Sleee

So you know what a div I am right? Yesterday I was emotionally battered and today I thought I’d add a little bit of physical pain into the mix. I mean really, who knew life could be this much fun?

I woke up at five o’clock this morning and started vomiting. I threw up till my stomach hurt and my face went green. And then I went the supermarket. Because I am a Mommy. And it is Friday. And it doesn’t matter how smashed up your heart is or how wretched your tummy feels, when you are a Mommy you have an obligation to keep your child in gluten free bread and your cupboards stocked with consolatory spiced orange truffles. So I shopped. And shopped and shopped and nipped into the toilet to throw up and then carried on shopping after brushing my teeth with the emergency toothbrush I had in a moment of unusual foresight thought to pack  in my bag. Nothing like a good bit of retail therapy  and a McDonalds ham and cheese toastie to cure all manner of ills.

Then I drove to Clare’s for the most perfect cup of Assam tea and the kind of ever so sensible advice only she could provide, then somehow found myself too comfortable to go home and ended up staying for chippy fish and chips and a glass of red. (Advice to those with a tummy bug: eat junk all day long and I guarantee you will survive.)

It got to six o’clock and I didn’t want to go home. I wanted to get in the car and drive and drive and drive forever and a day. I wanted to go see the Christmas lights in Oxford Street or arrive unexpectedly on Helens doorstep. Drive to the airport and take a flight to anywhere but my empty little house. For the first time in my life, I didn’t want to go home.

But bedtime was calling for Finn and missing Emmerdale would be the end of the world. So home I went. Pressed Finns pyjamas and snuggled him into them while they were still warm, then made hot chocolate for us both, wrapped us in a blanket and snuggled up.

Because it struck me  that the house was unusually cold. In fact it struck me that I could see my breath in front of me. So I took Finn to bed, told him an Incredible Hulk   meets Charlie and Lola in the park story then went to the boiler to investigate the icicles dropping off my nose.

Down the hall and into the bathroom. Open the cupboard door. Forget to move your head out the way. Fall back in shock. Bang the back of your head on the wall behind you and then stand up and stare in horror at the egg sized lump on your forehead.

The night before you are due to go out on the Mommies Christmas night out. The night before you are due to get Christmassy sparkly and feel on top of the world again.

Oh and the boiler? Well after a whole lot of fiddling with pressure taps and switching it on and off it suddenly struck me that I had forgotten to top up the meter.It’s too late to shop for gas, and so now here I am in ninety three layers of woolly things looking like I’ve done twenty nine rounds with Muhammad Ali, and kinda feeling the same way.

I’m going to bed. Bed is still my bestest friend. Perhaps I’ll wake up and the past seven days, mice, men, bruised heads at al, will all have been a most peculiar dream.

Must buy a hot water bottle. In a scrumptiously pretty argyle patterned cover  please?