It's carnival time and I'm indulging in my "mommy" side. Is there a difference between mums and moms? I'm both. Apart from the accents and a preference for Cadbury's over Hershey's – I'm happy to report there are more similarities than differences. The "best of" mommy carnival highlights is up over …
This morning an idea popped into my head. It was a fabulous, marvelous, ingenious idea.
I thought about it all the way home from school drop off. I started to get excited. Really excited. This idea would change my life.
It rolled round and round in my head. Then it started bouncing of the pavement, the houses, the trees, the lamposts and then went back into my head, crystallising, getting clearer, bigger, grander.
Yes, this was it. It would change my life, this idea. Why hadn't I thought of it before? My pace quickened. I couldn't wait to put my idea into action.
Alexandra came out of reception today with chocolate smudged on her face and a ripped open package of Maltesers in her hand. Half were still stuffed in her cheek, bulging like a hamster.
Who's birthday was it today? I asked knowingly.
I'll give you a hint. It starts with a wah, she said slipping her slightly sticky hand into mine.
William?
In a perfect world, of course not. But it happens. A lot. At my children’s school, a very popular public school in the Chilterns, many of the teachers yell. We all know about it. It’s the kind of school where parents are very, er, hands-on. There are lots of older mums that gave up careers as bankers …
There’s an apple orchard not far from here. I found it a couple years ago, I was driving down a country lane, the kind where if you are not paying attention you find yourself head-to-head with another car, and need to back up into a passing place. I saw a hand-written …
I got a phone call today from a young chap who sounded like he was in a call centre based in the Midlands. I could hear others talking in the background.
“This is HSBC, is this a good time to talk?”
No, it’s half-term you idiot. “Not really.”
“I just need to confirm some details with you.”
Huh? You called me.
He went on to give me the first three characters of my post code, and asked me for the rest. Then he gave me my birth month, and wanted me to fill in the blanks.
OK, this is proof it has to stop.
Last night I woke up around 3 am. The sheets were damp. My heart was racing. It was all so real.
My worry? I had a blog somewhere that I needed to update. I just couldn't find it. I couldn't remember what clever name I had christened it. Tired Mummies? No. Mummies on the run? No. Mums on Medicine? No. No. No.
Oh, where was it? I knew it must be in need of a new post and it must be time to respond to comments. Where, where, where?
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