Frosty

This week after three days of tiptoeing around in the morning, creeping out of bed and getting dressed in the dark, kissing three sleepy faces and wrapping up warm to steal out into the pre- dawn frost I finally commented,

‘ You know lots of men clear their partners cars in the morning!’

(By lots I actually meant one that I had seen enviously on facebook.)

I slumped off into the bathroom, followed by my tractor pyjama wearing entourage...

By the time I was dressed and fishing my packed lunch out of the fridge my car was cleared and using the patented two key, road parked, scallie –proof system, warming gently.

So far so good you might think.

Well it was nice not to have to do it myself but...

What I was expecting when I said ,

‘You know most men clear their partners car in the morning...’

Was more of a ‘You know most women pick their kids up from school, cook the family dinner, hoover, take their eldest to swimming lessons and O.T. appointments and the list goes on...’

You might think my partner is above all the petty niggles and arguments about gender stereo-typical roles, that he is being a great role model for my boys, that he works hard at all his duties boring or rewarding, that he relishes his family and does all he can to keep them safe and happy. That working till after 11p.m. every night because his working day is interrupted by the school run and craft on the kitchen table is a reasonable pay off.

I can only assume he realised it was my ‘star’ week.

Privacy Settings

This week the lock on our bathroom door broke.

In fact I think it might have just given up.  

The bolt bit just disappeared and I have to assume it dived out of the barrel in despair wondering why oh why it was so infrequently used.

I mean, I say the lock broke this week, it could have been ages ago for all I know... I haven’t locked the bathroom door properly for about 6 years since son number one was born. 

I learnt quickly -  it only took a couple of despairing screaming, battering, sessions for me to realise that although I may only be gone for two minutes, discretely into the littlest room it will be precisely the two minutes that I am needed by everyone in the house so desperately that it couldn’t possibly wait – teeth must gnash, whining must wail, screams of abandonment must fill the air, the door must be kicked, hit, rammed, pulled and so on... it’s just easier to let them in.

Almost every time I try to have a relaxing bath the three year old finds his way in to play ‘sharks’ or ‘boats’ plunging his little hot hands deep into the water and bubbles until his top becomes wet and there is another emergency while he screams about his top being wet and he insists I ‘dry’ it – despite my many explanations he still thinks I can just rub off the wet with a towel...

It’s not really conducive to candles a glass of wine and a good book any more.

There have been several times when I’ve been in the bath – and this is regardless of time of day or night - when joining me in the room are both the six year old filling the toilet and the three year old filling the potty... there is no amount of lavender sleep inducing bath oil that can mask that!