Moments of madness

I’m exhausted and it’s only lunchtime!

Today I discovered how hard life is for working moms, after I was asked to stay and help at nursery this morning. Luckily their time and activities are structured, nevertheless the line between organised and disorganised chaos is a blurry thing.

As an item of novelty I attracted plenty of little people to the play-doh table where I wowed them my snowmen, and learnt tis better to take a back seat with these things, as you can’t make the damn things quick enough to please.

S was delighted that her mom had been asked to stay and help, though plenty of her nursery-mates didn’t realise I was her mother, so when playtime arrived and S stamped her feet and demanded only I could put her wellie boots on, others joined in and I discovered how useless other people’s kids are the joy of being popular.

Next was café time. This has to be seen to be believed, and hats off to the Aunties for having the patience to follow the Education Departments rules. Do you know you’re not allowed to help a two year old pour their own drink? You’re not even supposed to help them clear up the mess afterwards, but I didn’t know that.

It was a whirlwind as twenty-four little darlings got divided into three groups. At first I was relieved not to be on the painting table, as I wasn’t dressed for it. And organising the music session wasn’t my thing, even from a distance I could feel my nerves getting frayed. So I was happy on the bead threading and colouring table.

Except… beads roll. And little darlings figure out real quick who the newbie fool is who keeps running after them. And then it just turned into a take-the-piss-session with them giving me false names to write on their drawings! I didn’t even clock why they were all grinning so happily, till I tried to lay out their stuff for home time and discovered there wasn’t a Thomas at nursery.

Still, it was an experience. And Auntie Fi reckons I’ve missed my vocation in life. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I definitely, definitely have not!

On the home front, I returned to a cold cluttered kitchen with S whining for her lunch before I’d even got rid of the cereal bowls.

But I did make P happy this morning, after he silently came into our bedroom and stood watching me dance to Sex Bomb in my underwear. Though it was his giggles that alerted me, I dread to think what damage I may have caused that boy!

Oh and talking about sex and underwear, I’m beginning to think people who have regular, rewarding sex lives do the same as mothers when talking to pregnant women. We keep quiet. I'm thinking this because Doug posted the results about average sex around the world. The results didn’t surprise me (well some of the spanking and faking it did, and I’m amazed foreplay isn’t more popular!), but either I'm a lonely soul, or the other people enjoying it are staying quiet.