A Very Nyssa Day

A day in a life with Nyssa..

Normally, I awaken to little presents deposited near my pillow by my dear daughter. Her gift yesterday was fairly creative actually, she unraveled a ball of yarn and rewound it around a couple small items. This morning, however, there wasn’t anything. She came in the room and I discovered why–she had spent the morning with a byro/ball-point pen putting graffiti all over her arms and legs. Some areas were completely blue, it was quite impressive. She’s been banned incidentally from trousers for a couple days to hopefully prevent some ink transfer to her clothes. 😛

Nyssa was very enthusiastic about the idea of playing in the garden, but we got a text from some friends who were going to be in town and wanted to play at the park. So, Nyssa was very good and remembered her change of socks, towel, etc. (damned sandy playpark) and we went to play. She was fine for a while until she came stumbling to me, looking quite ill and needing to lay down for a while. I think a spinny ride got the best of her.

Later, our friends treated us to dinner at the Thai restaurant. For some reason, they had Elvis playing which Nyssa was very enthusiastic about. She danced about playing air guitar, and spoke in her ‘hey baby’ voice. She had a couple incidences of brilliant un-PCness. Our friends had brought along their new german au pair. At one point during the meal Nyssa looked at her speculatively, and showing off quite how well she grasped our history lessons from earlier this year, asked quite loudly, ‘So were you in Germany during World War II?!?’ First of all, this girl is roundabout 18, and second..wow, how awkward. She wasn’t finished though. A couple days ago, I had told the kids I have very little cash because James took the ATM card with him to Oxford by mistake. At one point, probably when Nyssa was savouring her mushroom dish (wierdo), she announced how grateful she was to be able to go to a nice restaurant because, as she put it, ‘Mom has no money!’ It’s a good thing I have no pride.

Later, back at the flat, I had dug out the waxed sand whatsit kit out of the closet (where it had sat since Christmas, incidentally) to let the daughter of our friends have since she’d actually use it. Nyssa confirmed that she didn’t like it because she had to wash her hands after using it. ‘First of all,’ I told her, ‘you already have to wash your hands several times a day, so what’s the big deal about once more? Second..’ I played with the sand for a moment, then simply dusted my hands off, ‘Look. Not even your OCD mum feels the need to wash her hands now.’ This sunk in for a second, then she started to object that we were getting rid of it. Friend said something placating about how we could just view this as a loan. I was less kind, I think my words were more along the lines of ‘you snooze, you lose.’ Yes, I’m mean. I’ve never pretended to be otherwise.

Our friends were getting ready to go, in fact mum friend and I were chatting at the door. I heard a piercing Nyny wail and broke off our goodbyes to run back up the stairs. Somehow Nyssa had managed to throw herself down about ten of the stairs and injure her torso. What’s more, she couldn’t actually recall what happened. *sigh* Anyway, I soothed the wailing child and cuddled her and Joseph on the couch. Since company was over late, we didn’t actually start getting ready for bed until about 11. The kids were so tired and stressed out by this point that I finally gave in and let them sleep in my bed with me. That is, they went to bed, and I followed a while later. I did try to sleep in the warm cuddlebug pile, but Nyssa wiggled so much she finally fell out of bed. I stuck the delirious child back in the bed and went off to sleep on the couch. Nyssa got a good night’s sleep and woke up perky and ready to sieze another day, even with the nice bruise on her side. When the kids had vacated my bed, I crawled back in it and tried to catch a nap.

Advertisements

Tags:

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s


%d bloggers like this: