I turned 34 last weekend and I had 4 days of celebrations planned. On Thursday I went to see the Arctic Monkeys with my work friend, Michelle. It was also the same day as Jorgie’s third lot of injections. Unfortunately, they were at 4pm, so straight after them, Kyle was dropping me off to meet Michelle. I couldn’t wait to get out of the car. Jorgie just cried non-stop after her injections and Charlie decided to join in “Mummy I don’t want you to go out. Can I come too? I need you to come home with me.” I replied “No Charlie. Although a difficult decision, Arctic Monkeys just pips the post over playing lego bricks, painting or playdough with you. It’s not like I have been waiting since May for this and really need a break.”
After going out for tea (a treat enough in itself for me) we headed to Manchester Arena. I have already returned to watch a gig since the 22nd May attacks happened, but it still feels sad when I go there after everything that went on. We had managed to get standing tickets and it was interesting watching the crowd around us. It only seems like five minutes ago that I was a drunken 22 year old (and thin) watching gigs week in week out here, with hardly any proper responsibilities. Now I am a married mother of two. Life moves too quickly.
I felt like one of the oldest in the crowd. Some of the younger girls wear such weird clothes yet manage to look like super models. If they wore bin bags they would probably still look cool. If I even attempted to wear some of their clothes, I’m pretty sure people would look at me like I was a stark raving lunatic or weirdo. After having 1 ½ pints of cider and blackcurrant (and feeling a bit giddy) and watching how amazing Arctic Monkeys were on their comeback tour, we retired home and I was in bed for 11.30pm. Rock and Roll.
On Friday I went to Slattery’s in Prestwich (a chocolate shop with a restaurant), with Kyle, my mum and the kids. For every drink you order you get a free chocolate. Four drinks down and Charlie was like a giddy excited puppy. He’d ‘claimed’ every chocolate as his own. It was easier to give them to him than to face the wrath of the tantrum we would encounter if we said no. Ordinarily I wouldn’t have given in, but this was a posh place and there was no way I was leaving without having a slice of chocolate fudge cake (yes this is probably why I haven’t lost my excess baby weight).
Charlie had chocolate all over his face and jumper when we finished and headed down to look at the shop. He wanted every item on view in the shop and I couldn’t keep track of his fingers as he tried to grab everything. I casually tried to hold his hand like I was in control, but he was like an escaped convict from the local prison, tearing around the shop like a mad man. We left shortly after that before we were asked to leave.
On Saturday it rained all day. I was woken at 6.45am when Charlie came in and jumped on the bed. Kyle had gone to work so I fed Jorgie whilst Charlie was watching TV. After a few minutes Charlie started to wretch and then puked up all over the duvet. Jorgie followed shortly after, all down my PJs. What a fun and entertaining start to a Saturday morning.
I was going out to Manchester with the girls on Saturday night, so we had a more chilled day, so I could have some time to get ready. I was going out at 7pm but Kyle wouldn’t be home from work until 6.30pm which meant I had to try and have a shower and get ready with the kids. If you ever have to attempt to do this, I have just two words. Don’t bother.
Jorgie fed and changed and Charlie on the bed watching TV and I tried to have a shower. They were like a tag team. Every time I got in Jorgie cried or Charlie needed a wee. I was in and out that many times that I forgot where I was up to. My hair was half washed, one leg was shaved, the opposite armpit shaved, one armpit and one leg not shaved, when I gave in and got out. Then came the make-up. Charlie very helpfully decided he was going to assist me by removing every item of make-up from my case and throwing it across the room. I looked like a clown by the time I’d finished. Jorgie burped and milk came up all over my shoulder resulting in a change of dress.
My friend Steph was staying at our house, so when she arrived we bundled the kids into the car and Kyle drove to drop us both off in town. A repeat of Thursday night followed with Charlie saying “Mummy please don’t go out. Your always out. You went out last night”. I literally have about 1 night out every 3 months but if anyone overheard him you’d think I was never at home!
We met three more friends in town, Jane, Saira and Sonya and after some food and a couple of cocktails we went to a bar with live music. Much as I’d love to say we stayed out late, downed shots, drank copious amounts of gin and danced on tables, much to your disbelief, that did not happen. Steph (who has a young baby) and I spent the night convincing ourselves of why it would be a bad idea to do those things when you have the kids to look after the next day and we were home and in bed for midnight. Rent a crowd we are. Everyone would want us at a party.
Sunday was my actual birthday and I was glad of the decisions I made the previous night when Charlie walked into the kitchen and deposited five neat piles of vomit on the kitchen floor. Happy Birthday to me. Oh, how I did enjoy scrubbing that floor on Sunday morning on the day of my 34th birthday. I went shopping in Manchester in the afternoon where Jorgie was sick all down my top and I had to walk around town looking like that all afternoon. Winning.
My day ended with Charlie opening all my birthday presents and eating all my cake and chocolate whilst Jorgie screamed and the dog took great delight in humping my leg.
Birthday over and it was back to normality (if you can ever call it that). We popped in Tesco’s on Monday and Charlie had a free piece of fruit to eat walking round and picked a banana. After a few minutes he needed the toilet, so we walked in where he proceeded to throw the banana down the toilet and then cry for half an hour because I wouldn’t get it back for him. I’d like to apologise now if I am responsible for blocking the toilet system at the Tesco Droylsden Store.
So now I’m another year older but most definitely not wiser. There’s always next year……….