Sports Day and Other News

Little Prince's School held their annual sports day last week.  As he is still in the infant section, they don't do formal sports but have 35 stations around the school field where the kids rotate round and do little events.  Such as the rugby "try", the bunny hop, shooting basketball hoops etc.  It was a joyful shambles. Half of the younger kids kept wandering off and having to be rounded up by the leaders.  The older kids had set up the events and the "jumps" etc were spaced too far apart for the miniatures to jump in one leap.  The queue system fell apart quite early on as all the kids wanted to have a go and sundry calls of "Jo-fish" and "Welly-ottt" were heard. A lot. 

 

The whole day was an incredible success.  The day was well supervised and the teachers and children gave their all.  Parents and kids had a great time and winners were declared by house colour.  The only formal race that was run with winners was the 60 metre race which was run in heats.  Even though Little Prince was spectacularly bad at all of the events bar the bunny hop, he had a great time and everybody was upset when 3 o'clock came round and hometime was declared.  Little Prince's sports day was so different from the sports days of Princess Mummy's youth.  Maybe it was the fact that it was an afternoon instead of the whole day.  Maybe it was that the event was planned for May instead of mid-July, or maybe it was because the teachers were so enthusiastic and engaged that the kids couldn't help but be sucked in. 

 

In other news, Princess Mummy has started Weight Watchers.  Last April I climbed on the scales and the numbers went up, and up, and up.  So, when Prince Daddy broke his leg, and I had to take care of him, I was thrilled to see the weight drop off.  But then it stopped.  Then it crept back on again.  And so, finally, I took matters into my own hands and dragged my sorry bum to WeightWatchers. 

 

Honest to Goodness, I've never eaten so much food in my entire life.  Instead of the whole "eat less, move more" mantra, I've found myself eating better.  Tonnes of food, but better quality.  And 3 meals a day!  I haven't eaten 3 meals a day since I was 18 and moved out of Queen Mummy's house. 

 

Being in WW has caused me to reconsider how I treat food.  Prince Daddy has always said that my relationship with food is downright unhealthy.  And now I'm starting to see what he means.  Apparently one meal a day is not healthy.  Ok, one meal and a giant bar of chocolate. 

 

Yesterday, for example, I ate 2 poached eggs on toast, a baked potato, pasta in cheese and tomato sauce, mini biscuits, a banana, and some grapes.  And still, at first week's weigh in, I lost 3 1/2lbs.  How does that even work? 

 

I'll keep you informed whether it works again this week.  Keep everything crossed for Wednesday's Weigh In.

Stockholm Syndrome - Induced by a Professional

I'm living in a dictatorship and sadly, I don't seem to be top dog.  This is not how my life was supposed to happen.  I was gonna be large and in charge and run my house like a military operation.  Iron fist in a velvet glove and all that.  Except real life isn't as easy as the fantasy.  And motherhood isn't as easy as Queen Mummy makes it look.  So, really, it's all her fault for doing it too well.

 

Anyway, the despot in question is 4 foot tall and 3ish stone. And totally without mercy.  Seriously.  A career in Gitmo is in his future.

 

I think I might have developed Stockholm Syndrome.  Little Prince has been testing the theories in his the Sleep Deprivation / Rewards for Good Behaviour portion of his "Dictatorship For Beginners" book.

 

Granted, he has a head start running the sleep deprivation ruse on a narcoleptic but there you go.  Every day for the last week, I have been woken between an hour and an hour and a half before the alarm.  With kisses and cuddles.  Little Prince has a lot on his mind and needs answers.  Now.

 

So the big questions of the week are as follows:

 

What does snail poo look like?

 

Why don't snake's willies fall off when they slither on the floor?

 

Why do penguins "wobble" instead of walk?

 

(The answers, by the way, are white strings, they're tucked inside the snake until they need to be used, and because their legs are short and their bums are big.)

 

After the most recent wakeup, Prince Daddy and Princess Mummy held a summit meeting.  We decided to explain to Little Prince that Princess Mummy needs unbroken blocks of sleep.  That waking me up is ok if it's important, but other things can wait til alarm time. 

 

Little Prince listened, took it in, gave me tons of kisses and cuddles and it all seemed to work.  Four clear nights.  Until this morning.  At ten past six a small shadow slipped into the room and between the covers. 

 

"Mummyyyy...?"  (kiss)

 

"Grugh!"

 

"Mummy, its important.  I can't sleep and I need to talk to you." (kiss, kiss)

 

"Grugh!"

 

"Mummy!  Why aren't hearts heart shaped?" (kiss)

 

"WHAT?!"

 

"Mummy." (kiss) "Just google it for me and then you can sleep."

 

Fail!

And That's Why I'm Not Batman...

So, to happier thoughts.  This week has been, to quote Little Prince "Splattastic!"  Prince Daddy, as usual, has been the primary source, although Queen Mummy may have caused a splat of her own due to a combination of her famous (notorious) driving and a pheasant with suicidal intentions.

 

On Wednesday, Prince Daddy woke full of the joys and the delusions.  "I'm Batman" were his first, second, third etc. sentences of the day.  After the 37th declaration, I began to doubt the veracity of his claim.  Batman is known for being a little more discreet about being Batman.  Little Prince, also a non-believer began announcing the same.  Not wishing to be left out of the Spartacus situation which was brewing, after brushing my teeth, I leapt into the bedroom announcing "I'm Batman!"  Unfortunately, I fell over a towel, forgot to breathe and went Splat, toothbrush in hand. 

 

Batman AKA Prince Daddy, leapt into action, put me in the recovery position, and whispered lovingly into my ear "and that's why you're not Batman."  

 

So, the big question of Wednesday is how come I lose all muscle tone and cannot respond, yet wake STILL clutching my toothbrush like a life belt?

 

***

 

Saturday, again was very much Splat centric.  One thing people without Narcolepsy don't realise is how every aspect of your life can be affected.  As we don't yet have a shower, Prince Daddy has to be on hand to supervise me bathing as I tend to drift off to sleep and sink.  This is actually scarier than it sounds.  Earlier this year, a car backfiring gave me such a fright that I went Splat, sank and could actually feel myself breathing in water and starting to drown.  Unfortunately, the terror that goes with that experience caused me to be unable to respond and it's a vicious circle.  Had Prince Daddy not been on hand to fish me out and make me breathe, there would have been no more Blog!

 

Unfortunately, Prince Daddy's presence causes as many splats as it prevents.  Sitting on the toilet seat, next to the bath, I am a captive audience for his silly, offbeat and hilarious sense of humour.  And we all know what happens when I laugh.  The same thing as when I cry, scream, get overexcited or orgasm.  Yes, you read that right.  Orgasm.  Prince Daddy likes to joke that he's the only man in the world who sees it as a compliment when his wife falls asleep in the middle of sex!

 

So after a 3 splat bath (due to his humour gutter-brains) we walked into the town centre to take in the market.  Explaining Narcolepsy with Cataplexy to someone new is something I actually don't mind doing.  I'd rather people understood than passed judgement on me as "mental", "loopy", "drunk", "bipolar" etc.  All names I have been called, and all, obviously, little understood conditions.

 

Prince Daddy was on form however.  In a shop talking to C and R whom we have known in passing for some time, Prince Daddy thought the way to explain Narcolepsy was:

 

"And watch what happens when I do this-RAAARRRGGHHHH!!!!"

 

Guess what I did? Yup!  

 

In his defence, Prince Daddy says that there was a 2-beat-count in his head between "this" and the roar that followed. 

 

I have forgiven him though -after guilt tripping him into buying me chocolate.  If I took every Splat to heart, I'd spend far too much time in a mood and not nearly enough having fun.  Besides, he did make me a flask of tea (so I don't risk scalding myself) and set up the DVD with The King and I, one of my favourite hokey musicals of all time while he slept ready for his night shift.

 

Shaaaalll weee dance? tra-la-la?