The good news is that I think Iâ€™ve lost enough weight to stop my back hurting, but now my left hip hurts instead. Letâ€™s face it, the next however many years of Warming Up are left are just going to be about be complaining about ailments. When I started I was all about hip hop and now weâ€™re moving into the era of hip ops. Which would be funny if I had ever liked hip hop and if no one else had made that joke before. Hopefully it will calm down. Luckily it only really hurts if I am lying down, so it only affects my sleep.
I still seem able to move about regardless. Catie was jetting off to Belfast this afternoon and Ernie was at a party, so Phoebe and I went to the rec to play more football (sheâ€™d already had a match in the morning - she lost again obvs) and then she said she wanted to play basketball. We had to use the football that wasnâ€™t very bouncy and was a bit too small and I thought sheâ€™d never get a basket, but sheâ€™s a trier and sheâ€™s sporty and she got it in a few times. We knew Catie was taking off at around 3pm and that the plane would likely fly overhead and so when an Easy Jet flight went over us at 3.10 we waved and shouted hello mum. It seemed unlikely that Catie would hear, but if you donâ€™t try you donâ€™t get.
She beat me at both football and basketball, but I let her. Won't be long before I don't have to let her.
I thought Iâ€™d done pretty well as a dad today, playing with Phoebe, listening to Ernieâ€™s batshit ideas, but when it came to bed time I read him a story about Bluey and as always discovered that I am absolutely shit as a dad compared to the cartoon dog Bandit, who never resorts to letting his kids have an hour on the iPad or wishes his kids would just settle down to sleep so he can have some time to himself. Mind you in the book Bluey realised how much their dad had given up for her and her sister and thanked him, which my kids never do. I told my kids they never thanked me and Ernie gave me a kiss, whilst Phoebe steadfastly refused to acknowledge my brilliance. Just because I have never thanked my parents and have been rude to my dad for the last forty-five years doesnâ€™t make that OK.
Phoebe is suddenly very into sewing and asked if there was anything she could sew for me. I remembered that one of my shirts has had a button missing from the cuff for ages so I said she could do that. I left her to it and said Iâ€™d check she was going to sleep in a few minutes. At last being a dad was going to pay off. But she didnâ€™t understand how to do buttons and messed it all up, so I came up and sewed the button on myself. At least I now had a button on my shirt, so it was still worth it. I then found a pair of my pants with a little wear on the crotch (no pant can contend with the beast I keep in them) and she sewed up that hole instead. Which is useful, if a bit weird. But mainly useful. If I can get both of these nimble-fingered kids sewing up my old clothes they might end up paying for themselves.