Millie...RIP

Yesterday has to go down in the annals of our history as a Truly Shit Day.
Millie, Daughter's beloved rabbit, escaped from the chicken run, where she resided with 4 chickens and 2 chicks, to explore the wilds of West Sussex. Or the Big Field, next to our garden.
She never came back, and all we could find was a small clump of the softest white fur, near the boundary of our garden.
So unbearably sad for my little girl, who wailed and cried and HURT all of yesterday, and on into the night. And is still hurting today. Her little eyes are red, and I keep spying her sloping off to have a quiet weep on her own.
Just awful.
But that's not the worst.
The worst is that it's my fault.
You see, I left the gate open to the chicken run.
I was responsible.
And it kills me that I have hurt my darling daughter by my carelessness.
The 'quick, quick' mentality that has become my life, because there just isn't enough time.
Bollocks.
There is ALWAYS enough time.
I just didn't spend it properly
And the consequences are horrid.
No happy ending to this post. I feel bleak and sad and bloody stupid.
In the meantime, Daughter needs lots of cuddles and time.
And I am trying hard to do that.
And ensuring that NEVER again do I sacrifice being careful for being hasty.
To hell with Crap Mother World.
Bring on Totally Crap Mother World.

God bless, Millie. I'm SO SORRY.

There's something in my Compost. Sod it, can you think of a catchier title??

Made a nice cup of tea last Friday morning. Scooped tea bag out of steaming cup and hurled it into compost bin, which lurks damply in the cupboard under the sink. I know it is the compost bin because it helpfully says COMPOST BIN on the side.
Anyway.
As I shut cupboard door, could have sworn that I saw something Move in the Compost Bin. Opened door wide again and peered into compost bin.
Buggering Bollocks.
Something WAS moving. Under the tea bag.
Well.
First things first.
Opened mouth wide, and turned throat inside out in Blood Curdling Scream. At top of voice. Through the open window, between Screams, I could hear the sound of Children Playing in the school opposite our house, on the other side of the lane.
It stands to reason that if I could hear them, then they could hear me.
Oops.
Closed mouth and stopped screaming. Began to laugh hard instead. Actually had to clap hands over mouth to stop the hysteria.
Peered in compost again.
Yup.
Something Definitely Alive and Moving.
Mouse?
Rat?
Insects Galore?
None of the above.
Instead I spy a Hamster.
Daughter's Hamster.
Blinking up at me in decidedly unhappy fashion.
What in hell's name was the hamster doing in my compost bin, when it was supposed to be in its cage, asleep?
Poor little mite had the teabag on its head and was not looking Best Pleased with life. Considering the tea bag was Hot. And Steaming.
Lifted Sandy (hamster, not tea bag) out of compost and gently removed tea drops from head and placed said Hamster back in cage where it should have sodding well been anyway.
And wondered how on EARTH it got out, crossed the room without being eaten by two cats, (and trodden on by three gullumping children) opened the cupboard door, climbed UP AND OVER AND INTO the compost bin, and then.... GONE TO SLEEP?????
Words fail me.
Suffice it to say that I did enjoy that cup of tea.
And made bloody sure that the door of Said Cage was kept firmly shut.
At least the poor little blighter didn't get Mouldy Jam on her head.
Or the entire contents of the Cafetiere.
Or looked like this one. On this head. Now that WOULD have been bad.

The End of the Road. Again.

Another year over. Twelve little people all ready to go to Big School.
We sang songs this morning to the proud parents and gave out Certificates to show that they had 'graduated' from Pre-school. Presents were given. Thanks were expressed to those who deserved them. (pretty well everyone, really) A Teddy Bear's Picnic held to mark the end of term. Everyone on their picnic blankets out in our garden.
And then we all hugged good bye and wished those little people well as they trod the familiar path to the gate for the last time.
Oh, dear.
It gets me each and every year.
It might not be when the first child walks out of those gates but somewhere along the line, a mother will say goodbye, a little choked by the enormity of her child not being at Pre-school anymore, and I will be Off. Tears will well, mouth will wobble, and throat will constrict with the effort to stop blubbing.
It happened today. The very last child to go. Mother came to give me a hug and I could see that she was struggling, trying to hold back the tears. Her three children have all been with us for the last six years. Ever since we opened the pre-school. We hugged. And I was lost. Tears that had been threatening all morning finally came and I had to wave goodbye to Mother and Child with great big fat tear-drops dripping off my face, while twisting face into the biggest smile I could muster. Not the greatest look in the world.
THEN I had to walk back through the playground, where all the big children were playing, pretending that I was hugely interested in my keys. All the way back to our building.
It is SUCH a big deal, being with these pre-school children each day, and seeing them grow and learn and develop. Such a big deal to help settle the rage over a toy car, hug a sad little boy who misses his mum, read to two little girls who are exhausted from running about outside.
There are countless moments each day when I can REALLY make a difference to someone else. Each and every day. Likewise to all of the Staff. I look around our warm and sunny room, and I see them actively making a difference All Day Long. Astounding!
And when I don't go in, when I am working from home doing all the dull administration, or finally getting down to some sodding hoovering, when I finally DO get to go in, the welcome is loud, warm and loving. Hugs and cuddles demanded from all and sundry. (Mind you, the Staff hold back. Obviously.)
Can you IMAGINE that happening in an office?!
Some days us Staff feel so tired that we don't think we can be of any use to anyone. But as soon as that door opens and in come those expectant little faces, clutching beloved blankets, toys and books, all thoughts of tiredness disappear and we become utterly involved in the lives of these small people. And all the love we give them comes back ten fold. Hundred fold.
I am glad the holidays are here. To recharge some batteries and spend some lengthy time with my beloved family. But I shall miss the banter, the chat and the closeness of pre-school.
I am indeed priveleged to work in such a place. And to actually be responsible for co-running it, is something I am hugely proud of. To know that a difference is being made, because of us, because of our work, is Amazing. Not everyone can say that. But we can say it. Lucky, lucky us.
Now. Time for the holidays.
Late breakfasts. Late lunch. Late suppers.
Forgetting to book children onto tennis courses.
Forgetting to book children onto Any Courses.
God, am Crap Mother. Think will have blog called Crap Mother World.
Will fill it with tales of Rubbish Mothering and bollocks all Organisation on the Home Front.
Who will be my first follower?
You will?! How marvellous! This way then, if you please!

xxxx

Practice makes Perfect

Daughter was practising her flute this morning, crack sparrow.
'Mummy?' asks Youngest, munching on his cornflakes, 'Is Daughter playing that song backwards?'
Doesn't bode well for the Grade 2 exam soon.

It's All Cisterns Go!

Today I scrubbed out a Students' Bog.
Shudder.
I did. I really did.
I peered into that dark, putrid place that was the Lavatory, shrugged on my Mantel of Courage (marigolds) and got to work.
Nice.
Now, I have cleaned lots of things in my life.
Bums. Noses. Fridges. Baths. Loos. Clothes. Ovens. Houses. The Toaster. (don't ask)
But Never, EVER, have I hucked out the loathsome depths of a Students' House Toilet Bowl.
Bugger me, it was horrible.
Grim. I don't think I could see any of the enamel.
And into that Watery Hell Hole I had to stick my Marigolded Arms and Scrub.
Scrape away at the sides. Brush frantically round the Bend.
I even... (are you still here? how lovely!) cleaned the wall of hand prints where the dear little male students clearly Leaned Heavily when having a Pee.
So Dear! So Appealing!
And then?
Nice cup of tea and a biscuit?
Sod that for a game of marbles.
No. Then I cleaned out the Other One.
Yes. Two of the Bastards.
Why?
What, apart from being Pathetic Fool who lets Eldest Son walk all over her Pinafore'd Frame?
Well, yes. Obviously. Derr.
But ALSO 'actually' because Eldest Son is moving out of his Student House and off to London for a couple of months before returning to Oxford in September. And so I offer(!) to Help.
Ker-ist.
Admittedly, Eldest Son went up and down two flights of stairs all morning, heaving more and more Stuff out to the car and looking increasingly hot and shiny with each journey. I began to be quite Thankful that all I had to do was rid Toilet Bowls of Torrid Filth and then flush Said Filth away.
But, Oh! Blogger Mates, I made those loos Sparkle. The enamel started to show through the grime! It was White!! And when I finally put in the Toilet Duck and Flushed. The Joy! The Achievement! The Relief! The Exclamation Marks!
Had to show Eldest Son, who was most impressed.
Refrained from sticking his head down it and flushing, but managed to convey, without using four letter words, that I Never Ever was going to do that again.
'Really?' he asked, looking quite surprised.
'Really.' I said. Firmly.
'Perhaps you might like to come and clean out my Pants Drawer?' I asked him in all seriousness.
'Mum!' he answered. ' That's gross.'
No, dear heart. 'Gross' is a Student Toilet Bowl.
My pants drawer is the Bloody Garden of Eden.
And with that, I closed the clean, wiped down door, swiped across the recently Freshened Lock and took the liberty of Going in the newly cleaned Toilet Bowl.
And very nice it was too.

Cybermummy

Cybermuumy was the most extraordinary day. Don't get me wrong. I LOVED it. But there was that non-stop feeling of having to be Engaged in Lively Talk and looking like you're having a Great Time. And that was hard work.
HOWEVER I was amazed, over and over again how Bloody Lovely everyone was!! Really, truly. People, everyone, were like-minded, kind-hearted, interesting, and interested people, all meeting up for a common cause. Namely, to meet all those bloggers that we come across day by day. And to talk about blogging! How bloody marvellous. (Without those Non Bloggers who look at us Weirdly when we speak of such things. We all know one, eh?!)
'What did you DO all day?' my children all asked when I got home.
'Talked,' I answered, through a rather nice home-made scone covered in raspberry jam.
'Yes, but what then?' they persisted.
'Talked some more,' I said, throwing back a cup of tea.
'Sounds really Boring,' said Youngest.
'Wasn't boring,'I told him. 'You see, I made some friends. No, I Met some friends, I knew them already, but now I know what they look like.'
'Oh,' said Youngest. Not having a Clue what I was talking about.
Two years ago I wouldn't have a clue what I was talking about either. Two years ago I didn't know what a Blog was. I had no idea that friendship could emerge from writing about the mundane, daft, and heart-rending things that happen day by day. I didn't know that people would drop by and leave comments that would hearten and sustain me through a dark day. Or make me roar with uncontained laughter. Or make me smile right down to my toes. I would have been totally gobsmacked to hear that Blogging could actually produce some real, Top, Friends.
But it has.
And so, tonight, as I thump away at these familiar keys, it is Different.
Seeing you all round the room, all chatting and giggling and enjoying each other's company, made blogging make complete and total sense.
We may write in isolation, but we Connect.
Connection is at the heart of Blogging.
Yesterday was proof of that.
Hooray for Blogging.
Really, truly, hooray. xxx