I mind this young chap, we'll call him F. He is an absolute sweetheart and despite what I said at the beginning ("I'm not falling for him the way I fell for Charlie") I have developed quite a crush on him.
Now, what do you do when you start to care more for the borrowed boy than your own weasely kids? Took F out today, we went to PJ's in Balbriggan and he played and played, pooped and played some more. He didn't whinge at me or whine. He didn't demand anything. He just pooped and played. Sweetheart.
He was so nice today the lovely film crew from RTE spent quite a while filming him climbing up and over things. Funny, both his mam and dad and I worry because he's not walking yet (the pressure on the borrowed boy is huge and he hasn't even noticed. How can he not have noticed?? Is it because he is a boy?) yet there he was climbing up the padded ramp thing, across the rope bridge and down the slide. He also climbed in and out of the ball pit?! Yet we're all panicking because he won't walk? Why??
Oh yeah, RTE. Carol gave me a shout the other day about going down to PJ's to talk to Keelin Shanley about Follow On Milk for the Consumer Show. Bit of craic as most of us mammies knew each other and we're all quite similar insofar as we love stuff and we have a lot of kids between us, soon to have more methinks. Thinking back on it though it was interesting how we all feel the 'guilt'. That 'guilt' should probably come in caps as it's huge amongst mammies. Am I doing the right thing? Should I buy that toy as every other kid in the world has it? Should I be giving them fish fingers more than once a week and can chips count as your one-a-day when you're up shit creek and there's no-one around to help out. Fascinated about how everyone else loved the idea of organic produce. I personally couldn't give a toss. We're so bombarded with toxins, pollution and other people's phone calls that I don't think an organic carrot is going to make the blindest bit of difference. What was also really, really interesting is that we were all utterly convinced we had seen ads for baby formula for, well, babies, on TV. Apparently not as it's against the law. Who knew and what have we seen? But I do think it's guilt that makes us an advertisers dream. We don't trust our guts anymore. Feel that we must read the book and that the experts know far more than us. Super nanny my arse. Fucking hell, if that woman had to make dinner (as I did tonight) only to chuck it in the bin several nights on the trot she too would be doling out the fish fingers. Also, if she had to go several nights without sleep she would let the kids sleep in whichever bed they wanted. Fuck it, she'd sleep on the sofa whilst they took over her bed completely. Ha, I always remember once watching Monsters Inc in French and not noticing until the movie was half over I was so out of it with tiredness. Back to advertising though, as long as they use babies/children to get their message across we mammies are going to be their products best customers. Incidentally, how come it's always a mammy in the ad and rarely a daddy? Is it because advertisers still believe that it's the da's that go out to work whilst mammy stays at home keeping house and kids going? Just wondering as well, I stay at home but him indoors does a fair amount too. Jesus, I don't think I ever gave # 3 a bottle once it hit 11pm. Nah, night time feeds where his department. Or, are ads aimed at us because those in the know are completely aware that we are a soft touch when it comes to our families? Answers on a postcard to . . .
So, back to the borrowed boy. Today he ate his fish pie, he didn't blink or shout. He didn't wriggle or give out. He just kept opening his mouth and asking for more. # 1 on the other hand refused to eat it without even tasting it. Yeah NUMBER ONE!, the one who, last week, ate a frickin' fish eye because Ray Mears said it's a good source of protein when you're lost in the back end of the lake district or some such. # 3 ate #1's and his own. #2 whinged a bit but ate it all up, with a healthy helping of salt and pepper, because there was nothing on the menu. They could obviously tell I was pissed off as when J said "who wants to come home with me and F?" they ALL put up their hands. So, at this moment in time, I love the borrowed boy more than I love the G-boys. Because the borrowed boy watches me spend ages flaking and skinning bloody fish (actually, the fish aren't actually bloody just annoying), poaching it, making white sauce and peeling and boiling, then mashing potatoes I think he thinks 'she's made a huge effort here, I think I shall eat it to show I appreciate what she's doing for me and the borrowed brothers of mine'.
My kids are pissing me off. Ebay perhaps?
that is a super photo of the borrowed boy. x
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