Spring, chickens.

We've nearly done it. The school holidays, 2 weeks. Is that all? The 6 week summer holidays always fly by and usually I don't mind school breaks at all because it means being more relaxed and not having to make packed lunches and what not. This break has been painful, I knew we would miss the garden and the trampoline but oh my goodness, this hurts! Seth is as happy as Larry out in the little yard with his basketball hoop and as long as he can shovel in some food every hour or so he's fine. Isaac and Eli, not quite as easy to please. Isaac loves to dress in his suit and be Chuck Berry and Eli will change clothes every 37 minutes because he can....and then they get restless and eventually H or I or both have to brave the elements and take the buggers out.
Today I took them because H woke up at 3am this morning and never got back to sleep. By 11 he was looking like pooh. so, lets go to Teignmouth, lovely sunny Teignmouth with the sea and the park, the fresh air and the open spaces for them to run, bikes and scooters crammed in the back and of course the ball, always the ball.
We got there about 3pm and dear Godfrey.....it was SO cold. SOOOOO cold, I knew that the boys wouldn't be able to stand it so didn't panic, just sat on a bench and huddled and waited, and waited......why do kids not feel the cold? I mean this was bitingly cold and the wind right off the sea I swear I thought my giblets would get sucked out and blown across the ocean. Still those boys ran and played and climbed and I could.not.stand.it. I climbed into the little climbie castle and sheltered from the wind and made other parents look at me as if I was the troll under the bridge but I cared not, I was warmer, I was not going to leave my Castle.
When we got back in the car we couldn't breathe because it felt so hot, the sun was beautiful, there just wasn't a bit of heat to it. When is spring coming? When? I am so ready, even been shaving my legs and applying glorious Lancombe summer shimmer lotion, have summer glow to my fat legs and everything, my feet are all filed and lotioned and filed again and have not the split and cracked appearance of winter feet. COME ON! I want capri pants and loose flowing tops, flip flops ( I did wear crocs today and I think my feet were almost sliced through with that bitter wind) It is half way through April, this time last year I was posting pictures of the boys in the water, in shorts...in the HOT SUNSHINE. Oh I am ready for some more of that.
We have been here 11 weeks, I have finished painting the walls of the bathroom! Yeay! The bathroom ( well toilet) measures maybe 5 ft by 4 ft. I only have to paint half the walls. It has been a project, never in the history of decorating has a little room taken so long. I still have to finish ( read start) the wallpaper on the bottom of the walls, don't hold your breath. I am taking this whole ' not going anywhere don't rush me' thing to the very limits. Watch me.
I am feeling a bit lively these days, give me a lie in of a morning and I am raring to go. When H takes the boys out for an hour or so I can get so much done.
I used to do all my work during the night, when everyone is asleep and I can work undisturbed I get down and get on and thrive on how much can be achieved. The last week or so that hasn't been happening and I have been slipping down into a pit of chaos...why isn't that ironing done? Hey....that kitchen floor is so dirty.....well for goodness sake. Could it be that I spend the early hours online chatting with glorious women who make me almost lose control of my famously rock solid pelvic floor muscles? Why yes,I believe that might be the reason, so this week I have found myself in the kitchen with Louis Armstrong or the Carpenters belting out a tune or 3 while I do ironing and baking, washing the floor while the sun is up ( imagine!) and even painting in the daylight hours, all so I am available to join in this nightly ribaldry. I looked up Ribaldry because I so wanted to use that word, it is indeed fitting...

RibaldryRib"ald*ry\, n. [OE. ribaldrie, ribaudrie, OF. ribalderie, ribauderie.] The talk of a ribald; low, vulgar language; indecency; obscenity; lewdness; -- now chiefly applied to indecent language, but formerly, as by Chaucer, also to indecent acts or conduct.

All I can say is, this Boston trip is going to be a riot, I find it hard to keep up because it's 2am when we are in the midst of our chatting, that's late isn't it? But would I miss it? Not if I can help it.
I think we're going to have a webcam when we have our party on friday night. I say party, I mean the coming together of 12 women and their food. Canada, the U.S and England are bringing their best and most delicious treats and we will be eating it ( all, probably, we are good at that, you'll see)
We have Greek names, fitting and grand and spelled in a trendy and hip way.
I don't think there will be dancing but I won't discount it entirely, many many pictures will be taken and shared, I suspect video coverage too. I am so looking forward to it, I even have fond thoughts about the journey. I am sure that will change as it gets neared because flying is so scary to me, it doesn't get any easier the more I do it.
I never have really understood people wanting to travel, I love everything I have right here, I don't need to see the rest of the world, it has never really pulled me to know it better.
I do though, absolutely love people and am willing to travel to see them, be with them and share memories, make memories.
I find myself planning more journeys and meetings, more fun and glorious times. I have so much to make up for, too many years hiding in fear, not doing things because I am scared, and fat and getting old, I won't be getting younger and probably not thinner, certainly not more beautiful and the older I get, the more I see it doesn't matter. I am just me and just me is alright really ( although not terribly happy with old lady dark hair, that is still making me flinch when I catch a glimpse of it) H likes it very much, which is annoying, he never comments on my appearance and wouldn't you know, the one time he does it is to say he loves something that makes me feel a little embarrassed out in public. Perhaps there is a happy medium brown out there somewhere that won't make my head blister and itch, we can but hope!
I have a dream that maybe next year, some of those lovely women will come to England so I can take them to castles and cream teas, fish and chips and morris dancing on the green. ( or not maybe Morris dancing, fan of it though I am) I would love to drive them along the winding lanes and hear the terror in their voices.....but not bring them here because I love them, when women leave home and family to travel, the very last thing on earth they want to do is spend time with other people's family and no matter how cute, precious, divine children are, if you leave yours at home.....you really want not to have anyone else's around.
Eating out is a must, we don't want to feel we ought to help with dishes or cooking or serving, no clearing up, we want delicious meals put in front of us and empty plates taken away...as if by magic, we will leave generous tips and appreciate the service, we will be patient and not complain should our food take while to arrive because we are not in a hurry, we are out and the world is our oyster. Mothers take a treat like this so seriously it needs not to be messed with. We will cram every second with moments of such joy you would wish it could be bottled.
We have 3 nights and 4 days in Boston and I am pretty positive that every moment of that time will be accounted for, very little of it will be taken in sleeping, too much to do and so much to see and we will be doing it all.
Soon.