I was queueing up in the beauty line in the womb when patience was being handed out two rows down; consequently I have an incredibly short fuse which is set off easily, and mainly by twin boy.
So I try to avoid situations where I will end up screaming like a mad banshee in public. I plan potentially stressful situations well in advance so I can get through the day with my children intact.
I’ve been on a journey this weekend, its all been, well, a bit odd, different and unusual.
I haven’t seen my children for nearly thirty hours which means that for that time period I have not had to raise my voice to squeaky screech level; wipe food/dirt/sudacrem off my clothes with a baby wipe; clean up anyone else bodily functions or listen to anyone spontaneously burst in melodramatic false tears because someone else took their chosen toy or knocked their elbow in a non painful manner.
I was full of nervous apprehension this morning. I tried to hide it so the children wouldn’t pick up on the butterflies that were zorbing through my stomach.
I had everything ready the night before, tuna pasta had been made for the kids breakfast, their kit was clean, and their shoes were gleaming.
Being a BOTTOM* is hard work I’m finding.
Let me talk to you about separation anxiety. The most agonising thing for a parent to endure as you leave the house and your baby holds our their arms to you and wails sorrowfully as you exit stage right to earn some pennies.
Well this is what I have been told about separation anxiety; I have yet to flipping experience it first hand…
I am trying to find the happy today, my maternity leave is finally over after a rather splendid year with the small ones and I just can’t help but feel a little glum.
Actually for the last two hours or so I have felt pretty darn miserable hugely exaggerating