Mine all mine...

I have just arrived home from work and whilst waiting for the kettle to boil I log on to blogger....I check my blog, then check out our Mad Manic Mama's blog and read Expat's Mum's post and then my mind starts a commentary and I have to type it out or lose it.....so please go read her post first then you'll get the gist of mine....

Ahhh, secretly l think they are still ours... that is my big girl and my tall boy. My man child, was (is still) sitting in my brand new (mine) armchair with his feet up on the brand new (mine) pooffe, sorry not very pc, my new er foot chair....and he's not budging....he smiled though, as I walked in the house, and that smile is so wide, so light up the room bright and just pure gold. I get the kettle on and walk over to him, 'Hello, how was your day?' I ask, he grunts... and l lean over him... I do not detect any deep sighing or tutting, I guess he is breathing gently in resignation. He is mine, on my chair, my captive... I lean in. I Breathe so deeply and smell him. Drink him in, my baby boy, l could weep. The essence of the baby l carried, is still there, I shoved a big fat red lipsticked smackarooo on the back of his neck and rubbed the lippy right off... that smell,that touch can sustain me for a week... though I admit not much more, but by then l can sneak another or a hug. And Boy can he hug.

Upstairs, my big girl,18 at Christmas, is lying in bed, feeling sooo tired and a bit head cold-y. And perhaps just a tad sad I reckon, as she failed her test two days ago. I leaned in, I don't care If I catch anything. l'm sure the bloody swine is still alive and well, in this boot fair of a room, a floor full of worn clothing, dirty crockery, unfinished coursework and odd shoes... I ignore the overwhelming urge to moan, fret and complain about it AGAIN. Instead I take advantage of her prostrate state and again I Breathe deeply and my mood and mindset is totally erased... It's no matter we've hardly passed two civil words to each other in a fortnight...my baby girl is feeling unwell...and I love her. She can cuddle for England, swear for France and a few days ago when I told her I loved her and she responded in kind, I was surprised and said, 'Yeah but REALLY? Do you? I would never guess.' she laughed out loud and said 'Of course' It's mandatory I HAVE to, it's my job!' How the tables turn, I said it when she was six and right back at me!

Such are the innate feelings of love between mother and her child! Life without it once you've experienced it. I couldn't imagine otherwise. How do some women, men cope without them in their lives. I know we moan about our teens, hence the MMM blog. But. When we say we would walk through fire for them, it isn't a throw away remark. I wonder how old they'll be before they realise it...

All in a days work..

I was reading earlier Gone back down south's recent Role reversal post, a Post of the Day nomination at David McMahon's wonderful blog, and I couldn't help reflecting upon yesterday a day of crisis, work, education and retail therapy (of others not mine) , culminating in an almost confrontation of teenage and menopausal hormones.

I went to work as usual and my day there was divided between, the monitoring of the Art Gallery and its exclusive   Art Exhibition and then onto the museum shop for the afternoon. Enough to keep me busy and out of trouble, one would think. Although the day was expected to be relatively quiet, the morning was eventful nonetheless.  As I chatted art and the sublime new exhibits  with a couple of visitors, out of the corner of my eye I spied another visitor who had decided to sit down on a piece of sculpture!  

I  shouted out to her, 'Please don't sit on that!' as l saw her generous bottom begin its descent  upon the polyester resin sculpture with an accompanying   'CrUnCh'   OMG ... I was mortified!

Whatever your view on modern /contemporary art  surely,  even a philistine would have respect enough not to sit on a sculpture .... wouldn't you think? Nuff said that my heart nearly jumped out of my chest as I inspected the piece for evidence of damage, I called for the curator and cordoned off the exhibit ... sigh ... the visitor proffered no apologies, saying she thought it was for sitting and blamed the too subtle signage! When I left for my lunch break, my eyes pricked tears behind them I know not why, I guess I felt a tad overwhelmed.

The afternoon was less eventful, but busier as I was manning the Museum shop and even a shop full of giggling school children didn't phase me after the morning happening. Several  colleagues came and offered me sympathy, as it feels terrible if something happens on our watch!

After closing up at the end of our work day, I had a 15 minute window to get to evening class or get home first, so l phoned the kids to make sure the house wasn't burned down ( don't laugh, that is another story!). All was well seemingly, so off to college I drove and enjoyed two hours applying myself to the elements of Photoshop, which is great fun, though I'll not remember half of it unless l practice and I must figure out  how cloning a lizard and applying stones with have a valid or pratical application in my life or work. This is supposed to help me with the editing of images and creating graphics for my vintage clothing business, that  which is in need of my full attention... some day!

I  had left home 10+ hours earlier, so tired and hungry I drove home only  minutes away and I noted that the wheelie bin was still out in the street, even though my son had promised on the phone to bring it inside, one bad mark. 

Through the kitchen window, I noted the washing up was strewn all over the sink, cooker, counter, not in the dishwasher, how lucky are we?This is not unusual, a second bad mark.  

The back door was locked, but no one responded to my knocking, #4 bad mark, so l went in the front door... still no one noticed but the dog who greeted me, ever faithful unless someone else has a biscuit in their pocket within 10 yards! 

My son (14) was doing homework at his desk, he told me hi and he had made a pot of tea,  it was indeed brewing, with my hopes rising, I entered the living room to ... my daughter (16) frowning and mumbling swear words, not softly enough actually and was  watching some bloody football!  (see  What the F***?  ) 

Voicing my hope that this was indeed 'almost over!', she told me in no uncertain terms, it had just started, she had been looking forward to it all day, that it is on ITV4 and we don't get that or in fact any other channels in any other room of the house!  To tired to argue I left the room sighing and scowling. I admit that was weak of me but I  told myself I should shower and  change, bake a potato, then return to the living room refreshed, my thoughts regrouped and ready to  take on daughter and even to check out the new tv digital system installed this week  (which replaced, the over priced and underused and as yet uncancelled SKY System).

By the  time I had showered, cooked, eaten and cleaned up it was 9.55pm and the football was still on. I was in no mood to watch it but  to say anything would attract more grunts and groans and put ME in a mood! 

My daughter looked up and smiled (!) and said, 'I'm buzzing,  we won the match and I won a fiver', she passed me the remote, 'All yours ,' she said, ' l'm off to shower and bed, I've already done my homework. Night!' She gave me a kiss and was off! Ahhhh .... all bad marks erased, what a good girl! Am I soft or what!?

I collapsed on the couch and watched  saved episode's of Strictly - it takes two....

... all in a day's work!?