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Friday 19 August 2016

When you're more 'dressing gown' than 'dressing up'

As someone who was still getting ID'd at thirty years of age, I give myself permission, from time to time, to act like my mother.

Hence, it's ten to nine in the evening and I'm in my pyjamas already. Actually, if you want the truth, I was in my pyjamas twenty minutes ago and have been thinking about the moment I could put them on since three o'clock this afternoon (its been one of those days). I'm sitting in bed cocooned in my fluffy dressing gown, accompanied by a small drop of Jack Daniel's Honey.

Little O has been particularly trying today, not helped by the fact that my red-cheeked baby has been getting some gyp from his emerging gnashers. Much as I thought I'd nailed it the other day, the self-appointed 'Supermum' status doesn't last long and that tiara slides off darn easy these days.

Ah well. Some you win, some you lose. I mean, how do you explain electrocution to a two year-old? 

"Sweetheart, you can't put your ship in the bath or it won't work any more..."


Yeah, that went well... another half hour of my life I won't see again. Though I did manage to scam a brief bit of peace by shoving The Polar Express in the DVD player later this afternoon. I know, watching Christmas films in August is a bit screwed. But if you go off run times, it was the longest U-rated in the cupboard and that, in my book, gives it year-round play-ability. And it's not something I resort to every day so I reckon I'm allowed.

I've just glanced to my right and spotted the John Grisham novel I've had for over a month. I've only managed to reach page 58 (out of 371) and I almost want to apologise to it. Sorry I've neglected you, John, but the days of finishing a book within a week are long gone. As a child I would loan five books from the library and have them read by the end of the week. As an adult, I would always take some sunbed fodder with me on holidays abroad.

And now, what was the last thing I read? The free Bounty magazine I got with the family pack (it actually had a very useful article on childhood illnesses - look it up). I'll get back to John at some point, in between the writing and the mothering, and dancing and cleaning and cooking, I will find time for him again.

Ah, bugger it - I've finished my Honey. That's my cue to wish you all a 'Nos Da.' At least I can rest assured that if I fall asleep in my chair like Mum, I won't wake myself up snoring. Because I don't snore. 

Definitely, probably...maybe.


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