Monday, 2 April 2012

Monday, Monday....

It would be true to say that I've had better Mondays. It began with a little voice in my ear whispering, 'Mummy, the tooth fairy forgot to come'. Bugger bugger bugger. I blearily opened my eyes to peer at the disappointment in Rory's little face and wanted to shut them again.
'Don't you worry, the Easter holidays are coming so there must be a back log. She'll DEFINITELY be here tonight, you wait and see.'
I'm not really sure what's going on with Rory's mouth at the moment, but the tooth fairy has her feet run off her for the last month or so. He is literally losing a tooth every few weeks, with the result that he now has more gaps than teeth. So, picture bloody perfect for the fast approaching family weddings and Holy Communion then!
Then, Jude came in to inform me that there was no milk for the cereal. Not. A. Drop. To Jude, for whom cereal is a food group all on its own, this was hard to take in.
'Well, could Daddy not go and get some?
'No he can't, not this morning.'
'But why not?'
There was an edge of desperation in his tone now, and he was actually beginning to wring his hands.
'Because daddy is sort of busy this morning.'
 'But Mummy, where IS Daddy and why can't he get the milk?'
'Well, if you really want to know, he's sitting in the car at the top of the road reading a magazine.'
Yes, you really did read that right. For after dropping Anna off to the school bus at 730am, he parked the car, took out his magazine and enjoyed a spot of 'me' time for, as it turned out, two hours. But not before thoughtfully polishing off the end of the milk for his own cereal first.
Meanwhile, Jude worked his way through bafflement, (What! Why?), to denial, ('Maybe there IS some milk and I just missed it'), to bitter disappointment, ('I just can't believe this is happening to me'), and finally to acceptance, ('I suppose pancakes will have to do, just this once'.)
I grumped about a bit, organising the boys for school, mildly annoyed at not being able to walk off that caramel egg I'd consumed at 10 o'clock the night before, and I don't mind telling you, the mental image of Himself chill-axing, with the seat reclined and a bellyful of milk was hard to take.
So how did it come to this, I hear you plead? Well now, to answer THAT, I'll have to rewind to Saturday morning, or actually to even further back last week, when I decided to clear out all the wardrobes of Winter clothes. Hours and hours it took me, and when I'd finished, there were piles of bags, about 10 in all, bound for various destinations. The best quality stuff was organised by age and gender and earmarked for various younger cousins and friends. There were bags of shoes for a shoe appeal in Africa, (for which Loverboy felt the need to unhelpfully query whether my red patent wedge boots would be fully appreciated, or even particularly practical. As it happens, despite appearances they're VERY comfortable.)
The other bags- mostly well worn clothes that had already been passed down through my boys, and the adult clothes, were ready for the St Vincent de Paul dropoff bin at the top of our road. Mindful of the number of bags, and the potential for confusion, I had placed all the bags for charity on the landing, while all the Belfast bound bags were safely in the back of my minivan. Then, on Saturday morning, I asked Loverboy to bring the charity bags to the bin at the top of the road, and although I knew I was labouring the point a fair bit, I cautioned him several times to make sure the charity bags were kept seperate from the family bags in the boot. And he did. I know this because I surreptiously watched him put them into the car - I just couldn't help myself-so feeling reassured, I watched him drive off.
The money shot...
Oh no! Surely not! He couldn't have, I hear you say! But oh yes, indeed he could and did. For reasons, I still cannot fathom, he somehow managed to put several of the wrong bags into the charity bin, before realizing his gargantuan mistake. Apparently, at that point he then did everything he could, save climbing into the bin, to retrieve the bags. To no avail for the damage was done. To cut a long story short, after bracing himself for my incredulous wrath, he managed to find out when the van came round to empty the bin, and yes, you've guessed it, it was Monday morning. So there you have it- after two hours he ended up retrieving the bags, I got the kids to school, stopping to take the money shot on the way, and bought more milk. Then later on, I squeezed that walk in and have it on good authority that the tooth fairy will definitely be making a stop here tonight too, So all's well that ends well. Happy Monday y'all! Emmax


  1. Well I'm still laughing away to myself after that Ems!! I can't begin to imagine how Jude managed without cereal!! And LoverBoy-great altogether!! Mary xxx

  2. Here's the real story - she was complaining on Saturday about having nothing to write about, so I very generously manufactured this situation to fuel her writing imagination..... honest.

  3. Now... I do hate to get you in the goalies when you're down but did the tooth fairy not disappoint a Horner babe not that long ago??? I would have a very firm word about that one and in the meantime devise an ingenious method of helping one's fairy to remember in future.... large note on the stairs might help him/her...!
    As for the clothes... I did wonder what D was doing this am but being my timely self there was no time to gawp ... mind you I'm rather impressed by his determination (could there have been consequences otherwise??!!) Pete would for sure have been content to feel that St V were the beneficiaries of slightly less worn out clothes than usual ...

    1. What can I say except that's why they call me the unfit mother....As for the clothes, there was some wedding stuff for the younger cousins, but there you go- probably wouldn't have been the end of the world!

  4. Firstly Nadine, yes I remember that poor fairy being blamed too!!
    Secondly, but more importantly(nadine you will agree) I am a personal friend of the tooth fairy having reared 5(people not fairies) myself. so here's the deal TELL WEE RORY who as the generous heart,"Son, TELL AUNTIE B, next time cos she is a personal friend of the tooth fairy! she will ensure that after a hope filled night and the first thought upon wakening that YES the tooth fairy remembered!

    Deflection tactics regarding clothing is a lost cause on auntie B. Tooth fairy, way more important...

    Lovergent - this applies to you too! As the wise NAdine points out, the fear of
    consequences may have been on your mind - it's big mama B here, doesn't cut it! Rory needs double the spondulicks!

    Loving that wee family


  5. Consider this unfit mother properly chastised- repeat after me- I will never ever forget again!

  6. Jennifer Boyle13 May 2012 at 17:08

    Class! Sure its good training for them for life that things don't always go like clockwork, that's what my Mummy used to say when something went wrong! I am sure it got made up big time! If Damian is anything like Joe he was quite enjoying sitting alone in a quiet car and would do it every morning given the chance!