So we had already had an eventful day. A trip out to town where the boys were very good! FYI, Paperchase, however lovely a shop - literally turns into a living hell when you apply two young children! Anyway, once we had escaped the rubbers, pens, lunch boxes, dinosaur stamps, snow globes and all other possible pointless purchase, I felt like they needed a little bit of 'them' time.
On the drive back I spotted a sign for a 'rare breeds farm' sounds like it may be worth a punt. It's half term, I should really be doing something like this I thought. I put my own personal preference for avoiding these places at all costs aside and as the sun came out, I thought, yes, this is going to be good. Entrance was promising, once out the car the boys started to chase a gaggle (see, look at my nature knowledge!) of geese. It was a bit pricey but I got discount so I splashed out and bought two bags of animal feed. Immediate disappointment.
A couple of desperate sheep, some suicidal chickens and a forlorn looking highland cow. It wasn't rare, it smelt bad (not just farm bad, like disease bad), it looked shabby. A few accents of bright graffiti tried to give it some weird street edge, why they thought this would work with it being a farm essentially catering for young children. There were, however, a huge number of massive trampolines dotted about the place which quite frankly the boys were more than happy with. We dumped , literally, the two bags of feed with two lonesome ponies. A chase of a peacock, a fruit shoot and a bag of wotsits later (also for the record Rufus does NOT like these cheesy snacks, and is most offended if presented with a bag of them - a fact that all of the diners at the cafe there were left in no doubt of!)
I was quite grateful that the staff were weird. The lad at the cafe fitted the expected mould when I asked what drinks he had for kids - the response (with a wink?!)' oh I'm sure I could do something with some milk?' Those who know my unfortunate face will be able to imagine the look?! I was, I think more bemused at the wink rather than questioning what in the hell he was planning on doing with the milk.
Anyway we left, exhausted. We drove home in near silence. We came home and returned to the default setting of sitting and watching a disney movie.
G returned, also exhausted after a pretty epic week at work. He, however had to go to a works BBQ. I may have mumbled something about this new job not being very family friendly, as I threw around some homemade pizzas that were mine and the children's tea. He left. I continued my monotonous routine. But, tonight, instead of wrestling Evelyn into her babygro, all whilst asking, begging the boys to just be quiet and stop fighting. I put them all into the car and drove to the BBQ. It wasn't completely spontaneous, there was a vague invite there. I knew no-one (apart from G obvs). There was wine, which I accepted, again....and again....and again (you get what happened) See, whilst I've been living here I haven't really had much social occasion. I think I have regressed so deep into living this mental life and being so open and lucid about how bonkers being a Mum is I forgot. These people, most of them were not parents, they were what I was before, they were normal. They were not going to ask me about my breastmilk, or my periods, or baby poo, or competitively drill me on child development. The main source of questioning seemed to circle about the lack of sleep, and how did I do it. I was open...I fear too open. My response was along the lines of 'well, I find, that I lost my shit so long ago, what is now, just seems normal?' accompanied with a slight deranged cackle. The thing is, it all seemed to go down very well, as did the wine.
Poor G was demoted to basically watching the children. They also provided a fair bit of crowd entertainment. Hector stood up in front of everyone and tried to execute the jokes he has learnt recently. His favourite is 'what do you get when you put a witch on the beach? A sandwich!' He also tried to make a speech. This was thwarted by G. Between the two of them, Hector and Rufus chased, hugged, kissed, pushed and screeched at the only other child there, a particularly cute little girl. There also was a rabbit escape at one point which I am fairly sure was down to them also.
We were there for a couple of hours. We made our mark. We left. Again in silence on the way home. The day after I did enquire as to what G's work colleagues thought of me. He joked (I don't think it was a joke though)
that I swore a lot, but was really nice. A fairly accurate and fair epitaph I think!
So I think from all of this, I think I fit in somewhere between the mentals down the farm, and the people who I used to be one of at the BBQ? A sobering point that occurred to me whilst nursing my hangover in Waitrose, surprisingly not the most middle class thing that i have ever said!
Middle class 😂😂😂
ReplyDelete