By 6.45 this morning I was desperate to run away. I’d had a bad nights sleep due to the weird pregnancy pains in my legs. My toddler was in a blinding rage because nobody understood the sequence her stuffed animals and pillows were supposed to be in. I tried to help, but got it wrong, which made things worse, I was pushed away, then my HEEEEEEEEELP!!! demanded, then pushed away again. “I just want to run away!!”, I declared to my husband in despair, dreading a whole day of horror ahead. “Well, you can’t, because you’re a mummy”, he said as he left to go to work. Helpful. NOT!! Two options, switch on the telly for some peace and get ready to endure the guilt on top of the despair. Or bundle us both into the car and go for a walk by the ocean. 2 hours later we are back home and my world is a much nicer place in which to exist (well apart from the tantrum about the crayons but I don’t expect miracles!).
Midwife at noon, wish there was some chocolate in the house that I could scoff before I get the diet sheet I’m going to ask for in place of repeating the glucose intolerance test 😉