When Jackson feeds the cat...

Cooking thing

Have just experienced a rare burst of food-related domestic activity, triggered by the 2 drawers of wilting Able & Cole veg in the fridge. I might even have enjoyed it had it not taken 3 hours. 

Anyway freezer now contains bolognase sauce, 2 batches pasta sauces and a dozen beetroot & chocolate brownies (4x tomatoes, 6x onions, 6x bits garlic, 4x medium beetroot, 1x fennel and lots of obscure veg which the kids won’t eat in it’s complete form). 

Tea tonight: made up thing (2x onions, potatoes & MASSIVE cabbage covered in cheese sauce) & sausages with the lovely Jennie Whitworth Edwards who was pleasantly surprised with the cabbage experiment.

Birthday crusts and caviar

2011 has become quite unique. Keith and I have actually managed to SEE each other for BOTH our birthdays. I honestly cannot remember the last time this happened. Unfortunately both days were also spent away from the kids, but hey ho- you can’t have everything.

The 2 days in question could not have been more different (aside from the heat, long hours and copious fluids).

Mine: Worked 14 hours together in air conditioned 4-star hotel in Barcelona with tea and coffee on demand (via a magic phone on my desk) finishing off evening with gala dinner meal that was so posh I had to google the menu later back in hotel room as I had not recognised anything I’d eaten. Excellent wine in a strangely self re-filling glass that did not run out. I was careful. (I have been tricked by such self re-filling glasses before).

Keith’s: Worked 14 hours together in hot and sweaty field in Norfolk where we were delivering a youth festival. Tea, coffee and squash on tap in the staff tent (Thank you Bev and Mike), finishing off with birthday cake and lukewarm diet coke in office tent at midnight, having spent most of the evening sweeping the shower and toilet trailers, stocking up the bog roll and hand towels, unblocking 3 toilets and emptying all the bins.

Both days were fun and are connected with 2 very different organisations, who are great to work with. But I am so aware of BEING aware of these different experiences because it makes me a bit shallower than I’d like to be. I want to not even notice the difference between crusts and caviar.

Unsafe sex

Am disturbed that salted peanuts are right next to condoms in mini-bar. Surely this is bad for the latex?

Middle Age

I am slowly coming to the conclusion that I am old. I have lots of grey hair. I make an involuntary 'Uhh' noise when rising from a comfy chair if I’ve been there a while, and in the last 18 months I have acquired a part denture and the inability to focus on close up stuff when I’m tired. (For these last 2 I blame Wales) None of these things make me feel old though.

I feel old because of things like this: 
A conversation on way to school other day, scene involves me, 3 kids, assorted baggage and 1x bike which they share on way to school. (Long story, involving class sizes, moving house mid-school year and an overall sovereign plan which I know exists but don’t understand yet).

J: Mum, can you slow down, I can’t carry all my stuff (1x book bag + 1x lunch box) and hold up these at the same time.

Me: What’s ‘these?’

J (incredulously): My trousers!
 
Demonstrates his need to hold ‘these’ up, and they promptly drop to his knees in the street, attracting stares from passing motorists.

Me: Where’s your belt?

J: I don’t have one.

Me: Why not?

J: I dunno. I forgot.

Me: But when you put those trousers on this morning, didn’t you realise they were falling down?

J: Well, yeah… But I was busy.

Me: Doing WHAT?

J: Y’know. Getting breakfast. And playing lego….

Me: Oh I see

And in that moment I DID see. He’s 7 years old. Life’s complicated enough remembering to feed oneself and get in some construction time before the school run (or run/cycle/run) without the added pressure of dressing securely.

I can no longer remember a time in my life when my main source of concern was eating as fast as I could so I could get in more play time.

Last week I actually forfeited a whole night of sleep amending a 280 page book in order to meet a print deadline. At 4am I decided NOT to go to bed before the school run, or I’d never get up for it. So I constructed an interplanetary lego docking station for the many MANY lego spaceships which are in various stages of completion by one of the kids. Or I would have done if I were not old.

Instead I tumble dried a load of washing and folded and ironed the backlog of dry stuff from the weekend. Then I put it all away (quietly). Then I made a massive pot of custard for breakfast. A little unorthodox I know, but we love it and we had loads of milk that morning.

And this is why I am getting old.

Home schooling

A history lesson in Clas Ohlson. Kids were hypnotised by large spinning black disc for 10 whole minutes...

Monday morning

I wake up to much shouting downstairs this morning. From under my duvet I can hear raised voices. The children are having breakfast. Apparently there has been a large cereal spillage. My eldest child is (loudly) attempting to coordinate a clean up operation with assistance from the youngest. She is (loudly) unwilling to give it, and stating their strategy should be to proceed upstairs and inform me. He (loudly) states that they can handle this situation without my help and as she was the spiller, she should contribute to the clean up. They argue (loudly) about their strategy for many minutes, but are unable to reach a consensus.

I do not handle loud noise in the morning. I mutter under my breath as I stumble downstairs and into the kitchen. They stop arguing as they see me appear in the doorway. I walk into the kitchen and give both a 'bad mark' on their pocket money chart before saying good morning.

Eldest child leaves the room in tears of righteous anger. Youngest is also tearful but apologetic. Middle child calmly looks up from his weetabix and asks, 'Mummy- can we have a private chat when I've finished this please?' I perform the clean up while middle child scrapes his bowl clean, before following him into an empty room. He closes the door behind us and whispers loudly 'You're being a weeeeeeeeeeee bit stressey this morning...'