an hour of my life

Up to the pool while Olivia does swimming lessons (and sits on the edge, waiting her occasional turn in the water)... I masterfully resisted the temptation to lay my head on the table and cry for a little, while my sympathetic friends stroke my hair. Instead I bemoan my fate and Anne tells me, 'Well you're an advertizzment for staying off the Internet!' It's true... 

She's trying out a radical new mode of Irish-Mammy-Therapy, after I told her about my trichotillomania habit and she declared 'Well, you're a lunatic!' It has its merits, this therapy, but sadly it's not teaching me anything I didn't know already.

I go to get Cassia dressed and she's shivering and crying. It seemed she banged her lip on the pool edge some time before, and the teacher told her to say 'bad!' to the spot she hit herself on (as if she's a two year old??) and then ignored her thereafter. So I had to go and tell the Spanish wan to let her come in to me next time. Tss.

Then I had to run to the bathroom because I have my peeeeriod, and I dropped my frigging mooncup in the toilet, so I had to sneak out and wash it, and secrete it in my pocket. They don't warn against that on the label. Though I'm actually kind of surprised it's the first time it's happened.

Then after that little delay, I whizzed round the corner to get back to my sobbing, shivering daughter, and nearly ran nose first into a young man in his swim suit. I apologised and he said 'Oh, Haiii' in a total lolcats voice, which made me giggle frantically into my hand as I ran back to the changing room.

It's a strange little world.