It was one of those days.
I woke up with a headache. Its just going to be a struggle when you greet the day with a thumping jackhammer in your head.
Also, my alarm didn't go off, so the kids were late to school.
They then came home from school with a note saying a pupil has come down with swine flu.
I opened the car door too quickly and bashed my head (yes, that really helped with the headache.)
The wan behind the desk told me that the kids were filed under Tuesday for their swimming lessons and the Monday was all booked up, despite the fact they've been coming to swimming on a Monday for a year. Oh yeah, and this was somehow my fault.
I was too tired to get into town tonight to see the wonderful David Mohan and Colm Keegan read at the Glór sessions.
Hubby was v late home from work (yet another crisis!)
The wine ran out.
I have given up coffee.
The baby turned on the hot tap when I wasn't looking when she was having her bath. Could have scalded herself and I'd have had no one to blame but myself.
I had no inspiration for TFE's poetry bus. I was left winded and gasping for breath as it pulled away from the stop without me.
Of course, I shouldn't be such a misery guts! I should look at it this way...
I have a head - and though it hurts sometime, its something many people would be very happy to have (For example, many victims of the French Revolution.)
I have three lovely children. They have a school to go to. (This gives me free time to go to cafes and meet lovely friends! Hi DramaQueen! Hi DublinDave! Hi Weir Cafe!)
My children (as yet) do not have swine flu.
I bashed my bonce while going to a cafe to meet lovely friends (Hi DramaQueen! Hi DublinDave! Hi WeirCafe!)
Does it really matter whether swimming lessons are on a Monday or a Tuesday? I'm still down nearly 200 quid and the land lubbers are still rubbish at it, no matter what the day.
So, I missed one Glór session - at least I didn't have have my hair fondled by an odd old bloke who I will then have to run into in the butchers the next day...
Early hubby, or late hubby - does it really matter, in the end, he came home, made me a cup of tea and put the kids to bed.
Wine is bad for me.
Coffee is bad for me.
At least the baby didn't scald herself.
I think TFE will manage just fine without my genius for just this once.
There we go. So, like a cheap chick lit novel its all worked out for everyone in the end, and I think its fair to say, we've all grown as people.
C'mon Tuesday, do your worst. Or best, I should say.
5 comments:
Oh the days of raising children!! Been there, done that!
Worst of times, Best of times? Have you been talking to my bus driver, Tommo?
Rough day D'Oub , but look on the bright side... nope can't think of one.Ah, well.Shure ye have to laugh don't ye? That mad, hysterical, shoulder wrenching manic laugh that breaks down into uncontrollable sobbing.I'm good at that. If it makes you feel any better I had a terrible pain in my head too, it felt like a six inch nail digging into my brain.Then I realised itactually was a six inch nail digging into my brain, so I pulled it out and was grand.
Have to say the Poetry Bus was less aesthetically pleasing with the empty genius seat. :)
Hmmm, must have been one of those days... hope today is better
Why did you have to mention Tuesday? It's grey as the hair of most women my age. The rain is dripping continuously like the information about the budget, threatening worse to come. I was awake most of the night as the wind rattled the trees in the garden.
Now I'm pissed off and there isn't a sign of any light at the end of my tunnel vision - if you'll forgive the metaphore.
Still, yesterday's cream bun was great!
Indeed it was Oub. PWNED!
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