Spoilt

So with The Drummer in Milan this week, I have, in part, reverted to my single student ways - staying up until 2am doing nothing at all online, going on epic shopping days, and drinking copious amounts of wine at girly sleepovers to name but a few.

It was at one of these such sleepovers that I realised quite how spoilt I really am. When he gets home tomorrow, The Drummer will have been away for just over 5 days. Five evenings of no cuddles; five nights of not seeing him; five nights of snatched phonecalls because it costs too much to pass the time of day like we normally would. Just five. My Littlest One had me over on Monday, fed me lasagne and gave me wine, all because she knew I'd be sad at not seeing The Drummer. The one person amongst my friends who has the best excuse to turn round and tell me to man up looked after me and loved me and didn't laugh at me in my spoiltness. She sees her boyfriend maybe three times A TERM. In the 6 years they've been together, they've spent maybe a total of 18 months actually in each others company since leaving school. And I was sobbing over 5 days. I really need to man up.

I'm spoilt rotten seeing him every day. I know that. Doesn't mean I'm not counting the hours until his plane lands tomorrow though.

Love, etc.

xx

How to tell you're really not ready...

I love children. Love them. I babysat enough at university that I didn't need to get a job. Day or night, I'm pretty much guaranteed to say yes if asked to babysit. This week, a friend's nanny was away on holiday so I covered the afternoon school run and filled the gap until dinner when the parents returned.

One of the days was music lesson day, and, being more than used to swimming lesson day for this particular family, I thought I had it covered. Got them all from various schools; got them to the lesson on time; even got them toileted and sitting down quietly.

What I didn't bank on (since I normally fed them before swimming) was a very tired, cranky child post-music lesson. What I definitely didn't bank on was the Mummy Mafia judging me when I had to raise my voice to get the bookbag and coat picked up - all the eyes of the mothers from the class that had just finished and all the mothers waiting for the next class. Waiting and watching to see who would back down first. Whispering. Judging. They weren't even my children and I felt inadequate.

All broodiness aside, I'm not ready for feeling that everytime I go out. I'm not ready to be a mum. I'll stick to giving them back at the end of the day for the moment.

Love, etc.

xx

Oh, and for all of you wondering...he lost. I sat back down and told him that we'd wait until he picked them up, even it that took an hour. It took 10 seconds for him to look at my face and realise I was serious, and another 5 for him to pick them up.