It has been a weekend with little activity to report form the land of Hillywilly.
Whilst I’m sure you will all be pleased to hear that Moo is feeling much better, I hope to garner a little sympathy when I tell you I am not. The past 2 nights have been marred by lack of sleep and coughing on my part. Yes my caring sharing daughter has passed on her germs and I feel lousy. Ah well.
Our stars crossed at some point on Saturday afternoon Moo was starting to perk up whilst I felt a distinct dip approaching. We had spent most of the day trapped indoors by the rain, but when Moo uttered a heartfelt plea I felt it my duty as a parent to oblige. You see parenting is all about sacrifice and despite feeling under the weather we braved the rainstorm, got in the car and drove 12 miles just to see a smile on my darling child’s face. Of course if the plea had not been centred around the sudden desire for a mint magnum ice-cream I may have felt a little less benevolent to her request.
After ice cream and ratatouille, the movie not the meal, we were both shattered and when I informed Moo it was bedtime, the floodgates burst and she wailed. Whilst bed time usually entails a little drama, this was at rather unusually high levels, so as we cuddled together on her bed I tried to get to the root of the problem.
Through her sobs she managed to explain that the last time we had watched ratatouille we had been with daddy, and it made her realise just how much she missed him. With my heart in my mouth, holding back my own tears, I told her I missed him too, so very much, but it was only a really short time now till we would be with him again. She cried herself to sleep, and not for the first time I wondered at the wisdom of our chosen path.
Sleep did not come easily to me as my mind wandered back and forth, dissecting every decision we have made and wondering at the outcomes if we had made different choices.
In the cold clear light of day I know it is worthless to think these thoughts. Our choices were made and we do what we can to make things as good as we can for us all. The benefits we have had, and continue to have, far outweigh the negatives. If only in the dark depths of night things could seem so clear.
It was a very groggy mummy that awoke this morning and summoning the energy to entertain a child with cabin fever was just about all I could manage. Moo was an angel, and kept herself entertained this morning as I supervised from behind an almost constant mug of coffee. Whilst she still undoubtedly missed her dad, the angst of the evening was gone, and she soothed me through a tough day. We had a couple of lovely long chats with ‘flat daddy’, and all the dark thoughts disappeared as we began to look forward in earnest to our trip to the beautiful island of Macau. 3 weeks 2 days and counting.
I decided that we should take a nice walk around the plage, (beach), and dismissed the approaching grey clouds with a cursory wave of the hand, they had been passing over all morning after all. As we arrived at the lake the first few spots of rain fell on the windscreen, closely followed by what can only be described as a deluge, so much for our walk. We returned home and did some colouring instead which was, as far as Moo was concerned, a much better way to pass the afternoon.
As afternoon turned into evening and bath-time gave way to bed-time Moo decided that what was needed was a warm pudding for supper. But not just any pudding, oh no, something exceptional was required. The hints for bread-and-butter pudding were rebuffed, largely due to time constraints, but Moo came up with something not entirely divorced from the idea, but a whole lot quicker. She rolled up her sleeves and it the spirit of ‘chef Gusteau’ himself instructed her commis, that would be me, with precision. What we needed was jam, cream, a little vanilla sugar, and some bread. I was to mix the cream and jam in a bowl then soak small pieces of bread in the mixture. I was then told to put the pieces on a tray, sprinkle lightly with the sugar, and place under the grill till the sugar had melted. I have to say the result was rather magnificent and as we munched our way through it we even came up with a name. ‘Pain crémfiture’. (bread with cream and jam just sounds so much better in French). It was comforting to see Moo going off to bed tonight with a big smile on her face. It is also nice to know that she she seems to have inherited the family ‘pudding gene’.
Tonight,although physically I still feel lousy, mentally I feel snug as a bug in a rug.
And at the very time of writing another quite splendid event is occurring. My very dear friend JJ is on her way to the ferry, and will be here some-time tomorrow to start her holiday. The next few weeks will fly by, and I’m sure sleep will come a lot easier tonight.