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Sunday, 21 December 2008

Identity Crisis Mark II

The Christmas holidays have begun, and, three days in, Lovely-Kind-Cake-Baking-Mummy Mode has been switched back on, and even though the signal is still a little weak, it is definitely glimmering, and starting to take over from Slightly-Irritable-Old-Fashioned-Husband Mode, which has been set to Minimum once more. Phew. The refreshed Mummy Mode is helped greatly I must confess by the total destruction of my iPhone at the beginning of last week. Running across a busy road in Kings Cross on the way to work (only two minutes to spare before being late for a finance meeting - oops) the lovely, shiny gadget, which I have been told before might as well be a surgical implant, so attached am I to it, quite literally threw itself from my pocket and into the path of an oncoming Heavy Goods Vehicle. I felt quite foolish, let me tell you, turning back to watch it crunching under the wheels of the lorry, and fear my jaw may have been hanging open in horror, if the amused look on the face of the Be-suited Male Office Person passing me was anything to go by. However, it's nice to have given the IT guys a fund of new material for Taking The Piss Out of Sara at the Christmas Party: "Are you sure we can trust you with another one, love? Ha! Ha! Ha!" and so on and so forth.
Anyhooo, the lack of iPhone has, as I was saying, no doubt contributed to my air of carefree Mumminess, since I can't get distracted by an email when shopping, talking, baking cakes, reading a board book for the umpteenth time, engaging in a light sabre duel, or anything like that.
Meanwhile, it has come to my notice that I am not the only one in the family with the capacity to morph from one personality to another on a whim. The other day, Eden (seven), pronounced quite forcefully when offered the only pudding choice left in the house after supper, "Alright, Mummy. That's fine. But please be conscious of the fact that it was not my choice, so I may not eat it all." (Her exact words).
"Please be conscious of the fact..."? Now, where do you think she picked up that phrase?

Wednesday, 10 December 2008

Identity Crisis

Have been tucked up in bed for two days with a raging sore throat and a headful of cotton wool. If only you could see me now (this is one of those statements which actually means the opposite); I am propped up in bed with a big old college-style scarf wrapped round my neck, a granny cardigan and jogging bottoms adorning my leaden body, a laptop on my knees, an iPhone by my side and a big stack of blackcurrant lemsips just within reach.
As I came round from a groggy sleep just now I started to muse on something. It might be that I am just a little feverish. Or it might just be true. It almost certainly implies that I need to get back to work and stop thinking the trivial kind of mind-wandering thoughts that can only occur to you in such circumstances. But anyway, what I thought was....
Am I becoming an ... Old-Fashioned Husband?
Let me explain what led to this thought. Recently, I've noticed myself indulging in husband-like activities, such as spending less than 15 minutes choosing a Birthday present for my partner - between meetings - and then getting all his sizes wrong. And the other day I actually texted to ask what was for supper on my way home. Then, there was this other thing. Quite a few times in the course of a week, Paul had to repeat himself several times whilst I was busy emailing on my iPhone. He's used to me ignoring him at the expense of the email, but it was the way I absent- mindedly looked up and said, 'Hmm?' that worred him most. Help! Next I'll be sidling through the front door after work, shuffling into some comfy slippers and sitting down with the newspaper, waiting for someone to bring me a cup of tea.