I just woke up from a Bad Dream. First I was running round trying to gather items for Olivia to bring to a big show and tell presentation outside the school. Her first teddy. Her first haircut. And so on, randomly shoving possible ideas into a little bag.
Then I was ... on a date? with an attractive stranger, visiting a group of, I'm sorry, there's no other way to put this - attractive young men, who showered me with jokes, smiles, attention and maybe beer. And I was nothing short of scintillating, all the while worrying about being too blobby to take off my skanky hoodie, but considering it nonetheless. Ah, the subconscious...
But THEN, a snotty school mother (who is actually a snotty teacher I once worked with) gave out to me for not having sorted out beer I'd apparently promised to source (beer theme again?) and while she was getting all stroppy, I realised I'd forgotten about Olivia - and ran to find her, only to find that she'd finished. When directed outside, I found her standing at the bus stop, alone, all sweet in yellow with a school bag on her back. When she saw me her face crumpled into heartbroken, miserable tears and she turned away.
And I woke up, scoriated with crushing shame, scored with guilt-clawmarks like I'd been mauled by a giant mean guilt monster. Gah! Between that and the stiffness and soreness from falling over yesterday, I could hardly walk down the stairs.
I hate parenthood. I want to frolic with pretty dream boys without repercussions. Ow, the muscle just above my knee is sore.
On the plus side, I just opened my gmail to find FOUR story updates waiting for me. FOUR! Yes, I'm spending too much time reading, neglecting my children, and worse still, my poor blog (and you, my readers). But at least it's an innocent past time, I could be by a pool, basking in youthful male attention. That would be really bad.