Not even one week into my solo parenting gig and I cracked. I needed to get out. I needed adult company. So I hired a babysitter who was the sister of someone that my friend Annette had heard of, for a few hours. Turns out she was 14.
In normal circumstances, this would have been an issue. But these were not normal circumstances.
I gave the boys a bath and Harry and I ordered in some Vietnamese. We both woofed through it as we were starving. I am totally off cooking at the moment, so we are working our way through the takeaway delivery options, trying hard to stay within the parallels as to what might be considered healthy.
The babysitter arrived and squealed "Cool! You've got Skylanders!" so I did not bother to try and give her instructions. There was no point. We just swapped phone numbers and I told her I would be back in two hours.
I met some of the school mums at the local wine bar up the street. The thing about school mums is that they like to get out after dark and bitch and moan about kids/work/husbands/kids so I was in fantastic company. I ordered a vodka and lime, sat back and talked and talked.
AHHHHHH. So good! A night not flicking around dreadful movies or rearranging the furniture.
I met a new friend who had 4 kids. All were at school apart from her newborn. My new friend was 42 and in between her husband getting a referral for a vasectomy and the actual vasectomy, she had managed to become impregnated. Totally unplanned.
I felt myself going very hot and a bit dizzy and put a note into my iPhone to make an appointment for Mr Woog when he comes home.
Outside the rain began to drizzle down and the conversation livened up due to the vast quantities of wine that was being necked. But not me! I sat on that vodka and lime. Getting hotter and dizzier. I was starting to think I was at the beginning of the change when something stabbed me in the guts.
Ouch.
Bloody Vietnamese rice paper rolls!
I excused myself from the group quickly and walked out into the drizzle. I live just a few blocks away so I started a meaningful march towards home. Sweaty with the sweats and lightly rain soaked. I counted ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR to keep my mind off what was a very uncomfortable and scary few minutes. I turned into my street and immediately stepped into a puddle right up to my middle. I yelled out loud........
"FUCK YOUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU"
Picture "that scene" in Bridesmaids.
That was me. Soaking wet and stumbling down the street ONETWOTHREEFOURONETWOTHRE. Keys stumbling in the door thingy, dancing on the spot, rushing past Babysitter and Jack who were screaming at the Skylanders, past toilet number one where Harry was sitting as pale as a ghost and into bathroom number two. Were I spent the next few minutes.
Oh the glorious relief! I cannot tell you how good it felt. I went and checked on Harry who seemed to be stabilising before paying and dismissing the Babysitter, who Jack calls the BEST BABYSITTER IN THE WORLD. Harry and I both looked at bouncy, bubbly Jack who had fish and rice for dinner. It was 9pm, so Jack was whisked straight to bed.
Harry and I got into my bed which is about 50cm from the nearest toilet. I was just about asleep when I got a text from Mr Woog, telling me what a fantastic time he was having and hoped we were all having a fantastic time as well.
I will not repeat what I wrote back as it was far too rude.
This morning, I am pleased to say that both Harry and I have made a complete recovery and today we plan to make gingerbread men, which I am told is both craft AND baking. SCORE!
