My last day of being a Mother of Two.
I could spend it in so many ways. Repacking the bags. Redoing the gift list. Having a lovely relaxing bath whilst reading a book.
I spend it, instead, with my current family.
Having steam train rides. Oh, what fun!
Of course, it was the very old carriages, the ones they had at the turn of the century (not this latest one, the one before) before fat people were invented. Packed full of families, most with little children consisting of overexcitedThomas obsessed boys, and girls that would really rather be doing something else, so were bored stupid. And annoying.
Arrived home, cold and tired, only to walk around in some vague fog ensuring I had packed everything I needed, as well as dragging out the time with present existing children whilst fighting urge to escape and spend night at hotel with Grumpy, child free.
Grumpy eventually drags me out of the house to the hotel, where I then have to decide what to eat, given I’m allowed “nil by mouth” after midnight, and want an early night. Very easy to stuff yourself full when your stomach has been squished to an eighth its usual size and now resides somewhere near your left armpit. Or course, being stuffed full so easily means you’re also hungry again about 27 minutes later, by which stage, I was in bed and falling asleep.
Must be at my best for becoming a Mummy again first thing tomorrow morning.