marmite breath slept here

You started out like this, Tom

Naval Hospital, Pozzuoli, Italy, 2002

And in the space of one year, you had grown to look like this and used baby sign language to say "More boob" or "more cake" (whichever!).

And then you were two, and ate blue cake while you shouted, "To affinity and a blonde!"

And when you were three, you were as three as you could be.  The robot madness was beginning.

Four brought Transformers and Robots and Blocks.  Four is what you were all the way up until I woke you up last night at midnight. You opened your eyes and said "Hey". 

 "Happy Birthday Tom," I said.  And then I went to bed too.

Five.  Today.  Woah.  Stop growing so fast. 

This morning, we kept the ritual alive (yes, Aaron, I should stop fobbing my own childhood traditions off on the kids, but they like it).  We got up and immediately opened all the cards and presents.  Is there anything more lovely than sitting in bed, opening cards and finding money and lovely wishes from people?  And waiting for the postman?  And opening presents? And having tea and waffles?    I love seeing their faces--Hadleigh reading the cards out to Tom and trying to tell him what to spend his money on.  I love seeing them get excited when they figure out how much the English money is worth. 

Tom spent a lot of the day on the phone--although speaking to him while he is building with Lego is like pulling teeth, as Dad says.  He had a great party with all his buddies, and afterwards he took my face in his hands and said, "Thanks for preparing that" and I melted and died right there.

It made up for the fact that I came downstairs this morning and thought that a Betsey Johnson-inspired mouse had died on my floor.  Look.  What would you think??

It was some sort of whorish clothing for one of Hadleigh's My Scene dolls.  But I did scream. 

And then an hour later, I had to scream for the old man across the street to come and help me get rid of another mouse.  It was on the trap, and I was about to dry heave everywhere and have a complete and total nervous breakdown.

"Mom, calm down" said Tom.  "It's just a mouse, and it scares me when you scream"

The lovely neighbour man didn't understand my complete and utter TERROR and tried to get me to hold open a carrier bag so that he could drop the mouse into it.  I think he began to get an inkling when I screamed, ran into the bathroom and yelled, "I want you to do it!  I called you over here because I caaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaan't deal with thiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiis!!"

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So. Now the party is over, my kids are sleeping happily, the dog is whimpering in his sleep while he lays next to me on the couch.  Aaron is in Lincoln for the night.  He has an exam in the morning.  I have a Mother in Law coming to visit at the end of the week and then a Mum coming to visit the week after.   Life is plodding on, as Grandad Tom used to say.  I miss him.

I should take break from blogging here to get a snack and to take my birth control.  Because this time five years ago, I looked like this*.  And I'll be damned if that's going to happen again.

*But it was worth it.  Check out the prize next to me.

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Toby called tonight.  He used to call when he was on his way home from the pub at stupid o'clock in the morning and ask me to bring him a pack of smokes.

"Um, Tobes, I'm actually in America" I used to say.  And he would laugh and say he forgot.  And then the next weekend I'd get a call saying, "Hi Spesh, I'm just coming home from the pub and it's freezing and I want a curry and also, I'm out of fags"

And I'd be all, "Waaaaaah, Curry!!!! and Waaaaaah Smokes" because I stopped saying fags about five minutes after I moved here.  Because I liked not having my ass kicked.  And I wanted to keep it that way.

Tonight Toby was in Paris and I had to mock him for complaining about his tough life.  In Paris.  Heh!  I miss traveling.

I'm looking at plane tickets to England--they're ridiculously cheap at the minute.  I'm thinking and planning and dreaming.

But I'm still not really writing.  Shit.  Curse you, writer's block!

(I do not, however, have Reader's Block.  This situation has kept me pretty pissed off this week.).  Melissa, if you readt this, I love you and thought you were poised and brilliant on the show.)