156. Da sisters

My world seems to be upside-down. That's all I need!

I am sitting at the table with my computer and a cup of coffee, trying to work.

Suddenly a clatter down the stairs, I jump right out of my skin and look up from my screen.

Maths-Head leaps over the last three steps and lands onto the rug only to bounce back up and sprint towards the kitchen so indeed towards me and I flinch. She is howling (she calls it singing), carrying a speaker in her hand. She acknowledges my - quiet - presence which makes me think that she is not sleepwalking through some kind of nightmarish dream. She is awake and this is real life. 

'Hi Mum! How are you this morning?'

This is a perfect demonstration of a rhetorical question as she does not even wait for an answer, not even for a sign that I am indeed doing ok - or was, so far.

'I'm off to see some friends and possibly staying overnight. So am making brownies. Is that ok with you? Yes? Thank you, that's great. I'll clean up. Don't worry!'

Jedi level at the rhetorical question thing. I look at her, not saying anything as I am still doing that being positive thing. As I am observing her, I can't help to comment.

'That's your sister's top.' 

'I know. She gave it to me.'

I frown. And ask her to define the verb 'give'.

'Give. As in she did not want it anymore and now it belongs to me.'

Last thing I want is to have to settle a dispute between sisters across an ocean. 

'It's a very pale beige. Might not be the ideal outfit for a brownie-making activity. '

'Don't worry. I am going to be special careful.'

Special careful. This focusing on the use of rhetorical questions must have impaired other areas. I watch her closely and as she is standing there, picking her play-list and setting her speaker to far-too-loud I am struck by what I see. She is dressed in a carefully chosen out-fit, has make-up on, her hair is done up. She is about to take over my recently-claimed-back kitchen, putting her music on and about to bake industrial quantities of brownies. Is Maths-Head turning into Miss Organiser? Or worse is Maths-Head going to be Maths-Head and Miss Organiser at the same time? Alarm bells are ringing, anxiety is engulfing me. 

Yet the style is different. She moves faster, stopping and turning more abruptly than her sister's smooth and even pace. There are differences in the choice of music and in the volume. Her speech is different too in the same way as the movements are. The whole thing is a bouncy affair while her older sibling is more of a quiet unfazed attitude. Different they are but the impact on my life is the same. HUGE.

I grab my coffee and my computer and disappear, almost running.

Quite some time later, she yells that she is away and that the kitchen is clean.

Which only prompts Baby of the family to ask.

'Can I make some brownies too? It's not fair they're all doing brownies and cup cakes and stuff and all I do is mashed potatoes and toad-in-the-hole.'

Bing. A positive attitude is a winning attitude.

That positive thing is going to rule my life if I am not careful. 

'All right!'

'Yes! Just treble the ingredients.'

My son has arrived on the scene. I am waiting for an argument to start and flour and spoons to fly all over the kitchen. Thinking that a bad screenwriter for a cheap reality show would not even think of a mother as mad as me, I sit on the bottom stair of the top landing with my computer and listen in. From my hiding place I can hear everything. They are discussing ingredients and measuring cups. My son is asking what 'parchment paper' is. And I almost fall off the step when I hear clear sound effects signalling that ... the dishwasher is being emptied!!!! And still no fighting! I am staying up here. I am not going downstairs. I am going to carry on with this positive thing. In all modesty I am obviously very good at it.