A bad night's sleep and a hormonal low combined with a tired tot who wouldn't have a second nap because he didn't doze off over lots of books or the telly and mummy felt too tired to go out for a drive. Result: not my best day ever.
Couldn't help dwelling on all sorts of depressing thoughts, like how much I missed my little man over the weekend, how much I dislike my split on/off-duty-as-a-mummy life, how my marriage fell apart without me having any say in the matter, how unfeasible it is to try to find a new man when I have so little time in which to meet them, how much I really would like to run away and live with my little fella in a tent on the west coast of Scotland.
Still, we managed a walk at Yarrow Valley Park before it rained. Even if I did get wet, muddy feet because I couldn't find my walking trainers (I put them somewhere sensible out of sight when the house was being valued last week) and had to wear my sandals instead.
We got round Tesco without little man throwing himself out of the trolley, with the help of a nibble on the baguette. I bought him some more socks to replace the ones I bought about a month ago that have completely disappeared. All bar one. One stripey green sock all alone in the drawer. I also bought a very large tub of tiramisu.
We used grandma's recipe to make a banana loaf. Yum. Unfortunately, the chunk little man put in his mouth stayed in his mouth while we went for a stroll round the block and eventually came out into mummy's hand as a very squishy, slimey lump of goo about half an hour after he first put it in there. He keeps doing this. What's it all about?
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