boys while I take Minx back up to the rink. And tonight we have no bruised knees, no walloped buttocks, no spilt J2O all over my knitting. I don't know I'm born. My driving's gone a bit loopy tho'. Lots of After Eights required. Couldn't fit in a hospital visit without dramas this end. Big bruv covered. Course he did. He's my big bruv.
Friday. Back at the rink, half wondering if Robin Cousins will change his mind. But here he is. Expecting about 15 mins of his time - tops. He gives them 45 mins of dedicated coaching and not a flicker of despair at the boggling camera-wielding parents squashed in the corner. And won't accept any payment. Signs autographs and does chat and bears the gushing thank yous - such a dude. And even stays calm when the swathes of arriving Home Ed skate munsters (not my tribe) swamp him with coos and cameras. That's some mettle. (They're a funny bunch of buggers that North Kent lot....) Back in the driving seat trying not to crash. Despatch all kids into the hands of my tribe and head back to the hospital. Still haven't lost control AND I get to wap in my choice of CD. Take what you can get out any situation I say. I'll take Lucinda Williams any day. Mum's out of the strings-attached ward and up the corridor a bit. Less tea-spillage. Less trying to escape antics. I'm still trying to flinch away from that tap on the shoulder tho'. Still not listening to that voice saying 'It's time to be a grown-up now'. Back to the tribe and the sun-burnt kids. Oops.
Saturday. Medieval archery shenanigans with the tribe. Loved this. Twanging bows and flying arrows, quarterstaffs and shiny swords, heavy chainmail and wobbly helmets, muddy vegetables and funny clobber - and best of all fabulous sunshine and babbling chums. Larks a-plenty. Then child-abandonment again and back up the hosp. She's been wheeled further up the corridor. Assuming this is a good sign. 'Hello dear what's your name?' Hmmmn... Well she had just woken up. I should say I had just woken her up. (Well... I've gone all that way..!!) Is it my driving, or is the car possessed, or should I turn the stereo down a bit.... ? It all feels like I'm gonna sail off the road and not have to worry about the growing-up bit after all. (Although I do think points should be awarded for me not putting 'shiny' and 'helmets' together a minute ago.)
Sunday. I make Roving Blade drive my car to the golf range to see if it's paranoia or garage time. Turns out it's just paranoia. I keep the volume down a bit there and back tonight. Mum's still in the same pod as yesterday so for once don't have to go in search. I still manage to get lost tho'. (Who's the one with the brian blip?) She thinks she's going home in a couple of days. I don't THINK so. That voice over my shoulder is getting a little more insistent.
What happens when they do let her out?