It is a painfully hot Thursday night, and damn- no, daymnnnnnnn it really feels like a Thursday. I’m not a huge Attenborough fan but I could sure make a side appearance as a whale; I am pasty as hell, maybe slightly overweight and flapping about. I am basically far from anything Cosmopolitan says I should look like right now. The only ‘dew’ I’m emitting is over ‘dew’ sleep.
I suddenly wake up to the fact that it is mid July- not March like I thought. This wouldn’t matter if the baby groups I’d been frequenting weren’t about to shutdown for the summer. I’m not taking this well. I know I slagged these groups off a few weeks back but now I rely on them – to stay sane. Sort of like a Love Island cliche. I needed them- what would I do now? Summer felt like a huge black hole waiting to eat up all my energy in a wish-wash of toys and tantrums and turmoil all in a 2 bedroom flat.
I thought about the park. The trusty park that’s been there since my own childhood. Could I go there five days a week? The vision of me wearing a dress made of curtains put an end to that delusion. I could pay a tenner for 40 minutes of a rip-off Mr Tumble? Sorry Bargain Tumble, it’s a no from me. I can’t camp out I’m cafes; anyone who knows anything about small children would know that would be a disaster.
I imagined myself at the end of the summer holidays looking like I’d just come out of the washing machine. Not particularly clean- just a tangled mess. My toddler would’ve used our flat as a massive scratch pad and I would wish for the ground to swallow me whole. Luckily for me, an app saved my life. Summer is sorted (or nearly). Here’s hoping it’s a fun-filled flat-free summer.