The Youngest had art club, this means picking up The Eldest only to walk in the house then turn around and leave again. The Eldest hates this so, casting aside all his anxieties about being home alone, he decided he’d brave being left for 20 whole minutes. This is his first ever home aloneness, this is huge, HUGE I tell thee. We had a few moments to prepare.
Snacks – check.
Drink – check.
Back door locked – check.
Dog suddenly allowed up the stairs just for that extra feeling of safety – check.
The Eldest said his goodbyes and I left. An odder feeling I am yet to feel.
I’d no sooner parked than my phone rang. It was he. Bugger. I gingerly answered fearing something, not sure what, but something. It was something.
“Hiya” say I all casual like yet holding my breath in case he was mid panic attack and I was a mile up the road so could do diddly squat about it “you ok?”
“Yeah. You know the dog?”
“Yes, we’ve met” I breathed big breaths of calm.
“Well. He started to cough and something wierd came up”
“Oh” this is not good, The Eldest doesn’t do weird bodily excretions “right, just leave it there, close your bedroom door on it and go watch a bit of tele, I’ll not be long”
“Yeah, that’s what I did. You can get it when you come home”
Lovely. I was looking forward to it.
“The dog’s still coughing”
“Is he alive?” I ask.
Wouldn’t that be fecking marvellous? The dog drops dead when only The Eldest is home!
“Yeah, he’s alive”
Bollocks. Next time maybe.
“Right, shut him in his room and ignore him till he goes away”
“Ok, see you in a bit”
For the love of biscuits! The first time he’s been left and the dog, his protector, was an utter twat. I’d only been gone a few minutes. FFS!
Then, like a breath of fresh loveliness, The Youngest appeared.
“Hello there, did you have a good time at art club?”
“No, it wasn’t art club, it was gardening club”
No it wasn’t. The children that go to gardening club need their wellies, I hadn’t sent her in with her wellies.
“We’re you meant to have your wellies then?”
“Yes and grey clothes”
Oh dear God, she looked bothered.
“Oh I’m so sorry, what on earth was I thinking? I’m the worlds worst mother!”
“No, you’re not” she didn’t sound convinced.
“Was it ok? Do you want to do gardening club?”
“Yeah it was ok, it might be fun”
Might be? Poor little sod.
How in hell did I do that? Did I pay for gardening club? Did she say gardening club all those weeks ago but I heard art? Or, did I pay for art club and the school cocked up?
Not that it matters either way. As half hours go that one was beyond shit. Mumming is hard, being one of my children harder but they rise to the challenge daily and without complaint, they’re fabulous at being mine.