Well I’m sitting here in the airport in New York, thinking, what can I do for the next hour. With a pile of work waiting for me on my desktop my thoughts turn here…my blog! My long, long neglected poor blog! It’s been ages since I’ve blogged and I know I’m becoming quite sporadic with my entries, so thanks for coming back! But it’s so hard to find the time these days. I know, yawn, not a great start to my blogging come back by boring you with busy-ness!
So Happy New Year all! 2012 hey? Jeeze, it sounds so futuristic. Like Blade Runner or Jason Bourne. I’ve recently been thinking about the 2000’s. You know when you were younger and found out the year your parents were born and were like ‘oh my god, you’re ancient!’, imagine how old the 80’s is going to sound to a digital cyber baby born in the naughties!? I was interviewing some kids last week for work and asked them when they thought the cut off for ‘young’ was. Apparently it’s 25. Bugger. Happy bloody new year.
Apart from thoughts on ageing, my attentions this year are turning to new, exciting subjects such as switching from cot to bed, when to have baby number two and….potty training! I thought I’d buy a potty the other week. I know he’s still a bit young but I thought it would be good to have it around to get him used to it. It’s a one that shaped like a turtle so it’s caused a great degree of interest. I’d only had it two days when I thought ‘right, let’s give this a go’. I saw a usual pooing facial expression creep across his face and started exclaiming ‘ooo, let’s try the potty! Yay the potty! Phoenix’s potty!’ Bemused at my somewhat over enthusiastic burst of afternoon energy (I’m usually shot to bits by 4pm), he followed accordingly and sat on the potty straight away without really having to show him what to do. He sat there quite content for ages and when he stood up, lo and behold, there is a was, a poo! A whole poo. In the potty! It was SOOOOO exciting! I never wanted to be one of those mums who celebrated poos and wees but sod it, it was god damn beautiful! A real live potty poo. Since then we’ve had a couple of wees on there but no repeat glory moments like that one. So I’m not sure what my plan is, I guess I’ll just keep putting on there before bed and then gradually build it up, prob start properly in the summer when there’s less clothes around. He hates having his nappy changed (unless I hold my nose and screw my face up and shout pooo which is apparently hilarious) and does tell me when he’s about to do it so there’s signs he’s thinking about nappy free days. I can’t wait, life without nappies! I’ll save so much time!
So anyway, from poo to New York. I’m here on a work trip. Sounds exciting doesn’t it? It’s a bit exciting, but really I’d rather be at home. When the plane was taking off I had a momentary flee of panic when I wanted to dive through the cabin and put the handbreak on (I assume planes have handbreaks), but I didn’t fancy prison. It felt so weird to be flying away in the opposite direction to my little boy. It’s the longest I’ve been away from him and am missing him terribly. I can’t wait for my cuddles when I get home.
There was something I wanted to bring up in this post and it is this: Whoever came up with the calendar is a bloody idiot. Was it those Mayans? You know, the ones who’ve predicted the end of the world in 2012? Well, great, thanks for that too. Happy bloody new year to you too. Well while I’ve got your attention you doom and gloom bringing Mayans, I’d like to point something out about the weeks in your calendar. They don’t have enough days, they are completely useless. Now, I know you’ve probably heard us say it before, what with it being a favoured british expression n’ all, but: “there’s just not enough days in the week!” (said with a bourbon and cup of tea). But I would like to explain why there are not enough days in the week, and propose another system. There’s too much to do. It’s ridiculous, we can’t go on like this. I’m getting frown lines, children are telling me I’m past it, I’ve started panicking if I see I’m awake past 10pm, I fall asleep during films (although if it’s war horse this is forgiven. I love animals and was sad when he went into that war, but if anything that war came back happier than ever with a shiny glossy coat), I just simply need more time!
So here’s what I suggest we do Mr Mayan (oh and by the way, may I just take the time here to compliment you on your beautiful mayan temples, you really showed those egyptians who was the master of stone stacking in geometric shapes):
Days 1 – 4 work
Days 5 – 10 mummying: park, arts&crafts, playgroups, baking, stories, swimming
Day 11 house beautifying and shopping
Day 12 exercise, sex and eating out (in order of choice – some of these may need to also be incorporated into the above, depending on, um, ahem.)
12 day weeks. This is the answer. And I propose this would work for others too not just mums. For example when your kids have left home you can replace 3 of the mummying days with ‘looking and buying pretty things’ or ‘city break’ (hmmmm my retirement sounds expensive, should probably get back to doing some work).
Oh my flight is being called. I arrive in London tomorrow am where I’ll spend the weekend catching up with my boys, going to the gym, making banana bread, doing the washing, finishing a report, not watching war horse and then be ready to go back to work next week. And this my dear mayans is why your calendar sucks.
*the author can confirm at a later date that none of the items mentioned above in the afore mentioned weekend were completed. Zilch, not even one (expect for not watching war horse again, thank god)