BLOOD, SWEAT AND TEARS

Lately I've been painting like a mad woman. I've completed three paintings last week, am in the middle of a forth, my crimson uniformed Irish Guard and am turning up at the school to collect the kids with hands that look like I've plucked the heart out of The Husband right before I left the house.



I know I haven't been posting regularly and besides my painting it's been hectic around here here lately. Take last night for example.

It is Lara's 12th Birthday and I am waiting for Rachel to arrive home so she can watch the two youngest ones while I take Lara to Peter Marks in Dundrum Shopping Centre for a hairstyle called a Gunshot, you know, short layers at the back and all long and hung over one eye at the front. Rachel arrives as planned.

"Can I go out with my friends when Dad gets back?" she asks
"It will be too late honey" I say
"Then I am not minding the kids for you"
"You will mind the kids"
"I WON'T, I'M GOING OUT NOW"
"FINE, I'll take them with me"
"Hurray" sing the younger two

Tears fall down Lara's face. "It was supposed to be a special time, just me and you"
"OK, we'll wait till your Dad gets back and then go on our own"

The two younger cry like someones told them Santa does not exist, it has been me and Dad leaving you the presents all this time and, sorry girls, but we really couldn't be arsed this year.


Everyone is crying and I hear Rachel humming as she heads towards the front door.

Lara and I eyeball each other. 'Did Rachel just leave the house?' our eyes say.

I immediately text Rachel that her pocket money for the next month is going towards Lara's haircut since she didn't bother to buy her a present. She doesn't text back. She has no credit. We give her €20 a month phone credit. I'm supposed to give it to her next week but I've a funny feeling that I won't be arsed.

Time to write her another letter I think.