Posts from the Ledge

It may not seem like it, but I try really really hard to keep these posts vaguely on topic, but at the same time I do try not to overtly censor myself. I’m not read by many who actually know me, but there are days when a post will trigger a wonderful, warm text or email that is essentially underpinned be a concen that I may actually be posting from my window ledge. Today was one of those days – I got three such messages.

I usually post either before the monkey has cleared off to bed as she leaves a trail of books, pencils and CBeebies merchandise in her wake. Alternatively I’m hammering on a keyboard in the early morning, when she has yet to get up. Consequently, the odds are quite high that I’m wallowing in my feelings of inadequacy that I am in no way close to the embodiment of Glamazon Wife, Executive Stiletto UberBitch (Trademark Alison Pearson) or Domestic Goddess (yes, that’s YOU Nigella. You don’t fool me with your once-kitschy, jokey book titles and pretence at really being slovenly to make us all feel that  yes, yes you struggle too. I saw you in full gorgeousness on my hen night and I want my money back! Bugger off!) Which means reading anything I might be unloading onto the internet in this window is probably at a very minimum going to sound pre-menstrual.

What you don’t get to see is that after I’ve slammed shut the laptop, I’m usually off to bed with a book (blogandbed?) that will instantly mentally reboot me or in the other scenario, the offspring will be up and out the door and I will head off to work to attempt something that may or may not resemble productivity but nonetheless shakes me out of the funk and gets me on with doing something. This morning, the morning when I probably sounded like I was going to walk off a tall building because I was beyond finished when the alarm went off with no idea how I was even going to open my eyes, what you didn’t hear about after I shut the laptop, was this. The Monkeyface DID wig out as suspected as she was probably as exhausted as I and also didn’t want to get up. After a bit of a chat, she calmed down, she giggled and she wanted a book. Astonishing! She wanted We’re Wearing Out The Naughty Step (yes, we really are.) And she looked straight at me and uttered a whole, lovely sentence.She said “this is my favourite book, mummy.” A whole sentence. I swear it lifted my entire weekend out of the gutter.I positively bounded to work and if she hadnt taken my Oyster out of my bag during an elaborate game of “tickets” I’d have been on time too.

Tonight hasn’t been plain sailing, but it’s been manageable. I don’t even feel so tired that I think death would energise me. I don’t care that she’s finally discovered Peppa Pig through the Childminder, a programme I’ve invested 32 months avoiding. Just before bed, we read The Naughty Step again, and she made up her own story to read to Lola, who was covered up in bed. (Lola is her doll – I haven’t been blogging for 30 months and only favouring one child. That’s another part of the family you’re confusng me with.) Her first ever made up story. It went something like this although she told it better. I think you’ll agree, it’s inspired…

“Once upon a time there was a princess. She was very pretty and looked in the mirror every day. One day she went to bed and went to sleep. There was a big scary dragon who smelled bleuuuuuurghhh. He wanted to eat up all of daddy’s (indecipherable word.) It was very scary. Then Peppa Pig came along. She said SHOOOO to the dragon and it ran away. The End”

Mick Inkpen, be afraid.

HIGHLIGHTS OF THE DAY: Monkeyface is now fascinated by every mole, blemish, skintag and skin-based deformity. She completely independently kissed a mole on the back of my neck.

Monkeyface got through her first night without a nappy and accident free.

Her first made-up story

LOWLIGHTS OF THE DAY: Monkeyface is now fascinated by every mole, blemish, skintag and skin-based deformity. She may well have kissed a mole on the back of my neck, but she also prodded a small skintag under my armpit and proclaimed “mummy, are you sad? I’ll make it better” like I’m gross. Thanks for that!

Monkeyface made it all night without a nappy but tonight refused the potty. Instead she decided to sit on the floor and spray a fountain of wee everywhere.

No sleep. On that note… I’m off to bed with the late Nora Ephron”s Heartburn. Yeah, I was a teen in the 80s, so what?

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