Cloudland

Dear ‘readers of this blog’,

Sorry I’ve been a bit absent from here and Facebook, but until yesterday I’ve spent every day since Christmas sleeping for about fourteen hours and wishing I was lying down the other ten. My life has been popping pills and sleeping.

I’m not whinging.

In fact, if I’m honest, it’s been a little bit friggin’ awesome having a great excuse to wake up, roll over & go back to sleep until nap time later that afternoon.

Because I spent so long up the back of the bus in the loft which serves as our bedroom, the kids would occasionally join me for a nap or to read a book or play beside me or have a chat.

One afternoon, Miss7 crawled in next to me all upset.

“The other girls have started a club,” she said, referring to Miss9 and a friend she’s made here at the park, “and they won’t let me join.”

Usually I’d come down on Miss9 like a Warner Bros’ anvil, but two things stopped me. One, it’s so nice for Miss9 to have a friend she feels comfortable with enough to relax and play, and two, I didn’t want, or have the energy, to get out of bed.

“Well, how about you and I start a club of our own?” I suggested. “Just you and me?”

She looked doubtful.

“We can’t,” she said. “You’re in bed all the time.”

“No, I’m not,” I assured her. “I’m in our clubhouse, up here at the top of the bus.”

I know a few people shared my trepidation on how our sleeping arrangements were going to work out, but can I just assure everyone it’s fantastic. Not only is it great for supervising the kids at night and making sure there’s a minimum of shenanigans, when it rains it hits the roof two feet from your head! It’s brilliant! I’ve always loved the sound of rain on our tin roof at home, but this is even betterer.

“What’s the name of this club?” Miss7 asked hesitantly.

“Well, it’s all the way up here in the clouds,” I said. “Cloudland?”

If there was any doubt about the club idea, what happened next assured it was a goer. There was a rustle of the curtain beside my hip and another little head popped into the clubhouse.

“Can I join the club too?” asked Miss4. “Pleeeease?”

I looked at Miss7 for permission.

“I’m sorry,” she said, pulling the curtain back to shut her little sister out. “We’re full.”

“I think we can probably fit another member in,” I said. “She’s pretty small.”

Cue a huff and an eyeroll which would make her mother proud.

“Oh, alright.”

So this was my life for a few days following Christmas. On the bright side though, I’ve had my club members for company.

And, of course, it wasn’t long before we decided we needed secret agent names.

“You can be Agent FairyWing,” I told a grinning Miss4, then turned to an eager Miss7, “and you’ll be known as Agent AngelWing.”

Issuing codenames is always fun. That’s just science.

“And what is your name, Daddy?” they wanted to know.

I pretended to think. I’d already decided Agent FatherWing would make me giggle a lot.

Sadly though, this was not to be because our club was at that moment being spied upon by a non-member doing the dinner dishes at the front of the bus, who called out a suggestion before I was able to make my own very excellent one, proving nicknames, like falling ill at Christmas, are sometimes beyond our control.

Anyway, hopefully everything will settle back to normal now.

Until next blog update,

Agent PooWing

Raising a family on little more than laughs