I am away from the Axis this weekend, staying with some friends in Glasgow who are mercifully childless and who live in a beautiful flat where alcoholic drinks and Swiss Army knives can be kept inches from the floor with complete impunity. There have been whole meals eaten without screaming. There was the best part of an afternoon spent walking without anyone falling flat over and needing a hosing or producing any other uncleanable messes. There have been many moments of peace and quiet this weekend, which have utterly baffled me. What on earth did I do with myself before the arrival of the Axis?
One of the things I never used to do, but enjoy now, is a good long soak in a bath while the children are somewhere else. Peace, tranquillity, a great big sigh in a tub. Oh, lovely. Although I was very nearly put off the experience altogether by the 2-year-old Pie and his father when I was six months' pregnant with the Kong (who, yes, was called the Kong in utero).
Having had another delightful day of puking and horribleness I was lying in the bath, wincing at the weight of the Kong squirming about in his bag, and was finally beginning to feel a little better. Pie was downstairs with his dad, who still lived with us then, and they were playing some sweet little game...until I heard a splash, a screech, some bad language from Daddio and then the pair of them thundering up the stairs. Not good. Even worse when they burst into the bathroom, the Pie under his dad's arm like a side of beef, covered in mud and yelping. I struggled to sit up, but being heavily pregnant in a small bath I succumbed to the beached whale effect and made my protestations inches from the bubbles. 'What the hell are you doing?' I asked Daddio. 'Get him out of here!' Pie was wriggling out of his clothes, aided roughly by his father. 'THIS BOY...' began Daddio, but words obviously failed him and he finished the sentence by shaking his head in disgust. Stripping the Pie naked, he dumped him unceremoniously in the bath and then sat back, arms folded, still shaking his head. I was furious at my calm being invaded, but this was as naught compared to my feelings about what happened next.
For the wretched Pie, plonked in my lovely bath, stood up, howled once, peed on me, then splashed back down. And I am absolutely certain I heard the rotten unborn Kong laughing in my stomach.
Sunday 22 August 2010
Thursday 19 August 2010
National Mistrust
The Axis and I took a trip to a National Trust garden in Somerset with the Kong's friend, and the Kong's friend's mummy. I got lost on the A358 and so it took ages to get there. The Axis were baying for my blood by the time we arrived; unfortunately, they had to make do with ham sandwiches, which displeased them almightily. I appeased them with chocolate cake and thinly veiled threats.
The place itself, Montacute House, was beautiful; a stunning avenue of topiaried yew, at the top of which is the house, framed by some slightly bizarre fixed maypoles. The Pie obliged the elderly tourists by gambolling in and out of the poles in a very rosy-cheeked way. Kong's friend tried to keep up, finding it hard as he has only just started walking, and Kong sulked in his buggy as he realised that his refusal to walk meant his brother was stealing his friend.
So far, so good. Then the Axis saw two little girls in matching starched outfits whose parents had put a lovely, trailing ribbon in each of their gorgeous pigtails. From too far away, I saw the gleam in not one, not two, but today, just for the special occasion, three pairs of eyes (Kong's friend being the owner of the third pair, obv, and the reinforcement division of the Axis, as he is very sympathetic to their cause of ultimate mayhem) and started to run...ah, too late, too late; off came the ribbons, down came the pigtails, the beautiful white dresses were sullied with hideous muddy handprints as the Kong launched himself at them having crawled through a newly-tilled rosebed, Kong's friend launched his offensive with a hand missile (the remnants of his squished greengage, though if you hadn't known that's what it was, you'd have mistaken it for something of his own production) while the Pie danced around the harrassed family, interrogating them relentlessly - 'What's your name? Where your house? How old you?'. Witnessing the carnage from afar I decided to abort the rescue mission, did an abrupt volte-face and hoped like hell that no-one would think it too unlikely that a portly personage like me would be doing a spot of jogging, dressed in jeans and a khaki dress, in a National Trust garden in the middle of August. Kong's friend's Mummy cursed me as she had been attempting a similar escape, but was nearer, and so had to disentangle the extended Axis from Fifi and Trixabel's now considerably unlovely locks.
After the screaming subsided I crept out from my hiding place and realised I had been completed busted by KF's mum. She got her own back in the house itself, where the Pie excelled himself with his eyelash-fluttering at the older ladies and got nods of approval from several of the old gents, until we went upstairs to the bedrooms and the Axis saw the historic window seats and very fragile Queen Anne four-poster beds. I was busy trying to stop Kong from jumping out of ye olde leade windowe and didn't even notice the Pie climbing the antique bed; I was only alerted by the loudest, sharpest intake of breath I have ever heard emanating from a human to the sight of the Pie preparing to execute his (admittedly perfect) trampolining seat jumps on a relic of England. I grabbed the Pie mid-air, apologising profusely, and the tour guide fixed me with a steely look and said, 'And to think I came in because I thought he was jumping on the FLOOR.' Luckily she didn't notice the Kong dribbling over the 18th century samplers and I managed to boot him out of the room before he could do any more damage.
The rest of the day passed without major incident. As we were preparing to head back to Bristol, KF's mum and I sat on a bench, exhausted, while the boys poked through a nearby rubbish bin looking for discarded chocolate. 'Thank God for bedtime. You're so lucky, only having one,' I said. KF's mum nodded, somewhat absently. I continued. 'Listen, why don't you drop the little monkey off with your husband and then come round to mine for a drink ? I think we deserve a little alcoholic enhancement after today.' KF's mum turned to me. There was a faint look of creeping dread on her face. 'Oh, God,' she said. 'I'd love to. I really would. But...'
'What?'
She looked stricken. 'I'm pregnant. And they think it's twins.'
The place itself, Montacute House, was beautiful; a stunning avenue of topiaried yew, at the top of which is the house, framed by some slightly bizarre fixed maypoles. The Pie obliged the elderly tourists by gambolling in and out of the poles in a very rosy-cheeked way. Kong's friend tried to keep up, finding it hard as he has only just started walking, and Kong sulked in his buggy as he realised that his refusal to walk meant his brother was stealing his friend.
So far, so good. Then the Axis saw two little girls in matching starched outfits whose parents had put a lovely, trailing ribbon in each of their gorgeous pigtails. From too far away, I saw the gleam in not one, not two, but today, just for the special occasion, three pairs of eyes (Kong's friend being the owner of the third pair, obv, and the reinforcement division of the Axis, as he is very sympathetic to their cause of ultimate mayhem) and started to run...ah, too late, too late; off came the ribbons, down came the pigtails, the beautiful white dresses were sullied with hideous muddy handprints as the Kong launched himself at them having crawled through a newly-tilled rosebed, Kong's friend launched his offensive with a hand missile (the remnants of his squished greengage, though if you hadn't known that's what it was, you'd have mistaken it for something of his own production) while the Pie danced around the harrassed family, interrogating them relentlessly - 'What's your name? Where your house? How old you?'. Witnessing the carnage from afar I decided to abort the rescue mission, did an abrupt volte-face and hoped like hell that no-one would think it too unlikely that a portly personage like me would be doing a spot of jogging, dressed in jeans and a khaki dress, in a National Trust garden in the middle of August. Kong's friend's Mummy cursed me as she had been attempting a similar escape, but was nearer, and so had to disentangle the extended Axis from Fifi and Trixabel's now considerably unlovely locks.
After the screaming subsided I crept out from my hiding place and realised I had been completed busted by KF's mum. She got her own back in the house itself, where the Pie excelled himself with his eyelash-fluttering at the older ladies and got nods of approval from several of the old gents, until we went upstairs to the bedrooms and the Axis saw the historic window seats and very fragile Queen Anne four-poster beds. I was busy trying to stop Kong from jumping out of ye olde leade windowe and didn't even notice the Pie climbing the antique bed; I was only alerted by the loudest, sharpest intake of breath I have ever heard emanating from a human to the sight of the Pie preparing to execute his (admittedly perfect) trampolining seat jumps on a relic of England. I grabbed the Pie mid-air, apologising profusely, and the tour guide fixed me with a steely look and said, 'And to think I came in because I thought he was jumping on the FLOOR.' Luckily she didn't notice the Kong dribbling over the 18th century samplers and I managed to boot him out of the room before he could do any more damage.
The rest of the day passed without major incident. As we were preparing to head back to Bristol, KF's mum and I sat on a bench, exhausted, while the boys poked through a nearby rubbish bin looking for discarded chocolate. 'Thank God for bedtime. You're so lucky, only having one,' I said. KF's mum nodded, somewhat absently. I continued. 'Listen, why don't you drop the little monkey off with your husband and then come round to mine for a drink ? I think we deserve a little alcoholic enhancement after today.' KF's mum turned to me. There was a faint look of creeping dread on her face. 'Oh, God,' she said. 'I'd love to. I really would. But...'
'What?'
She looked stricken. 'I'm pregnant. And they think it's twins.'
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
