Technology issues,when combined with extreme post-wedding, post-teething tiredness, are not a good thing. By last Friday I was feeling a bit light-headed. It was not the best moment for the search engine on my work email to take an extended break. It managed to find things from circa three months ago, but nothing in the last few weeks. That meant having to trawl through thousands of emails to find anything. At the end of the day, when I thought I was getting somewhere, I made the mistake of writing a long email to a friend. Just at the moment I was about to hit send, I heard a baby giggle and the whole computer turned off. The baby has discovered switches. He shouldn't even have been in the office at all, but he is fairly adept at bypassing all other humans at the moment. He never walks anywhere. He does a kind of fast lurch.
In any event, I was very pleased to see Friday night. Daughter one decided to stay up late to have catch-up time with her parents. Unfortunately, both her parents fell asleep in mid-conversation. The following morning we had booked an unfeasibly early opticians appointment for daughters one and two. The baby was ready. Up at 4am, then 5am, 5.30am, 6am and finally 7am with perhaps a teething pain, perhaps a stomach pain, who knows? Everyone else piled in except daughter one who was still recovering from the night before. With half an hour to spare before we had to be at the opticians which is, ooh, 25 minutes away, I managed to get everyone into some form of outfit [albeit daughter two was sporting the baby's trousers, which looked rather good on her - sort of longish shorts]. My partner had made everyone a toastie to eat en route. The baby had spare nappies and a drink. The school clothes were in the washing machine. The kittens had been fed and cleaned out. The guinea pigs were happy or as happy as psychotic guinea pigs can be. We turned on the car. The petrol light flashed. The opticians is notorious for not allowing even a second of lateness or you have to rebook.
I advised my partner to risk it. We arrived at the shopping centre with two minutes to spare. My partner drove off to get petrol with the baby and the rest of us sprinted across the shopping centre, arriving just in time for the appointment. Daughter two was very disappointed she didn't need glasses. She reckons they are a key fashion accessory. Daughter one has sat on hers and needs new frames. Daughter three asked to sit in on daughter one's session in another thinly disguised attempt to get a sweet.
We headed for Primark to get a friend something for her birthday. Mistake. Taking small girls to Primark is like entering into Santa's grotto. Daughter one wanted "natural look" make-up. Secondary school is already taking its toll. Daughter two already has all my make-up, but wants to dye her hair red. Fortunately, this is not possible until she is 16, but I am sure she will create some sort of potion one of these days. Daughter three kept asking if we could go to WH Smith's as a celebration of my birthday [I rather suspect that it may have more to do with their pick and mix selection]. We emerged rather a lot later, feeling [and I speak for the adults only] rather a lot older.