friday afternoon

Whilst my beloved children are downstairs eating pizza in front of Madagasca (I like to move it move it I like to move it move it) and currently not trying to throttle each other with ribbons or stab each other with the remote controls, I have snuck away to contemplate the sunshine and the week, which has flown by like concord going supersonic.
Is it bad that I've left them downstairs on their own with the nursery maid aka dvd? Well, I watched the first 45minutes so I reckon I'm ok at the moment.
So this week has been all a bit stomach wrenching and peculiar.
Sunday I let a North-Face-Clad-couple-from-Crouch-End in to our house to look around it. We may be selling it. But that's another blog for another day. And I proudly showed them around (Husband was at work going a bit insane on a completely insane job, and had a bucket under his nose to catch the snot which was on perma-drip); admiring my own home, which we, Husband and I, and I suppose to an extent, Mol & Liz, have put together over the last 8 years. And I am proud of it. And by showing them around I realised how much I totally love this home of ours. Our FIRST grown up home, with upstairs and downstairs, a garden, and a roof that we own 100% of. And its really, really made my stomach do flips thinking about not being here any more. How odd will it be for two small children who've only ever lived here to pack up their things and watch the house empty out into a large lorry sometime in the summer (with their drunken mother sobbing into one of Husbands oversized overused man-hankies)?
So that was weird.
And then on Wednesday night I watched a re-run of Location Location with the wordy Phil & Kirsty, who were re-living their very first couple who happen to be excellent friends of ours. And seeing them on the telly from 7 years ago was surreal. (Not a new line on their face since, which disturbed me somewhat as I climbed into my bath aftewards, my face covered in lines and indellible sleep-patterns around my eyes...) The very night their show was broadcast I went into labour with Mol, so as I was watching them again on Wednesday my tummy started going a bit flippy and I must admit I shed a tiny tear (also probably because I really wanted to jump on the first express train to Glasgow and I know I probably won't be able to do that now until 2011...). So that was weird. In a nice sort of a way.
And then weirdly a really good friend of mine, who's husband is Liz's godfather, on that very same night as Phil & Kirsty re-lived their love of our friends in Scotland, only went and got herself into labour too. Crazy huh? Maybe there is something about watching friends on TV when at a critical stage of pregnancy that triggers a hormone rush that triggers contractions? I may have found something here.
So that was weird.
And then today when I took Mol to ballet me and Liz sat in the hell like waiting room listening to the clonk-clonk of the piano in the studio and like dominoes, one by one, each toddler in the waiting room hit each other, with increasing intensity. ella hit jasper. jasper hit theo. theo came over and demolished liz and tried to remove her hair as if it were merely a wig.
so that was a bit weird.
something about the YMCA which induces crazed behaviour in small people.
anyway. I can hear "I like to move it move it, I like to move it move it" which means Madagascar is finishing, which means I better go down before the killing of siblings begins. Again.
Have a nice weekend folks. May it be free of weirdness.
(see. not even 10seconds has passed and I can hear them battling downstairs. HELL.)