So, last weekend was spent running around like a headless chicken in preparation for Tuesday, while also entertaining the kids and preventing them from creating more mess. We realised the the hall remained in the same half-painted state as the last time my mum visited, so Simon slapped some more paint on while I was taking the kids to school on Monday; our initial enthusiasm for decorating the flat has disappeared and we desperately need to get it back. I assured my mum on Monday night that we were ready for them, whilst creating a mental list of things which still needed to be done and feeling my blood pressure soar. Simon and fell asleep, woke at 2am the following morning in a mad panic as Harv's birthday presents still weren't wrapped - found the paper and wrapped them half asleep, do other parents do things like this?
We woke on Tuesday to find the rain which had started overnight was still continuing, it was chucking down, pitch black and tremendously windy. Harvey had slept late-ish for once, so we were left with an hour and a half from when we staggered out of bed to when we had to leave for school. Of course he wanted to open all of his presents right then, and we did battle with the Postman Pat train set which was determined not to be freed from it's crazy amount of packaging. Everything had to be opened and assembled, while time ticked by and Darcie worked herself into a frenzy because her brother was getting to go to school on his birthday while hers had fallen on a Sunday - apparently the most unfair, cruel thing ever to happen to her. The flat quickly turned back into a tip and I was painfully aware that there was a hell of a lot of tidying to be done before my parents arrived.
We slung some breakfast at the kids and attempted to assemble packed lunches; it was at this point that I realised we had no cartons of drink for Harvey. Of course my children don't like the same drinks and both refuse to have flasks of squash in their lunch boxes for some unknown reason. I spent a small fortune on various cartons, mini bottles, etc. of drink for their lunches - yes I know I should give them squash in flasks and if they refuse to drink it then it's tough, but I'm weak. We had a single carton of blackcurrant for Darcie but a thorough desperate search in the fridge proved fruitless and we were forced to accept that Harvey had no drinks. This hardly ever happens and seeing my desperation Simon generously offered to come with us on his crutches and escort the kids to school while I made a mad dash to Lidl which is just near the schools for some cartons of apple juice. Finally, ten minutes behind schedule we all staggered out into the rain.
It was much worse than we anticipated; the pavements were under water and massive puddles had collected in the gutters of the busy main road. Driving rain and fierce wind made walking very tough and breathing was a struggle; it was one of those mornings when all you want to do is turn around, go home, climb into bed and pull the covers over your head. Simon suggested this but Darcie screeched at the mere suggestion of being at home rather than playing with her friends, so we ploughed on. The fifteen minute walk was endless - desperate attempts to phone a taxi failed as the line was engaged, I assumed hundreds of other people had the same idea that morning. Too late we realised we should have made the kids put wellies on - I cursed myself for being such a useless mother as my poor innocent children trudged along in the torrential rain, their feet and legs getting wetter by the second. I walked through a puddle and felt water seep into my shoes, a suitable but miserable punishment for not thinking about the wellies. Simon struggled along on his crutches and then bravely dragged the kids onto school while I veered off in the direction of Lidl. My coat has no hood so I was battling to keep a flimsy umbrella up, Harv's hood kept slipping down so I made the ultimate sacrifice and donated my umbrella to him while I dashed off to get the drinks. Simon later said that the wind caught the umbrella and nearly carried our son off Mary Poppins style, a moment of amusement in an otherwise bleak morning.
By the time I'd run across Lidl's car park and entered the store I was drenched, hair plastered to my head, glasses steamed up, squelching in wet shoes. I knew I only had a few minutes to locate the cartons of apple juice, purchase them, get to school and put one in Harvey's lunch bag, so time was of the essence. I grabbed some milk and hot chocolate in my half-blind state (someone needs to invent windscreen wipers for glasses) and promised myself a nice hot drink if I ever got home. As I was paying for the stuff someone loomed up to me and started chatting, because I couldn't really see through my steamed up glasses, I genuinely wasn't sure who it was for a few seconds. Thankfully I identified the person as Harvey's friend Cameron's mum, who wanted to confirm that her son could come to our party - her timing could have been better but I managed to have a quick conversation with her whilst marvelling at how cool, calm and collected she was while I definitely resembled a drowned rat.
Another mad dash in the rain later, and I met up with Simon and Harvey - Darcie had already disappeared into school. We staggered into his classroom, put the drink into his lunchbox, checked that he wasn't too soaked - I made a feeble attempt to dry his hair with the sleeve of my coat, totally pointless but at least it made me look like a caring mother. Harvey's normal teacher, the formidable Mrs Morgan (she does Mondays, Tuesdays and half of Wednesdays before the lovely Miss Cumming takes over) wasn't there, and another teacher was in her place, who had no idea it was my precious sons birthday. I left her clutching the tin of chocolates we'd taken for Harvey to share with the class, and waved goodbye to my soggy little boy who looked on the verge of tears.
Typically the rain had eased slightly although it was still definitely chucking it down. Simon & I staggered back home and were faced with chaos, while we were drying off we put the radio on and listened to reports of flash floods in the Portsmouth area. It also mentioned roads being closed due to flooding near Chichester, which is very close to where my parents are based. Being an ever dutiful daughter, I got on the phone and informed them of this, warning them that if they did set off in our direction then they may get stuck. They have a half hour bus ride into Chichester then another half hour-ish train journey, and my mum said straight away that she suspected the roads near them would be closed, in which case the buses wouldn't be able to run. She phoned the bus company then called me back; due to the weather the buses were extremely delayed and she'd been strongly advised not to travel. After lots more deliberation, my parents decided not to come on Tuesday, apologising profusely for not seeing their grandson on his birthday. We agreed that they'd come on Saturday instead; it was a pity but I hung up feeling secretly fairly relieved - we'd been granted a reprieve and could laze around drinking hot chocolate rather than tidying up!
Of course Harvey sulked and Darcie started her screeching, accusations and death threats when their loving Granny wasn't there to greet them after school - they were instead faced with their poor mum who is apparently "boring, annoying and horrible." I'm not disagreeing with this, but still the truth hurts. Fortunately the rain had finally given up and the sun was battling to peek through the grey clouds as I dragged my whining children home - clearly my mum makes the journey fun, interesting and mind-blowingly fantastic. I resisted the strong urge to shove them both into the main road and leave them to take their chances among the traffic and instead dutifully led them safely home. As planned, my mother phoned at 4pm and in a soothing, gentle tone convinced her hysterical granddaughter that it wasn't necessary to commit suicide just yet as they were planning on visiting on Saturday instead.
Simon and I provided a special "party tea" for the kids; we'd dashed to Asda during the afternoon and spent a small fortune on food which we hoped and prayed Harvey would actually accept. His favourite sausage rolls, dips, pringles, bread sticks, ham, chicken, cheese, cocktail sausages, some pizza for Darcie (Harvey despises pizza, the child is not normal) plus tons of pickle and various other edible things which vaguely classify as party food. Harvey was over the moon and scoffed until we genuinely thought he'd burst, and Darcie managed to smile too which made our efforts worthwhile. My mother had ordered me to spend the afternoon making a birthday cake for my son; obviously now Harvey had to wait until Saturday for the one she'd lovingly prepared for him. I'd ignored her and bought a cake from Asda, I even managed to buy some ready-made icing and decorate it for him. Our cake might not have been home made but it went down extremely well - we sang Happy Birthday ten times which seems to be the minimum Harvey will accept. The mini indoor sparklers I'd impulsively bought were also a huge success, despite my poor little boy very narrowly avoiding setting fire to his mass of curly hair.
As the kids played for a little bit before Harvey's bed time, I watched the rain still cascading out of the dark sky and had yet another trip down memory lane. I remembered the newborn I'd held in hospital half a decade ago, and wondered when that helpless baby had transformed into the little boy I now have. Harvey is such a character - he's awkward, stubborn and I freely admit I've spoilt him, but he truly is such an fantastic little thing. He's full of energy, excitement and happiness and most of the time being with him makes me happy. He's affectionate and kind, bright and funny and infuriating as he is, I defy anyone not to like him. I miss my baby and my toddler, but I'm looking forward to the next 5 years; I hope we stay as close as we are, and I feel truly lucky to be Harvey's mum.
As always, there's that element of sadness. I can't think about how well I get on with Harvey without thinking about how much I struggle with Darcie. Watching the rain suddenly reminded me of something; back when she was still tiny I remember having her all wrapped up and ready to go out, in her pram in the dining room of the house we lived in then. She must have been about six months and it was pouring with rain, I was fed up and desperate to get out but couldn't justify dragging the baby out in torrential rain. I remember wandering around singing "Raindrops keep falling on my head" quietly, praying the sun would suddenly pop out. When I glanced at Darcie she was beaming at me, for a while after that each time I sung that song she smiled. Now my singing voice leaves a hell of a lot to be desired, so something about that song must have appealed to her! I'm glad that I didn't know that day what lay ahead for us, and how my happy baby would turn into a sad, resentful child. I'm pleased I have moments like that to look back on and think yes, Darcie did once like me, however briefly.
Lots more to say but as always I've run out of time and energy!
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