Going home again

All the way to Heathrow, I had a nagging feeling that we were going on the wrong day, and we’d arrive at the airport to find either that we were a day early or a day late. We rented our car from the Sixt over the road from Hatton Cross tube station, and when we eventually got there (after a series of u-turns, no left turns and a helpful man winding down his window to yell at us that the A30 was a total mess) we found out the shuttle doesn’t run from the rental office to Terminal 5, and we couldn’t face schlepping four suitcases and innumerable bags across the airport.

Instead, we drove to Sixt’s office on Terminal 5, in the Sofitel, or rather we drove around the airport perimeter a few times, getting honked at by irate drivers, getting lost and confused, and more and more worried. Well, I worried. After all this, were we about to find we needed to check into a hotel for the night?
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Don’t hit children

This waa the fourth morning of putting La Serpiente on the school bus, and as with the last three days, she found ways to make us panic. This time, it was by waking up at 12:30 last night and taking an hour to put back down (every time I got up to leave her bedside she’d raise her head and demand “cuddles” (or “turtle” – her nocturnal pronunciation can leave something to be desired) until she felt she’d demonstrated her superiority sufficiently), which meant I snoozed my alarm at 6:45 instead of springing into action, which meant we had twenty minutes to insert food into her, dress and clean her and then put her on the bus. Which we managed, which implies we had too much margin built into our schedule anyway. I guess thanks are in order.

After dispatching our eldest, we took our youngest over the road and had a coffee, then headed home – I had a call at nine. Standing in the lift lobby on the third floor, we heard yelling, and we looked down just in time to see a woman shouting at a boy and hitting him around the head. And it got worse.
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Of snot, and misplaced priorities

The kids are both a bit snuffly – I’m beginning to be made all gloomy by the persistent vector of sickness that is pre-school. The loveable little urchins lick a door handle or something, then go to school, then lick one another, and then my particular darling comes home and has a fever. Selfishly, this helped because she went straight to sleep last night after a few forlorn cries for medicine, but when she woke this morning she was not in her best spirits. That made the walk to school and her drop off rather hard, with all the attendent wibbling and wobbling and asking to be picked up and held and cuddled when I was meant to be back at the office, pummelling spreadsheets.

Which makes me think my priorities may be out of whack.
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I put my watch down somewhere two days ago, and I’ve no idea where that was. I assume it was somewhere in the apartment, but we’ve turned almost everything upside down to no avail. La Serpiente tried to help, by taking everything out of my underwear drawer and throwing it on the floor, but sadly that effort didn’t result in anything. At least for once I haven’t lost my wedding ring.
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Chasing down the child…

Today my wife went back to the hospital for another check up (we’re now on weekly check ins as we approach the arrival of Baby 2) and I stayed at home to mind Baby 1. Last week this was pretty simple, as she went to sleep at midday and I spent an hour working on my email back log until she woke up, which happily coincided with my wife returning.

This week was not so easy.
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