A weekly update on the goings on in the life of a typical mum of four teenagers. If you're looking for help, advice or support, try somewhere else. if you just want to feel good and know your life could be worse - and maybe get a laugh along the way- then this might just be for you.
All names have been changed, so if you think you recognise anyone, look over your shoulder, as you could be in it another week.
Friday, 20 April 2012
I think I've finally plipped...
It's been a strange week - kind of typical for the first week back after a wee break. During a BBM discussion earlier in the week, I said to Siggy, "I'm so tired, I can't believe it's only Tuesday" He pointed out that it was Wednesday, but somehow that didn't make things any better and it didn’t make the week go in any more quickly. Quite the opposite in fact
Apart from genuinely not knowing what day of the week it was most of the time, I have been nice and calm and hardly had any problems at all this week. I think that I should probably spend more of my weekends with a whole day in bed as I have definitely had a more incident-free week.
Not like poor Siggy. He has been rushed off his feet and sometimes I really think that his work is taking advantage of him. I mean, he started back on Monday and spent the whole day down in Dumfries, so didn’t get home until nearly 10pm. Tuesday, he had the same presentation to give at another venue and then had to go through to Edinburgh to head office for another late meeting and – get this – he even had to give a colleague, some younger blonde female, a lift back to the office. Poor soul had to endure her company for over an hour. I know this because he explained it to me when I asked him if he though my hair was getting longer and for some reason he started on about “Oh those hairs on the passenger seat, you mean” Weird.
So Tuesday had been another late night for him. Then he’s back in Edinburgh the next day at the crack of dawn for a morning meeting and then lunch at some Michelin-starred place as another colleague is retiring. The lunch went on so long, he almost didn’t make it back to watch the Twins playing in their rugby final. (lucky I was around to get them, half the rest of the squad and several girlfriends to the match. Poor Siggy only just made it in time to watch the warm-up and the match itself). Then on Thursday he was back to Dumfries again and only just made it back in time for a rugby training session before he went to cubs. Poor man, what a week he’s had!
Anyway, I’ve been a really proud mum this week. The Twins, Peter and Gordon, had what is likely to be their last ever match with the rugby team they have been with for the last 7 years and it was a final. The reason it could be their last game is that the age groups change next year, so they will be in with the older half of their squad and the younger half of what was previously the squad above. Anyway, the fact that they were playing in the final and have also got to study for their exams made me feel unusually kind towards them, so I thought I’d give their rooms a really good clearout so they didn’t have the distraction of working round the usual debris and detritus that usually adorns their floors, beds, desks, and any other surface. See, I really am a good mum. You can only imagine my shock when I found that between the two of them, they had four copies of a magazine I’m going to call “Raisins!” which is crammed full of information about football and cars. Oh yes, and plenty of advice about girls, sex, moisturiser, girls, sex, hair gel, sex, girls and, eh, sex. As a result, what should have taken an hour or so took me most of the day as I had to research all the stuff I never knew about, well, all of that stuff. Luckily, there was a section where a real girl answered some of their questions (not the twins themselves, just some questions the editor had thought were burning issues that had presumably come out of a focus group. I strongly suspect the focus group was entirely male, met in the pub at lunchtime and probably all of whom were employees of “Raisins!”)
OK, I’m happy to accept that the real girl answering the questions was real enough – she must have been as they had a really nice picture of her to accompany the whole article. I liked her instantly, because I also have some purple underwear, although I do tend to wear mine with some overwear too. I now know where I may have been going wrong in so many ways. I mean, why haven’t I ever thought of only engaging in intercourse in public places or making sure that I always have some chocolate body paint in my handbag “just in case, because you never know when you’ll need it.” Closest I’ve ever come to that is having a Galaxy in my bag, but I’m not sure that counts as I generally do know when I’ll need it and that’s about ten minutes after I’ve put it in there. I’ll need to also check with my friend Bianca as the real girl in the magazine also said she had eggs in her handbag “in case the mood took her when she was alone” and see exactly what mood she means. Bianca is bound to know as she once ate a whole Easter Egg whilst waiting at the traffic lights and I’m sure she’ll know what mood she was in at the time. I did ask Siggy if he knew what it meant, but I don’t think he heard as he was busy reading the “Ladies confess” page about a girls hockey team who found out only one of the showers was working in the changing room.
I should point out, of course, that Raisins! wasn’t the reason for me feeling so proud. My pride came from Peter scoring in the final – a try which loads of the supporters told me was genuinely brilliantly taken. Of course, as it was the rugby with my own sons playing, I didn’t really see that much of it as I tend to look away whenever I can because it’s just too scary. It’s strange because I love watching the senior guys in the Six Nations and stuff. Don’t understand any of it really, but it is nice to see genuine athletes giving their all against each other in those new breathable, tight, colourful, tight tops. Even with my first aid skills, I don’t like watching the game so close up where real injuries could happen to my boys.
Before getting there, though, I had to once again run the gauntlet of the CCTV at the station when I had to go down and collect my laptop as Siggy had taken my car to the station and I had left it in my boot. I hate that car park, it’s just so – big! I was running a little late as usual, having gone to work and only realising after an hour and a half that I didn’t have the laptop with me – I was dealing with children and parents, before anyone asks why it took so long for met notice - so when I got there I was a bit harassed. I drove around in the usual “find a space” mode before I remembered I wasn’t actually going to park and then I spied the White BMW 1 about half way down the last row. I pulled up alongside and hopped out, pointing and “plipping” the key on my way out. I went to open the boot, but it was still locked. I tried again, as I sometimes press twice and re-lock it, but again nothing happened. Strange, I thought, and I tried the boot lid again but nothing happened. I walked around the side of the car and tried the drivers door – nothing again. Exasperated, I got back in Siggy’s car and moved it to the side as an older couple had just came out a space further along and, being over 55 and presumably just back from using their bloody “travel anywhere for a penny” special offer to get themselves into town, they needed to have a gap big enough for a “convoi exceptionnel” wide load to get their bloody tiny and silent hybrid through. They passed by and I waited a minute in the car as I was desperately trying to listen hear enough of a good song on the radio to get “Chirpy Chirpy Cheep Cheep” out of my head. It had been played on the breakfast show and was stuck in my head ever since.
Sorry if it you now have that stuck in your head, but, after all, what are friends for if not sharing?
Back to the laptop problem. I got back out the car with “Purple Rain” in my head (see, remove Chirpy Chirpy Cheep for you already) (Oh bugger, I’ve probably just put it back in again, sorry). Plipped the key again, several times, but nothing happened again. I was really beginning to get quite frustrated but then looked down and realised that I was pointing the wrong keys at the car. It’s an easy mistake when you’re in a hurry and I went back across to the other car, yanked on the door handle and nearly took my shoulder out it’s socket! Of course, I’d locked it hadn’t I?
I was in the big car and got the BMW keys from the passenger seat.
Aimed squarely at the BMW and “nonchalantly” took a grip of the boot lid again.
I stepped back and was nearly knocked down by a bloody silent hybrid! The old duffers had driven around again and were looking very suspiciously at me and taking out their mobile phone. That’s another thing – why are they still called “mobile” phones when old people use them? They always stop absolutely everything else they’re doing, often in the middle of a flow of human traffic on a crowded street and causing a near pile up behind them?
Then it dawned on me, they thought I was trying to break into the car! What with all the tugging at handles, looking around and trying to appear nonchalant, coupled with the beetroot face I had started with because I was running late and which was now worse as I’d just about been knocked down, I suppose it was an easy mistake to make. It was then I had a sudden realisation. I am not the only person who drives a white BMW 1 series and it is extremely unlikely that Siggy would change the registration plates when he drives it.
Then I made what could have been the biggest mistake of the day. In my defence, I was panicked, late, hot and needing the loo, so jumping straight back in Siggy’s car and driving off with tyres squealing probably only made them more suspicious. I looked in the rear view mirror and seen that they were following me, silently, so an idea occurred to me. I drove out of the car park – noticing my own white BMW kind of obviously parked in the very first space on the way in – and made sure they saw me pull in to the side of the road. I watched them pass at the obligatory 17.5mph and waited until they were almost – but not quite – out of sight before I pulled out again and did a very obvious U-turn back into the car park. I parked opposite my car, opened the boot and waited for almost a full minute. Sure enough, I spotted the Hybrid back at the top of the ramp into the car park waiting to turn right.
Another ten seconds and they were on the ramp. I grabbed the laptop, roughly slammed the boot shut and jumped into Siggy’s car. I pulled away as fast as I dared and covered my face as I sped past them again on the way back up the ramp. I saw them “screech” to a halt and watched as the mobile phone was passed across to the driver.
In my mind, that was a piece of community service. I have ensured that they have a story to tell on their next visit into town to meet their friends for coffee and carrot cake.
Driving hasn’t really been my thing this week again. For the first time ever, I gave another driver the V-Sign when he blew his horn at me. It’s not his lane and it’s not my fault that I couldn’t remember where the opposing rugby club was. It’s not easy when two nervous teenagers are in the back giving directions.
Mind you, I did set a new record and beat the AA route planner for the journey from our house to the Scout Hall. Admittedly, the 14 minute run being completed in under 11 minutes did have the motivational aid of being at home at 8.58pm when I remembered that I was meant to pick up 10 year-old Donald from the Scouts at 9pm. They were still finishing off anyway when I got there, so I hadn't even had to rush away from my counting up how many of the 34 signs of the menopause I had, which reminds me, I must must finish that list - see, our magazines are so much better than Raisins! More of that next week, if I remember. Damn, amnesia, another one ticked off.
It really has felt like such a long week, but I'm told that may be caused by the reduced dosages I have been on since last week's terrible bout of vinblancitis. Mind you, I do now feel that last weekend's vow of abstinence may have been a little premature and I have to thank everyone for their encouragement and support and their steadfast refusal to believe me when I said "never again." I will be taking their advice and starting with some small doses over the coming weekend.
Happy Friday! Oh god, is it only Friday?
Woke up this morning and my mama was gone, ooooee……….