Today was full of random things. Lots of different activities, none of them linked to each other in any way, just random. Not bad, you understand, just....random.
First thing this morning, I abandoned the team (isn't it funny how in most families, Daddy goes off to work every morning and leaves Mummy with the tribe, and no-one blinks, and on the rare occasion that Mummy nicks off without a cherub in tow, everyone holds their breath and says, "Ooh. Will he be ok?" Of course Christian will be ok looking after our three kids. He might not do it every day, but he's their parent as much as I am. And despite having dashing good looks, he's not stupid, either. Seriously. The only thing Daddy can't do, that I can, is breastfeed!) So anyhoo, I tootled off to the hairdresser's this morning, leaving Daddy, Jack, Phoebalina and the Mouse in charge of a very serious errand: taking Daisy to the dog grooming lady.
When I returned at lunchtime (well, yes, let's be honest and say the hair appointment didn't quite last that long, but there were shops to browse in, and.....stuff to get at the supermarket, and, um...well of course the main point is that my hair looked GREAT!!), the kids were having quiet time, lunch was already cleaned up, and everyone was happy to see Mumma because she had been gone for A WHOLE MORNING. Maisie was so happy to see me she licked my shoes, Jack told me my new yellow hair looked bee-yoo-tiful, and Phoebe was conked out on the couch. My lovely hubby had taken care of everything. God I love him!!
At 3pm we went en masse to Maisie's 12 month check up with the health centre sister. In a nutshell, she's perfect (we suspected as much!), and weighs roughly the same as Phoebe when Phoebs was 7 months old!!!! It would seem that Miss Mouse has slipped a few pegs on the percentile chart, but is just 'petite' - nothing to worry about. As far as I'm concerned, it just means her clothes will last longer before she grows out of them. Other than that, she's a little bugger that gets into everything at light speed, all with a grin on her dial. (You can't get cross as someone that cute, and she knows it...)
We collected Daisy from the dog beauty salon, and she smelled a far sight better than when we dropped her off!! Came home, cobbled a dinner together from the contents of the freezer and the crisper (mmm.....I'm an enticing cook, I know!), and bathed the dinner-encrusted children. Since Phoebalicious has been a bit difficult to settle at night recently, I decided to take her, Maisie and Daisy for a walk (yes, I realise my baby and my dog have rhyming names. This is something that didn't occur to us when we changed her name at the 11th hour...truly, I changed my mind after she was born, and didn't even consider the rhyming implications - sorry, Mais! Never mind. My parents have a dog named Jack!!!).
So I left a rather grumpy Jack at home with Daddy, and went for a stroll with my girls. Phoebs kept up a running commentary the whole way ("Mummy, there's a cat! Mummy, there's a lady! I like that lady. Why is the footpath? Is that a red car? Wait for me! Mummy, I have a hat. It's Maisie's hat. I'm a big girl. Aren't I Mummy? I'm a big girl, aren't I Mummy?" And so on, and so forth. She looked very cute, in Maisie's pink and blue striped beanie, her 'Giggle and Hoots' jumper with owls on it, a blue nightie, pink trackies, purple socks and red and white polka-dot shoes. Part chic, part cute, and part odd-ball. Maisie Mouse fell asleep in the pram, Phoebs chattered faster than her feet would carry her, and we arrived home to find the boys playing Wii Golf. Naturally, Phoebalicious joined in, and it would appear that my darling daughter is scarily good at golf!! I could see Daddy's eyes light up...
Now all is quiet. Maisie has fed through my mastitisy boob (ouch!!!!!) and is finally, blessedly asleep; the big kids are snoring; and Christian has just folded the washing while I lazily blog away, new shiny hair flicking as I type. O, what a lady of leisure am I! O, what shall I do with all my excess time? Paint my nails? Iron? Sleep? I'll give you one guess (and it's not ironing!!)
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