Back to work, that is. Easter was my mental deadline for returning, only I’ve just realised it is Lent (even though we haven’t had pancakes yet) so that day is looming fast. Tamsin still seems tiny and I just can’t imagine how I will find the time – yet having spent much of today embroiled in a, ahem, “debate”* online (must get out more), perhaps I should. I was wondering today whether I could have somebody do my ironing if I did go back: that would make the hassle worthwhile. The only reason to go back – apart from the obvious financial rewards which, believe me, are not nearly large enough to make working-till-midnight appealing – is that I’m concerned if I take too long out and lose my contacts then it will be a bridge burned.

I think what I am going to do is approach one or two of my sources (Cath, this means you!) and take on a little to see how it goes. I could do maybe one article or slide set every couple of weeks? That doesn’t sound so bad (until you realise this is a return to evening and weekend working and I frankly do not have a problem filling my time). Maggie is probably going to do 3 half-days at preschool from September – one more than at present – which in principle frees up another few hours. Except it might be nice to spend that time with the poor neglected secondborn. Perhaps she would like to swim or sing or just have some attention.

*Early weaning. Sigh. This is robustly debated every few weeks on ivillage and I generally steer well clear – as I do most rows – only this time it was on my board and the woman provoking it is not a regular boardie but a…not quite a troll as she belongs on the neighbouring board…let’s say troublemaker. She has posted recently on at least 4 boards extolling the virtues of early weaning and telling everybody the government guidelines are nonsense. I think she might be sponsored by Cow & Gate! Of course she’s entitled to her opinion, but a) she has one child aged 9 weeks, b) people lurk these boards and deserve to get proper information and c) she is just plain offensive. So in I waded.

…with my brilliant new business venture: Chester Sherpas(TM). Watch out for me on Dragons’ Den soon! It Came to me in a flash yesterday as I pushed Maggie in a buggy (laden with off-balance shopping bags as well as a heavy child) with one hand while carrying an umbrella with the other; Tamsin was strapped to my front and the bag of “essentials” on my back. Available to roll out to other cities soon although Chester is particularly well-suited, blessed as it is with cobbles, sharp corners, the completely buggy-proof rows and large gangs of gawping tourists and loitering students who leap out in front of you without a second’s notice, necessitating wild and sudden changes in direction. I nearly lost control several times. (I mean literal control of buggy and/or umbrella not figurative control of my temper, although that did happen when I reached the new dentist to be confronted by a flight of stairs adorned with the magical sign “prams and buggies must be carried up these steps by two adults” (their emphasis). Was there another adult employed by them to stand by and assist? There was not.)

Back from a long weekend at mum and dad’s: Cameron mostly worked while I dashed about visiting people. Megan is now walking and a proper little girl rather than a baby, although not quite up to playing with Maggie (nice to see her mum and dad too). I have seen Mia twice in the (ahem) years since we left school but, once we’d found her flat – a mere half-hour late due to my conviction that she lived at number 27 rather than 72: of course I hadn’t taken the bit of paper with address and phone number on, and the helpful chap in number 25 also thought she lived at 27 so I spent a good while insistently pushing the doorbell and refusing to accept there was nobody in – we had a very lovely morning catching up. Last on the schedule was Karen, which was an odd mix of meeting for the first time and catching up: despite never actually having met, or even spoken, before, we’ve been reading reciprocal websites and exchanging comments and emails for over 5 years and chatting almost daily for the past couple. Mum and dad really struggled to get to grips with that one but it’s just penpals for the digital age. Does anybody have a penpal these days?

Journey back a bit of a nightmare with a very contrary madam in the back alternating between whining and being generally irritating and amusing herself by pulling shoes and socks off in order to lick her feet and make footprints on the window. Yuk. And then threw a proper lie-on-the-floor-and-kick tantrum at the service station; count those disapproving looks from all the hypothetical super-parents (my child would never behave like that). 

Today, a heady mix of unpacking and sorting, bill-paying and laundry. Grey grey gloomy and grey here so we are probably best indoors anyway.

I spent most of yesterday evening watching The Baby Borrowers (Cameron is away): three episodes back to back. Anyone seen it? Five fairly innocuous yet extremely clueless teenage couples were moved into their own homes, then given a baby for a weekend, then a toddler, then they will have pre-teens, teens, then some elderly people to care for. I was amazed by how utterly useless most of the girls were - I’m sure I wasn’t quite that self-obsessed even at 16 – but even more amazed by how good the boys were, even the chap who kept harping on about being a “non-verbal communicator” (what does he do, send thought waves?). Most of my amazement was saved for the babies’ real parents: who in their right mind would hand over their baby for 3 days (now a toddler I can understand)? Wouldn’t they miss them? The babies seemed to take it all in their stride and weren’t obviously teary but the poor little things were in a strange house with strange people, with just a few familiar toys to make them feel at home. It just doesn’t seem very kind.

One of the couples has hardly appeared, which presumably means they have taken it all in their stride, but the others have been shown in all their glory. (It probably says more about me than them that I was surprised their parents let them appear: there is no way my mum would have let me move into a house with – gasp – a boy at that age! And also surprised by all the swearing given that they know they will appear on telly and that the children were listening. I am just terribly middle class and old-fashioned, I know.) I especially enjoyed the girl who went and spent 2 hours removing her hair extensions rather than going home where her boyfriend had been house-husbanding all day; she then had a huge hissy fit and stomped out when he asked her to make him a coffee. I can’t see that one lasting though to be fair he did do that annoying “mummy” thing of thinking he and only he knew how to look after the baby. Red-faced, I recognised myself a little.

Birthdays don’t count any more at my age, but it is still a bit sad to wake up one year older on your own*. Cameron went to London yesterday and isn’t coming back until tomorrow. He has left a nice pile of cards and presents (but I’d rather he was here with no presents than presents are here without him). I told Maggie it was my birthday and she should sing to me, but she seems a bit confused: she was quite put out that I didn’t put on my party dress and wanted to know where the tree was and had “Farmer” Christmas been. We all overslept (see note below) so I haven’t opened anything yet; I thought I’d wait until she’s home this afternoon rather than doing it just with Tamsin this morning.

I did have a nice reflexology birthday treat, and Sara brought me cake last night. I’m not feeling too hard done by, just a bit starved of adult conversation. Trying to decide whether my evening would be better spent with Buffy or Moulin Rouge at the moment. I know how to have fun.

*”On my own” means Cameron isn’t there – of course I actually woke up with Tamsin snuffling away as usual on my right; I had about a foot-wide bit of bed then Maggie was spreadeagled across the rest of it, one foot in my face, on top of the covers. Cameron rang at 8 but M didn’t even wake: she came in around 4 last night in order to share an hour of coughing (very generous) so she was tired.