Skip to main content

Home alone Mummy

Alpha jetted off to Europe this weekend to see a Pixies gig with a gang of old mates, visit his Mum and go to his best friend's 40th birthday party. While Alpha was revisiting his misspent youth, I spent the weekend home alone in Dubai with the kids.

The good thing was that the kids were so dejected at being 'abandoned' by their beloved Daddy that their behaviour was miraculously good. The bad thing was that they insisted on sharing my bed ("But Mummy, what if a big bad burglar comes and there's no Daddy here to save us? Please, mummy, pleeaassee etc") then upped the stakes by demanding that our three insane cats join us. Agghhh. Never again. I spent the night on the edge of the bed being kicked in the fanny by the kids while the cats munched my toes. At least, I think it was the cats; it could well have been the Small(er) One, she has a terrible reputation for chomping on people who offend her.

Alpha is back tonight. I've never so looked forward to a homecoming in my life. I'm lost without him.

Comments

JamesBlake said…
Good post for reading on Monday morning. Thanks.

http://tinyurl.com/q53mqt
Anonymous said…
Just wait 'til your father gets home...Welcome Home Alpha Daddy! No reliving misspent youths for you again - you are needed to keep order in the household. So that is what men are for.....often wondered...
Kate B. said…
He's back again, laden with gifts and being lovingly smothered by kids and cats. Kids and cats even naughtier now he's home, so I think he's the source of chaos. Blame... that's what husbands are for, convenient targets to pin petty annoyances on...

Popular posts from this blog

Apologies for being incommunicado this week and hope none of you out there are too distraught not to be receiving the usual almost-daily MotV missives. The reason for the silence is that I'm up to my neck, metaphorically-speaking, in research papers for my first grad course assessment. This experience has made me realise how rigorously un-academic I am in my thinking. It has also illuminated how reliant I am on red wine in order to get through endless evenings typing furiously on my laptop, not to mention the fueling of increasingly colorful curses that I feel obliged to aim at the University's online library system which consistently refuses to spit out any of the journals I'm desperate for (I refuse to believe this is 100% due to my technical incompetence...) Oh well, if this is the price one has to pay in order to realize a long-cherished dream then it's not all that bad... No one ever said a mid-life career change would be easy. Wish me luck!

A thought

Perhaps sometimes a gift can be delivered in the guise of a tragedy. It's just a matter of perception, after all. I suspect that the talent lies in looking beyond the surface to what lies beneath and beyond. And, of course, being able to make sense of it all and going on to apply that knowledge to building a productive way forward. Here's hoping.

It's my party and I'll cry if I want to

A friend recently emailed me to say that her big memory of her stay with us last year is that she had a great birthday, one of the few where she didn't 'act like a spoiled grumpy princess'. She tried to give me all the credit but as I explained to her, it was all down to having a fellow female organising the birthday fun rather than leaving it to her partner. Her email got me thinking about birthdays and how very different men and women are in their attitudes to celebrating special occasions. It also had me thinking about my birthday two years ago when I threw a major tantrum in the Carrefour car-park after being told that we were off to do the weekly shop, kids in tow, which was simply the final straw at the end of a very uninspiring day. In contrast, my birthday last year was rather lovely (a morning on my own in a spa with no mobile coverage, pure selfish bliss). This year - in a few short months, eek! - I'll be hitting the grand old age of 38. This will be my las...