I attended a high tea today, to celebrate the vaulting of Disney’s Beauty and the Beast.
Yes, it’s going out for the Olympics.
No, it’s apparently being returned to the Disney vault for some time.
I’d RSVPd over a week ago and, I kid you not, in the space of twenty minutes yesterday morning, I had to pull out – twice – then apologise profusely saying I could make it.
Hubby’s workplace is, yet again, fucking with our minds and lives and routines and he is currently incapable of telling me if he is working for the next few weeks or not because he doesn’t know! Because they don’t know!
And I wonder if I am able to sue for stress and mindfucking?
As it was, by this morning’s stage I really needed the break from everything and, what with him now not working (or, so I heard last) this morning, he was able to perform kinder gym duty and I went along to this High Tea, kid free.
(Which rhymes – so there you go)
I hopped on a tram and had the opportunity to sit and be with my own thoughts. Sometimes, this can be rather scary, although, to date, the voice in my head have not told me to set fire to anything. So that’s a bonus. Sometimes, it causes more stress, because I am afforded the time to let my mind roam free and I think up a gajillionty more ideas. Today, it was just a big ball of white noise and not much talking, so that was nice. Also, no one annoyed me, so that was even better.
Arrive at the Langham, where the High Tea was being held, otherwise that would have just confused the issue, and sat down to some scrumbly, finger sized sandwiches, of which I ate 47 because, let’s be honest, finger sized sandwiches are a stupid idea. And one scone. As in, I ate one scone, not that there was only one scone.
I did have to share, but not with children, so that was an added bonus. Whether sharing with other bloggers is a good thing or not in general, yesterday it proved tolerable. I made sure, also, that I sat at a kid free table. This did not stop a random child, one whom, so I am told, is shy and unlikely to speak to another adult, sitting on my lap and having a conversation with me.
I tend to attract kids like that. I have done my entire life. Kids have always loved me. So much so that lots of people said I’d be a great mum. Or that I should be on a children’s TV show. Personally, I think I’d be better placed on a TV show that sends up children’s TV. Others agree.
I managed a quiet coffee, afterwards, with a friend, some adult chat and just a nice time. Another, quiet, tram ride home followed, where a migraine began to set in. On my short walk from the tram stop to home, I determined I would have a snooze whilst Grumpy Pants collected the children. Sadly, he had to leave for work, to the point of texting me before I hit the front gate saying “Where are you?!”
I walk to school, Chippie having a hissy fit, and curled up in his pram with his blanket pulled over his head, and promptly falling asleep in a somewhat precarious position that had me concerned he’d be thrown from his pram, should we hit a small bump. Everyone at school thought this was “cute”.
We made it home without much incident, save the intriguing ability for Chippie to fall asleep mid-screaming-tantrum and wake up forty minutes later and commence screaming and crying about the same wrongdoing that caused him to tanty when we left home.
So that was fun.
By the time we made it home and I had commenced the evening meal preparation, the high tea was long forgotten, I’d had some headache meds and was debating joining Chippie on the floor for yet another tantrum about something exceedingly important like the fact I said “Jessie’s hat” instead of “Woody’s hat” or some other life threatening, highly stressful thing.
Except, I do think I may very well have stayed down there and gone to sleep had I done that … and I was hungry, so glass of wine and cooking dinner it was, instead.