HAPPY HANNAHMAS EVERYONE!!!!
Just like if Jesus was alive today and had to have his birthday presents and his Christmas presents on the same day (it is still Christmas, whether you are Jesus or not), I have Mothers Day and my birthday very close together too. Lets call it HannahMas. I have a lot of lovely people asking me what I want for presents and what I would like to do for HannahMas. I am like Jesus in that we will both say “oh, I really dont need anything at all. I have all I need”. But whereas he means it, I am not sure that I do. I like the presents. I like it when my husband comes home from work and scurries upstairs with an amazon box he hides under the bed. Yessssssssssssssssss! I don’t expect Jesus would do that.
But I can’t actually think this year what I want as a present.
Lets start with activities…I would like a cup of tea in bed. I have not had a cup of tea in bed since I was a little girl. Yes. Tick.
I would love a cake, but I don’t want to walk into the kitchen and see the mess made by the (wonderful and kind) cake making. Hmm…question mark over this.
The very fact I am celebrating being a mother means I should probably spend some time with the children (even if really I would just love to be “Hannah” for a few hours and fester in my pit drinking tea, eating chocolate and reading OK Magazine). So even though I want to be selfish, I can’t be totally selfish. But the facts are these, if I see another soft play area I am going to vomit on the spot. Spring is sprung and this means the children want to start going to play parks again and the park was suggested for this Sunday. The park in our village makes me break out into a cold sweat when I see it. I hate it. I hate it. Parks are dirty and they smell like sweaty feet and dog poo. I will not go to a park on Sunday. I wont. I cant. Big fat cross by that one.
Lunch out wasn’t even on the radar of things to do. In restaurants we are THAT family – the one that always ends up sitting next to you, the one that is noisy and shouty and messy. Yes you have some of our mashed potato in your hair and yes my son did sneeze into your pint. So Valentines Day, Mothers Day, birthdays in our house are looked forward to because it means a take away dinner treat. BUT, when I was in my twenties *sighs and sobs a bit* I could binge eat during the weekend, wince a bit on a Monday morning when I got on the scales, but by Friday and being sensible and healthy during the week I would have lost 4lbs. Not anymore. That crispy duck will sit on my hips for weeks. I will frantically try and Davina-work-out-vid it off to Ed watching me and saying things like “why is your bum wobbling?” and “I can see your knees now!” and “hmmm how WILL we get rid of that fat tummy?”. So…take away? Hmmm…yeah sod it, lets put a tick by that one.
Presents now…
Smudge hadn’t mentioned my birthday so I sent him a text on my new touch pad smart phone.
“do you wanr mt birthday lust”? ARGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG! NO! Not lust, list! LIST!
Funnily enough I got a quick reply.
“Yes please”.
ARG! NO! List. LIST!
Perhaps I could ask for some new pants for my birthday? I seem to have left my standards at the Birthing Centre. Last week whilst we were getting the kids ready for bed I pulled the sides of my pants up over my hips and tied my kaftan into a big puffy 1990’s style mini top.
“LOOK!” I said to Smudge “It’s like I am on Baywatch or something” *starts to strut about*.
“Are they new pants?” he said
“No. Why?”
“I didn’t know you had grey ones”.
I don’t.
Hmmmm. New pants on the list then. Tick.
During the cold snap I had a bath to warm myself up and noticed my floating body bits looked like an atoll. A cluster of floating Islands, some bigger than others, in a sea of toy boats. Ugh. I thought I would try and solve the problem by drowning the Islands so I put some more water in the bath. And covered them with a makka pakka flannel (WHY WONT THE ISLANDS JUST F*CK OFF??!). Hmmm…Bubble Baths. Will pop Bubble Baths on the Mothers Day/ Birthday list. Cover the atoll in bubbly clouds. Tick.
“What about new shoes?” asks my dad as we walk past the shoe section in House of Fraser. He picks up a pair of killer Karen Millens (he obviously did not check the price. And he is obviously in touch with his inner woman). I look down at my once-black-now-mucky-grey New Look flats from 3 summers ago. As soon as my Edward egg got fertilized, my attitude (conscious and subconious) to wearing heels changed forever. I didn’t wear heels during the first pregnancy in case I fell over because of them – I had a lodger to think about. I didn’t wear them the second pregnancy because my stupid hormones had made my stupid fat feet feet grow half a size bigger so none of my heels even fitted anymore. At 5ft nothing and with size 7 feet I look like a golf club. The last time I wore heels was last year. I went out for a meal with mates.I made it out of the car, across the pavement, and then fell flat on my face
“You look like you’re praying” one of them said.
So maybe I could put pretty flat shoes on my list? Oh and retelling this story reminds me something else I want to put on my list – wine. Tick and tick.
A Lionel Ritchie CD is on my list, for the car. Had had to do an emergency stop and pull over into Reading services last Sunday to willingly pay service station prices for a chart CD which would be half the price on Amazon. The radio was chuff. Dance on 1. Elaine page presenting (who let her do that?! Why?! why why why?) on 2. Gardening on 4. I need a back up for the glove box and it needs to be Lionel.
*drums fingers on table*.
“Ed? What shall we do for Mothers Day?”
“Mothers Day? When is it?”
“Sunday”
“Dunno. When is it Boys Day?”
“Er….there isn’t one”.
“WHAT?!!” (he says incredulously) “I think it is on Saturday. And I think we should have some cake”.
Yeah, go on then. TICK TICK TICK.
mamabearwithme 