My Other Man

Confession time: I am in a relationship with someone other than my husband. I know it sounds bad, but I've known him since I was born. I need him in my life - without him I am horrible to be around. Even my husband can see that.

We have something of a fickle relationship, especially of late. I will stay at home, expecting him to arrive as usual, only to find he's nowhere to be found. Worse still, I'll arrange to meet him during the day when both kids are napping, and still he stands me up. Sometimes I wonder why I bother making plans to meet him at all.

Historically, our relationship was a little rocky to start with, but there were some extremely solid years at school when we were as predictable as an old married couple. In my University years, we had some trust issues - I would go for what would seem like days at a time with little contact with him, but I always returned, like a faithful puppy dog, needing him more than ever.

I guess our roughest patch was around the time each of my children were born. Maybe he was jealous at the time I was spending with them. I don't know. Either way, I know that I can never get enough of him, especially not now.

I wonder if you've seen him lately? He seems to have gone AWOL. If you do see him, please tell him to find me directly. Do not pass Go, do not collect $200. Come. Straight. To. Me.

His name? SLEEP!

Superman & Barbie

You all know the parents: you've seen them before. They're the ones trailing around the supermarkets with a mini Batman or Barbie in tow. Barbie, tottering around in entirely impractical heels and tiara, can be seen pointing out suggested items with her fairy wand, much to Mum or Dad's embarrassment. Batman, meanwhile, is charging through the aisles, forehead creased into a crime-fighting frown, threatening to bump into any precariously stocked shelf at a moment's notice. Pimpled teenage supermarket workers glance nervously at each other, as Batman (or insert your favourite superhero here) rushes past.

Of course you have thought to yourself, 'if I had children, I wouldn't let them get away with that kind of carry on! I'd let them know who's boss.'

Then you have kids yourself.

Well the other day I became one of those parents. My daughter S decided that she wanted to wear her cousin's white flower girl's dress and nothing, NOTHING else would do. This was impossible, not only because wearing white in a NZ summer is a bit ridiculous as it's bound to get stained, but also because she needed to wear said dress to my sister's wedding 2 days from then.

There were tears. And not only from me. I considered it a moral victory that I coerced her into wearing the pink princess dress instead of the white flower girl's dress. Mummy 1, S zero. I didn't really stop to think the whole thing through I'm afraid, as we needed to pick up some things from (you guessed it) the supermarket.

In we went. There were some kindly souls who said my daughter looked 'so cute' or 'like a little angel'. There were also some parents who gave me a knowing sort of smile. All in all I felt a bit foolish.

But S felt like a princess, and I guess that's all that matters.