Dancing on the ceiling

Dancing on the Ceiling

There is a bruise the shape of Italy across my back. It is huge, 40cms by 20cms maybe, I shan't be sharing a photo with you because I am not posting a picture of my bum on the blog. It is not that kind of blog. It looks like boiling blackcurrant jam just as the fruits are bursting and has a heat to match. It is raised and the bump shows through my clothes. Worse than the pain is that it makes me nervous to be touched and jumped upon.......tricky as an attachment parent of three young children with a love of snugging.

Yesterday, whilst reclining at an angle on the sofa, I wrote a really long blog post about Christmas and how it can be a rough time for some outside the boxers to but, in 400 blog posts without hitch, somehow blogger swallowed it. I am not going to re-write it. One of the great things I enjoy about blogging is how once something is written it can be filed away and moved on from. Much of it was inspired by my experiences running the local home ed group for 5 years and times with La Leche League. You know the joke

"Anyone who says that Christmas is for kids obviously doesn't have any."

This period is so loaded with religion, for home educators they might be mourning the missed opportunity to wear a tea towel on their head in the school gym, for vegetarians the dead meat waiting to be carved takes centre stage, inappropriate gifts abound, too much alcohol is consumed and, for many of the beautiful children we know, excitement crushes their tender souls. The snap of crackers, sleeping in unfamiliar beds, having guests for extended periods. The disappointment of a much anticipated gift failing to materialise under the tree. Children find social niceties harder than adults and I am sure many mothers dread the

"You've been here long enough can you go home now?"

Anyhow, Yesterday we had our regular Friday help (bearing roses :-)) so I was able to pop (well, sort of stagger!) out and do some errands and in the afternoon we went to Fishers Farm, too late I noticed a text from The Daddy One letting me know that there was a event at Goodwood, which Baby Small would have enjoyed, but some of our number needed to jump around but all a bit sub par once they started jumping they started coughing. A lady asked if the 4 year old twin girls were mine. When I said they were 5 & 7 she asked if they had an inset day. As soon as I told her they were home educated they all starting fighting and arguing. I remember this happened once before. Then, when I was in the supermarket the cashier told my long haired son that Ben 10 magazine was for boys - Does she tell the consumers of pornography that it is only for perverts? Or readers of Top Gear magazine that the authors grasp on reality is tenuous at best? Since when did supermarkets employ gender police? Why are people so thoughtless?

Every surface of Fishers was being covered in: glitter, tinsel, baubles, twinkly lights looking very cosy and festive with the holly and berries. Sometimes lunch out can be a day saver. On Thursday night we wrapped up all the christmas presents for the children -we have a seeker in the house as the bithday searching episode showed so we had to act fast! On the gift score it is all done.

Felt good to have it all out the way on December 1st. Obviously too good, or maybe it's the pain, as for the first time in months (years!) I had a dream. Rare for a nighttime breasfeeder due to alerted prolactin levels apparently. Very surreal dream featuring Jensen Button. No, I don't know either.

Last night we watched a strange film called The Box followed by a documentary about Lionel Richie which was brilliant, what a singing and song writing talent another example of a skill set not learnt in school.

This morning E started climbing on me and, despite frequent requests, didn't stop tempers were lost he said "I try and listen Mum but in my head monsters with googly eyes are killing Peter and Jane" he is doing so well at his reading as well!

Then, whilst The Daddy One was at the hairdressers having a pre Texas trim Baby Small got hold of the glitter, made it snow in duplo land, gave a sprinkling to the kitchen and a light dusting on the stairs and so on. I went really mad. Pain has shortened my temper to minimum fuse and, after his horror start to the morning, it was Middle Small who followed me round with the dustpan and brush. He is the extreme in everything. I'm really into this song as well today "I'm running so so slow, I've got nowhere to go."

Berlin