The Grumpy One so courtesly informed me on Sunday, during the relative influx and barbeque sausage feast that he was working additional shifts this week.
I sat down with my Mind (my trusty Nokia E71 and A5 sized organiser – Mad Cow’s version coming soon!) and, in between telling kids to stop stuffing their faces with chips, making 17 different sorts of coffee and feeling unapologetic regarding lack of soy milk or similar, I enter in the extra shifts he’s working.
It’s not until yesterday morning that I come to the rather harsh realisation that it is now up to me to not only attend toddler swimming lessons, but actually get in the pool with him. My leg was had been planned for Thursday, but missable if unable to fit it in.
I was now forced to undertake several, extremely hard decisions. My first was to choose between doing something about said leg wax, or hopping in pool (again) with a bikini line that reached just below my knees and underarm hair that, in a pinch, could be utilised as a combover.
Or, work out how the fuck I was going to do this. Work Buddy coming tomorrow, so went with “Um, can you just not do work, and sit at home with Chippie whilst I’m deforrested? I’ll try to get him to sleep before I go.”
Then faced the daunting task of ringing the beauty salon to see if they could fit me in on short notice.
Phew. They could. Thus this morning involve the precarious task of ensuring Chippie was suitable fed and happy and in bed before I head off for appointment. Not an easy feat, but I somehow managed it.
Off I go, and was suitably surprised that she was able to use hot wax and not kick the session off with a whipper snipper. And we were done in 45 minutes. I left the salon, feeling so much lighter than when I went in. Even my jeans fit me better.
Arrive home to find Chippie still asleep, and remaining there for a further hour and a bit, before we were required to attend a meeting and viewing of a venue for Mums’ Night Out! next year. Chippie, still subdued, possibly due to good sleep, more likely due to strange people around him did and clung to me, rubbing my boobs and distracting whomever it is I’m talking to.
He finds the best method do to this is to grab my right nipple and pinch it really hard. It HURTS!
On the upside, I think we found a venue.
And I’m 13 kilo lighter than I was this morning. I believe I am now socially acceptable to be seen in the swimming pool.