7 quick takes #5 - in which voting makes my head hurt but I fix it with sweets and films

Friday, 23 May 2014


So as you might have guessed from yesterday's post, we've had a busy week, but a good one. Our friends are visiting from Florida with an adorable baby they have acquired since the last time we saw them ;), and it's been nice to see them, eat crazy American food and betroth our children.


Do you ever wonder when you became a grown up? Today we played with gloop and Baby B got so stuck in that it was one of those situations where I could choose: use about fifty wetwipes to clean her, or plonk her straight in the bath (after carrying her up the stairs at arms length like she's a bomb about to go off). Obviously the bath won out. Later I put her splashmat in the sink and filled it with water and then was suddenly hit with a really strong memory of my mother's hands in a washing up bowl, putting something in to soak, and it hit me that Baby might one day have a memory of me doing this very same thing. I realised I spent most of my time this morning:
  • cleaning up
  • saying things like 'You cant fling yourself off the sofa' or 'No, remote controls/coasters/Mummy's face wipes are not for eating' or 'Well you should have slept earlier if you're tired'
  • checking the results of yesterday's elections
The feeling of being An Adult suddenly overwhelmed me.

When did this happen? When did I start being a grown up?

 I felt the need to counteract this by eating watermelon flavoured Oreos. It helped a little.

Phew. That was a close one.


What in the heck has happened to the weather? One day it was nice enough to be reading books outside:

And now it is like this:

Rain. Rain.

More rain.

I quite like this snuggly-in-the-house weather ... 

In October. Not in May.



Speaking of first world problems, we've been trying to arrange a cinema trip to see Godzilla for quite a while now with varying degrees of anxiety. My husband is extremely mildly excited about seeing it, and we did the first 'leave the baby for a few hours' test a couple of weeks ago, and it worked really well. So tomorrow, we're leaving Baby B with the grandparents and going to the cinema for the first time since she has been born. The last time I went to the cinema was when I was heavily pregnant and I was trying to cram in as many movies as possible before the baby arrived. The Worlds End, Alpha Papa and Ferris Bueller's Day Off all within a few weeks. It was great. (I wasn't time travelling, by the way. Vue were showing the odd 80's movie. It was weirdly awesome to see a film so familiar from my childhood on a big screen).

Anyway, what was I talking about? The cinema. We're going. Tomorrow. On a double date. Yay! I just wonder how many times I will be able to get away with sneakily checking my phone for updates on the baby without the cinema staff wondering if I'm up to something.

Which leads me onto:


Yes, those are sweets. Yes, they are in a food bag. Why? Because nobody in their right mind buys Pick n Mix at the cinema (I learnt this the hard way when I accidentally spent more than my ticket on sweets at the Odeon) and as far as I'm aware sneaking in sweets from home is a common and not arrestable offence.

However our budget wasn't really swinging to Candy King either so I went for the ol' 3-for-a-pound job at Morrisons. And I've put them all into one bag because I listen to Kermode and Mayo on Radio 5 Live, which has a well established Wittertainment Code of Conduct for cinema-going, and I now feel horrendously guilty for my past rustling-sweet-packet sins. My theory was less packets = less rustling.

But really, putting all these sweets into a bag with a sense of satisfaction that only comes from being obsessively organised just reconfirmed that I am turning into my mother. ;)

That's not a bad thing, by the way. My Mum is awesome.

I voted yesterday. I didn't really want to. If I'm honest, I don't a) really understand what the elections are about and b) don't really like any of the parties in the running, but all morning there was this righteous little voice in my head saying 'But women died for you to be able to do this, did you know that? They DIED. And you still don't want to vote?' so I trudged off with Baby to the church down the road and the minute I got into the building my brain departed from my head and I completely forgot not only who I was going to vote for, but how I actually vote in the first place.

'Er, I've got my card thingy,' I said nervously to the panel of people waiting to direct the eager crowd to the stations. Except there was no eager crowd, it was just me, and my voice echoed annoyingly around and around the room.

Luckily the ladies were very forgiving of my stupidness and I wandered over to a booth and immediately started to panic. I had intended to vote strategically because I sure as heck knew who I didn't want to win. But what was the best party to vote for? I forgot. I briefly considered drawing a rude and insulting picture involving Michael Gove but decided against it, crossed a box, and left.

I have to admit feeling a little thrill of pride as I left the building. Look at me voting! And caring! No-one knew that I had no idea what I was doing. As far as I know, no-one knows what they're doing.


To finalise this post, let me reassure you that I am definitely not a grown up at heart.

Do you know what cheers up rainy days?

Bubbles, baby!

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