Mother's Pride

Heather has won three awards at the end of year ball at uni. The first was for Best Technical Support (I think - it was something to do with being a sound and lighting tekkie, my apologies, daughter dearest, if I only got the gist rather than the actual facts). The second, and most prestigious as it was the final award of the evening, was the Lifetime Achievement Award for the Minotaur Theatre Company in recognition of all Heather's contributions and hard work over the last three years as producer, director, sound 'n' lighting tekkie and general dogsbody. This, of the three awards, will be the one that is shoved in people's faces by PROUD MUM until everyone is sick to death of hearing about it.

And the third, and more dubious award was the Gollom Award for Person Most Likely to be Found Lurking in the Drama Studio. I am glad Heather has achieved official recognition for being a lurker. It shows that nothing will ever slip past her and she will constantly have her finger on the pulse of life i.e be a constant source of very interesting gossip.

Anyway, I went into town this morning to run a couple of errands and get myself some new flat shoes. I'm not, as you know, a great fan of shoes, preferring to go bare tootsied whenever possible. Ergo, when I buy a pair of shoes, usually of the flat pump variety for summer and the flat knee length boot type for winter, I tend to wear them into the ground. Noticing the other day that my current pair of flat pumps were looking very shabby, and aware that I shall be seeing the in-laws next week, I decided a replacement pair of pumps was in order.

I started the shoe search in the shopping mall, knowing full well I'd end up in Clarkes on Week Street, but a girl has to do the job properly when it comes to searching for comfort coupled with cost in the flat pump market. I glanced across the walk way and thought, 'Oh look, there's Leane. I'll go and say hello.' Leane is Chris's girlfriend.

As I approached, I saw that Chris was with her, too, standing with his back to me. And as he turned around it became very obvious, very quickly that he had got a MASSIVE black eye. The left hand side of his face was all swollen and puffy and turning a nasty shade of purple. I thought, he's either had a bad reaction to some hair dye or he's been in a fight. He better not have been in a fight. I didn't raise my children to indulge in fisticuffs to solve their problems. They know that sarcasm is far more effective.

'Before you say anything,' said Chris, seeing the appalled look on my face, 'I was hit in the face by a cricket ball.'
'Phew,' I said. 'Not a fight then.'
'No,' he said, and then went into great detail about cricket balls and cricket bats and nets and bounces and divots and ruts and speed which all went a bit over my head as most things sporting do.
'I've been to the hospital and they've said my eye is okay and they've given me some very nice painkillers and anti-inflammatories,' he continued. 'But I can't drive, although I am going to play cricket again on Saturday. Is my cricket helmet still in the loft.'
I can't help thinking horse, stable door and bolted at this point.

'I expect so,' I said. 'There's quite a bit of your stuff still in the loft.'

So Chris and Lean trailed home with me and Chris went into the loft and found his cricket helmet which hopefully will stop him getting whalloped in the eye again by another stray ball. I fed them tuna sandwiches for lunch and sent them home.

I like the fact that my children are so different. Aside from one being a boy and the other a girl, I mean. They like different things and do different things and lead very different lives with different priorities, but they are establishing themselves as independent and responsible adults who sort out their own problems and give me very little grief indeed. I find them both very entertaining when they tell me about what they've been up to because they've both got the gift of the gab and a good sense of humour.

Heather is coming home for a few days to house sit for us. I told Chris this, in case he wanted to visit for a bit of sibling bonding/ argument.
'We're going to Stratford,' I said.
'I know,' he said. 'You asked me and Leane to house sit for you.'
'Did I?' I say. 'Are you sure that wasn't for July, for Heather's graduation?'
'No,' he said firmly. 'Definitely for this month.'
I apologise but Chris, being the easy going type, doesn't seem to mind. I expect he is notching it up on the 'Mum is going senile' post.

Am I going mad, I think? Am I turning into my mother and forgetting what I said to whom and then end up telling the same person the same story five times? Did I tell you that Heather won the Lifetime Achievement Award for her magnificent dedication to the Minotaur Theatre Company over the last three years?

Chris got hit in the face by a cricket ball, you know. MASSIVE black eye...

(PS for Heather's Mum-approved friend, Eliot. I saw a photo of Britney Spears in today's paper. She is looking much, much better now and not like a scrubber at all. You have my blessing to see her in concert as she now looks unlikely to lead you astray with her wanton habits. Drool away...)