I had visions of this week being an easy one. This is mainly due to the fact that there is now a distinct lack of musical theatre in my life. This is most definitely a good thing. It has not however, meant that life is any easier.
It is only Monday too.
It reminds me a bit of the time I had fond hopes that I would spend more time wandering around in clean clothes once the children were properly weaned, only to find out that I was just as much of a messy bugger as them, and a lot of the stains I had previously blamed on the children were, in fact, my own fault.
Today has been daftly busy, and with the odd exception, the rest of the week is shaping up to be the same. I suspect I am making up for a few things that had to go on hold while we all embraced the roar of the greasepaint, and it will all even out again eventually.
The good things are that my evenings are now my own again, and I can change into my pyjamas after the school run, and drink wine, and drink wine in my pyjamas – the decadence – because I don’t have to spend half my life ferrying backwards and forwards to the Royal Infirmary physiotherapy department, where, as we know, all musical theatre stems from. It is the very wellspring from which Andrew Lloyd Webber was plucked, fully formed. Including tragic hair.
I am holding onto the fact that once I have organised Oscar’s birthday (Saturday), been to the dentist, taken all the children to the dentist, been to parent’s evening, taken Oscar to two tuition sessions, had some small children round for tea, remembered Tallulah’s singing lesson and welcomed my husband and his jet lag back from Las Vegas, the rest of the week is my own.
Insert hollow laugh here.
Still, it is half term next week, and we are sneaking away to our beloved Wales for five days, where I shall spend the entire week in my new rabbit pattern pyjamas, eating buns and going cross eyed from reading too many novels. It will be amazing.