Stay and bitch ooops my mistake, stay and play!

16 Aug

After staying up until 3am this morning playing call of duty with my lush, I decided I was too tired to watch the children make a mess at home but it was ok to let them make a mess at stay and play.  It was a summer extravaganza today because they were staying open later past their usual 11.10 lockdown, very exciting, we are told to ‘bring lunch!!!!’  I look in the cupboard and instantly feel like old mother hubbard, there’s not much in there apart from a few well meaning boxes of raisins, a fruit puree pot whose lid is bulging and on the verge of explosion and a packet of malted milk biscuits that no one likes because you can actually crunch the salt in them- best save those for visiting plumbers, rat men, sky engineers and people that think they visiting the museum which I happen to live abouve but are actually in my flat- our living room serves as a good prop for what a bombed house in the war looked like.  Anyway, I’m racking my brains to try and find something that could pass as a lunch to take to stay and play.  I manage to rustle up a jam sandwich on lovely granary seeded bread, I cut it up into bitesize bits and then have a ten minute fight with the stupid flipping clingfilm- I mean who invented such irritating stuff, it knows I’m in a hurry and it choses to stick to itself and then go into a ball, and then when I finally have finished swearing at it and get it straight it tears in a massive diagonal strip ending in a tiny point.  I wrap the sandwich up and go to pick it up and it falls out one end of the clingfilm parcel, I am seriously swearing and annoyed and running late, I look around in the kitchen cupboards to see if there was one of those smug little plastic sandwich sized boxes anywhere with the little clippy lid that screams out “look at me, I store everything in these boxes, my fridge is an organised haven of little plastic boxes with labels on”  but sadly there isnt, I do however cast my eye upon a left over plastic cup from a party, great, storage problem sorted.  I ram the sandwich into the cup and then sellotape a clingfilm ball over the top- go me.

I throw the kids at their car seats and off we go, only having to return home the once to get a beaker and a dummy, which is very good for me as its usually third time lucky of leaving the house before I finally have everything I need.  I enter the stay and play hall and survey the little groups of mums in each area of the hall, theres the costa yummy mummy group, the breast feeding group, the polish group, the italian group and the ‘I’ve got a child from hell and I am going to ignore it’ group.  Ok, I dont really fit anywhere into these groups except maybe the child from hell group.  I mean I did breast feed for about two days and I have the up most respect for people that do but sadly I always manage to upset a particular mum everytime I brandish a bottle of formula milk.  The costa group is out after the subway incident (see previous blogs) the polish and italian is obviously out, I mean I can blag my way in and out of most things but foreign languages are a no no, I only know polish swear words and the name of a drink, not a good conversation starter really.

I decide to plump for the breast feeding group and hope that Lexi-Nicole doesnt want her milk.  Its going well and we are all idlly chit chatting away, when all of a sudden this random child appears from nowhere, does a strange dance in the ball pit, licks his lips, slaps his bottom, wiggles it and then skips off.  We all then start looking round for the Mother of this strange child and I think Ive spotted her, this woman is hula hooping in the garden whilst clapping and licking her lips, oooh this is funny so I start telling the little group that that must be the child’s mother as look at what shes doing and we all have a little giggle and a laugh and one of the group makes a comment about the child and his mother, when all of the sudden I feel a tap on my shoulder, oh shit oh shit, it’s the woman sitting next to me, shes not part of the breast feeding group but shes just there, I fix a smile and she points out my son who is playing rather nicely with strange dancy boy, I then ask if strange dancy boy is hers and she confirms this, oh God quick Sarah think of something positive to say, quick quick quick, all I could say was ‘nice socks’, NICE SOCKS???? where oh where did this come from, I could’ve said nice hair, or jumper and enquire where she purchased such an item or nice face, anything but nice socks????, fortunately for me my daughter is making a hasty exit for the door which should’ve been my cue to leave and I have to go and get her.

A little later on Ryan is set upon by this nasty little devil child and has a large lump on his head- Ryan that is not the devil child, if the devil child had the lump you could mistake it for a horn that starting to come through a bit like the teething process.  I then have to go out into the garden to supervise, unfortunately for me, devil child belongs to a yummy mummy but I couldn’t remember which one until he makes another poor victim cry, and yes, you guessed it its subway incident mum- shit.  She trots up to me, I swear underneath her posh clothes shes got hooves and legs a bit like that half man goat thing from the Chronicles of Narnia, shes probably got the hooves painted a nice metallic shade from the nail bar.  She asks me how my Pak Choi was, oh lovely I reply, very invigorating, invigorating??? its not a flipping power shower, its a mangy looking vegetable that I thought you could sling on the George Foreman.  We just laugh it off but she knows that I dont know what to do with it.  I had to get one back I just had to, but what….?

I happen to go  past the yummy mummy group on my way to the coffee bit and I spy Narnia mummy’s bentley of a pram, all gleaming and nice, I kick my one away out of sight, dont want her to have any more ammo.  One of them sees me looking at it and thinks I’m Jel, which I’m not, I make out I’m checking my phone and announce to her that someone was giving one of those away on freecycle as it was such a cumbersome item and told her that no one wanted it because it was such a nasty pram, and to my amazement they all started joining in and slagging the pram off and laughing at the effort it was to take it to the shops blah blah, I was in full flow, the poison was flowing nicely when they all freeze, shame my mouth doesn’t, as Narnia woman is standing right behind me listening, lovely, she then goes into how her and hubby researched it and it was the most expensive pram on the market and only the best for her child etc etc, she then casts her eye over my pram and asks me how much I paid for mine, I replied it was free and she dug back and asked if it was from freecycle and I replied no that it was new from mothercare and it was free because my last one I had problems with and I  got a new one plus I got to keep the other one which I sold. She then snorted and turned away.  Oh no, I’m not having this, and my lip starts to curl and my coffee cup slips out of my hand and on to her pram, oops, I’m sure this was an accident as I was concentrating on my curling lips and not my hand, but I couldnt be sure, cue sharp exit to the other side of the hall while shes mopping up and almost crying, please God dont let me bump into her again.

I’m happily minding my own business and poking people on facebook as you do, when another child comes up to me wearing this t-shirt which I swear said ‘Genitals at work’, he then turns and runs off, I sit there for a while digesting this and wondering where I can get one of these T-shirts and start to giggle, well in a sciency sort of way someone’s genitals were at work to produce the model of that t-shirt.  I just have to check again and start chasing this boy around the hall just so I can look again, he starts looking scared and I start looking crazy but I have to see it again, not the genitals coz that would be weird but the t-shirt.  He runs up to his mum and she looks at me quizzically and I’m just about to say about the t-shirt when she starts speaking in polish to me.  I put two and two together and think that they must’ve sold this t-shirt to her for a joke, you know like you teach someone that can’t speak English well, a rude sentence like’ I want to shag your mum’, but tell them it means ‘lovely day’, I have to tell her, it would be so bad if she didnt know, so I start waving my hands and gesticulating towards the boys t-shirt and saying about it and she tells me its lovely isnt it? erm it might be lovely for a student to wear but not a little boy but how do I tell her?? I mean how do I tell her what genitals means without pointing to my own and looking like a complete pervert, so I come up with the ingenius idea of using a translator app on my phone which I downloaded when I was bored, I typed in genitals and it came up with some word so I showed it to her and fortunately for me she started laughing, ok, going well so far, but then the boy approaches again and I point to his t-shirt and then my phone, but as I think shes putting two and two together I re read the t-shirt and it doesn’t say ‘genitals at work’ it says ‘genius at work’, oh bloody hell, in my defence its in funny 3d writing and all swirly and I’m tired.  I laugh it off and make some cuckoo noises and twist a finger at my head and run off.

Random thought just to finish this off, would tiredness be an excuse to get away with all sorts? imagine what we could get away with and just put it down to tiredness…..ohh the possibilites.

much love xxxx

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