My smugness at not being on a wet and miserable school trip should have been glorious. One up for the good-enough mums against the alpha mums who think that their ubiquitousness at the school means they’ve got a starring role in the headteacher’s good books. ‘Ha!’ I thought, ‘I might not be able to bagsie the front row seats at the school nativity play, but at least I won’t have trench foot by the end of the day.’
How wrong I was.
The last time I dealt with so much wet so often was when I had a day at a health spa with my sister. Only that was a far more pleasurable experience and at no point today did I have the use of a heated sun lounger. A heated sun lounger would have gone down a treat too.
There’s one damp patch that I have to deal with on a daily basis. No, not that one! (Yuk!) But rather the pool of water left across the bathroom by Husband having a shave. From the water-spatter you’d think Husband must have the chin of a Bo Selecta! character.
I’m still cursing as I head downstairs, only to discover the need for fresh swear words as I step into the kitchen. Did I have ‘repair the roof’ on my list of ‘Never-ending household repairs’? If I hadn’t, I need to add it. Patches of wet are clearly evident on the fresh paintwork in the dining area and the table is drenched in a pool of rainwater. Oh, balls!
At what point is it appropriate to start crying? Not yet? How about on discovering that Noodles had emptied a bottle of tropical fruit squash onto my bed?
That’s definitely not what it looks like. My bed now smells of tropical fruit, which is a lot better than more usual mattress dampenings, but it’s still not truly desirable. I hadn’t even been awake for an hour and yet felt as though I’d mopped up half the house.
Yet it still had to be preferable to the whiny chorus of soggy children that various frenemies were going to have to endure over the course of the day. I was off to baby gym. Much more fun.
Unfortunately the walk there really wasn’t. Halfway there the heavens open. Noodles’ buggy hood doesn’t actually cover his legs. The last time we walked to baby gym in a mild spot of rain his trousers were so wet that we he had to run around the gym hall in his nappy. There’s one short step to wry looks from other mums.
Luckily I carry a host of random items in my baby changing bag. I’m not quite sure when a set of chopsticks will come in handy, but you never know. Probably not as actual chopsticks, but for something far less obvious. Much like the shopping bag that became a rain over for Noodles’ legs.
I carry along the path until I notice an ominous squelch in my right shoe. A puddle is not the ideal way to discover you’ve got a hole in your shoe (although preferable to dog poo, which I’ve had the bad luck to experience too).
Glasses splattered with raindrops, hair plastered to my head, soggy sock concealed by squelching plimsole. Now can I cry?
Mercifully there’s one thing that’s guaranteed to cast some sunshine: Noodles’ gleefully running around baby gym. I manage to drip dry as he hurls himself from trampoline to beam via the bouncy castle.
Noodles certainly has the ability to brighten my day. Although as bedtime approaches and my mattress is still slightly damp, not even a sunshine smile completely clear the various dampners on my day.
At least if I have dreams of tropical storms I’ll know why.