“This is the best Mummy-Daughter Day EVER! Yoohoo!” hollered Maxi as she shot past me on her bike. Yessssssss!
We’d spent the weekend mostly being confined to a house or car (visiting much-loved relatives in Liverpool all weekend) and didn’t get back till midnight on Sunday, so today (Monday)’s been a bit of a washout. After The Boss went to work, we got up late (0830hrs), then dawdled around till the double appointment at the GP: Maxi now knows how to take care of her ingrowing toenails; Midi has one grommet left in; she also has a blood-shot eye that’s not apparently caused by anything sinister. Bonus.
We did a quick emergency food shop then blasted through the library. The poor librarian! Before we go in, I always try to calm the kids down and caution them not to barrel in yelling, but every time they last about 10 seconds before exploding in a 6-handed whirl of book-grabbing excitement. When we trogged home, Mini had a 20 minute ‘quiet time’ reading her library books in bed while I made lunch and did a mountain of laundry. Midi reluctantly helped me make up some naan bread mix. We left that to rise while we had an hour blowing away the cobwebs at the swing-park before dinner. The Boss made gujarati beans as soon as he got home from work while I
drank some Lovely Cold Wine grilled the naans to go with the chicken-curry-from-a-jar.
Midi’s throat is still sore and her cough is no better from the weekend, so she and tired-out Mini got an early night with The Boss while I took Maxi out for a spin on her bike.
What a lovely evening! The Boss had given Maxi some bike lights for her bike that she footered around with happily. Being able to see her gleaming head and tail lights definitely encouraged me to let her go off further afield without me hovering over her: good for us both! I strode along in the dappled evening sunlight as Maxi chattered away merrily, enjoying the luxury of being able to pedal at her own pace and whizz through muddy puddles. When I reassured her that clothes clean up and not to bother about a few splashes, she zoomed through the mud with more glee. Attagirl!
Alas, our hour of fun came to an abrupt halt when we returned and a sobbing Midi threw herself into my arms – The Boss hadn’t told her where we’d gone, and she’d been regretting her constantly scowled “I wish you were dead, Mummy!” every time she loses her temper. I stroked her hair while the poor wee thing sat in my lap, describing how her head gets “muddled up” when she loses her temper, and how words come out that she doesn’t know she’s saying. She’s certainly my most tempestuous daughter. And her temper is completely from me. God help us both when she’s pubescent and I’m menopausal!!