God I'm knackered!!!
Well I have managed to produce yet another amazing baby. The only problem is there is nothing left of me. Well when I say nothing, I really don't mean nothing, in fact there is about treble of me as there was before pregnancy (chocolate induced I hasten to add). I the person just don't seem to exist any more. My function now is to wake up, produce and dispense milk, eat, produce and dispense milk, do laundry, produce and dispense milk, eat, make food for other family members, produce and dispense milk, work (one of a possible three variations), produce and dispense milk, eat, produce and dispense milk.............oh...sleep, then start all over again.............. On a good day I can fit in a really natty nagging session directed towards the wonderful Tony. I ran away from home the other night. Well I walked out for half an hour actually. Tony does this every night uttering the words 'I'm going for a quick pint' and disappearing before he can hear the answer to what has now become a rhetorical 'is that alright'. I reckoned it was about time I had a wee shot of this going out myself. It was 11.30pm and I walked out the front door and straight into the salubrious hostelry across the road, none other than the world famous Port of Leith bar. I ordered a stiff diet coke (no ice), had a quick rummage through the discarded tabloids of the day and salvaged the Scotsman property magazine. I proceeded to secure a seat at a relatively clean and secluded table. Mary Moriarty the epitome of 'knowing the score’ knows to ask no questions..... This isn’t an approach shared by some others, namely the 'lovely' Sandra, her co-conspirator/worker for the evening. Poor Sandra made the fateful error of venturing into the abyss of giving this simmering post natally dangerous female 'advice'. After commenting on how tired I looked she recommended I get some rest........ 'Now why didn't I think of that??????????? and then suggested I take some time out for myself!!! HELLO!!! I am out in the pub MYSELF!!!! All said and done, I can't really say I get the point of 'going out for a pint’. Personally, it wasn't very long until the lure of smelly nappies and a thoroughly disgruntled husband became an extremely attractive alternative. Here I remain, producing and dispensing milk. Madeleine is thriving, I AM SURVIVING, what more can I ask for now........ is that a light or a train I see at the end of this tunnel?