1. We no longer employ a helper, which means all childcare duties fall to me.
2. Man Tamtam has gone on a mission to the land of Sinterklaas for the first two weeks, so all childcare duties REALLY fall to me.
3. I am attempting to do some (actually v.v. interesting) jobs during the moments in which my children entertain themselves. (They are two and four years old. Only one of them naps.)
St Jude, incidently, is the patron saint of lost causes. I like him, we get on well.
Irish mammies offer up their sorrows to God in order to help out other poor souls. So I hope St Jude will look at this lost cause, and use my brownie points for the good of mankind. (We'll discuss what happens when I succeed when we get there. Christianity is not big on succeeding in the material world.)
So, just to get you up to speed: we were going to go back to the Netherlands, the land of milk and cheese all things dairy (yay!) but in a surprise twist we're staying in Singapore. I worked full-time at the Dutch Embassy and now I do the odd gig in writing (speeches, copy, you name it).
Blondie has turned 4 last week and is still in her jealousy inducing wonderful eyewateringly expensive local school, because even though my eyes were watering I could still discern that the Hollandse School was actually even more expensive on a monthly basis AND it lets all the angelic blondness out for several weeks during summer. Blondie is still deeply in love with ballet.
Big boy has his own school (called "arraimmymomo" after his three best friends who also go there) which gives me all of two wonderful boy-free hours in the morning to do work. He is big and strong, and loves his dairy, as the good Dutch boy that he is. He does not like veggies, unless it is spinach in a cheese-laden risotto and he can't get at the cheese without having the spinach. Then he will tolerate the green stuff. Also, he eats grated zucchini in Spanish tortilla, because he hasn't cottoned on that there is such a thing as grated zucchini which you can't distinguish from egg white when mixed in a Spanish tortilla. He is very suspicious about the potatoes though.
Man Tamtam: he works, he goes off to teach other people how to do their work, he comes back, he routinely trashes everybody in his Sunday morning cycling group and then complains about lack of form. He's playing the piano again, which is a resounding success with all family members, especially those obsessed by ballet and those obsessed with climbing on top of things and then pounding on those things to produce something we like to think off as "proto-music".
Let's hear it for November!