Monday, 14 October 2013
That was how my afternoon went.
Tonight I was meant to be at the Oh Happy Day & West Elm Design Blog Party. Apparently I am cool enough to hang out on Chapel Street by invitation only. Who knew?!
Instead of enjoying a child free evening out to restore my wavering sanity, with a dear friend and perhaps meeting some new ones, those children of mine drove me to breaking point and swiftly pushed me over the edge. Late afternoon, I screamed to the heavens when I went into the playroom to find not an inch of carpet in sight. They pulled out as many cups, bowls and tupperware as possible to play that old fave, tipping water, mixed with some milk and leftover popcorn for good measure, which of course ended up soaking through the many tea towels they were working on, spilling all over the table and floor. Right before dinner. Which they spent five minutes taste testing before leaving enough behind to rehash into a serious adult sized pasta salad and sweet potato mash for their father. Who was meant to be home late because of work commitments. Who then turned up early. Because said work commitments were cancelled because of this hideous fucking weather. It didn't occur to him to update me.
But it wasn't his fault. The fault lay entirely with me. I had unknowingly sabotaged my own sanity saving evening. One I had been so looking forward to. Which I knew was the FOURTEENTH but had written on the calendar for the SIXTEENTH. I had even reminded the husband several times that he had agreed to come home early ON THE SIXTEENTH to allow a smooth handover and getaway. Even having filled out mountains of kindy paperwork last night, signing and dating 13/10/13, it still hadn't dawned on me that today was in fact the FOURTEENTH.
My friend messaged me mid afternoon - are you still okay for tonight? Tonight. Tonight? Doesn't she mean Wednesday night? Ohhh shit. The light bulb above my head glowed blindingly bright as I realised what I had done. I had to leave my friend high and dry with no sidekick or post party coffee date. With the husband working till late - or so I was told - and no one to call for a safety net/last minute saviour before it all fell to pieces and turned to shit, there was no other option than to miss out.
And it wasn't even about the party. Sure I was looking forward to meeting some other bloggers and getting a good look of the new West Elm store, but mostly this night out was meant to be a little breather. Post school holiday breather. School holidays that were spent entirely with my children at my feet. And one in particular who chose the most ordinary of behaviours. One who chose every opportunity to yell and fight and cause havoc. It was meant to be a good excuse to dress up nice - maybe even a bit of lippy - and drive away from home not having to do the dinner/bath/teeth/bedtime routine.
To round things off nicely I cleaned my filthy bathroom, had a steaming hot shower, and ate a very large piece of cake I made late this afternoon knowing it would aid greatly in drowning my self inflicted sorrows. With a very large cup of tea.
Whoever says there is no sound evidence to prove women's memories turn to shit after having children are lying through their damn teeth. Please tell me I'm not alone and you too have cocked up a date? Time? Place? ANYTHING?!