Again, apologies for my neglect of this blog all week. But the way things are going, I suspect that I'm going to have to turn into a weekend blogger. It's so full-on now during the week that I'm kind of surprised that I have time to sleep and eat, let alone spend much time with my poor girls.
Oh, big surge of Mommy shame.
I spent around ten minutes with the Small(er) One yesterday, and Firstborn's communication with me was limited to a couple of phone calls and what we've come to call tele-hugs. But they don't seem to be that distressed (unless of course they're busy repressing the emotional weight of the maternal abandonment - I'm almost certain that one day it will be fed back to me in the form of hefty shrink bills). In fact, part of me is almost offended by how accepting they are of my new-found absence for the duration of their daylight hours. And I must say that I did experience more than a small twinge of pain tonight when the Small(er) One called the nanny "Mama"... God, that cut like a knife.
So, the weekend stretches ahead of me. Alpha Male is back in the classroom this weekend (he studies one weekend per month) so it's just the girls and I, out on the razz and free to get into whatever mounds of trouble there is to be had in suburbia; local unrest at the price of free-range eggs at the local farmer's market, intrigue at the bouncy castle playgroup, queue rage at Waitrose... I can hardly wait.
However, apart from the usual suburban social whirl, this weekend should pose more of a challenge than it normally does when I'm in sole charge. Since the flat purchase (finally) went through last week we now have two builders in residence pulling the place to pieces and itching to make it less of a shrine to landlord taste; the place has been a rental for years, and omg it really, really shows. Yep, the grey 'marble' bathroom with 'interesting' design accents, the green shagpile carpet, the rag-rolled wall mounted half-egg light fittings, the plastic 'wood' floor in the kitchen, in fact the whole kitchen... it's all got to go. The heat is on in terms of choosing fittings and all those other decorative neccessities - a whole heap of fun when you don't have two small children in tow on a mission to reduce whatever showroom we're in to rubble.
So don't be surprised if we end up with bright pink carpet on the floors and Barbie tiles in the bathroom - Firstborn has a firm grasp on the concept of pester-power.
Whatever. I'm just delighted to be able to spend a whole weekend with my girls. I find that I get so caught up with work during the week - to the point that my brain becomes pure PR - that I don't quite realise how much I miss them until I consign my work heels to the closet, drop out of Roadrunner mode and r-e-l-a-x...
And right now, it's time to crack open a nice bottle of red wine and enjoy a night of deliciously terrible telly. I'll start with C.S.I.... yum...What more could a girl possibly want?
Except maybe a kick-ass pair of Manolos, a complete set of Myla lingerie (including those fabulous ribbon-tie knickers), a big tub of Green & Blacks (any flavour, I'm not fussy), MAC eyeliner, anything Jo Malone combined with a hot up-to-the-chin bath lit by Diptyque, Wolford hosiery, an Argos catalogue (aka The Big Book of Dreams), a Thai massage ... oh and throw a toy boy or two in for good measure...
Why hold back? It is the start of the weekend...