By mandygarner on September 01, 2009
I arrived at the weekend like a washed up rat and not just because of a downpour on the motorway on the way home on Friday. I'd done a few late nights and I was feeling about 100. Not, perhaps, the best conditions to go to a tracksuit party with lots of young people [ie younger than me]. First, of course, we had the usual routine of getting all the kids up and doing the washing, cleaning out the guinea pig [I seem to have been nominated for this role. I had a funny feeling this would happen when we got him], etc. We dropped my oldest daughter at a friend's and toured the area where we used to live [we moved two years ago from London] - the school, the nursery, the old streets...Had we made the right decision to leave? Actually, I have no idea as I am too tired to contemplate such things, but my partner says yes, although he still pines for shoe shops. We wanted the full London experience so we headed for Ikea on the excuse that we needed a bath mat.
Then it was off to the party. I haven't ever owned a tracksuit so I had to borrow my partner's and roll up the bottoms with safety pins. I wasn't feeling in party mood. I am afraid I was horribly anti-social and mostly hid with the kids and managed to con them into switching from the Wii to X-Factor, after I beat a seven year old at Wii tennis and was a little bit more enthusiastic about it than I perhaps should have been. I think I am slowly disappearing off the adult planet. I really don't feel I have anything much to say any more in the form of small talk. I tried a few attempts at conversation, but I think I bored at least one person into the ground with a rant about women's pay. In fact, even I was bored by my conversation. My best talks are, at the moment, with the guinea pig, telling him about my day rushing all over the place while he listens attentively and then recounts his own travels around his hutch. I think the best tactic is to listen to other people talk and just throw in a few questions, but when you are really tired it is hard to keep awake while they reply.
Anyway, the following day we had a complete anti-party experience, cleaning up the girls' room as middle daughter decamped to smallest daughter's room [she had been lodged with her older sister]. Smallest daughter welcomed her back with open arms, promising her gifts. However, oldest daughter, having used the threat of kicking middle daughter out of her room on several occasions, says she now wants everyone to move into her room. Meanwhile, middle daughter says she would like the opportunity to return to oldest daughter's room for sleepovers. Oldest daughter has a strict ban on middle daughter attending her sleepovers. My partner and I are thinking of moving to the shed in the garden until some sort of resolution is reached.
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