There are good reasons why my blogging of late has been…um…well – it hasn’t been. I find it so disappointing – but honestly, the past six weeks have been the hardest time that I have had since having two Smalls. The endless and ongoing sicknesses – poor Small DB has basically been unwell for most of that time, with a brief window when we escaped to Lake Eppalock via our city expedition.
M has also now been sick for almost three weeks. Despite this he still has to wrangle the Smalls solo for the two days a week that I try to work. Last week Small DB was so dire and he was so trashed that my work stretched out over three or four days in the most torturous way. I would say that we really miss my mother being around at such times, but…we don’t – because she avoids sickness at all costs. At present she’s swimming in the ocean off Martha’s Vineyard and I resent every single SECOND 😛 Grrrr.
Slowly, very slowly, Small DB is starting to Get Her Beans Back. Her huge capacity for love and affection (about which I so want to write before she turns TWO) is only equalled by her devilish craziness. This week she has driven me to near breaking point – probably mostly because her little dramas occur toward the end of the day when I’ve not eaten enough, or taken them out when I probably shouldn’t have.
I don’t recall having such issues with Small Z, but on Tuesday afternoon Small DB took her shoes off in the Post Office and refused to put them back on. Then raced from the building, down the rain-dampened street in her socks and into (for some unknown reason) the camping supplies shop. She didn’t stop. She pelted straight down the back towards the staff area, where Small Z and I caught her.
I picked her up and stomped onwards to the Health Food Shop. There, as I was fumbling with massive amounts of coins as their EFTPOS machine had died, Small DB quietly stole a lollipop, ripped off the wrapper, and gobbed it. Her first lollipop (on my watch). Gah.
The following night I took them supermarket shopping. Just before dinner time. WRONG. SO WRONG.
Kind old lady: Your little one has just slipped over in next aisle.
Me (stony faced): That’s because she’s running around in her socks and won’t wear her shoes…
Other kind old lady: Ah – your girls are SO CUTE!
Me (stony faced): It’s a survival ploy.
Then, as I tried to locate Small DB who had run to the other end of the store, Small Z buggered around with the trolley and knocked over heaps of paper towel rolls and started screaming (like I beat her daily) “I didn’t mean it Mama!! It was an accident.” She was crying and crying and I was barking, “It’s fine, just help me stack them back up, don’t worry about it.” But she continued shrieking and this OTHER old lady came past and was saying, “It’s just an accident mum, she didn’t mean it. It’s alright sweetheart. It’s alright, isn’t it mum?….” and acting like I was a total cow.
Then DB ran to the vegetables and started filling up a mushroom bag so I stuffed her into the trolley again, but this time strapped her in, so she went nuts and I got to the checkouts and there were none empty and the woman there took one look at me and said “I’ll open number five for you.”
My only consolations were the wine that my dad had left me and the fact that the Smalls would be M’s problem for the following two days, because I had to do PAID work. ‘Road rage’ is an accepted term – I’m musing on ‘Parent Rage’…