This morning whilst I was pootling away in the kitchen making breakfast (like there was any skill outside of opening packets and pouring milk involved) there came an almighty crash from elsewhere in the flat.
My initial response was to groan and begin yelling “Frankie, what the actual fucking fuck?” until I realised my laddo was still merrily driving his cars accross every available surface and hadn’t batted so much as one, enviably long eyelash.
Having proven himself innocent, I commenced a rather brisk scouting trip to locate the mystery thump.
Turns out, short of anything thoroughly exciting, my admittedly overloaded shower curtain rail had finally given up and…umm…exploded.
Being that we live in a rental I figured the best bet was to hide the evidence and make a suitably coy phonecall to maintenace assuring them “there was absolutely nothing on the rail outside of a rather nifty, tattoo themed curtain – honestly guvnor”.
This was a decidedly not good start to the day.
What followed has been a distinct feeling of getting handed a lovely present and then bitch-slapped with the accompanying greeting card.
- We braved a good hour or so of the Festival, catching a fabulous open air puppet show that thoroughly captivated the wee man.
- I had to dress down a few over eager tourists for getting all up in my face with a camera without so much as a how-de-do.
- Had a minor fangirl moment when Colin Hoult casually walked into my favourite cafe whilst we were enjoying a free lunch.
- Returned home to discover the shirt I spent last night patching up has a massive, unidentified stain down the front and I had missed a parcel…again
So on and so forth.
More often than not my days as a parent trundle on in reasonable mediocrity. Toddlers are tiny people of simple pleasures and this leads to a lot of repetition. I’m the first to complain loudly about losing track of days because what does it matter when your time keeping is based on naps taken, dinners worn, laundry done and trips to the park?
Then a day like today crops up and I realise two things: firstly how wonderful mediocrity is and secondly that occurences which would have had me throwing a hissy-fit two years ago have become little more than minor blips on the radar and things to add to my never ending list of To-Do’s.
Speaking of which, I have a soup to make.