You’d think it wasn’t too hard to write a post a week.
Four weeks into my imposed writing routine, evening outing plus tiredness sets in on a Thursday night…no post.
Rather than berating myself, let’s just pretend it’s still 4 February, and go for it. OK?
The half-yearly visit to the dentist is upon us. Oh, the varied and wondrous set of shiny instruments in the dentist’s room that we are not meant to touch…
Oh, the lure of the pink mouthwash which two out of three of the visitors are not yet invited to use…
But the main purpose for visiting the dentist is to pick the coolest sticker possible after having your teeth checked.
I make a point of telling the dentist that he has the coolest stickers in town.
(The second coolest are given out at Gymnipper classes for pre-schoolers, on a weekly basis.)
These opinions are based purely on positive reaction levels from the kids. Sadly I don’t generally get offered stickers on these visits, so my own opinion of them doesn’t get to count.
By the way, it’s best not to get distracted by hungry kids, and leave the dentist’s premises without your handbag. Is it?
Luckily it was a very quick to prep tea once we got home.
This last week also brought the genuine delight of the double playdate. I should probably call it a triple playdate, since it works perfectly for mum, older child and younger child.
Mum gets two adults to chat to. Older child gets to do more stop motion film making with friend of same age.
Younger child gets to run around with the two kids of the same age, resulting in some very interesting spy/fairy cross-over dressing up.
You know it’s a good playdate when you’re onto your third round of hot drinks for the grownups, there’s been no real fights to break up, and the kids are generally still getting on with it.
And sometimes? When kids say ‘it’s a real mess upstairs’, they really mean ‘there’s some large items I can’t quite reach to put away, but other than that it’s not too bad’.
That kind of tidy up I can deal with. And Mini is still playing with the Duplo zoo set up that the visiting mum came up with.
Another visit to Granny and Grandpa. We do some detailed calculations based on snowy/blowy weather reports; lie low one day and venture out the next.
There are three choices of soup, to cater to different palates, and Mini discovers what Scrabble tiles look like.
But before that, there’s the day at home, a weekend staple. It’s a funny but happy mix: extended pyjama time, read alouds to the kids over lunchtime, usually a film at some point.
(We’ve just finished Paddington book 3, in case you need to know.)
For me, the day also seems to include the hauling of one load of school uniform and the beginning of another washing load, to try to get things ready for the next week.
But there might be other bits and pieces that don’t seem to get a look in until the weekend. Sorting out school clothes for Junior. Making the next set of birthday cards. Chipping away at Mini’s homework tasks.
As long as I can farm out at least some of the food production onto Dan, I don’t mind too much.
Mini gets a longer writing task for homework. Cue requirement to fit that in after school each day as well as usual homework for Junior.
Cue epic grumping on the first day, doodling and somewhat more compliance on the second day, and so on.
(These are Mini’s responses, not mine. But maybe I should try doodling and moderate compliance as a maternal gesture, sometime.)
Junior ends up with a day off school when the current cough going round gets to be a bit too much. Extra sleep? Check. Time for a film to aid recuperation? Check.
I even manage a coffee in town with Mum, and a spot of shopping together. New electronic scales (previous balance ones died). A step up for my Monday baking sessions.
There are bus diversions because of roadworks. So in turn, there are new routes home, hoping I’ve taken the right turns through neighbouring streets.
There is practicing for a forthcoming school assembly (more next time).
There are crocuses coming up in the park. And one day, even that first hint of spring-like light.
The birds don’t care. They’ve been singing away for weeks. Even with the recent run of wintry weather, they’re still at it.
So am I, in a way, typing away. Hoping that there will be a spring for the words I am still waiting for.
Maybe the tips are starting to show.
In the meantime, I’m joining the birds with some singing, with some help from Elizabeth Mitchell. This one’s been going through my head all week.