Bye bye love...
Daughter number two officially left the building yesterday morning. She is the first of our brood to go properly. By this, I mean that it's unlikely that she will sleep in her bed here for more than one night at a time.
This is quite a scary thought. When I look at her, all I can see is my little girl. How on earth can it be that she is living in her own house and holding down a great job? It only seems like yesterday that I was watching her in school productions and plaiting her hair, and all of a sudden, it's changed.
It won't be easy having her live so far away. I am so used to her borrowing my clothes on a regular basis, and I can't imagine that she'll do the 105 mile round trip to nick my jumpers/shoes/dresses etc. Having said that, maybe it would have been a good idea to check her suitcases before she left. Perhaps she has pre-empted what she'll be needing over the next three months and 'borrowed' accordingly.
This works both ways of course, as I have been known to borrow stuff from her too. Not on the scale of her snafflings, but the odd hair grip or hairspray has been useful now and again. I have also been known to delve into her fancy dress bag - this was left over from raucous Fresher nights, and although there is a lot of variety in the bag, most of it would be unseemly on a woman of advanced years, which is probably why my choices were limited to a pair of cat's ears and a tail.
Having said this, son number two might find some of it handy when he goes off to university next month - I can picture him in that nurse's uniform with his size 13 feet, and the hula skirt might be useful too. He's never afraid to experiment, that one.
So the balance in the house has shifted once again. The males have taken over as the dominant sex, which means that when the vote comes as to television programmes, something featuring one ball (Match of the Day) or six balls (Top Gear) will always win over programmes involving baking, people from Essex, anything with Paul Grady in it, or Neighbours.
Once sons one and two head off to their universities, it will leave me, the husband and daughter number one in residence, I would imagine that our evening viewing choices may shift somewhat then.
Going back to daughter number two's migration north, I will have to go into her discarded bedroom, and work out what is staying, and what is not.
Just not yet...
This is quite a scary thought. When I look at her, all I can see is my little girl. How on earth can it be that she is living in her own house and holding down a great job? It only seems like yesterday that I was watching her in school productions and plaiting her hair, and all of a sudden, it's changed.
It won't be easy having her live so far away. I am so used to her borrowing my clothes on a regular basis, and I can't imagine that she'll do the 105 mile round trip to nick my jumpers/shoes/dresses etc. Having said that, maybe it would have been a good idea to check her suitcases before she left. Perhaps she has pre-empted what she'll be needing over the next three months and 'borrowed' accordingly.
This works both ways of course, as I have been known to borrow stuff from her too. Not on the scale of her snafflings, but the odd hair grip or hairspray has been useful now and again. I have also been known to delve into her fancy dress bag - this was left over from raucous Fresher nights, and although there is a lot of variety in the bag, most of it would be unseemly on a woman of advanced years, which is probably why my choices were limited to a pair of cat's ears and a tail.
Having said this, son number two might find some of it handy when he goes off to university next month - I can picture him in that nurse's uniform with his size 13 feet, and the hula skirt might be useful too. He's never afraid to experiment, that one.
So the balance in the house has shifted once again. The males have taken over as the dominant sex, which means that when the vote comes as to television programmes, something featuring one ball (Match of the Day) or six balls (Top Gear) will always win over programmes involving baking, people from Essex, anything with Paul Grady in it, or Neighbours.
Once sons one and two head off to their universities, it will leave me, the husband and daughter number one in residence, I would imagine that our evening viewing choices may shift somewhat then.
Going back to daughter number two's migration north, I will have to go into her discarded bedroom, and work out what is staying, and what is not.
Just not yet...
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