|Except with my boots and different tights.|
Oh, and no jewelry. I considered wearing some
but didn't. My watch has died too.
I love the ache in the legs from wearing heels and standing up (that was the corner time thing) and I loved the feeling of sitting down to go online. I loved keeping my knees together. I loved having hair that pulled and got in the way. I loved the feeling in my toes, the feeling on my shoulders, the view when I looked down, the warmth of the tights, the slip of the legs, the tailoring, the hugging of the fabric. It was everything I enjoyed the most in September 2013 and I have rather missed it.
On Friday I was bombarded with positive communication from Tilly. She is away this weekend at some friends' that she has contacted and made via Twitter. They run their own hashtag or something. Anyway, after a week of snarks and grumpiness and isolation, it was quite a tonic. I got images from the day (the Boy has glasses because he's long-sighted after the Girlie was found to be almost blind in her short-sightedness earlier in the month) via e-mail and plenty of nice texts. We spent the evening watching the first couple of episodes of Game of Thrones (though she maintained her laptop and e-mails with the narcissist writing buddy via her phone) and then retired to bed. We held hands. It was nice.
No. Not Tilly. But, y'know, the
impression is the right one.
She's got a second book deal,
she's got a fiction trilogy in the
works and she runs a Twitter
hashtag thing that may actually be
Did I mention she was a full time
Mind you, this is just before the weekend she is spending away and I have the children. Tilly does labour the point that I can be irritable with the children (no more than her) and that she worries that I will go too far or be too angry or do half of what she does when frustrated. After all, I'm not home most of the time. Sure enough, the Girlie regularly mentions how she wishes I had gone away so Mummy was still at home, how Mummy is better than me and how much she misses Mummy. Neither of them particularly enjoy my company, the Boy does like our Saturdays but precisely because it's once a week and special. The Girlie does like me reading Harry Potter because I can do the voices and because she gets to spend the rest of the time with Mummy. Already, after a week, there is evidence of fraying around the edges on that - since she was born it has been Tilly that has been her primary carer and I can't challenge that. In the very beginning that was a very deliberate thing and I was very deliberately excluded - Tilly's own admission. So, the timing does make me suspicious.
Even so, I enjoy the attention and have enjoyed the contact.
But it gets me thinking. This morning, the Boy came into bed a bit before we started the day and I had more physical contact from him in those ten minutes than I've had from Tilly since 4 September. I wish I could wrap Tilly in my arms, have her rub my beard or some part of me affectionately, and just be close to her. But she hates too much physical contact and enjoys her own space (we still have separate duvets after we found, early on, that she can't bear to share - it was only after I left the bed when Tilly was pregnant that we found the solution and only when we planned to co-sleep with the Boy that we had the extra space she craved by not having a bed) so that this will forever remain a pipe-dream.
Ah, negative endings to happy posts, clearly I am back. Take a bow, Joanna!
|Or a curtsy, whatever floats your boat I guess.|