I had counted down to yesterday for weeks. Possibly months. Counted down the days to that golden Friday, the first of many, when schools are out and so I'm off work but my kids are still at nursery and so I have time to myself.
Time to myself. Something I crave during my normal busy, exhausting weeks. Time to read. To watch TV. To clean, to tidy, to blog. The possibilities of child free time stretched out in front of me like a tantalising banquet.
It's just bloody typical, that's what it is. I'm feeling tired and really run down at the moment. I've been wilting in the heat and getting hot and bothered over the tiniest of things. I honestly really could do with a break but at this very first opportunity all I want to do is take my kids to the park, maybe buy some ice creams, wander home and play in the garden with the sprinkler on... you get the idea.
Part of it is that my love for my kids overwhelms all rational thought - going to the park in this heat isn't a good idea (no one wants to burn their arse on a slide), ice creams are hideously messy and our garden is as hot as hell in the afternoons. Not to mention that Ollie shrieks in fear and dismay if even the tiniest splash of water from the sprinkler touches him. Because I love them, I would do it all. Because I love them, I forget what the reality of dealing with a screaming toddler and tantruming pre-schooler is actually like.
The majority is a possibly sad truth (depending on which way you look at it) - my kids are my life.
Check that out for a cliche.
But, it's an oft overused phrase because it really is true. So much of my normal routine, pleasures and motivation come from my children, my husband, our home. With them out of the equation I feel almost incomplete.
When I go shopping without the kids I find myself pushing the trolley back and forth as I peruse the supermarket shelves. Absently mimicking the pushing of the pram to calm a squalling Ollie.
At lunchtime I pause before remembering that I don't need to put 'I can cook' on because Lily isn't here to watch and sing along about washing her hands.
And by the time 6:00pm rolls around I'm clock watching and listening for the door, waiting for my babies to come bursting in.
Of course, the true irony is, that by the time the kids are ready for bed, I'm already yearning for that blissful bit of 'me time'.
I told you. Bloody typical.