And the week begins, 5.30 up, get ready, drive to station, park car, train 1, train 2, pick up at station, meeting, drop off back at station, train 3, train 4, car, drive, home…day 1 down with just dinner to prepare, small child to collect, bath, story, bed, get bags ready for tomorrow, sofa, cuppa, sweet treat, TV, knackered, bed.
It’s only Monday and I am filled with dread at the amount of miles to cover this week, the time to spend on trains (with the cross of travel sickness to bare) and the meetings, taxis, driving, sheer dead time.
With my new year’s fitness regime well underway and 9lbs down on the scales, as at last Thursday’s, pre curry night, weigh in, how on earth will I fit any exercise in this week? The temptation to not bother is real and just dive for the chocolate but NO I don’t want to be wobbly on holiday again this year!
Egg boxes and corks, this terms collections for pre school, weekly show and tell, library book exchanges, home/school diary and fruit to share in class, an endless cycle of things to remember. Others make it look so easy, when they are walking up the path, perfectly groomed with another little one in toe, on their way home, whilst I screech into the driveway, late again, with everyone politely saying good morning as I’m hurrying my girl along the muddy path, carrying what feels like a million bags and sporting a birds’ nest excuse for hair.
Is the life of a working mum always going to be so hectic? Am I always destined to be late? Am I just too lazy to get my life/house/family into anything that resembles order? Will I ever truly enjoy exercise and stop yearning for sugar? and will I ever overcome the travel sickness that has plagued me since childhood?