Once again I am gripped by the Olympics. It first happened to me during London 2012 . I’m not a sports fan and in normal circumstances I only watch it under sufferance. Daddy Daycare will watch pretty much anything sports related and has a plethora of reasons why he should be watching said sport at any given time. He craftily wheels out phrases such as “It’s for the league” or ” It’s for the cup” knowing full well I have zero sports knowledge to question him. Grrr… It’s one argument I’ve begrudgingly accepted I’m not going to win.
But in 2012 I found myself swept up in the national pride and team spirit that engulfed the country in support of Team GB. I didn’t even protest. We did so well, we talked about it in the office and it was all lovely. Four years later and firmly back in the ‘I hate watching sports’ camp I thought I wouldn’t be that in to the Rio games but once again slowly and surely I’ve found myself consumed by it and have been watching more and more. Gymnastics, swimming, athletics, tennis, badminton, even golf as it came down to the last shot – bad luck Sweden. Who knew that I would be gripped by table tennis (table tennis!), that I would be screaming at the television willing the eight man rowing team to push through the water or that I would be leaping around the room after the unbearably tense penalty shootout in the women’s hockey.
Of course Daddy Daycare is equally as gripped so between working, writing this blog and watching the multi channel coverage Willow is practically feral. I think she’s rummaging through the bins for scraps as we speak. She’s a bit unsettled at the minute. Pesky new teeth are threatening to come through but have yet to make an appearance so we have had lots of unsettled nights. She’s fallen into a pattern of waking up in the early hours but then staying awake. Like wide, ‘I want to play mummy and will scream until we do’, awake. Hmmm…. not ideal when you have to get up for work in the morning but hooray because for now we have the wonderful Olympic games to keep us company through the night while waiting for little miss to get sleepy again. In exchange for losing sleep we have been watching live coverage of Mo getting his gold and Jessica getting her well deserved silver (which if I can wade in on the current argument is nothing less than a fantastic achievement and her missing out on gold is nothing to do with the fact she is now a mum. The lady who won was smashing her personal bests in each event. I think Jessica was as focussed and determined as she’s ever been but at the end of the day she was beaten by the better athlete. OK, rant over).
I just want to take the time here to massively big up our ladies who have really stepped up this year – hockey, rowing, dressage, taekwondo, sailing, athletics, swimming, trampolining – you name it, they are smashing it and with good grace and sportsmanship unlike some of their male counterparts. What better role models could we ask for our girls and potential future Great British representatives?
It’s rough getting up in the mornings for work on just a few hours sleep especially when you’re leaving these two snoring away in bed!
In fact I’m really bloody miffed about it, that and the fact the weather has been blazing as soon as I set foot back in the office. Note to self – if you have another baby (which couldn’t be less likely at present) then try to get knocked up at a time that will see you going back to work in November/December not in the middle of blimmin summer! Anyway by consuming a vat of coffee and applying several layers of Body Shop peachy glow illuminator in the morning I think I’m just about pulling off looking and functioning normally in the office. Or as normal as I can be – one of my breast pads made an escape bid this week. I only realised when I felt it jabbing my arm. God knows how long it had been there and how many people noticed but didn’t say anything. Ah well….
So now I have two things to race home from work for (well three if you count Daddy Daycare), my baby girl and the Olympics. Current evening routine: arrive home, smother Willow in kisses, pretend to listen while Daddy Daycare tells me what a challenging day he’s had, ‘Really darling? Yes, yes, what a trooper you are….’ television on, point baby girl in direction of bin, return to television, Go Team GB!
I don’t know what we’re going to do once the games finish. Wean Willow off bin scraps should probably be the first thing. Daddy Daycare has the new football season to soften the blow. He’s ecstatic. Any suggestions as to how I can while away the hours from fellow enforced night owl parents will be gratefully received!
PS. As I go to publish this normal British summer time has resumed. It’s chucking it down and blowing a gale. Not that I am smug about it. Not one little bit.