I had it all worked out. It was going to be hard, but I would manage it. Somehow I would use this precious week to launch my book, build a website (for hosting said launch), do some long-overdue DIY and prepare for starting a high-pressure job in a new workplace.
What kind of damn fool am I? Haven't I learnt anything?
Lucy Pepper (velly clever lady) calls it Mumphy's Law. That thing which says that whatever you are planning to do, being a mum means that something else will come along and prevent you.
My son has been sent home from nursery because they suspect he might have hand, foot and mouth disease. He might not, but until I can get him to a doctor (tonight, 5pm) they won't have him back. So that's at least one day lost. Even though he's full of beans, happy as Larry, fit as a fiddle and on top of the world, he does have weird sore bits on his hands, feet and bum. So they might be right, in which case that's my whole week disappeared up its own arse.
Meanwhile the house is a horrific tip, which I could have coped with if I was hiding away in my study, but is a really unpleasant place to be forced to chase a toddler around (potty in hand, why oh WHY did I decide to potty-train him this week?). And yes, I could squeeze some housework in here, some typing-with-toddler-turning-study-into-warzone-in-background there, but I was already running on empty. I just can't hack it. I have gone SLUMP instead.
Sometimes parenthood sucks.
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