I have been home exactly 24 hours. My daughter has phoned to ask if I am missing the family yet?
What can I say? I am still waiting for my head to catch up with my body, though I have at last had nine hours sleep. I expect it's a bit like maternal amnesia, you know that euphoric post partum state where you forget how awful the birth was.
OK I am starting to recall some of the really nice moments like the smaller fairy saying "You're a fastcoach, Grandma!" (i.e. the opposite of a slow coach) as we were racing down the highway to pick up Dad from the airport. Or, following our discussion on rainbows, explaining to her older sister that when you get rain and sunshine together, "Any minute you'll hear a rainbow." Or maybe her older sister explaining carefully to the boy next door that she is wearing a "Leotart" not her underwear.
However, at the moment my memories are far more closely embodied in the wonderful little book by Adam Mansbach "Go The F**k to Sleep."
Speaking of same, Weekend Australian Columnist James Valentine has suggested several sequels (Weekend Australian June 25- 26, 2011:Inquirer:8) such as "Eat your F**king Greens" and "Don't F**king Whine" which he claims would bring great comfort to many a rattled parent or carer, never mind the profanity. I couldn't agree more. I could also be tempted by another of his suggested titles "Because I F**king Said So, That's Why." On some days I would even agree with the lady at the school pick-up who, when asked how her day was, said, " It's been one of those days when you understand why some animals eat their young."
Ask me again in about two weeks, or maybe two months when the memories of nightly bedtime battles and daily food fights has faded. Not that I don't love you all dearly.
P.S. Did you manage to get all the fairy dust out of the bathroom? That's what happens when you live with fairies.
What can I say? I am still waiting for my head to catch up with my body, though I have at last had nine hours sleep. I expect it's a bit like maternal amnesia, you know that euphoric post partum state where you forget how awful the birth was.
OK I am starting to recall some of the really nice moments like the smaller fairy saying "You're a fastcoach, Grandma!" (i.e. the opposite of a slow coach) as we were racing down the highway to pick up Dad from the airport. Or, following our discussion on rainbows, explaining to her older sister that when you get rain and sunshine together, "Any minute you'll hear a rainbow." Or maybe her older sister explaining carefully to the boy next door that she is wearing a "Leotart" not her underwear.
However, at the moment my memories are far more closely embodied in the wonderful little book by Adam Mansbach "Go The F**k to Sleep."
Speaking of same, Weekend Australian Columnist James Valentine has suggested several sequels (Weekend Australian June 25- 26, 2011:Inquirer:8) such as "Eat your F**king Greens" and "Don't F**king Whine" which he claims would bring great comfort to many a rattled parent or carer, never mind the profanity. I couldn't agree more. I could also be tempted by another of his suggested titles "Because I F**king Said So, That's Why." On some days I would even agree with the lady at the school pick-up who, when asked how her day was, said, " It's been one of those days when you understand why some animals eat their young."
Ask me again in about two weeks, or maybe two months when the memories of nightly bedtime battles and daily food fights has faded. Not that I don't love you all dearly.
P.S. Did you manage to get all the fairy dust out of the bathroom? That's what happens when you live with fairies.
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