I didn’t mean for it to be, but this has turned out to be a complicated post. Skip to the end if you can’t face reading the whole thing, where I will leave a summary.
Tory Boy is home!
He was here for four days over Christmas – the first time in six years that he didn’t have to work on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day, and he’s only 22. He had to go back to Peterborough to work double shifts over New Year, having swapped with colleagues of a similar age who like to party and who all live close enough to work to be able to go home for Christmas without missing a shift.
We did phone Tory Boy at midnight on New Year’s Eve but he was fast asleep, and had been since nine. Bless. They work them hard in TV but they are generous with their leave – TB and two other employees, who will all have been there only eight months at financial year’s end, were each given a full complement of leave instead of pro rata. All leave must be used up by year-end. Year-end is 31 March.
Tory Boy is home now for ten days – only four of which are actual leave. He works twelve-hour shifts in blocks of three and four days, so he booked four days off between two three-day blocks of not working. He often works overtime on his days off because what else is there to do in Peterborough?
Spud’s seventeenth birthday is coming up next week. Tory Boy wanted to surprise him so he didn’t tell Spud he was coming home. Because he knew he’d be back soon, Tory Boy didn’t take some of his Christmas goodies back with him. I walked in on Spud polishing off the French Fancies from TB’s stocking. When I scolded him for stealing his brother’s treats, he argued that TB wouldn’t be home for months and they’d have gone stale and had to be thrown away, and there were starving children in Africa so he had to eat them; it was his moral obligation. I had to concede the point.
I’ll instruct Tory Boy to deduct the value of the French Fancies from Spud’s birthday present, though I doubt that he will: he already bought it in the Boxing Day sales because Spud looked at Tory Boy with his little-brother-adores-big-brother-and-won’t-you-please-buy-this-game-for-me-because-you-are-such-a-brilliant-big-brother? eyes. Spud scores again.
Tory Boy arrived home Monday and asked me to wake him by seven a.m. Tuesday. I woke him; he got up and then slept on the couch for five hours, cuddling the dog. He went to see a friend in the afternoon, came home around three, went straight to bed and slept right through last night. He didn’t hear us enter his room to check on him, or feel my frantic hands checking his temperature (high). We woke him to insist he take paracetamol but he went right back to sleep. He did get through two bottles of water and he’s been up to the loo, so I’m not panicking just yet (give it time).
They work them hard in TV production and I think he’s just exhausted. It’s genetic: my younger brother and I have a similar habit of overdoing things and then taking to our beds to recover.
Thankfully, with the way his shifts work, Tory Boy gets most of February off. His girlfriend gets the benefit of that leave; he won’t have seen her since the beginning of January. I hope she doesn’t tire him out. Girlfriends don’t look after clingy mothers’ sons the way clingy mothers do.
Summary:
- Beloved eldest son back in the bosom of his clingy mother
- BESBITBOHCM works too hard
- Beloved youngest son a do-gooding treat thief
- BESBITBOHCM sick
- Clingy Mother attacks offices of TV company with a big stick
I don’t think French Fancies can go out of date, what with that decay-repellant icing on it. I don’t think they’re all that edible either, come to think of it.
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My boys love them but they are expensive so they don’t get them often.
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Bit garish for me.
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Poor TB He won’t go far wrong if he’s drinking lots of water. I marvel at the ability of the young for sleep marathons.
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My theory is, the reason we need less sleep as we get older is not because we are not as active, but because we have a finite number of hours left. 🙂
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The TV company probably gives them such generous leave so that they can sleep/be ill and recover in their own time rather than have to have time off in company time! 🙂
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Good business practice!
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That view from the couch is lovely – I’m sure in mums eye .. her sons will always be boys, doesn’t matter how old they are and how many kids they will have of their own. I think there is something in the saying – mummy’s boys .. and daddy’s girls. I agree with you – that girlfriends don’t look after as mums do, and that is what mums are for.
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Just as well girls don’t care like mums – who wants to be with a mummy’s boy? 😦
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I meant in your eye – they will be mummy’s boys. I date a mummy’s boy once … never done it again. ‘smile
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😀
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clingy mom aside you have very handsome young sons, and hard working it sounds. Enjoy your tim,e together and make precious memories!!! 🙂
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They are both hard working, I’m glad to say.
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so glad you get to spend some time with him, even though you are watching him sleep!
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You’re a good mother, Linda, and always will be. Tory Boy is indeed fortunate.
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Does thou love life? Then do not sqander time, for that is the stuff it is made of.
Walk tall and carry a big stick. Dianne
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Wow, that is a lot of sleep! I don’t think I have ever slept that much.
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Somehow the summary didn’t have the same feel as the post text…but enjoyed both.
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Ah the joys of Motherhood…but would you be without them? Never in a million years
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I’m so sorry to hear the Tory Boy is sick — I bet his body just knew he’d be cared for in your arms. And by the way, he is a handsome young man, even sleeping on the couch. And tell Spud that if he were an American Congressman, he would be the best one, because he doesn’t try to dance around his responsibilities like they do. Or not. I’m happy you’re happy, and Tory Boy will soon be better, I know.
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I hope you enjoy having him home a bit…even if he’s only semi-conscious! These big guys still need a little mothering to balance out all that work stress. I love taking care of my “big boy” when he visits…of course if I’m honest, I equally enjoy it when he finally leaves! 🙂
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I found that grilling bacon was better than any alarm clock. Just open the doors between the kitchen and the bedroom.
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I take it you’ve been busy… 😉
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