I am suuuuuch a crap mum. Explanation to follow.
Drove down to see sis yesterday, as proposed. Got the bike, and a 30ft gazebo (it FOLDS UP, you dopey twats!), and the bodyboards and the towels and all the other shite that two kids need for a day at the seaside all in the back of BFs car and went zooming down the motorway. Ssdaly, too late I realised that we had not brought any tunes with us (by that, I mean no Billy�.and no Bananarama either!) and all BF had in his car was Ibiza Rave Party 26 or some such shit, which is only one big fat long song as far as I can see. A concept album for E takers. I hate that sort of music (and I cant do any of the dances either � not even �Big Fish, Little Fish, Push Pineapple, Shake the Tree� or whatever the fuck it is) and you cant sing along to it, unless you count BomBeeBomBom, BomBeeBomBom as singing along. Meh.
Also, it was a bit cloudy and crap-looking outside which was severely threatening the whole beach experience. Sis had already told me on the phone that she was having friends to dinner, one of whom can eat NO FAT AT ALL (and no, it wasn�t Jack Spratt) so she was a bit stressed out and by the time I got to her house, I think we were both starting to wish we hadn�t given up smoking as we could�ve done a passable Patti and Selma. Sent the kids off to play in the garden for a bit while we fixed lunch � only sandwiches and cake but, as sis is a chef and has no children and is, therefore, quite well-off, they were organic egg sandwiches with proper mayonnaise and nice bread and homemade flapjacks which were neither �worthy� nor sickly sweet, and had all jolly niceties in them, like dried cranberries and stuff.
While we were noshing, the sun came out so we were able to go to the beach after all. The tide was out but Jooj and Treac played on the sand and collected shells and stuff that weird kids like mine like to do. Took their picture with them sat either side of their magnificent sandcastle � they look like they�re straight out of an Enid Blyton.
Sis and I sat on the pebbles on two cushions from the dining room chairs and threw rocks at another rock sticking out of the sand.
Me: You�re shit at this, you haven�t hit it once yet.
Sis: Im not aiming for the same one as you. Im aiming for that one (points to GIANT rock at least three foot square and about two foot nearer than my rock).
Me: But you haven�t hit that one either. AND its massive.
Sis: I have! Look! (Lobs rock. Overshoots by 10 feet. Lobs rock. Lands three feet short. Lobs rock. Narrowly misses MY rock. Lobs rock. Strikes HER rock a glancing blow which ricochets the thrown rock back towards us at alarming speed.) Seeeeee!
Me: You suck.
Sis: So?
At that point, and to prevent a possible fist-fight between two forty-something women, Treac bounds up with a giant piece of chalk, as big as her head. The chalk is worn round and smooth and has random holes right through it, like huge piece of swiss cheese. I brought it home and will stick multi coloured candles in the holes. I explained the plans for the new bar to sis and she has promised to scour Ghent flea-market for suitable objets d�embellissement (that might not be the right spelling but, hey, whatever).
Traffic wasn�t too heinous on the way back, despite it being Friday rush hour and when we got back BF��HAD CLEANED THE KITCHEN. Truly he is a prince amongst men. I suspect he was angling for a blowjob (which he would�ve got anyway) but, to be honest, I don�t care. The floor was positively gleaming! Much yayness!
Made a start on a big pile of paperwork which had been cluttering up the table for weeks and found the two party invitations Id been looking for.
Did the Lidl shop this morning (by myself, so it only took 35 minutes and I have all the food I need for the whole week, instead of a trolley full of chocolate and random stuff which doesn�t go together � a butternut squash, coco pops, individual cr�me caramel and a jar of macadamia nuts!), then got Treac ready for her party. Drove around town in an ever increasing foul mood trying to find the party venue and getting later and later. Eventually found it and shoved her out of the car. Started to feel a bit uneasy as I didn�t recognise any of the other children milling about in the car park so I went inside with her. Wrong party! We were, indeed, a little late. Try a whole day and 8 minutes late. Totally misread the invitation. How shit did I feel? Treac was the model of �It doesn�t matter, mummie� but she still had a little cry when we got home. BF said she was only upset cos I was upset, which turned out to be true. We had a little Mummy/Treacle time and made a cake and some window stickers and phoned the birthday party mummy to apologise for not turning up. I still feel a bit crappy about it tho, especially as Jooj has a party tomorrow and I feel like Ive cheated Treac out of hers.
BF and OtherJooj�s parents are trying to persuade me to go camping in the summer. In a group �with loads of other mums and dads and all the kids�. I cant begin to describe the horror with which I am viewing the prospect.
I don�t camp.
Correction � I would camp, just me, BF, some beers and a starry starry night. But I don�t think I can do the sort of camping which basically appears to mean pitching one�s tent in neat rows, six feet from one�s neighbour, with kids and dogs and cooking on a Gaz burner which takes three hours to boil a kettle. As far as I can see, its like a kind of middle-class refugee camp and its not for me. I�ll let you know if they talk me into it.