Sunday, 26 May 2013

Week 90- Michael Jackson, Wonder Woman and watching paint dry

Nancy and Ben are visiting Granny and Grandad for a couple of nights while I write a funding application.

And I’m thinking, lie in.

Hollyoaks omnibus.

Having a beer in the middle of the day while writing, and listening to Michael Jackson.
All the things that feel like a different person’s life.

I waved them off, with Nancy chirping, ‘bye, bye mummy!’

I match her enthusiasm, turn on my heels and virtually skip back to the house, shut the door.

And then it hits me.

They’ve gone.

And I felt completely weird.

Nancy and I have spent the night apart before. Lots of times in fact.

But it’s always when I’ve gone somewhere.

I hadn’t thought how empty the flat would feel without her. The flat that could, Tetris style, fit into a porta cabin, felt massive.

I couldn’t bear it.

I gave myself a talking to and attempted to get down to work.

I’d got an unmanageable list of stuff I was going to get through in their absence.

 All the stuff that is virtually impossible to do with a little person around.

 Like painting a front door.

But, turns out a job like that doesn’t only need a child-free house.

It also needs a certain degree of skill.

So. Day one without Nancy, and the flat feels huge.
Which is lucky, as I can’t leave it as I’ve painted the front door a colour described on the tin as ‘pillar box red’. But over the previous black door, just looks like the scene of a heinous crime.

And on top of that, I can’t close it, as it will dry shut.
I’m sat off on the computer with a cup of tea, wearing two jumpers, as a strong breeze tears through the flat, Googling 'how long does paint take to dry?'

What did I used to do pre-Nancy? I have a quick nosey on Facebook to see what the rest of the world’s up to.

And it’s all, ‘Having a picnic in Hyde Park’, ‘Off to the pictures-yay!’, ‘The sun’s out, yippee- PUB!’

And I’m sat off in multiple layers, staring at a menacingly empty page.

At least I can have a lie in.

But nooooooooooooooo.

6.45am on day two my eyes spring open. I’m wide awake sans Nancy.

I’m lying in bed waiting for a ‘mummy, get out!’ holler from the next room, which obviously doesn’t materialise.

 So there’s only thing for it.

Paint the bloody door again.

Day two. And I’m pretty much where I was on day one. Except I forgot to buy more milk, so can’t have the addition of tea.

And I realise, I need to man up when Nancy’s not here.

And also accept I’m not Wonder Woman.

There are certain skills I have acquired as a consequence of becoming a parent. Typing an e-mail while a toddler sits on my foot playing horsey horsey, for example.

And other skills that haven’t magically appeared. Doing a year’s worth of major house jobs in three days.

Next time it’s going to be different.
It’ll be all staying out late, daytime drinking, and watching 18 films in the middle of the day.

Instead of literally watching paint dry.

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