Four days, DAYS I tell you, of single parenting, and I’m just about ready to drown myself. My good friend Jo even went so far as to advise me to stay away from baths, lakes and small puddles. Seriously, single mamas out there, how the hell do you do it?!?! AND I’ve even had the luxury of a couple of nights’ babysitting to go do my thang on the comedy circuit…and I’m still done for.
Not that it’s all been bad, of course. It’s actually been kinda cool to be removed from the distractions of everyday life back in Brissie and just hang with the kids all day. I even managed to do a bit of sight-seeing with them – strolling along St Kilda beach, doing babycinos on Lygon Street and even a picnic in the Botanical Gardens. But come yesterday morning, I apparently crossed the threshold of mummy-holding-it-togetherness and began to lose the plot, morphing into something of the Anti-Mummy. I am Mummy, hear me roar. (And not in a good way).
Thank heavens Tim’s here now!! We greeted each other at the airport at the very freezingly indecent hour of almost-ten-ish (my one benefit of the late drive out there was knowing the kids would at least fall asleep in the car – hell, I was tempted to start the trip four hours early and just do laps), with him ready to collapse with loving randiness and me ready to collapse with exhausted gratefulness.
So as of this morning, my first sleep-in of the tour and boy does it make a difference. The kids look cuter, the day looks brighter (even though it’s officially FREEZING) and even the chook-poo on Rachel’s lawn looks kinda palatable. Erm…on second look at that last sentence, perhaps I could use a couple more hours of napping after all.
But yeah, life’s back from rock-hard to good old rockin. Hell, I might even make it into the Comedy Festival Club tonight and see what’s going down.
Word.
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